I was out of a teevee show. My sister hasn't gotten season 4 of True Blood and I wasn't going to actually own it. I've been caught up with Doctor Who now for a while. (Don't get my started on series 7 so far. Ugh) Rewatching The X-Files can only satisfy me for so long before I start looking for the plot holes. (Really, why don't they ever have back up?)
So, I started watching Mad Men. Mostly because everyone says how good it is. And a little bit because whenever I listen to Fresh Air, I hear Terri Gross fan girl over the series.
In case you didn't know, I just got surgery done on my nose. Deviated Septum. Hopefully now I'll be able to breathe better. However, I can't do much besides sit up and look straight ahead for a few days. Over the course of the past two and a half days, I've watched about a season's worth. I'm midway through season 2. Exactly on episode 9.
Peggy is really my favorite. Fuck Don Draper and his affairs. Peggy's life is so much more interesting. Also, I really hate everyone else. Well except for Joan. (MRS REYNOLDS!) and that not really gay man, gay man art guy. So really. Everyone else except for those three.
Now don't spoil it for me. I'm gonna watch some more.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Ch-ch-ch-chaannnnges
My life these days is best summed up by this:
Jack and I moved. From where we were, to where we are now. A more ubran-ish environment where there is only on street parking and I worry constantly what the hell we are gonna do when it starts to snow. However, all this shadowed by the wonderful apartment itself and that we are in walking distance to things. Like a diner. AND THE LIBRARY.
Mmmmm libraries.
Mmmmmm David Bowie.
I'm also getting a new job! Whoohoo! *new job dance* No more bookselling! Now something different! I don't start that now until another couple weeks, and I actually have to keep my B&N job for the health insurance, but it's nice knowing I'm moving on and up.
More news! I'm getting my nose fixed! I hear you: WTF Kelly? Well, if you've known me more than a few days you would realize I'm always stuffed up. Always sniffling. Always sick with something. So, when I finally did something about it this year, my ENT took one look at my CAT scan and said OH DEAR. WE NEED TO FIX THAT. Sooooo... surgery. I'm excited and nervous and I'm curious as to what the world smells like for real and not through a gooey haze of snot.
Moral of the story is that I'm actually writing again. (In my personal physical journal and not here on the cyberspaces) But that also means I'm starting to write here again. I'm finally getting a small routine going here. The boxes are all mostly unpacked (we have about 6 left with odds and ends) Things still need frames and we still need another freaking bookcase (7! I HAVE 7! and I need more. (that's seven. not seven factorial. If I had that many bookcases, well I'd have a bigger house and would actually have a driveway and not worry about the snow and street parking))
Huzzah! For Change! Huzzah!
Jack and I moved. From where we were, to where we are now. A more ubran-ish environment where there is only on street parking and I worry constantly what the hell we are gonna do when it starts to snow. However, all this shadowed by the wonderful apartment itself and that we are in walking distance to things. Like a diner. AND THE LIBRARY.
Mmmmm libraries.
Mmmmmm David Bowie.
I'm also getting a new job! Whoohoo! *new job dance* No more bookselling! Now something different! I don't start that now until another couple weeks, and I actually have to keep my B&N job for the health insurance, but it's nice knowing I'm moving on and up.
More news! I'm getting my nose fixed! I hear you: WTF Kelly? Well, if you've known me more than a few days you would realize I'm always stuffed up. Always sniffling. Always sick with something. So, when I finally did something about it this year, my ENT took one look at my CAT scan and said OH DEAR. WE NEED TO FIX THAT. Sooooo... surgery. I'm excited and nervous and I'm curious as to what the world smells like for real and not through a gooey haze of snot.
Moral of the story is that I'm actually writing again. (In my personal physical journal and not here on the cyberspaces) But that also means I'm starting to write here again. I'm finally getting a small routine going here. The boxes are all mostly unpacked (we have about 6 left with odds and ends) Things still need frames and we still need another freaking bookcase (7! I HAVE 7! and I need more. (that's seven. not seven factorial. If I had that many bookcases, well I'd have a bigger house and would actually have a driveway and not worry about the snow and street parking))
Huzzah! For Change! Huzzah!
Sunday, August 12, 2012
This is all so you keep me to my word
I'm a sucker for creative self-help books. The Artist's Way, Pronoia, Life is a Verb and Creative is a Verb. Love them. Have I read them all? No. Do I own them? Yes. Will I actually finish one of these many books? Maybe one day. But I will goddamnit. But now I'm actually! reading a new one.
So. True story:
A customer called looking for this book. I never heard of it but the guy swore that it's the next big thing. I get it for him, flipped through it, was intrigued. I wrote down the title and that was that. A few days go by and I keep thinking about this book. So I get it. (actually it's not that hard for me to buy a book but that shouldn't be a surprise) /end story
The book is The Fire Starter Sessions by Danielle Laporte
All of this is just a very long preamble to this following sentence:
I will bake to my heart's content and I will go back to school.
So. True story:
A customer called looking for this book. I never heard of it but the guy swore that it's the next big thing. I get it for him, flipped through it, was intrigued. I wrote down the title and that was that. A few days go by and I keep thinking about this book. So I get it. (actually it's not that hard for me to buy a book but that shouldn't be a surprise) /end story
The book is The Fire Starter Sessions by Danielle Laporte
All of this is just a very long preamble to this following sentence:
I will bake to my heart's content and I will go back to school.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Rage against the dying of the light
My Michee has died.
http://fuguesatori.bandcamp.com/
I've spend all day sitting at the jersey shore and at the beautiful ocean and I keep thinking of her and how she told me a few weeks ago she was going to write me a song to help heal me because I've been so sick for so long and my head keeps getting worse.
And I hadn't talked to her on the phone for a while and I thought about doing that. And now I can't.
And it was a wonderful day at the beach and I'm crying so hard and it's hard to talk about because the people who knew and loved her aren't in my life as much as they were before (if at all) and I just want to talk about my michee.
My wonderful beautiful michee. Who would listen to me. Who invited me to her wedding and loved me and him together and me and him apart and just loved. Whom I told that I would carry her child if she ever wanted to have kids.
I remember the Michelle clause we had in our relationship.
I remember when I was one of the first people she called after her mother died.
I remember her stories of her exes. I remember the love and the music and her beautiful words.
People my age are supposed to be having kids and getting married. Not dying. Not someone who loved as much as she did.
And how am I supposed to breathe?
I can spout a bunch of things about how I knew something was wrong. She was too quiet. Or that the random carrion birds I've been seeing should have warned me. Or the face that she's been in my dreams and thoughts lately along with others.
Or how I still feel her. Over my right shoulder. Whispering in my ear "It's okay my love. It's okay." Or feel her hand on my back and her tears mixing with mine.
http://fuguesatori.bandcamp.com/
I've spend all day sitting at the jersey shore and at the beautiful ocean and I keep thinking of her and how she told me a few weeks ago she was going to write me a song to help heal me because I've been so sick for so long and my head keeps getting worse.
And I hadn't talked to her on the phone for a while and I thought about doing that. And now I can't.
And it was a wonderful day at the beach and I'm crying so hard and it's hard to talk about because the people who knew and loved her aren't in my life as much as they were before (if at all) and I just want to talk about my michee.
My wonderful beautiful michee. Who would listen to me. Who invited me to her wedding and loved me and him together and me and him apart and just loved. Whom I told that I would carry her child if she ever wanted to have kids.
I remember the Michelle clause we had in our relationship.
I remember when I was one of the first people she called after her mother died.
I remember her stories of her exes. I remember the love and the music and her beautiful words.
People my age are supposed to be having kids and getting married. Not dying. Not someone who loved as much as she did.
And how am I supposed to breathe?
I can spout a bunch of things about how I knew something was wrong. She was too quiet. Or that the random carrion birds I've been seeing should have warned me. Or the face that she's been in my dreams and thoughts lately along with others.
Or how I still feel her. Over my right shoulder. Whispering in my ear "It's okay my love. It's okay." Or feel her hand on my back and her tears mixing with mine.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Holes
How does one write about grief?
For me, grief is numbing. A hole in the heart and spirit.
I feel utterly alone, but at the same time, connected to the earth in a way I normally don't feel.
Dust to Dust. etc.
I go through the motions. Answer the phone. "Hello, hi, how are you?" Get people their books. Work. Smile. Cook dinner. Watch a movie.
But I'm a shell.
The inside of me is turmoil. Or, extreme calm. Unable to feel. Just a cold dead ocean.
In a way, I'm grieving for my father along with my aunt. Death bring up all the sludge that just sits at the bottom. Years of debris and sediment on top. Being ignored until another passing.
I'll miss my aunt. I miss her already. I missed her when I went to florida to see her and she was just skin and bones and pained smiles.
I'll miss the stories I'll never know about my father and her. About my family. The secrets and the reminiscing.
I'll miss feeling like someone in my family understands my particular brand of crazy. I'll miss talking to someone who was frank and treated me with so much love and told me the truths about things. How she dealt with being called bipolar. Her hurts and feelings. And how it runs in the family.
I never understand how I get back to normal after this. How the pain slowly stops. How everything stops reminding you of your loved one. How I can breathe and laugh and smile. I know it happens. It always does. But right now I'll take the sobbing and the numbness. And my lack of words for everything.
For me, grief is numbing. A hole in the heart and spirit.
I feel utterly alone, but at the same time, connected to the earth in a way I normally don't feel.
Dust to Dust. etc.
I go through the motions. Answer the phone. "Hello, hi, how are you?" Get people their books. Work. Smile. Cook dinner. Watch a movie.
But I'm a shell.
The inside of me is turmoil. Or, extreme calm. Unable to feel. Just a cold dead ocean.
In a way, I'm grieving for my father along with my aunt. Death bring up all the sludge that just sits at the bottom. Years of debris and sediment on top. Being ignored until another passing.
I'll miss my aunt. I miss her already. I missed her when I went to florida to see her and she was just skin and bones and pained smiles.
I'll miss the stories I'll never know about my father and her. About my family. The secrets and the reminiscing.
I'll miss feeling like someone in my family understands my particular brand of crazy. I'll miss talking to someone who was frank and treated me with so much love and told me the truths about things. How she dealt with being called bipolar. Her hurts and feelings. And how it runs in the family.
I never understand how I get back to normal after this. How the pain slowly stops. How everything stops reminding you of your loved one. How I can breathe and laugh and smile. I know it happens. It always does. But right now I'll take the sobbing and the numbness. And my lack of words for everything.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Cooking Through My Cookbooks: Moosewood Edition
I went to college in upstate New York. Yes it was a liberal arts college. Yes there were a lot of neo-hippies around. Yes I was friends with a good chunk of them. There used to be pot luck suppers, (that for the record, I never attended) where people would use The Moosewood Cookbooks as their basis.
What's the Moosewood Cookbooks? Oh my are you missing out. The Moosewood Collective is based in Ithaca, NY and is a vegetarian restaurant. Now that's really the bare-bones explanation, but it will do. It's good to know that they make fantastically delicious food that you wouldn't know is vegetarian/vegan and they are cookbooks that I recommend to everyone who asks me for a good veggie cookbook. Now, I love bacon as much as the next bacon lover, but I love these cookbooks when I'm looking for something lighter.
And so, thus begins my 30 Things Cause I'm 30 Cooking through my Cookbooks: Moosewood Edition.
Tonight's recipe comes from Moosewood Restaurant: New Classics
Pasta with Easy Summer Sauce
This isn't so much a "sauce"as a dressing, and really this would make a fantastic picnic pasta salad. And omg it was amazing. Really. It truly was. I loved it, but I don't know if Jack did as much.
 |
| Does he like it? Or does he not like the picture? |
I also have a habit of not following the directions/ingredient list exactly...so I ended up with waaay more than the 4-6 servings it said it was gonna be, but that's ok, leftovers are good.
2 cups quartered grape or cherry tomatoes (I used small heirloom tomatoes like the cookbook notes said I could do. And I used a bit more than 2 cups, probably more like 3 cups)
1/4 cup minced fresh parsley
2 tablespoon minced fresh basil
1/2 cup minced red onions
1 garlic cloves (I used 3, cause garlic is love)
1/4 cup chopped black olives (I used a bit more)
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper
2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar (optional, taste the mixture beforehand and see if you want to add it. I did but I could see how it all depends on the tomatoes)
1 pound farfalle (bowties! bowties are cool)
2 cups string beans (oh. 2 cups? hmm how about a whole bag of frozen ones because I didn't read the directions...)
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese (I used a whole 6oz container)
So. BIG pot of boiling water.
While you wait for that to boil, combine the first 8 or 9 ingredients.
Water boiling? Add pasta, when water gets back to a boil, wait 2-3 minutes, add string beans.
When pasta and string beans are done, drain. Put back in pot or a very large serving bowl. Add tomato "sauce" and toss.
 |
| ooooo so pretty! |
What I was watching while eating dinner:
So Jack and I when I make a real meal and not a frozen dinner or a sandwich, we watch a movie or something. For this we watched episodes 3, 4, and 5 of series 6 of Doctor Who (The pirates, the doctor's wife, and the gangers!)
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
30 Things to do 'Cause I'm 30
I've been thinking about this whole being 30 thing since January. I'm kinda fixated on it. 30. Still a lot of years for something that I'm repeatedly told is "still a baby."
But 30 is important. I want it to be important. So I've decided to do thirty new things this year. I have until May 28, 2013 to accomplish these goals. Also to figure out thirty things. Because I don't have thirty items yet, more like twenty-five.
So in not much of an order here are my 30 THINGS TO DO 'CAUSE I'M 30!!
But 30 is important. I want it to be important. So I've decided to do thirty new things this year. I have until May 28, 2013 to accomplish these goals. Also to figure out thirty things. Because I don't have thirty items yet, more like twenty-five.
So in not much of an order here are my 30 THINGS TO DO 'CAUSE I'M 30!!
- Get my passport
- Travel to a different country
- Get Motorcycle license
- Take a yoga class with Kurt
- Take a spin class (with or without Kurt)
- Go on a food tour ala Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives
- Wine Tour!
- See Niagara Falls
- Go whale watching
- Visit Atlantic City
- Learn how to operate a sewing machine
- Make a quilt
- Volunteer
- Go to a beer fest
- Write a novel
- Run a 5K
- Sing Karaoke
- Learn to kickbox
- Go to a Comic Con
- Go hot air ballooning
- Become a bone marrow donor
- Learn how to play a ukulele
- Cook through my cookbooks
- Take a bookbinding class
- Buy a metal chicken
- Ride a horse, camel, and/or and elephant
- Pay off all my credit cards
- Watch all the Criterion Collection
- ????
- Profit
So there we are. 24ish things to do because I'm 30. If you have more suggestions, please do tell! I'm gonna document this whole thing here too. So I'll be held accountable. Also, if anyone wants to join me in my adventures and/or can help these things become a reality (damn, these things can get expensive) I will love you more than I already do and thank you forever.
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