Preposterous ponderings

When to let go

2011-03-29T08:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I witnessed an internet train wreck. Several thousand others did as well. Twitter was buzzing with it. In short, a blogger reviewed a book, the author took umbrage to the review and said so on the blog, there was a back and forth for a while between the author and posters until finally the author told everyone to F -off not once but twice. Then there was silence from the author's corner, but not from the rest of the internet. Her rant had gone viral and when last I checked the comment count was over 300.

At first I was with the majority. OMG how COULD she do that! She had just destroyed any vestige of respect she’d have in the community. Agents had seen her rants and no doubt would remember her, and not in a good way. People were suggesting next time she write she 1) go to writing classes 2) get an editor 3) get a pen-name 4) don’t bother to write again because she was awful.
The comments spilled over to Kindle where not only this book, but another one she’d written were on sale. When I had curiously checked Kindle for her book I had originally found 3 comments – all 5 stars. Today there are 35 comments. Mostly 1 star reviews, there are the occasional 5 star “pity” reviews. Many of the comments mention the blog this all started on and having to come to Kindle to check the book out for themselves.

And as I read all this I began to think of two things. First how the internet empowers us to say things we would never say to another person’s face. Would the majority of the people who commented on the blog and Amazon say the same thing the same way in person? Would the author act like she did on the blog if she was in a room with the blogger? I seriously doubt it.

But then I began to think about the author. She’d written this book. She’s spent time with these characters and had honestly thought she had a story to tell. She was passionate about it. Sadly, from what I could glean from some of the reviews the story itself was pretty good, the grammar was not. And being one of the grammatically challenged I can feel for her in a way.

So now the crux of this ramble, when do you let go of your work? You have spent months if not years with this manuscript. You have breathed life into characters, you’ve created worlds and places for them to inhabit. You eat, sleep and breathe your creation. So when, do you let go?

Do you start to ease your grip during your re-writes and edits? Is it when you start querying agents? When do you get that little bit of thicker skin growing that allows you to look at negative reviews and, maybe not shrug them off, but accept them and move on?

This whole kerfuffle will blow over in a few days and something else will take its place. The internet is funny that way. In a few months or years someone might say – hey remember the time that author blew up on that blog? People will chuckle at the memory, but for the author I doubt there will be any good memories of this. She couldn’t let go of her work, she couldn’t shrug it off and say “okay you have a right to your opinion.”

Yesterday I was aghast, then amused by what transpired. Today I am saddened because a person who obviously takes joy in writing couldn’t let go, and suffered a very public fall that could haunt her for the rest of her writing career.

Creature of habit...

2011-03-01T14:50:00.000-08:00

I have learned I am a creature of habit. My alarm goes off at the same time every morning, I hit the snooze every morning and curse that I'm getting up so early...every morning. I take the same route into work every day and take the same route home. I even park in the same spot and get darned upset when someone has swiped my spot! I even have the same routine when I get to work, drop the lunch sack, login, check out the comics, then get to work.

But this week my daily routine got spun up and for a while I was not sure how to deal with it. The ladies' bathroom is being renovated at work. It will be closed for a month! Now I have to change my routine! I have to go down to the third floor! I know I KNOW it's daring! I mean what's to stop me from the third! Maybe I'll go down and sneak into the OHSU bathroom (Oregon Health Sciences University for you non-Portlanders) - they have some of their business offices in our building. I mean - this sudden break of routine is heady stuff! I mean it's not like I'll suddenly go into the Men's bathroom or anything like that.

And today -driving home - I went a different way! Yes yes I did! I DID! I was giddy with routine breaking! It's actually kind of like my current WIP - ooo see I'm breaking my blog routine of NOT blogging about writing! For over a year I'd been working on a historical novel...I was in the routine of research and write, research and write. My critique group ( The Always awesome Dead Bunny Club) were supportive, but I felt like I was stuck in the literary rut.

An idea had been festering in my mind for a while and so I decided to ... wait for it... break out of the routine... did you say it with me? I shelved the historical fiction - no doubt my Main Character is spitting nails because of this. I started brand new with the idea that had been festering and it's worked out great so far! Where I felt like I was prying words and pages like a 19th century dentist pulling out teeth, I now feel like they're flowing from me like a quicksilver river!

So moral of the story - it's good to sometimes shake things up and not be such a creature of habit in life and in writing!

Snow and Pups! What more do you want in a blog post?

2011-02-24T09:20:00.000-08:00

Food Glorious Food

2011-02-06T09:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was my ... somewhat delayed...Birthday dinner. I didn't mind really, it meant I got to stretch my birthday over several weeks as opposed to one day. I had pondered long and hard about where to go for this special day. Should we drive into Portland and perhaps try Le Pigeon or Paley's Place? Both are on my list to eat at... some day.

No. I decided to stick close to home and boy am I glad I did. We ended up going to Roots . If you don't know Roots you don't know what you're missing. Brad Roots opened his namesake restaurant in 2003 in Camas. Since then he's opened two more Lapellah and 360 Pizzeria . Each has it's own distinct style and food offering. But by far Roots is the most elegant of the three and well it should be.

The restaurant is not all that large, but it has a nice airy feeling. We sat near the open kitchen and were able to watch the chefs do their magic. The lighting was subdued but not the murky darkness that you get some places - I'm looking at you steak houses!

The one thing I like about Roots is that they have small plates as well as your regular dinner plates. For people like my mother, this is a perfect idea and the list of small plates is quite large. She ended up ordering a cup of their dungeness crab bisque and a small plate of their homemade butternut squash ravioli on melted leeks and truffle oil.

The soup first. I think it was Lee Iacocca who said you can always tell how good a restaurant is by their soup. Judging by the crab bisque were were going to have a great night. Whole lumps of dungeness crab meat, a cream base that was light and flavorful. Their "cup" looked to be about the size of a bowl so I'd be curious to see how big their bowls are.

They had three specials a fresh petrole sole on a bed of lentils, a 12 oz NY strip and an 8 oz filet mignon. I opted for the NY strip as did my Dad. I ordered my rare, I've learned in the past to order it that way because if I'm very lucky I'll actually get it rare and if I'm not I'll at least get it medium rare - which I don't mind either.

What came to the table was a thing of beauty - and I'm sorry I didn't take any pictures. The steak rested on a bed of veggies and roasted potatoes. Grilled onions rested on top of the steak and there was a small pat of balsamic butter. I made my first cut. I've been to so-called steak houses that couldn't cook a steak this good. It was, at least to me, perfectly rare. And Dad's steak was also cooked perfectly medium, for his taste.

The only drawback we had the entire night was that the red wine Mom ordered was a bit on the sour side and not all that good. The manhattan I had was well made and I tip my hat to their mixologist. Word of warning, if you order a martini with olives be prepared, the olives in Dad's drink were not pitted.

Roots mission is to use NW produce and vendors and the food reflects that beef and pork from Carlton Farms, mussels from the Puget sound, etc.

Bottom line - GO! The food is very very good! The atmosphere is very nice, however the place does tend to get a little noisy when it gets crowded. The small plates allow you to have a nice dinner for a small price.

They're also opened for lunch and brunch. Another fun thing that both Roots and Lapellah do is Sunday dinner. A set dinner with a soup/salad of your choice, special entree, and a dessert of your choice all for $25. Not a bad price!

So, Vancouverites, stay on this side of the bridge and try a local upscale eatery. Portlanders, come... come to other side of the bridge and find that your Northern neighbors have some awesome places to eat as well.

Entering into the surreal

2010-12-07T14:56:00.000-08:00

I've entered into the world of the surreal, more or less. A few weeks ago it was announced at my place of work that jobs were going to be outsourced. They actually didn't use that particular word - they used something a tad more doublespeakish - but it was the same meaning. Some of us would no longer have our jobs, not because of lay offs - but because the job would be now done by someone half a world away.

There was outrage, there was bitterness, a sense of betrayal, and for some there was the understanding that this is a global economy and times have changed. I have to admit I was in nearly all those camps. I understood the business reasons behind it, but I still felt hurt that our company would do something like this.

To put things into perspective - I am into my 17th year with my company - and in company terms I'm a youngster. There are people I work with who have been with this company for 20 - 30 years or more. There's a loyalty that is rare in this profession.

Years ago the company would give all the employees a gift certificate for a free turkey. After a while as we grew a tad larger the free turkey became a gift card to a department store, then a day off, then a half day off. Then, well...

But people stayed. in fact some people would leave only to return. Again how often does that happen?

And so the years went by and there were good times and bad. We had layoffs, and we had hirings. We had holiday parties and summer picnics and we had pay freezes and bonuses.

Today I was talking with a co-worker - I'd known him since I started work at the company. We were admiring the sunrise - it was beautiful and quite a surprise. The dark Pacific Northwest clouds were suddenly aglow with vibrant pinks. It was probably one of the most beautiful winter sunrises i've seen.

Then my boss came over and asked to see me in his office. I knew what was coming. What I work on can easily be done by someone else. I followed him in to his office and he closed the door. The HR person was there. They were sorry, I could see it in their faces, they didn't like doing this. But they had to.

And so begins my journey into the surreal. I'm a dead person walking. I'll stay at my job until May or June getting things up to speed and maybe even training the people who will be doing my job now. After that I'll get a severance package.

For nearly 17 years I've gone to work knowing I have job, now starting tomorrow, I'll be just keeping the seat warm for my replacement.

thank you

2010-11-11T12:02:00.000-08:00

At the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month the war that was to end all wars finally came to its own tired, blood drenched end. At that 11th hour on that 11th day in that 11th month a piece of paper was signed and the world was changed forever. Innocence was lost, a generation of young men were lost, sons, and fathers were lost. And we all know to well it did not end all wars.

Today on this 11th day of the 11th month we stand as one and thank those living and dead for their sacrafice. Those of us who have never gone to war have no idea of its scope. Those who have gone to war to protect us know it only too well.

And may I just say that it is my most heartfelt wish that someday we will no longer have to pause and reflect on this 11th day of the 11th month. It is my heartfelt wish that someday we will no longer have veterans day for we will no longer have veterans, and we will no longer have wars.

But until such a day. I stand and salute you, you who have given yourselves to protect us.

Thank you.

1 year anniversary

2010-07-04T13:16:00.000-07:00

One year ago - or thereabouts - I'd bought a new digital camera and was thinking about taking a class at Clark College's Adult Education for digital photography. While looking at the offerings I noticed an intriguing title. Novel Writing Boot Camp. Hmm. I read more and watched the video that the instructor Carolyn J Rose had on the site. It sounded interesting and something inside me stirred. It hadn't stirred for a very long time. And so I signed up. Not for Boot Camp I but for the Combo Boot: Camp I and II - in for a penny in for a pound.

I almost didn't go when the day came. I sat at home my stomach in knots of nervousness and ...well..fear. I'm a shy person and going to a new place with new people is one of the hardest things I can do. But this day I went. And it's no exaggeration when I say it changed my life.

I began to write again, first with the exercises in class, then on a novel that I had in mind. By the end of Boot Camp I was several pages into my "novel" and couldn't wait for Boot Camp II to start. It was all thanks to Carolyn and her fun and firm teaching style. I thought I'd die having to read my work out in front of the class. And I'm sure I was probably a speed reader those first few times, but the criticism I got from her and the rest of the class made me feel...ok...I just might be able to do this.

All too soon class ended, but Carolyn had mentioned a writer's mixer that met at Cover to Cover Books in downtown Vancouver. Once again I had to face the shy demon, but I was supported by the fact that Carolyn would be there and introduce me to some people.

The people turned out to be Melanie Sherman and Carol Doane. They had also gone through the boot camp and with several members of their classmate had formed a critique group. They were kind enough to give me an audition and soon I was adopted.

The things I've learned in this year are amazing and the people I've met are so fantastic. So with this one year anniversary of my starting writing again I give my thanks to Carolyn, Melanie, Carol, Pam, and Peggy, Lisa and Ginger for all the great critiques and I can't wait for more.

And as this writer thing has taken off I've now come into contact (thank you twitter) with so many other fantastic writers who've made this year a great one. Tawna Fenske, Cynthia Reese, Linda Grimes, Saycaity, Bill Cameron, Squeakattack, and Jenku. Thank you all for the witty repartee in 140 characters or less.

I can't wait to see what this next year holds!

I'm of two brains

2010-06-23T15:56:00.000-07:00

There's brain 1 - the work brain and there's brain 2 the writer brain. Sadly the two rarely meet or play nice. Usually it's brain 1 taking brain 2 in a half nelson, whirling around and then sending brain 2 into the stands where it lays there feebly whimpering.

Work brain is the analytical/logical/non-creative brain. It's much more interested in coding and unit testing and coding some more and for fun it loves to kick back and relax with some analysis. JOY.

The problem is work brain is really selfish and takes over to the point where writer brain -- well yeah feebly lying in the stands whimpering. Which doesn't help when my WIP is historical fiction so I'm doing research which work brain dearly loves.

The one thing I've tried to do is to give myself some weekend writing time, but even then sometimes work brain has pummeled writer brain so much that all it can muster is a weak...yeah I WANT to do this but..ya know the compound fractures and the contusions make it kind of hard to help you out today kiddo. Sorry.

So here's my question to those of you who read this blog. How do you cope with two brains? Especially when one brain tends to bully the other one into giving over its lunch money, milk money, mutual funds and trust funds?

Greenie Goodness

2010-06-21T14:15:00.000-07:00

As most of you know I have two dogs.

This is Bear

And this is Boo

They're 6 year old Lhasa Apsos. I love to see them happy but there are times... where they look more like:

They both have allergies especially food allergies. They both eat a prescription dog food and we have to be pretty careful on what they eat. Special treats

Now there are times when they need allergy pills and oh boy what a joy THAT is. We've tried everything. Hiding it in a bit of wet dog food usually resulted in a very soggy pill resting either in their food dish or on the floor. Trying to force it down...um no that did not work either.

And then one day I saw that GREENIES had made pill pockets! Ok, for those not quite sure what I'm talking about. It's simple and it's fantastic. Insert pill into pill pocket, squeeze the opening shut and feed to fido. Great idea, right? Only they came in Beef and Chicken flavors - neither of which would work for the dogs.

Then, a while back Greenies twittered about their new allergy formula pill pockets and wanted to know if there were anyone folks in the twitterverse with dogs that had food allergies. YES! I cried...ok tweeted. And they were nice enough to send me a sample!

It took a little while, but I finally was able to use the sample pockets. NICE! Very nice. The pocket is nice and soft. The opening is wide enough for you to drop the pill in without much problem and they seal up nicely. Basically when you're done putting the pill in and sealing it up you have what looks like a little round meat ball.

I had the dogs sit and gave them their "treat" and they..no pun intended.. wolfed them down without leaving me a present of a soggy pill.

Now I will say Boo did have a bit of an upset tummy after taking his pills in the pocket for a couple days, but I honestly think it was more the pill then the pocket. Bear had no issues what so ever, and this is the dog that gets ear infections if he so much looks at a chicken or a slice of beef.

So - bottom line - I really did like these. I liked how the dogs loved them and really seemed to like the taste, I like NOT having to worry about spat out pills.. and then the joy of trying to figure out who did the spitting out.

Will I buy them? Yes. I'm all for an easy and dare I say tasteful way of giving my dogs pills, when they need them.

50 Followers baking

2010-05-01T11:11:00.000-07:00

Charity Bradford hit 50 followers on her blog and decided to have a blog fest! The criteria your main character has to bake....now see I read bake and thought cook..so um... my MC is cooking not baking. Sorry about that. But here it is!

Josiah Davis was a wonder to behold in the kitchen. He moved with a ballet dancer’s fluidity and grace as he went from the cutting board to the stove and dropped whatever it was he’d just chopped into a skillet and then pirouetted towards the table to grab a spatula and arabesque back to the stove to stir. The air was at once filled with a frantic sizzle and the scent of sautéing onions.

It was here in his kitchen that his mastery was truly displayed, not in the cramped closet that pretended to be the bbq’s kitchen. There he was relegated to chopping greens with his elbows pressed tightly against his side, his knife movement short sounding like a wood pecker on an oak Ta tat a ta.

Here though he could relax, expand. He’d rolled the greens into a tight tube. And sliced them into thin shreds; the knife made gliding motions over them like a world cup yacht cutting through a swell. . Chiffonade was the culinary term. In the South they were merely rolled greens and the bbq they were just sliced and stewed.

He spun towards the stove, grabbed the handle of the skillet and gave it two quick thrusts, at the last second of each he snapped his wrist causing the sautéing onions to leap up into the air like tribal dancers before falling back into the pan.

Nearly all the recipes dictated the greens be boiled in a pot with ham hock and lots of water until they were the consistency of pond scum and all the life had been sucked out of them and into brackish greenish pot liquor that glisten with oily fat. That was how he had to cook them at the bbq – but he was in his own kitchen.

He glanced at the onions – they were coming along nicely. He moved to the refrigerator, opened the door and took out a small bundle wrapped in stark white butcher paper. He placed it on a cutting board and un-wrapped it, slowly, lovingly until the paper lay like petals around the red and white spiral center that was pancetta.

With the knife he used only for meats he began to cut it into small cubes. He sighed as the scent of the meat engulfed him, the earthy nutmeg, the grassy fennel, the pungent garlic all melded in an aroma that was intoxicating.

He twirled away from the counter, cutting board in hand and dumped its contents into the skillet. The sizzling intensified and now the kitchen had another smell, cooking pork belly. Again he popped the skillet and now more dancers leapt into the air. He was patient, and waited while the fat was rendered from the meat, leaving bits of crunchy pork while the onions were now being bathed in spice infused pork fat.

He turned and grabbed the greens in both hands, spun back to the skillet and dropped them in. He leaned over and grasped a pair of tongs and began to work the greens, picking them up with the tongs and dropping them back into the pan, moving them around so that each individual strand was mixed with the onions and pancetta bits. For a moment he placed the tongs down and grabbed a large wooden pepper mill. Three sharp turns sent a rain of black and white particles onto the bright green strands. Down went the mill and up came the tongs, once more the strands danced in the air before going back into the pan. He cocked his head to the side glancing at them gauging their color. He reached out and let one of the stands fall on his outstretched fingers and brought it up to his mouth. He paused for a moment, blowing softly on the green before opening his mouth and letting it drop on his tongue.

Perfect! The sweet of the sautéed onions, the still slight crispness to the greens, the lingering after taste of salty pork and the sharp bite of the pepper that seemed to linger on the tip of his tongue long after the other flavors had vanished. One more graceful turn, as he took the skillet from the stove and with the tongs carefully plated the greens on a simple white plate.

Tomorrow he’d be back at the bbq, back making the greens in huge pots with hocks that had more fat then meat on them. But tonight he was home. With fluid strides he made his way towards the table with his dinner.

Body Langauge Blogfest

2010-04-24T16:23:00.000-07:00

OK - Melanie got me into this - sorry I'm a tad late on it but malicious microbes were visiting. Anyway I stole this from Melanie's blog to explain a what this is about:

Harley D. Palmer over at Labotomy of a Writer (click on this to see the other entries) was talking with Ashelynn and came up with the idea for a blogfest for a scene where there is conversation, but without any dialog at all...whatsoever. Just body language.

So - here's my stab at it. GULP - my first attempt please be kind.

Muto was THE up and coming new age spa resort. There were three Muto spas already one in Taos, one in Beverly Hills, and a third in Jackson Hole. The latest one was going to be opening in the Columbia River Gorge to much fanfare and as part of the celebration local chefs were invited to create a signature dish. If the head chef liked it, it would be added to the gala celebration dinner menu. And here she was - Kate Cameron – culinary school drop out about to try her best to have her quinoa salad become part of that menu.

Kate followed the directions she’d been e-mailed and parked and headed towards the kitchen. One thing puzzled her, no sound. Well no human sound that is. She could hear birds chirping and cars passing by on I-84 but no voices. She attributed it to the fact that Muto hadn’t opened yet and probably had just a skeletal staff at the moment.

She walked in; the place was swank that’s for sure. Her eyes caressed the marble floors, the mahogany paneled walls, the teak furniture that looked sleek and elegant and no doubt had been imported from Denmark just as the crystal chandeliers had been imported from Germany.

She caught sight of two women dressed in what appeared to be Muto staff uniforms. Kate approached them smiling, they smiled back but when Kate opened her mouth to speak their smiles vanished in an instant, their eyes flew wide, their hands flew to their mouths and they rapidly rushed past her, one of them casting a nervous glance back. Odd that, she thought, but with a shrug she headed off in the direction of the kitchens.

There was only the sound of her footsteps clicking against the marble floors, echoing in the stillness of the vast area that was Muto. She found the kitchen, opened the door and peeked in. There, standing by the prep table was a very tall, very thin, very stern looking woman dressed in chef whites. She glanced at Kate then cast her glance down to her watch then back at Kate. Feeling her face starting to burn with embarrassment, Kate smiled sheepishly and entered the kitchen. She was about to apologize when she saw the sign. No Talking. It said in large type. NO EXCEPTIONS. No talking? NO TALKING? Really? Then she’d remembered what Irene, her friend, had told her. Muto was the latest thing in spas. They tried to create a monastic feeling where guests become in tune with their other senses and contemplate their inner self all in TOTAL SILENCE.

The head chef crossed her arms in front of her chest and peered down her long nose at Kate. Kate smiled half-heartedly. The woman stepped back her gaze falling on the prep table. Kate glanced around nervously, nonplussed at the utter silence. Then she saw the ingredients for the salad in a small cluster at the end of the table. She straightened her shoulders, tugged on the hem of her chef’s jacket, looked the head chef in the eyes and nodded. The woman made a sweeping gesture with her hand towards the table. Kate nodded curtly and strode over and began to prep.

The salad was simple, quinoa, roasted peppers, black beans, raisins, slivered almonds, in a light tahini dressing. Simple. She unrolled her knife bag and took out her favorite santoku. The head chef glanced down at the knife then back at Kate. Kate set the knife down slowly and placed both hands on her hips looked at the woman and arched an eyebrow. The head chef smiled raised her hands and took a few steps back.

It took a little less then an hour for her to assemble the salad and plate it. She’d topped the salad with some toasted almonds. Muto’s head chef turned the plate examining Kate’s creation. She glanced at the almonds and frowned. She took a fork and started to remove them from the top of the salad. Kate glared at her and pulled the salad plate away. The chef blinked at Kate, her brow furrowed then she smiled, put down the fork and nodded. Kate pushed the plate back over to her. The chef picked the fork up and glanced at Kate. Kate grinned a Cheshire grin and bowed low rolling her hand out in front of her chest with her left foot forward. The chef took a bite of her salad and a genuine smile lit up her face, her eyes twinkled and her nose scrunched up. She placed the fork down, wiped her mouth with a napkin, turned and bowed to Kate.

Is it better now...or now?

2010-04-06T17:53:00.000-07:00

Ok I need to warn you this is a venting rant. If you do not wish to read then might I suggest the following blogs to help you allude the ranting vent that will follow Melanie Sherman's humorous look at life the pearl of Carol is always a great read mynorthwestexperience is always a tasty experience I dare you NOT to laugh at Tawna Fenske's blog.

Ok - still here. Cause honest I told you it's going to be a rant and a vent... I suppose that would be a rent or a vant.

Anyway ... here's the tale.

Lately I've been having headaches at the back of the eye. I suspected my glasses. There's an odd film on them I can't get off and when I wear my contacts I don't get the headache. Only problem with wearing the contacts is that they're mono-vision and I have migraines. I get a migraine - mono vision goes boom! So, no contacts.

I call the ophthalmologist - this guy is an MD he's been to college, medical school and then specialized in all things eyes so I'm figuring he can help.

I get to the eye place, fill out the form. Why am I there...HEADACHES followed by new contacts. Sue me I like contacts. A few minutes later I'm called in. This is not the Dr. this is an assistant. She's going to do the checking of my vision. Hmmm...ok. I guess that's cool. I tell her, I'm having headaches, can't wear the contacts due to migraines, I think there's a film on my glasses - etc. She does the usual - which is clearer - one or two... two or three..blah blah blah. She then has me read the oh so familiar chart on the wall. Ok - left eye not much difference, right eye - yeah there's a difference from before. Could this be the reason for my headaches? yes probably - she says. She dilates my eyes and then off she goes, reassuring me the doctor will be with me shortly.

Shortly must mean something different to some doctors, because shortly was NOT shortly. Finally he rushes in. He shakes my hand as he's moving towards the desk. This guy is ALL motion. Ok, so I wanted contacts...well yes, but.....and what contacts did I have before...um I couldn't remember mono-visions - ok not a problem we can call where you got them before. Um..ok. Let's look at the eyes. Ok. Now he gets out the thing that makes it feel like a klieg light is shining in my dilated eyes. No... what it will be bright, no sorry this might be bright. Nope - look here, here, here, here, and here. I'm not sure he's even looking because he's having me look up down right left so fast.

"Have you ever had a glaucoma test?" Ummm...have I? I can't remember. I did something years back but was that a glaucoma test?
"no." I reply and he starts off to do something else. Then it dawns on me. The eyes. So I tell him

"By the way, my mother and I have this odd genetic thing with our eyes, it looks like we have the early stages of glaucoma."

"I'd like you to take the test." Um...ok what part of genetic thing didn't you understand?

Ok we're done. Done? Wait...um headaches..what I wrote down. What about my headaches. He assures me they'll call the place where I got my contacts and find out what I had so they can give me something different. Ok, but headaches. You know...why I came in?

He's escorting me out the door when I mention the glasses. OH! Yeah he forgot to give me the prescription. So again I ask...um will this help my headaches. He's scribbling. Um, you know I get headaches when I look at the computer all day...I work on a computer all day and I get headaches I think from these glasses. Scribble. Will this prescription help with the headaches?

"No it's not much different then your old one."
"but the headaches."
"You're 47...I'll up the reading portion of your prescription."

That was it. What was I thinking. I mean did I really expect to have him sit down and us chat about my headaches? Did I really expect him to brainstorm with me WHY I could be getting them? Light at my desk, closeness of the computer monitor, etc. Did I really expect him to act like he was LISTENING to a SINGLE WORD I SAID?

Frankly, yes. Wouldn't you?

Being told where to go

2010-03-23T10:26:00.000-07:00

The first GPS I ever met was the one in my parent's Buick Lucerne, it came as part of their navigation package. I nicknamed it Sarah after the smart house in the series Eureka. Sarah is very nice and has a very pleasant voice. I can picture her, a fresh faced young woman in her mid -twenties, sitting in front of a very modern looking desk, a map of the world on the wall behind her, a sleek computer with an even sleeker monitor resting on the desk. Perhaps there's a cup of herbal tea steaming beside her. When ever my folks enter a destination I can picture her fingers flying furiously over the keyboard locating the quickest way to get there and speaking into a slim headset in a lilting melodic voice - "In 3/4 of a mile turn right." If my parents miss the turn or decide to go a way she hasn't recommended I picture taking in a deep breath and exhaling softly and quickly finding an alternate route. No doubt when she's not called upon she does yoga.

When I got my GPS for my car I was expecting Sarah's sister. What I got instead was MAUDE. I picture Maude being in her late 50's, her hair dyed a very unnatural red. She's dressed in a leopard skin house coat and chain smokes unfiltered Camels. There's a bottle of old graddad sitting next to a pot of coffee. Her desk is an old battered contraption that you can hardly see for all the clutter and dogeared maps and atlases covering it. In stead of a lilting melodic voice she has an accent that's a mixture of the Bronx and Brooklyn that's somewhat grating due to the number of cigarettes she plows through, not to mention the juice glass of cheap bourbon she's knocks back.

When I ask Maude for directions I get no eager to please response, I get a surly and snarky "In 3/4 of a mile turn right." she doesn't say it but the "You moron!" is implied. And lord help me if I don't follow her exact directions. "Recalculating..." she says with such venom that I picture her lighting a new cigarette with the end of the old one, grabbing an Rand McNally Road Atlas circa 1975, flinging the pages one after another and no doubt muttering curses as she does it.

I suppose I could replace her, find a new GPS that is more kinder and gentler one - maybe not as sweet as Sarah but not as well frightening as Maude. Somewhere in between. But I hesitate...I mean..after all...Maude knows where i live!

My meeting with Five Guys

2010-03-19T09:00:00.000-07:00

When I saw the coming soon sign my heart with a twitter. Friends in Texas had spoken of this place in hushed and reverent tones. I doubted it would ever get to my neck of the woods, but there it was in all its red and white checkered glory. Five Guys Burgers and Fries! And like their name suggests that's what they do - burgers, fries, hot dogs and grilled cheese but that's it. Nothing else.

I had been planning to pay it a visit but first I wanted to let the lines die down. In the early days I passed the place at 2 o'clock in the afternoon (well after lunch time) and it was packed with a line snaking towards the door. Finally I noticed the lines were dying down at the 2 o'clock hour. And so yesterday I decided to try it.

I walked in and suddenly I hear someone yelling "ONE IN THE DOOR!" Followed by some mumbled replies and what sounded like "I'm ON it!" Anyway I made my way over to the counter and was greeted very cheerfully by the man behind the counter. Upon learning this was my first time at Five Guys he explained the menu. Two kinds of burgers regular and little - regular are 2 1/4 pound patties, little is one 1/4 pound pattie. All orders are made to order and all toppings are free. Fries come two ways cajun and regular.

Ok - so I ordered two regulars cheese burgers (one for me and Dad) with mayo relish tomato lettuce grilled onions and grilled mushrooms and two regular fries. The man tells me that a large will easily feed two people. So I make it one large fry. I get my number and wait.

Now remember it's 2 o'clock in the afternoon - not usually the time people grab dinner or lunch. It's that in between zone. But this place had people in it - not packed, but there are probably 4 - 5 tables filled with people. And while I was waiting another couple came in "TWO IN THE DOOR!".

The kitchen was open (when have you ever seen THAT in a fast food restaurant!) and immaculate. I watched them grill the burgers on a flat top and then build them OMG! Finally my order is called and I rush over. The same man that waited on me hands me my bag - all their burgers are packaged to go. He tells me NOT to roll the bag top down - that will make the fries soggy. Nice touch I thought.

I head home and unwrap my burger - wow, big the patties are thick and I can see the lettuce and tomato and I can smell the mushrooms and onions. I take a bite, juice runs down my chin and down my shirt leaving bits of grilled onion and mushrooms in its wake. Oh well it was worth it! The burger is GOOD. Have I had better? Yes - Lappelah's burger is fantastic but it's also $10 bucks - my 5 guys burger was half that price. I try the fries - they're fired in peanut oil and boy do they impart a great flavor! They were just right for me, but I'm not a crispy fry person. I like mine a little limp but with a bit of snap - these did not disappoint. But I will state that if you like crispy fries you might not be too keen on these. It could also have been the batch I had - and yes I DID keep the bag open.

So bottom line: Very very good burgers best fast food ones I've had bar none. I love the fact you can get custom toppings like mushrooms and grilled onions and its all free. The fries had a great taste - not too salty not too blah. I would recommend five guys to anyone in need of a good burger fast!

a day without internet is like a day without...

2010-03-17T07:14:00.000-07:00

I got hit with two bits of news yesterday morning as I stumbled down the stairs, news bit one - one of the dogs had decided to use the kitchen floor as a personal bathroom. news bit two - the internet was out. Now let me explain a little bit about my morning routine. I wake up, get up, get ready, rush downstairs, pet da boyz, then dive into the car so that I can be at work at 5:30ish AM. No I'm not on shift work, I do it to avoid Vancouver to Portland traffic - which rivals LA traffic at times.

I mention this becuase usually I'm half alseep as I stumble though the house towards the car, don't worry by the time I hit the freeway I'm only a quarter asleep. So the two bits of news hit the dull wall of my waking brain. The dog present had already been cleaned up. Yea! The internet - not much I could do but I did manage to mumble. Did you reboot? -Answer YES Did you turn off the wireless router wait and then turn it back on? - YES. Ok - those were my two computer professional thoughts and what I usually did when we'd loose internet. So I stated there was nothing I could do about it right then as I hoped it would come back on its own accord - like a wandering cat that decides to go on walk about.

I came home - first question - first answer. Internet up? No. Crap! This meant one thing and one thing only - a call to the ISP something I loath and dread with every fiber of my being. I have nothing against the nice people there, it's just I know the talk track they'll have me follow - most of which I'd already done. But, no internet meant no e-mail several other things. YES I have an iphone with 3G but honestly I couldn't see myself trying to answer e-mails, check twitter and facebook and do some reasearch on the web via that little guy.

I called the ISP. Went through the telephonic gynnastics I needed to get to a live person. NO I did NOT want to take a survey after I was done with the call - thank you robot voice lady. Finally I got a real person. I told him my internet was dead and I blurted out quickly - hoping it would get him past the talk track bits I'd already done. "I've rebooted several times and I've turned off the router as well. Nothing."

He was a nice man. I didn't have to go through that bit again. He did have me undo the coxaial cables and plug them in again. Nothing on his end. Nothing on my end. The router did it's best to show some weakly flickering lights trying it's best to prove it was still capable, but it was clear to the tech and to me that it just didn't have it anymore. We needed to go to the bull pen for a new pitcher..I mean server.

The nice man told me to take my router to the nearest office and return it for a brand new one...or at least brand new to me. OK. I said and so happily did I head off to get said new router with the old one, no doubt glumly, resting next to me. I go to the office and see the mass of people waiting, take my number, and wait. It wasn't too long of a wait and next thing I'm sitting in front of a nice lady shoving my router across the table.

"Um." she says. I hate when they say Um..it usually means something not good is coming. It wasn't. "I'm sorry, but this router requires a tech to come to your house to replace. It's secured. The tech on the phone should have known this. I'm giving you a $20 credit for your time. When would you like the tech to come?"

WHAT! No Internet? No internet ALL NIGHT! I mean..NO INTERNET! We set a time and off I go, no doubt the router is now smirking at my misfortune. I head home. I made dinner (roasted chicken stuffed with orange and rosemary and new potatoes green beans and mushrooms simmered in a soy broth). I petted the pups, I groomed the pups (ok brushed), I did check e-mails on my iphone but that was it. I went to bed. I read. I...I...I actually started to remember a time when there was no internet, there was no wireless, no facebook or twitter. I started to remember when I wasn't sitting in front of my laptop surfing the net. It was almost....almost...nice. Thank the internet gods the tech comes today! I mean one more day of not having internet and I mightdo something crazy like...like...totally give it up! WHEW! That was a close one.

What dreams may come

2010-03-08T09:24:00.000-08:00

It all began on Friday morning. My usual schlep into the office takes place in the dark most people are not awake and are driving on autopilot. Which is why I should have been expecting the near accident I witnessed. I was in the left lane, the red mustang was a good car and a half length ahead of me, which is how I like it. The van came on and proceeded to glide from the right lane to the middle lane, and then..to my shock and horror...from the middle lane to the left. All would have been well except the red mustang happened to be in the left lane! The mustang's driver now had to move onto the shoulder. Now mind this is all happening at about 60+ mph! The van NOW realizes what it has done and tries to move back to the middle, can't.. another car is now there! So it stays in the left lane, the mustang guns it and rides the shoulder until he can get back in in front of the van, and my heart is pounding a latin beat.

No doubt this incident triggered the dream I had that night. Accidents, near accidents, all in that twisted odd world that is our dreams. Saturday morning I woke thinking how our daily life affects our dreams. I told my dream to Mom who agreed that Friday's incident had impacted my dreams.

Then we went shopping. I'd gotten my hair cut, finally, and I had yet to go to the store to get something for dinner. We got into her car and headed off. We saw our first near accident not long after. As we were coming to a red light someone pulled out ....slowly..from a parking lot right in front of the car in front of us. He threw on his breaks, we did the same. And we muttered about idgit people. Then we shopped and left the grocery store. As we were heading out of the parking lot a car filled with - what looked like teenagers or twenty somethings, flies around the corner and turns into the parking lot. They cut it short...very short...very very short. Mom throws on the breaks, we pitch forward and we hear the groceries in the back end go flying. The car with the kids misses the front end by inches. If Mom had not thrown on the breaks they'd have clipped us. OY. I'm starting to think maybe my dream wasn't such a dream after all.

Back on the freeway we go and another near incident do we see. There is a part of the freeway that goes from 3 lanes to 2 lanes, now for some reason the people that built the freeway decided the LEFT lane should go and not the right. So usually you have a lot of people in the left lane TRYING to fly past everyone else and switch back in before their lane runs out. Not a problem...usually...an bother...yeah...but not a problem. Unless you happen to have an insanely huge RV that decides to go from the right lane into the middle lane RIGHT at the spot where the left lane merges in. We start slowing ready to witness the mangling of metal. Luckily the RV realizes his mistake and swings back into his original lane. Whew.

Off the freeway - YES. But are we free? NO. There are two lanes that exit and can turn left. We're in the inner lane. A car from Alaska is in the outter lane, I suppose he realized he wanted to go back on the freeway, which means he had to cross into the outter lane. Which he did... Directly in front of us! Again the hard break, the pitch forward, and yet more groceries sound like they're scattered across teh entire back end. The Alaksa driver is totally oblivious in his quest to get back on the freeway.

By now I'm exhausted. We've had to pair drive! Mom steering and me being on the look out for any and all drivers! We're on the home stretch...not far to the house. But oh no we're not done yet. We come up to a light...green...it's a green light...the person at the green light is not moving the cars in front of us...yup you guessed it...break light city..including ours.

Finally FINALLY we got home and crawled out of the car to kiss the concrete of the garage floor. The dogs raced out to greet us as soon as Dad opened the garage door. I petted them and thought how lucky I was to be able to do it. I went in, curled into a little ball and whimpered softly. No No NO NO going out! Not at least until the morning.

This will teach me to not heed my dreams!

The better butter battle

2010-02-20T11:30:00.000-08:00

Apologies to Dr. Seuss for the title. But I MADE BUTTER!!! I MADE BUTTER!!! Did I mention I made butter? It is SO EASY!

And no you don't need one of those.

All you need is

You need heavy cream

And a food processor

Then you turn it on and wait....

and wait...

and wait....

And then when you're JUST about to throw in the towel....

Yes that is freshly "churned" butter. The taste...oh my gosh so good. Now I must bake some bread to go with it! I will add home made butter is less calories and fat then the stuff I bought at the store.

The deed is done

2010-02-14T14:24:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure how good it is, I'm not sure if the synopsis is right, I'm not sure about a lot of things. What I am sure about is that I have 3 copies in a large envelope ready to be mailed to the PNWA literary contest tomorrow - it's due on Friday.

Comfort food

2010-02-13T10:28:00.000-08:00

As some of you know I've been a tad sickly the past month. I finally broke down and went to the doctor and found out I had walking pneumonia - which is an odd name since I so did not want to walk. All I wanted to do was lay on the sofa with the dogs and watch food shows.

So as I'm laying there letting the antibiotics do their work I start having cravings for things I haven't had in a very VERY long time. I will say the craving for Chef Boyardee ravioli was partly due to the food show I watched about canned foods and all, but the other cravings were not TV inspired.

Fish sticks. I can't tell you the last time I had them. But I was now craving those battered bits of fish and tater tots. Ore Ida tater tots. Again can't remember the last time I had them but I needed them NOW, pronto stat!!!

Then I got to thinking about it, those are the things I loved as a kid. They were my kiddie comfort food. Mom use to make fish stick sandwiches with cheddar cheese and mayo and sweet pickle relish on hamburger buns. Tater tots baked in the toaster oven until they were sizzling bits of tater goodness.

I'm sure if I could have found Franco American spaghetti I would have wanted that too. Another childhood comfort food. We never ate it warm, I didn't even know you were suppose to heat it up until much later. I have fond memories of eating those thin ropes of pasta and thinking nothing of how unnatural the orange sauce was.

A trip to the grocery store and I was back with my childhood memories -somewhat. The fish sticks were slices of halibut and not the mince that I remembered, but the tater tots were like old times. Ok I did use malt vinegar on the fish sticks but ketchup was the dip of the day for the tots just like when I was a kid. And like when I was a kid I would pick up a tot with my fingers and plunge it into the red pool of vinegary tomatoey goodness.

Now that I'm on the mend I have to think that maybe reliving my childhood comfort food helped as much as the antibiotics. At least that's what I'm going to keep thinking.

honesty not sure if it's the best policy

2010-01-27T15:22:00.000-08:00

Melanie - a member of the Dead Bunny Club wrote 10 honest things about herself and then listed me as one of the people to do the same. It's kind of like a blog chain letter. So here goes.

1. I am shy - really. Very very shy. So why do I write a blog? Who knows.

2. I've always been tall. When I was a girl scout there was not a uniform in all of Southern California that would fit me. I had to make do with some green cords and a yellow blouse with green flowers I'd borrowed from my Mom. I have to admit though -girl scout uniforms in the 70's were HOR-RI-BLE! Pea soup polyester! Yeesh I still shudder at the very thought of them

3. I hate being late so I usually arrive way too early and sit in my car reading a book on the Kindle app on my iPhone. Even if I know how long it will take me I still leave so I have a 10 minute cushion

4. I've eaten Haggis

5. I use to not always cook. I liked weird foods, but cooking didn't happen until my mid-30's

6. I'm a sixth generation Texan but don't sound it. Moving a lot tends to do that

7. I love football

8. I use to love baseball back when I use to play softball.

9. I tend to like dogs better then people

10. I don't have 7 people to send this out to.

Gah all done. OY!

Why do we write?

2010-01-25T15:16:00.000-08:00

I've been agonizing over my submission to the PNWA literary contest. Is the synopsis alright, what about the submission piece? What'll I do when I get the critiques back - knowing me I'll probably curl up into the fetal position and stare at the envelope alternating between whimpering and babbling nonsensical things. Although anyone (all 10 of you) who read this blog know I'm apt to do that without the presence of a critique letter in my midst.

So it got me to thinking, why do we do this? Why do we write, books, short stories, blogs, tweets? Not everyone does. There are people perfectly happy NOT writing. There are people that are walking around at this very minute that do not share their waking time with fictional characters..ok maybe there are a few but they have medication for that.

Why do we feel this need, this compulsion, this obsession to write? Why do we feel the need to tell the world a story - especially those of us with day jobs. In olden days writers had patrons - if you were lucky enough to bag one you were, more often then not, set for life. That is unless you some how lost favor with said patron and then you'd be back with the rest of the rabble.

But even then...even back to hell..prehistoric times... why did some people feel the need to tell stories and why do we today?

I've always been puzzled by this...drive..compulsion..ok obsession to write... and, frankly, I've been plagued by it since I can remember. I have a distinct memory of being in 4th grade and saying I wanted to be a writer. And like most I became something totally NOT what I said I'd be. Although I suppose writing computer programs CAN be a form of writing.

IF (i == Friends || i == Romans || i ==Countrymen)

{

printf("lend me your ears /n");

x-=praise;

x+ = bury;

}

Um yeah. * disclaimer programmer folks, it's been YEARS since I programmed in C so yeah my syntax might be wrong *disclaimer

But the need to tell a story, and the living with characters that, at times, seem real. Why?

Why do we write? I wish I could say. But I my protagonist is pounding in my head to get to this next chapter so I'd better do what she says. I don't want to make her angry - you wouldn't like her when she's angry.

The Great Herring Experiment

2010-01-23T13:03:00.000-08:00

Jenku70 my twitter friend told me about herring with caviar. OOOOOOO I had to try! So I did! Of course I had to make my own since we don't tend to sell herring a lot in this states, but lucky for me Whole Foods had just want I needed.

And so began the great herring experiment

First - the herring

Then the Caviar -

Then mix together

And serve on rye crisps

Conclusion? OUTSTANDING for a thrown together attempt. Now time to eat!

Breakfast...why always eggs?

2010-01-18T17:05:00.000-08:00

Everyone knows I'm a tad odd, in more ways then one. I'll eat chicken butts and like it, I go gaga over things that most people think of as garbage - chicken gizzards anyone? And I don't like a typical breakfast. I don't. Honestly, I never have. For example, my most favorite "breakfast" dish is a sausage and rice casserole that my Mom makes on my birthday. It's based on a recipe in a cookbook my Great Aunt Tarncey's ladies auxillary put out. The original recipe called for beef and chicken and stars soup and rice and I can't remember what all. And I can't remember when Mom modified that recipe into the thing of beauty it is today. But I know I always want it on my birthday.

Another one of my favorite breakfasts - a nice oozy brie cheese with crackers. My favorite is a small brie from Willamette Valley creamery. It's a nice size round bit of cheesy goodness, that by the time I commute and get going at the office is warm enough to ooze out when I cut into it. Oh bliss.

Beans on Toast - OMG - need I say more. Beans - Heinz beans (the UK version only - snob...maybe) and buttered toast. Goodly goodness.

Bacon sandwich - ok ANYTHING with bacon is good but a bacon sandwich is fantastic. Of course the bacon canNOT be crisp - chewy bacon a must. Which, for me, is OK. I've never been a lover of crisp bacon. I get this from my grandfather - a chewy fatty bacon lover from long back.

Cold pizza - many a college student's breakfast. Mine still.

When I don't have anything then I will be somewhat traditional with a breakfast burrito - hey it's got eggs and bacon or sausage and hash browns. Best one I EVER had was at the grill at Richland College in Dallas.

So yeah, I'm odd to some. But hey, I'm still eating the most important meal of the day! Just maybe a tad differently then most.

Feeling the Nostrana love

2010-01-15T15:18:00.000-08:00

If you have a chance check out mynorthwestexperience blog on Nostrana. He's got pictures and everything! I shall not have pictures, but they are there in my head, but honestly you do not want to go crawling around in my head it's a very scary place in there. Very scary. But I digress - what else is new.

Nostrana. We went for a team lunch today - it was January Birthday lunch day. About 8 of us made our way in the rain and disgusting weather that seems to hit the greater Portland area around this time. First off I have to say I was surprised to fine Nostrana in a strip mall. A very nice strip mall with a good amount of parking. Believe me in Portland that is a plus.

The place was pretty empty when we got there..ok very empty. We were the only group there for a while. But as soon as you walk in the door you know you're in for a treat. First there's the soft scent of wood smoke, not over powering, just enough to let you know that there is a wood oven in the area. You don't have to look too far to find it. Mynorthwestexperience has a nice picture of it on his blog. A beautiful fire was blazing away in the brick oven which helped to banish away the winter chill. We looked at the menu - since this was lunch it's main thrust was pizza, but there was a ravioli with cod, a pork burger (panini) and fettucini with gorgonzola sauce. I'd been pondering what to get but I finally decided on the Fughi pizza which had shitake mushrooms, bacon, fontina and parmigano.

But before that came out we had the bread and the olive oil. Now I love good bread and olive oil although usually the olive oil is well -eh. Not much flavor. Lots of times places will give you some balsamic vinegar to spice up the oil. This oil need no help it was beautiful and flavorful and the bread was so light it was perfect. I probably ate more then I should have but I couldn't get enough.

Then I had my pizza. OMG! First it's not sliced, you do it yourself with scissors which I loved, actually, I could cut as large or small of a slice as I wanted. And the flavors, strong mushroom but not over powering, it melded well the cubes of bacon and the cheeses. The crust was out of this world, thin, very thin and flavorful. I have to say, I ate the entire pizza by myself. I couldn't let it go.

Since I had had my pizza...all of it...dessert was out of the question, but coffee sounded good. Once again Nostrana did not disappoint. Others got dessert so I was able to see and it sounds like you don't have to worry about lack luster desserts there either. Of course they have tiramasu, but this one is made with grappa and gelato which is homemade.

So bottom line? GO!!! The pizza's run around 12 dollars but two people can probably eat off of one especially with a side salad. Their dinner menu is much more complete and I'll have to make a run there some time. But it will NOT disappoint!

Oh yeah, I am felling the Nostrana love!

Herring Herring we gots our Herring right here!

2010-01-12T15:42:00.000-08:00

My twitter bud @jenuku70 and I were discussing...well..food. We's Swedish and during a twitter-conversation we got onto the subject of herring. I like herring, actually I don't think there's a food I've ever NOT liked which accounts for my somewhat zaftig build. I also blame my German Haus Frau ancestors...I'm sure I had one!

But onto the herring. In the US as most folks know herring is ...well...not really that well received. I'm not sure why, ok maybe it's because they look like bait fish, maybe.

But, as I've said, I've always liked herring. I like it in cream sauce and wine sauce. A friend of mine at work made picked herring and brought it into the office - I was over the moon!

So jenku and I were chatting and he tells me that in Sweden there are all sorts of flavors of herring, mustard, curry and one he called Archipelago. Ok this sounds interesting...what is it exactly?

Herring in cream sauce with caviar! Already my taste buds are doing the happy dance. He checked with a friend in Portland there might be a deli that might carry it. Sadly the Ikea only carries ligonberry tortes and swedish meatballs.

Now I'm thinking I CAN try to mimic this easily by getting a jar of herring in cream sauce and adding some lumpfish caviar to it. But Jenku was sweet enough to actual find a recipe on google and translate it to English. He left the metric amounts, I can't blame him. His poor wife had a fit trying to figure out the amounts in the beet stew I had posted.

So - without further adieu - courtesy of Jenku70 on twitter ( I left his notes they're very funny!) -

Archipelago Herring à la Feldt

10-12 pc Feldt, salt herring fillets, Art No. 8111/8142

Sillage (that's not a word = pickelage...haha...)

2 dl vinegar

4 dl sugar

6 dl water

10 pieces crushed pimento grains

1-2 tsp yellow mustard seeds

1 Each of the red onion slices

Dilute herring with plenty of water for 12 hours.

Boil together spices, sugar and water.Allow to cool for a while and add vinegar.

Alternating herring and onions turn on the cold, the law (haha again, they want you to add the "pickelage" and put it in the fridge) and leave 2-3 days.

Make the sauce.Season with s & p.

Sauce

1 dl lumpfish roe caviar, red alt Cavi-Art red, art No 8232/8260 (use whatever caviar you can find!!)

5 dl mayonnaise

5 dl creme fraiche

2 pcs red onion, finely chopped (about 250g)

1 dl chopped dill & 1 dl chives, cut.

S & P

Let herring run off (don't! just take it out of the "pickelage" and put in in the sauce!), cut it into pieces and mix it into the sauce.

Let ripen in fridge one day.

I think I'm first going to try the quick and dirty way - cream sauce herring with a jar of caviar. Then I'll hunt down a fishmonger that has some herring and will try it the Swedish way!

Stay tuned!

Commuter Peeves

2010-01-11T15:09:00.000-08:00

I commute. I usually get into the office by 5:30 AM because if I don't a 20 minute commute turns into a 45 minute to an hour commute in and worse going home. I usually eat at my desk so I don't take an official lunch so I can leave 8 hours after I arrive. This is in part to sneak in under the HOV lane activation time - which happens at 3. I've been commuting nearly all my working life - there was a time I lived in downtown Portland in an apartment within walking distance of the office. My commute was 10 minutes through a nice park. But I digress, or regress. Anyway on to my peeves.

1. Left Lane Laggards: You know who you are! You get over in the left lane and then go slower then most people in the right lane! Ok ok fine you don't like having people merging in, I understand, and you don't like being in the middle lane..ok. But BUT..when you have a line of cars behind you, and people are whipping around you and cutting back in a scant centimeter in front of your plate .. wouldn't you THINK maybe about moving over, letting people pass, and then moving back over? I mean it's not like you won't be able to get back over, all the cars will have passed you within seconds!

2. Cell Crawlers: Not quite like the Laggards but close. People, people people. First of all, it's against the law in both Oregon and Washington to talk on a cell phone while driving unless it's hands free. And, take my advice, if you have to sloooow down to a crawl so that you can talk then maybe you shouldn't have a phone at all? Why does slowing down make it easier for you to talk? That's kind of like turning down the radio when you're lost? If you can't drive and talk then take the bus! They'll drive for you! And actually hey Laggards that goes for you too!

3. Truck Trauma: I get it. Trucks are big, they have a lot of wheels and in Oregon they can be LONG loads (a semi pulling a trailer followed by a trailer followed by a trailer - how many wheels is that?) Anyway, yes I understand they can be scary, but here's the deal you're prolonging the fear factor by staying side by side with said monster truck! MOVE! Get around them and then get over happy in the fact you've bested the monster.

4. Butt Bashers: You guys are almost as bad as the laggards. Yes I know you want to get where you want to get as fast as possible. Yes I understand that, no really I do. I'm with you on that one, just maybe not in such the rush that you are. But let's think about this for just a second. I have a car in front of me, I have a car beside me, I CANNOT GO ANYWHERE so why do you feel the need to nearly bash my butt? Can you not see that I have no place to go?

5. You're not Exiting a head of me: Sorry I couldn't think of any good alliteration for this commuter. Let's talk for a moment shall we? I'm not making rude comments about you, I'm not trying to defame your name, I'm not doing anything but trying to 1) get in the lane 2) merge with traffic 3) merge off the f-ing freeway. I have given you my signal so you know this to be the case, so why do you suddenly decide that NONE SHALL PASS and you gun the engine and fly up just so I cannot do what I'm suppose to do? This goes for you too you Yes, I know you're having to exit in the same lane I use to get on the freeway but I won't let you get a head of me - people.

Oh there are so many others, signal senile (the clicking sound is your TURN SIGNAL not the back beat to the song you're listening too), Telepathic Traveler (you know you should know I want over without me having to give a signal), and of course Last Minute Larry (No, you shouldn't have to cross 5 lanes of traffic in a single shot to get to your exit NOR should you wait until you GET to the closed lane to move over)

I could continue but I won't. I know it's little use to rant like this because those people will never see this and if they do they'll look at it with a quizzical expression unsure what this all means - no doubt while going 20 in the left lane on the free way while talking to Uncle Mo who's front seat is in the back seat of the car in front of him while his signal blinker blinks.

Oh well. At least I'm home, and don't have to worry about this....until tomorrow.

What a year!

2009-12-31T09:23:00.000-08:00

What a YEAR 2009 was! I'm not talking about politics or economics, this is my blog so I'm going to be a little more self-centered because, well, I can.

In 2009 I learned the ways of facebook and have now joined mafia's while weeding gardens and fighting dragons. I've learned to tweet, re-tweet, hash-tag, follow and unfollow

I've learned to let my friends know where I'm at by either gowallaing or being all squared with four-square

I've waved, been waved and still have no clue what I'm actually to do with wave

I'm still trying to get the GIST of gist

I decided to take a digital photography class at Clark College and wound up enlisting in Novel Writing Boot Camp that rekindled my love of writing and meeting some pretty damn fine people in the process namely the best teacher in the world Carolyn J Rose who helped me find the best critique group in the world!

Yes I'm talking about YOU Melanie - makes me laugh out loud with every blog entry and has a great story to tell the world, and YOU Carol - the first the only classic one who has helped me get in touch with techie things I never would have and has let me glimpse into the life of Carrie-Ann and Lee, And YOU Pam - who is so kind to let us crash at your place every Thursday and gives such great feedback YOU Peggy - the fencer with a Y/A story that is out of this world. And Lisa and Ginger, I met you two only once at the Christmas Dinner but it felt like I'd known you guys for years.

Through these wonderful ladies I've enriched my world with friends of the cyber-kind. Karen and Harley your adventures always make me laugh, Jenku the twitter conversations and the wave waves have been very enjoyable, Appleberrymount - the nicest lady I've never met! @BCMystery - it's no mystery that you're a fun guy to chat with sitting on top of a wave or twittering.

And of course MyNorthwestExperience - a co-worker you might be but a comrade in the gullet who opened my eyes to the cart scene in Portland and who's blog I love to read and wait with baited breath for a new installment.

To all my friends be you new, old, or cyber. Have a great and safe New Year and see you all in 2010!!!

Sharon (and Bear and Boo - I couldn't leave them out!)

Gamer's Guilt

2009-12-28T06:35:00.000-08:00

Hi. My name is Sharon and I'm a gamer. "Hello Sharon." I've been gaming most of my life. I remember vividly in 7th grade math class Gordon Culp brought in these small booklets that had the title Dungeons and Dragon's printed on the front. Those slim volumes were the original D&D set where halflings were hobbits and there was no such thing as THAC0 (to hit armor class 0). We didn't get to play then, and long I pined for the chance. It wasn't until college, actually, that I finally got my chance to play D&D and by then the slim tomes had turned into larger books. My theatre buds and I would play, staying up late into the night and early into the morning. We'd lead our band of intrepid heroes into whatever dungeon the Dungeon Master had planned for us. It was all in our heads, and mabye a little bit on graph paper so we knew where we were standing before we attacked the great grendlackian gundlesnark.

When I moved to New Jersery I found others that played. By this time there was not just D&D there were many other Role Playing Gamers (RPGs). We indulged in playing different ones, Champions - where you were a comic book hero. Traveler - set in a science fiction universe.

While living in New Jersey I met the future - it was a D&D game that you played on AOL. Your party was other people who were on AOL. You didn't have to be in the room with them! And no more graph paper with x's showing who's who. You could actually see each other's character and interact with the monsters (although squatty pixelized sprits that they were)

It was then that any first person based supposed RPG paled in comparison to this real life interaction...ok cyber life interaction. But sadly, AOL didn't keep the D&D game for very long and I fell into a gameless void. I did play first person RPG's and they were ok. Wing Commander was my favorite of those, but I never looked up on it as an RPG .. not really. A true RPG you felt like your actions caused events. I never really felt that with even Wing Commander. I mean after all you're given 4 options to reply back to someone and it's pretty clear which reply you want to use.

Time passed and I moved to the Pacific Northwest. A friend back in NJ told me about a text based roll playing game based on a TV show I liked ..Xena. It was acutally based on Xena and Hercules and was set in ancient greece - the Golden Age as the shows called it.. when centaurs and humans roamed the land and the gods came down and played.

I liked the game. I had a character named Chikara who came from Southern Greece - so of course she talked with a drawl. I made many good friends. And in fact, after a while, I became a Game Master for the game. Game Masters are the people that keep on-line games runing. Mine was a voluntary role, but in it I was able to be creative and write. I hadn't written in years - a prolonged case of writer's block - so it was nice to write little snippets. You see in a text based game you don't see anything, you have text on the screen describing what you see. So you might come into an area and see a small park off to your left with a fountain gurgling. Tall trees create a nice shaded area in the park...etc. Then there are mechanisims to allow you to "interact" with say the fountain by typing "Look at fountain" then again you'd be told "The fountain is quite beautiful. It appears to be made out of a single block of marble. A carved pan rests ontop of carved stones, water trickles out of his flute.."you get the idea.

But sadly, even though it was a fun job, it was a job that didn't pay. And I finally had to part ways with it.

Again I was without a game, until World of Warcraft came on the scene 5 years ago. I'd found that friends at work played it and had a guild and so on. I joined and played. This was not really a true RPG since no one REALLY roll played, but the graphics were nice and teh story was good and I was playing with a great bunch of people.

When I took Novel Writing Boot Camp I stopped playing. I canceled all my subscriptions and I concentrated on writing. It was odd that since I'd spent so much time playing games that had fantasy or sci-fi components that I would choose to write historical fiction. But heh, I was actually writing again after about 20 years of not.

So why the guilt? I missed WoW. I missed the people. So the other day I loaded it up on my Mac. Then I found the RPG game that actually, for the first time, made me feel like I was taking part in a fantasy novel. It's called Dragon's Age:Origins. I'm stunned at the detail, the characters, everything about it. Instead of writing about the civil war I've been fighting dark spawn and trying to stay alive after I was torn from everything I've known and cared for.

I think I also needed a break from research and writing for a day or three. Now I'm ready to get back to things and not feel guilty about the occasional trip to Azeroth (world of warcraft) or Fareldin (Dragon's Age).

2009-12-23T06:26:00.000-08:00

I was going to try to write something witty and funy for the season. But, I figured I'd let da boyz say it

Merry Christmas if you Christmas, Happy Chanukah if you Chanukah, Happy Kwanza if you Kwanza and Happy Solstice if you Solstice

(And thanks Kevin for giving da boyz their hats!)

Trying to understand social media

2009-12-16T13:02:00.000-08:00

Ok I understand Face Book, well sort of. I mean I know it's where I can hook up with friends and get spammed endlessly for help whacking someone in mafia wars or fertilizing a friends farm in farmville. Yes I've played those games and many more. But Twitter....twitter is another animal. Ok no games, that's a plus, and I'm limited to 140 characters - microblogging I get, it's hard but I get it. I understand retweeting and I'm just starting to understand the # labels on things. I even understand follow Friday. Lists - I understand the concept.
But what I don't understand is why why why I'm being followed? I currently have 75 followers and they range from people I know like @scupperlout (Melanie) @thefirstcarol (Carol) @theclassiccarol (Carol's sistah) and so on. There are people that follow me because of the whole writer thing or the foodie thing and then there are the ones I have no clue about. Portland Roofing is following me. I don't think I ever mentioned in a tweet I needed a new roof. It's nice to know that if I do I have a follower that is into that sort of thing, but... it's kind of creepy in a way. I'm piling up followers (and yes I do cull the crew from time to time). Do people follow to see how many folks they can follow? Do they have software that will automatically follow anyone in a 25 mile radius? Do I care? Should I care? I mean I follow people I don't know, but I don't do it randomly there's usually a reason I decide to follow.
I followed Mayor Sam Adams and was then stunned when he turned around and followed me. Poor guys twitter feed is filled with my banal tweets about using Parmesan rinds in soups to add flavor or my retweeting tweets. I don't even LIVE in Portland! I guess, in a way, twitter is kind of like writing. You write a book, or I suppose a blog, and put it out there and then perfect strangers will read it. But still....a roofing company?

Bark.........BUSTED

2009-12-06T15:25:00.000-08:00

It began with a fight. Boo lunged at Bear and the comically horrible sound of two 20 pound dogs in full fight mode filled the house. I say comically horrible because well they're little and horrible is the sound they make in sends shivers up and down my spine. This is not a regular occurance, but still it happens with no clue what sets them off. However this time was different. When we pulled them apart there was blood. Blood was dripping down from Bear's right eye. Boo had taken a divet out of the lower lid. The vet was closed and so we rushed him to the ER vet. Thankfully no damage to they eye itself, just the lid. He'd have a scar to match the other one he got from Boo when a stupid vet technican put the two of them together in a cage when they were puppies. Bear had to wear the cone of shame for 2 weeks and take antibiotics. I was out a couple hundred dollars. But he was safe and sound...this time.

So the agonizing decisions began. What to do with Boo. Bear wasn't the instigator, Boo was. We couldn't have this anymore. For 3 years since I moved back in with my parents the boys have barked at anyone that came in the door. Lhasas were bred to be guard dogs in palaces and lamasaries in Tibet, but I'm sure the royals and the monks had visitors.

We were down to our last chance...Boo was down to his last chance..if we didn't find something he'd have to go to a new home and it was tearing my heart up to think of it. A friend at work had told me of a company called Bark Busters. They come to the home, work with your dogs, and they will do it for the life of the dog. It wasn't cheap, but I wanted to give Boo this shot.

I contacted Bark busters and got an e-mail from Jenny - the behaviorist for the Vancouver area. She said she thought she knew what the problem was and could I call her. No obligation. I did. She began to ask questions no trainer (and I'd been to several) had ever asked. I started to think that maybe, just maybe she could help.

She came over yesterday. The doorbell rang. The dogs went ballistic. While holding on to Boo Mom was able to open the door and let Jenny in. I held on to Bear. She watched as two grown women tried to get control over two 20 pound fur balls. Then she placed her metal brief case on the floor, took her keys from her pocket and dropped them onto the briefcase exclaiming "BAH!" The boys shut up. Bear jumped behind me, Boo wasn't going to take this lying down so he barked again. Again the keys, again the bang, again the BAH. He was done. "Good dog." she said sweetly. And so began our day.

The problem was we didn't speak dog. She explained to us. And we needed to learn it. Boo thought he had to be head of the pack. Everything he was doing was because he thought he had to do it. The nips and the fights with Bear, he was thinking Bear was out of line. Not following the pack. Once we showed Boo that WE were in fact Pack leaders he seemed to change before our eyes. Jenny went outside for about 10 minutes and then rang the doorbell. No bark! Nothing! In fact the mean little furballs were letting her pet them and give them treats! We went for a walk. A man on his roof (don't ask) shouted down Hi. Old Boo would have lunged and barked. New Boo...not a pip.

I had seen dog training shows before - Me or the Dog, The dog whisperer (which I loath) and I always scoffed at how the dogs reacted with the hosts. It couldn't be that fast, it couldn't be that easy. That fast, yes. That easy....no. We're going to need to work with Boo and Bear daily to instill into them that we are the pack leaders. We can't let up. But today we have two different dogs. We rang the door bell. Boo started to Bark - Mom Bah'd. Boo stopped and went back into the family room and sat down. I rang the doorbell again. A little bark, BAH. Again..no bark.

We have two very sweet and lovable puppies and it looks like we're going to be able to keep both our sweet and lovable puppies. Jenny will be coming back out in a few weeks to check on things. If we ever have an issue we call her and she'll be right there.

The training lasted well into the time for the Vancouver Writer's Mixer though so I was forced to miss it and the, no doubt, wonderful talk by Carolyn Rose my beloved writing teacher. But I think she'd understand. I missed her talk, but I saved Boo from having to go to a new family...well Jenny did... but I'll keep at it so that Boo can heave a sigh of relief and let the burden of leading the pack fall to the furless two leggers now.

BRRRR

2009-12-04T10:16:00.000-08:00

In the cube rat hierarchy window seats (if you’re in a building that has windows) is a status symbol. It shows you’ve been with said company long enough to have enough seniority that you are deemed worthy enough to be given a desk by the window. In my case, after 15 years, I have a window seat on the 4th floor of our building that has a fantastic view of the Willamette River and, on good days, a view of Mount Hood.

As I’m an early bird (in usually by 5:30 AM) I also get the added pleasure of seeing the sunrise. And since I’m an early bird I hardly EVER see the sunset. Yes I go to bed earlier then a 4 year old.

But there are some drawbacks with a window seat that I didn’t think of. One, temperature. I’m near a window. The window faces East. It is winter, winter is cold. Winter Cold + East Facing window = cold cube. Very cold cube. So cold I’m currently typing with Bob Crachet gloves (fingerless). My toes feel like I’ve been walking up hill both ways in a driving snow storm – barefoot. Now normally I’m a polar bear. I sleep with the AC on in the winter! While people scurry about me bundled up like mini Michelin men I’m walking around in a sweater vest and shirt sleeves. But for some reason, here at my desk with a view I’ve turned into a shivering whimpering cold ninny! What’s up with that!

I refuse to give up my view and my hard earned desk. Maybe I can fine a lump of coal and put it in my heater to warm my hands over. Or maybe I’ll break down and bring in a blanket…hmm I wonder how wearing a snuggie would work.

Getting old sucks

2009-11-23T10:20:00.000-08:00

For 46 years my body and I have been on pretty good terms. Alright there was the time I broke my index finger on my right had in the first inning of a softball game and played the entire game not knowing I'd broken it. I batted the best I ever had. Then there were the knees. But I've learned to work with them and the two surgeries on the left and one surgery on the right have made them bareable. I don't need to play tennis ... really. And yes the eyesight that now requires me to wear monovision contacts and have bi-focals glasses was probably a good sign that my body was starting to start to wind down. But Friday...FRIDAY how could it. And how could it do it so ... soo....All I did was sit down SIT DOWN. That's it. I sat and I felt like 2 inches of my entire body suddenly settled with a big and painful BOOMF. There was the pain, and the sudden realization that standing up again might not be quite the mindless event I was planning. Now I will say here and now I'm no stranger to back issues and I know where they all stemmed from.

The summer of my 21st or 22nd year. I was still following the dream of working in the theatre, not as an actor but as a techie. I wanted to design lights or stage manage or something along those lines. So that summer I was hired by my old high school drama teacher to be an assistant techincal director for a semi-pro repatory company. I say semi-pro because only a handful of actually got paid, and the pay was a stipend at best. BUT it was a job in the theatre and something I could put on my resume. We did three shows, Godspell, Working, and Vanaties. I don't remember much of the sets, but I don't think there was a lot to it. The main thing was this platform or series of platforms that we could move around to create a different "stage" for each show. It was a great idea. Part of the platform staged was raked (theatre term for a stage that angles up or down). The issue here, though, was in order for us to move the raked portions we needed to pick up the platforms so that the front legs didn't catch and break. We did this by getting a slew of people under the platform and all lifting at the same time. You needed someone tall near the center of the platform to help raise it high enough for the legs to clear. I happen to be tall. There was a person next to me who thought they were tall... they were not... and when we lifted the platform I got the brunt of the weight, arms stretched above my head. The weight went down and into my lower back. SNAP! At that moment my back went out and my dreams of being Broadway's next great lighting designer went with it. My back would spasam if I lifted up a six pack of cokes, how was I going to be able to pull up a 40 pound lighting instrument on a rope to a catwalk! I wasn't. I couldn't. I didn't.

But, each time my back went out I could say..ok I did this...or I did that..or I KNEW I shouldn't have....but Friday. I sat down....SAT DOWN and my body decided to play this cruel and twisted joke on me. Cruel and twisted because the only time it's not being a pain is when I'm sitting. Standing, walking, lying in bed... um..unless I've taken a handful of Motrin or some tylenol PM...not a fun situation. And of course it's almost Thanksgiving! GAH! I've had to rethink my cooking. Ok the cranberry sauce I don't need to stand up much to cook. Dad's doing the turkey, as usual, Mom is doing the dressing (we're from the Texas it's dressing and it's made with corn bread) but I was going to do a new riff on green beans and maybe a sweet potato casserole. Now we'll have to see.

Sigh...getting old SUCKS

Of pedal powered truffles and such

2009-11-19T10:46:00.000-08:00

Friday I won a contest. I actually won a contest! I tweeted to the twitter feed of wingnut truffles and I won a sample delivered to me by the very cool pedal power people. I was a tad bit out of their delivery area (curse my office for being downtown-ish...emphasis on the ish) but Adam was nice enough to deliver to me anyway and I got my sample of wingnut truffles. Oh my oh my oh my oh my. I was in chocolate foodie nirvana. I tried the thai chili one first, don't be afraid by the sound, the dark chocolate and that kick of spice were out of this world. All of them, everyone were out of this world great.

Ok so here I am waxing poetic about truffles, yeah ok right big deal right? Wrong. Ok hot shot why? Why? Because not only were these bite sized morsals of goodly goodness they were also vegan. That's right, vegan. I for one have always looked at vegan food as well....vegan food. Sorry, I want my milk from a cow not a soy bean, cheese ...don't get me started on cheese... so yeah I'm not the type a vegan type of person. The old cattle rancher Texan ancestry runs a tad deep.

I may have to change my tune now when it comes to truffles. Honestly these rival and maybe even beat other truffles I've had.

Now onto the delivery of my amazing truffles. Portland Pedal Power - these guys are amazing. Talk about green delivery! They also hit the carts in Portland and will deliver to your office, or if you're in need of truffles they'll do that too. Listen, do yourself a favor check out their website and if you're in or near their delivery area do yourself a favor and have them grab you some lunch, or breakfast or what not. You'll be glad you did.

Here are the websites:
Wingnut Sweets
Portland Pedal Power

Try them you'll like them!

1860 biscuits

2009-11-17T17:01:00.000-08:00

Since Carol asked about a biscuit recipe and in honor of Melanie and her swashbuckling I found this recipe in: MODERN COOKERY, FOR PRIVATE FAMILIES, reduced to a system of easy practice, in a series of CAREFULLY TESTED RECEIPTS, in which the principles of BARON LIEBIG AND OTHER EMINENT WRITERS have been as much as possible applied and explained. BY ELIZA ACTON (published in London 1860)

Good Captain's Biscuits

Make some fine white flour into a very smooth paste with new milk;

divide it into small balls;

roll them out, and afterwards pull them with the fingers as thin as possible;

prick them all over, and bake them in a somewhat brisk oven from ten to twelve minutes.

These are excellent and very wholesome biscuits.

Aunt Ruby's Peach Honey

2009-11-14T14:23:00.000-08:00

Pam from my critique group suggested that I put recipes from my book in my blog. I thought it was a pretty darn good idea so here's the first. Aunt Ruby's Peach Honey (this is actualy my Great Aunt's recipe - Auntie Mae was a fantastic cook. Meals at her place were always an event. I don't remember her making this, but I do remember the family driving back to California after a Texas summer visit with parafin sealed jars filled with her fantastic strawberry fig preserves.) So without further adieu here is the recipe and my notes are at the bottom.

Peach Honey

4 cups Ripe Fruit

2 Tbs. Vinegar

Put on stove, boil 2 minutes. Add 4 cups sugar, cook 8 minutes longer. Let set 24 hours. Put in jars and seal with parafin.

(real good made with peaches)

My modifications

2 cups frozen peaches

1 tbs rice vinegar

3/4 cup sugar.

Put the lot in a pot on the stove and boil for 10 minutes keeping watch and stirring ocassionally so that nothing sticks. The mixture will reduce about by half. Let cool then spoon into a jar and seal the lid. When the jar is cool, put in the fridge and let set for 24 hours.

Slather on toast or biscuits.

can't resist

2009-11-13T12:47:00.000-08:00

When you have a face like that looking up at you

it's hard NOT to just pick him up and hug him.

And this one sits so patiently waiting for the treat which is usually carrots or green beans since...um...he's had a few to many treats.

But now....

After grooming.....I'm doomed! They're just too huggable!

Guilt

2009-11-11T06:27:00.000-08:00

I know it's research, and I know since I'm writing a historical novel that I need to do a lot of it, but I have to admit, I'm feeling a tad guilty. Research shouldn't be this fun! I'm currently reading Spies of the Confederacy by John Bakeless. This is NOT a history book. It's fun, it's witty, and I get caught up in the stories. I never thought I'd say a history book is a page turner, but this one is. At least to me. But all this research has left me little time for much else like NaNoWriMo, so..sadly. NaNo I hardly knew ya, and I did get 1K worth of really bad prose written in your honor, but for now I shall have to bid you adieu.

Now with NaNo no longer taxing what is left of my brain I should be able to concentrate on the tasks at hand. FINISHING Spies because I have Rebel Cornbread and Yankee Coffee to read and oh yeah...writing! D'oh!

Good bye old friend

2009-11-06T12:49:00.000-08:00

For 15 years we've been together. 15 years. I was but 31 a fresh face who'd moved from New Jersey to this vast glorious green land that is the pacific Northwest. You saw me through my first days here where I knew no one - the parents being in Malaysia. You were always a constant no matter where I went. You were there. Now the time has come. I knew it would, I knew that 15 years is a long time, but still I am saddened by the fact that come monday morning you'll be gone. I'll think of the old times, the good times, the not so good times and I'll always ALWAYS think of you.

My Old Phone

Wonders of Modern technology II

2009-11-05T08:47:00.000-08:00

The other day my cookbook from 1860 arrived. It's a little worse for wear but after all it is almost 150 years old (149 as a matter of fact). The cloth on the spine is hanging by a few threads, but other wise the pages themselves look pretty darn spry. I've flipped through it, and the 1943 Joy of Cooking, in small savoring bits. The 1860 cookbook has drawings of "modern" kitchen tools. Most of them look like some sort of torture device used by an evil baron in one too many B serials. As I'm flipping through I notice some recipies for jellys and gels. Nothing out of the ordinary until I flip to the recipe on how to boil beef bones to extract what you need to make said gelatin. Then it hit me. 1860 - no Jell-O, no Knox gelatin packages for all your nail strengthening and gel needs. If you wanted to make a gelatine then you had to work for it. Which is why it was very much a privilaged dessert. I can't quite picture ol' Homer going out and boiling up a load of old Bessie's bones to get a gelatine so he and the missus could have a molded dessert.

Now to be perfectly honest someone DID try to make a set gelatin in 1845 but it didn't um...gel. It wasn't until the late 1800's early 1900's that Jell-O became well...JELL-O

So not only are old cookbooks a glimpse into the eating attitudes of people in that time they also help us to appreciate what we got. I can tell you I would much rather dump a box of cherry jell-o and add hot water then boil up a load of bones.

The Wonders of Modern Technology

2009-11-03T06:44:00.000-08:00

My first computer was a 386. I bought it in the mid 80's. In those days Windows wasn't installed you just had DOS which was fine because I was programming in C at the time for laptop computers. Yes I said laptops. They were heavy suckers with 4 inch high screens that would suck up a battery in 30 minutes to an hour if you switched to a back lit display. They had no hard drive, just dual 3.5" diskette drives. One would hold a diskette with the operating system (DOS) and the other would hold the program diskette.

I remember how cool I thought I was when I got a sound card, installed it and then went out hunting for the sound package for my favorite game Wing Commander. For those too young to know what I'm talking about most PC games didn't have sound. You could, however, purchase for about $10 more or so the sound package. Many a night I sat with my joy stick listening to what constiuted music as I flew through space killing Kilrathi. I was in awe that when my joy stick pulled to the left the hand of my pilot on the screen would pull to the left as well. Yeah I'm a geek.

I remember getting a PS2 at the office and being bowled over by it's speed - I think it had a 486 processor and size...I would SO not need a MEG of space! I mean come on that's a whole MEG! And 256 memory was more then enough for any computing job.

In my 20+ years in the computer business I have seen a lot of changes in the world of computers. We've moved from hulking mainframes to blade servers. From clunky old 286 processor PCs to intel dual core, from Dos to windows Vista (ok maybe we shouldn't have gone there), we now have desktop computers that have can store a terrabyte of data. Modems are replaced by DSL and cable modems and every starbucks has wifi.

Why do I talk about this, because at my side I have something that will make these high powered PC's seem like my old 386 from the 1980's. I'm talking about my smart phone. My iPhone has 8 gig of memory on it, can access the internet via a wireless or a 3G connection. Allows me to do everything I could do on my PC or Mac PLUS make phone calls.

Already companies are feverishly working to get "apps" built. Chipoltle Grill has an Ap where you can make your burrito and transmit the order to the closest location. It's there waiting for you. Starbucks is piloting an Ap where you can order your coffee, pay for it via your phone (and a credit card or starbucks card), and then put your phone in front of a scanner. The scanner will read a barcode your phone is displaying and POOF you've bought your Venti Skinny Vanilla Latte with extra foam.

And best yet - I can play Rock Band on my iPhone! Oops gotta go, my drum solo is coming up.

dinner

2009-10-31T17:10:00.000-07:00

Sweet and spicy roasted veggies

Coriander encrusted pork loin

Brown rice with walnuts, golden raisins and chard

Bourbon Hot Toddy for dessert (drank it before I could get a pic)

Things that go BUMP in the night

2009-10-31T12:02:00.000-07:00

If you haven't had a chance you should check out Melanie Sherman's cousin Karen's blog http://notvoneyear.blogspot.com/. Work warning, do NOT attempt to read this blog while at work unless you have an office and can close the door because you will be howling with laughter and if you're a cube rat your fellow rats will start to wonder about you...well more then they already do.

Anyway - Karen's been regaling her happy followers with tales of critters - snakes, spiders, frogs and armadillos. Good southern fare. But being a Pacific Northwestern now for the last 15 years I feel we need a critter tale from these parts. And da boyz (Bear and Boo) have been happy to oblige.

Our house has a burm in the back. It looks very pretty with ivy and different plants and with 3 large pine trees on top. Until recently the back, however, was more of a jungle filled with black berry bushes and what have you. About 3 years ago when I moved back in with my parents I let Da Boyz out for their nightly duties. Before I knew what was going on, they'd raced up and over the burm top and were in the back barking a bark that can only be described as their pack hunt bark. Totally different from their normal barks. I run out, Mom runs out, Dad runs out. And we all start calling their names. Now when a dog is on a hunt, they don't normally listen to the furless two leggers that they allow in their pack.

Funny thing about burms, they're low hills, and like hills they have dirt, and when dirt gets wet it turns into mud and mud is slick. Thinking da boyz had were fighting off a mountaian lion I start to race up the burm. Only..yeah remeber the mud part. I stop to slip. No problem the fence is right next to me. I reach out to grab hold and find that I am now holding one of the slats from the fence. I stare at this piece of wood in my hands as I fall over backwards. Behind me comes Dad, ex-marine that he is, he goes into a marine crawl, on the knees using the elbows, he slowly works his way up the burm. All the while Mom is calling the boys names.

So here we are, it's pitch dark, I'm on my back in the mud holding a part of the fence, Dad is going all commado and trying to crest the burm like it was mount suribachi, and Mom is calling BEAR BOO!!!

Then up they come over the crest. They look somewhat amused at Dad and me as they trot down the burm and polietly go back into the house as is nothing had happened.

No doubt some poor Opossoum, mouse, rabbit or oddly shaped leaf learned its lesson. We sure did. There is now a high stone wall in front of the burm with steps on one end that we have blocked off from little four leggers. The back of the burm is now free of anything where a critter would call home.

And we have a new fence

I LOVE POWELLS

2009-10-29T10:59:00.000-07:00

When Amazon sent me an e-mail saying that the Civil War Coobook they SAID they had they actually did NOT have I decided to go local and got on Powell's websit. BOOM there it was and for cheaper then what Amazon had had it. So yeah got that...then I did something I don't normally do... I looked at the rare cookbooks. OH MY there's one from 1860! 1860!!! It's from London but still...1860!!!! It's name...

Modern Cookery, For Private Families, Reduced to a System of Easy Practice, in a series of Carefully Tested Receipts, in which the principles of Baron Liebig and Other Eminent Writers Have Been... (the ... were from the title heading. That is the full name of it! So my Civil war cookbook and my cookbook from the Civil War era (ok a year before) are COMING!!!!

I LOVE POWELLS! And a plug for Cover to Cover books in Vancouver. My Portland friends need to cross the river and check it out. It is a TRUE BOOKSTORE...remember those? Not Barnes and Noble, not Borders but a real honest to goodness independant bookstore with a bookstore cat and a fully equiped espresso bar. Believe me you'll be there a while roaming the endless shelves of literary goodness.

And while you're there pick up "THE GIFT OF MURDER" It's an anthology of murder mystery stories and the Pacific Northwest's Very own Carolyn Rose has a short story. In fact she is the ONLY Pac NW author chosen for the anthology. All proceeds go to Toys for Tots so tis a good cause as well. OK so that's two plugs one for Cover to Cover and one for "THE GIFT OF MURDER". You won't be sorry with either!

Food for thought

2009-10-28T10:16:00.000-07:00

I'm a foodie plain and simple. I love food in any way shape or form. I've tried everything from chicken butts to sweetbreads and I'm a sucker for a good slab of bbq brisket and a nice hunk of corn bread ( my Texas roots are showing). Recently I began reading A Taste For War: The Culinary History of the Blue and the Gray by William C Davis. It's a culinary history of the civil war.

I also have to admit I'm closet food historian. I LOVE looking at old recipes from the 1800's and even early - mid 20th century. I have copies of Buckeye Cookery and Practical Houskeeping - first published in 1867 and the Webfoot Cookbook originally published in 1887 in Portland, Oregon! I have medieval cookbooks used by members of the Society for Creative Anachronisim and I've actually made a recipe or two from those. One for a brie cake and one that used chicken and almond milk and had you use bread as a thickener. Works well.

But as I was reading A Taste For War I realized that the civil war was a real milestone in culinary history as well as the history of our nation.

Think of this. The soliders that went off to fight - on both sides - came from a society where it was demeaning for a man to cook (unless he was a chef at a high end restaruant). And since everyone thought the war would before before it really began no one thought about well feeding the millions that went to war. And by feeding I mean the soliders having to cook their own rations. Poor men on boths sides of the Mason Dixon line learned to cook - the hard way. And with rations that were.. shall we say...less then desirable. Even the act of grinding and making coffee was foriegn to them. A consultant for the Union Arm went so far as to suggest that there be dedicated cooks for the regiments with the rank of Sgt. Major and a pay of $50 a month! That didn't happen, but it goes to show that the feeding of the troops was a big concern. Cookbooks were rushed out to the Union soldiers so that they could stop poisoning with their soups and stews. The South didn't have that luxury but they bungled through as best they could. I haven't finished reading it but that first part struck me as interesting

What also happened at the end of the war was a melding of the two regions foods. Union soldiers that had had fried chicken for the first time down south took the hankering for it back home. This isn't surprising since our food palate has changed due to wars time and time again. Doughboys coming back from WW I liked those fried potatos they'd eaten in France and called them French Fries. Going farther back during the cursades the west learned about such exotic spices as pepper and cinnamon from the crusaders that returned from the Middle east.

But still as I ponder dinner tonight I can't help but think of those poor young men sitting around a cook fire, looking at a pot of some disgusting mess that was suppose to be a stew and knowing they were probably going to have to eat it or go hungry.

The wonders of research

2009-10-24T17:44:00.000-07:00

Melanie got me pondering weaponry and I decided to use my friend google and wikipedia to check on one of the more prolific weapons in the Civil War - the Navy Colt. How did it gets its name? Well I figured it was used in the navy. Which was true. The cylinder was engraved with a scene of the victory of the Battle of Campeche in May 1843 - By the TEAXS Navy! "The Texas Navy had purchased the earlier Colt Paterson Revolver, but this was Colt's first major success in the gun trade; the naval theme of the engraved cylinder of the Colt 1851 Navy revolver was Colt's gesture of appreciation. Despite the "Navy" designation, the revolver was chiefly purchased by civilians and military land forces" so sayeth Wikipedia.

Who knew Texas had a navy. I mean it does stand to reason, it WAS a republic and it does have coast line but still. Wow. I LOVE REASEARCH

Cacheing in

2009-10-22T15:35:00.000-07:00

My friend Kris was in town. He gets in usually once or twice a year, this time it had been a full year since he last graced the hallowed halls of the Pacific Northwest. We'd been talking a while back and he told me he and his wife had started Geocaching. Now - a slight explanation for those who might not be familiar with Geocaching. It's basically hide and seek for computer geeks. Really. Someone will go and hide a "cache" and then go onto the Geocaching website (http://www.geocaching.com/) and post it's location in GPS coordinates. This is the geek part since you need a GPS or something along those lines to FIND said cache. Then once you find the cache you mark the log in the cache...depending on it's type you can put a little doo-dad in there and then go back to the site and brag that youf found it. Or in some cases cry that you didn't. Anyway that's Geocaching in a nutshell, except for the fact that some caches are in really nice hiking areas and you can see a lot of beautiful sceneary, when you're not heads down looking at your GPS.
So, Kris and I had figured we'd do some geocaching when he got into town. But sadly we never could synch up, that is until today. He is flying home tomorrow.
Now I don't have a GPS but I do have an iPhone with the Geocaching app on it and, as luck would have it, there was a micro cache within blocks of the office at the old Children's Muesum. So, both of us headed out to find the cache..Kris with his GPS and me with my iPhone. Now I have found 1 count them 1 cache in my tenure of geocaching. Kris has found hundreds.
The day was foggy and kind of chilly but the walk wasn't that far. We arrived at the Children's Museum and begin our search.. now you have to be somewhat secretive when you search so that Muggles (non-geocaching people..I'm sure Ms. Rowling is so happy to have that term used) don't actually SEE you at the cache, for they are ignorant and know not what they might mess up.
Anyway, can't find it...d'oh wait...his GPS and my iPhone show it's about 300 feet away. Off we go. Coast is clear, lady watching her two dogs play in Lair Hill Park. We head over to an older building. Who knew that there was a much older version of the muesum. We begin our search...THERE behind the black down spout is a film canaster. SUCCESS! I retrieve it and open it. Inside is a rolled up slip of paper. The front side is already filled with names and dates. We flip it over and write ours..well our Geocaching handles, you know you just can't write Sharon Axline found your cache! Very passe' So we signed, and put it back like nice little Geocachers and headed back to the office.
So now I have 2 count them 2 caches to my name. And perhaps I shall find more...maybe...when Kris comes back.

Paranoia sets in...maybe..kinda...are they watching me type this?

2009-10-21T12:10:00.000-07:00

Not to say I'm a paranoied person. That black van WAS really following me! But you know I get 33 followers on Twitter and suddenly Twitter itself is acting funky. Fail Whale off the port bow! Was it me? Did my getting 33 followers cause Shamoo to be lofted high into the sky by twitter birds every few minutes? Is some nefarious government agency behind this? Did some underling at the HQ under Mount Tabor rush up to his blad, scar faced beloved leader salute and say "SIR! Sharon Axline has achieved 33 followers!" Where upon the dastardly leader petted his cat and said "Excellent Smithers, excellent. We've reached the threshold. Activate the Twitter Death Diregable!"
Maybe it's nothing. Maybe their servers are slow or some mouse nibbled through a wire, or someone it Latvia is trying to break into the power grid by hammering away at Twitter. Whew I hope it's that... I'd hate to think my 33 followers caused this.
And yeah that Van WAS following me!

The powdered sugar sanction

2009-10-19T19:38:00.000-07:00

We have an old family recipe for applesauce cake that if Melanie and Carol don't watch out they might just be subjected to at group next week..along with the other nice ladies. Mom made it for a lunch she was going to. Now, normally, when we have said cake it's au natural. Nothing fancy. But when Mom takes it to lunches and such she likes to put a glaze on it.
I have to admit the house smelled FANTASTIC while they were cooking. The smell of those cakes wafting through the house is a tell tale sign it's fall.
So while I was working on my beet stew with lamb meat balls, Mom was working on the glaze, but something wasn't quite right. It didn't taste right, the glaze not the stew. It wasn't sweet. We pondered. Mom was using a new recipe for the glaze and she was using whipped cream cheese instead of a block softened. Maybe that was it. But whatever it was this was NOT a sweet glaze.
After dinner she returned to her old tried and true glaze recipe, but again it didn't taste right, and what's more when she put it in the microwave to heat up the contents and thin it...it got THICKER! What the...
Can powdered sugar go bad? What was going on. I'd made a pumpkin cake last month and had a box of powdered sugar sitting in the cupboard so I went to get it. About the same time Mom decided to double check her powdered sugar. There was the hand written label on the canister - pwdr sugar. There was the bag with a white powdery substance. She pulled out the bag. Impostor!!! There, sitting in the canister for powdered sugar was in fact corn starch!
It all made sense now...sad..sorry...corn startchy sense. With the box of TRUE powdered sugar in hand she made a fantastic glaze for the applesauce cake. I noticed this afternoon on the grocery list....we're in need of corn starch

Sunday dinner

2009-10-18T12:15:00.000-07:00

Got lamb, got beets, what else are you going to make? Kibbeh Shiftah B'shwandar of course. It's beet stew with lamb meatballs

It's a traditional Iraqi-Jewish dish....We'll see how this Southern WASP does with it

Dog Gone Dogs

2009-10-17T10:50:00.000-07:00

When Lhasas get furry. Bear tends to look like an old Major General from the days of the Raj

After a hair cut...little puppies - who happen to be 5 years old

Some times it's tough being a Lhasa

A little nap time is always good.

The audition is done

2009-10-15T21:37:00.000-07:00

So, I had the writer's group audition tonight. Was I nervous? Is the Earth round? Do salmon swim upstream to spawn? Was Stanislovsky the father of method acting? Stomach churning, palm sweating, pacing nervous was I. Now I don't want to say the people who make up this group were legends. BUT...my instructor talked about them in semi hushed and reverent tones, AND one of their midst had come in second place at the Pacific Northwest Writer's Association Literary Contest!! So, yeah I was a tad nervous. I mean what if they didn't like me, what if they hated my work, what if...what if...

Finally the time came to go. Now I'd done a dry run on Sunday. Guess what sports fans, Sunday is NOT Thursday. Yeah a TAD more traffic. GREAT I'm going to be LATE because there was TRAFFIC and I missed a turn. CRAP! Park, grab satchel, rush to condo. Heart PLEASE do not beat so fast you will cause me to keel over with an attack.

Meet and greet. Listen to works. Damn that's good...oh GAH I'm suppose to give feedback...um...um...it was good! The next....d'oh..I didn't write anything. Now my turn...ok ok slow DOWN..you might have been Born in Texas but your reading is from NJ.

Great feed back...they caught stuff the class didn't and thought of stuff I hadn't thought of. Damn they're good. Finally....YES...I passed the audition!

I now have a writer's group!!!! and here was much rejoicing..YEA!!!!!!!

Fear and loathing in Vancouver

2009-10-14T19:14:00.000-07:00

My parents have been married 53 years. That's a milestone by any means. Since I live with them I've done a jokeish kind of thing where an gifts come from the dogs (Bear and Boo). Usually the excuse is that they have stolen my wallet, copped a credit card and figured out how to use a mouse, keyboard, and the internet all at the same time. They're Lhasa Apsos so ..hey it could happen. This year the boys found a plant...a Kangaroo paw plant to be exact. It look pretty in the FTD pic on their website. The caption said how it came in a copper metal pot and was a fallish plant. Yeah. Well..said plant came in a puke green pot from the nursery, the plant really doesn't thrive beyond umm...OCTOBER. So...yeah anniversary plant..sucked. Nasty e-mail to FTD..done.

On to the fear. Tomorrow tomorow and tomorrow does NOT creep at a petty pace from day to day. It's here..which means the writers group...which means audition of my "novel"...which means...no eating from hence forth.

I can get some satisfaction thinking of the boyz nipping at the ankles of the president of FTD while he holds a Kangaroo paw plant. Ahh its the little things. Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad!!

Going to the dogs

2009-10-13T18:30:00.000-07:00

OK - I've decided. Oprah likes dogs, people like dogs, if I ever get on Oprah and people come here to find pearls of literary wisdom then they can find it mixed with tales of the dogs I love. So there. HA! Besides I find dogs are much better to be around then some people. Ok small people...OK alright...KIDS! Now don't get me wrong there are some kids I like. But, take for today as an example. I went with some co-workers to Chang's Mongolian grill. It's something we do every month. One person picks the place. So this month the pick was Chang's. OK, it's good food, lots of it and for $8.00 I'm not going to quibble. Lunch is going good when two women are escorted to the booth behind our table. With them are 3 kids .. all boys. One a toddler and the other two look to be around 5ish. I can tell right off this is going to be fun since the boys are racing in and bouncing around like someone gave them straight sugar water.

I hope for the best. I get the worst. After sitting the gaggle down, the two women leave the boys in the booth while they go off to get their lunch. It's busy, they're gone for something like 20 minutes..ok it felt like 20 minutes. It was probably 19:59. Anyway while I'm trying to listen to the conversation at my table I can hear tiny voices behind me and the clinking of what sounds like cutlery. Were we given knives? I expect at any minute to hear a child yell "OW MY EYE" and find him running around with a fork sticking out of his face.

Mother's return, somewhat silence falls. We finish. They finish. We're talking when the boys bound out of the booth and begin to jump..literally jump around. Was there MORE sugar in their meal? One boy top bounces into me. Do I hear an I'm sorry, or Junior tell the nice lady you're sorry? No. The kid glares at me as if I had moved my chair just at the right moment to get in the way of his jumping.

I hate to use the why in my day argument, but I'm going to. IN MY DAY I would have quickly apologized to the nice lady before my mother told me too. And she probably would have apologized as well. But then come to think of it, I would not have been bouncing around like a rubber ball either nor would my brother.

Which brings me back to the dog thought. You can LEASH a dog.

2009-10-13T14:10:00.000-07:00

What to write

2009-10-12T15:58:00.000-07:00

When I went to the writer's mixer a couple weekends ago, the lady who was speaking talked about having a blog, website, newsletter, etc. Ok so no website, no newsletter, but HEY I got a blog! Now what do I write about, besides the dogs. I mean come on they are cute but not something a would be writer can wax poetically on her blog about. I mean, what if my book gets published and I'm on Oprah, and they mention my blog and everyone comes here to read jewels of literary wisdom only to find my blog after blog of the dogs. Nope. I am going to limit my dog blogging, hard as it may be. Since they are cute little critters and know it.

My biggest hurdle, fear, right now is my test run with a writer's group. They were in the class before me, so I feel like the freshman trying to sit at the senior's table. I go on Thursday to read 9 pages of my work and see how things go from there. Oh yeah the stomach knots are already starting which is probably why I left my wallet at home. Good thing I didn't need to buy lunch OR get pulled over by one of Portland or Vancouver's finest for speeding.

Ok, so here ends the first real blog blog, and I didn't even mention how cute Bear and Boo look curled up on the rug butt to butt.

Feeding the Bs

2009-10-11T15:00:00.000-07:00

Note to self. Next time don't name your dogs starting with the same letter. That way when you're trying to get Boo to eat HERE and Bear to eat THERE you won't have Boo trying to eat where Bear was going to eat and Bear trying to eat where Boo was going to eat. OY