Susan Arthur

Fruit cobbler with ice cream for breakfast... yum. It's really easy to make, too. I will say, though (and this was a 'duh' moment) if you use frozen fruit you really should thaw it out before adding it to the batter. It works fine, mind you, but it nearly doubles the cooking time. Like I said, duh.

I'm also posting a link to an entry I wrote a few days ago but originally had friends-locked. mstra_margarita and I talked about it last night at the potluck and decided that it really didn't need to be locked. I thought, given that there's a Baronial polling coming up, it might be of some interest.

Since it was written days ago, however, I don't think it would show up where anyone would see it, so here's a new link to it. Sorry if this seems puffed-up of me.

Damn, I'm tired. I worked at the book repair lab today for six hours and then spent three hours doing research. Don't feel too sorry for me, though (as if you were going to, anyway); I stopped at Akashi on the way home and treated myself to sushi. I got my back pay check today for three months worth of disability payments so I could afford it. Yay!

I was a busy little bee at the lab today. I wasn't too happy with some of the results, but the woman who was working with me today was reassuring; she was very impressed with how much I got done, says everything is fine and nothing needs to be redone. It's just not perfect, is all, and as you all know, if I do it, it's supposed to be perfect. (Unrealistic, much?)

I got smarter about doing the research, too. I looked up source books ahead of time to find the call numbers, which made life much simpler. I have this set of questions all done except one; if all else fails I'll look up Marie Leveau in a plain old encyclopedia or online on Google or something. Geez. Wouldn't you think she'd be in the Biographical Dictionary of American Cult and Sect leaders? Or, failing that, you'd think that Swami Sivanandra would be in some sort of reference, like maybe the Historical Dictionary of Hinduism? Something, somewhere?

I will admit that I'm learning stuff I didn't know from doing these assignments. I've never been a big student of religion, so didn't even know that Yoga was part of Hinduism, nor did I know about Demeter and Persephone; I'm picking up all sorts of new stuff. I will say, though, that I was bemused to find that if a Muslim doesn't face Mecca when praying it doesn't count. And by "face Mecca" I don't mean just generally east somewhere, it's gotta be exact. Only if a man is completely out in the wilderness alone can he use his best judgement and certain guidelines to determine which is the correct direction. The book didn't say what a woman should do in such a case. I hereby affirm that I now have even less interest in becoming Muslim than I did before I read that. I mean, that is one persnickety almighty, who won't even listen if you are facing the wrong direction. Damn.

I'm starting to fear that despite my preference to NOT do reference work, I might wind up doing it anyway; for one thing it probably doubles my chances of finding a job. If we assume (and I have NO idea about real proportions here) that there are reference librarians, children's librarians, and "readers services" librarians (I think that's what they're calling the people who work in circulation, popular fiction, etc, nowadays.... I should know this, right? Sigh.) in approxmiately equal proportions. That would mean two of the three instead of just one of the three are possibilities. Wonder what proportion tech services is? Very small, I'm sure. Anyway, there are six jobs open in Durham County right now, and three are reference, and three are children's. I'm gonna have to think about this.

Not tonight though. I'm too tired to think about anything tonight.

The trip to the vet this AM didn't go exactly as anticipated. The part about trying to get both cats there was actually almost exactly as anticipated. I put Carmen in the carrier, and carried Molly to the car in my arms, where I left her in the floorboard of the passenger side. That worked so well, I may just always plan to do that for her-- she desperately hates the carrier.

The vet thinks Carmen has some variant of herpes that has been making her sneeze and caused some swelling in her eye yesterday. I never heard of herpes that makes you sneeze, but clearly there's lot of stuff I don't know. She gave (gave! Ha!) me some goop to put on her food to help quell outbreaks. Liver flavored. Yum. She also did a little more poking around than Carmen enjoyed to explore the butt-scootin' boogie thing, and prescribed an antibiotic for that. So far, so good.

When she examined Molly, she noted that M needed to urinate-- well, you can't ask a cat if she needs to use the litter box before getting in the car, can you? Well, you can, but you should certainly not wait for a response. While the vet was doing her exam thing, the assistant noted a mole-like lump on Molly's neck. I've known it was there for a year or so, but never thought of it when making or keeping an appointment. The vet took some fluid from it and said it was a mast cell tumor. Said it was to do with allergens and such, and gave Molly a shot of Benadryl. She and the assistant left to get the pills and other stuff for dosing both cats. Molly sat very close to, and facing, the wall. Suddenly she let out a low cry and started peeing. Oops-- too much stress, too full a bladder and I figured she finally couldn't wait any longer. I started trying to pull out paper towels to soak it up, and the dispenser jammed. Molly kept up the crying and the puddle kept getting bigger and bigger. I stuck my head through the door and said "We need some help here." When I turned back around, I saw that Molly was also drooling heavily. Yikes. The vet came back in, took a look, said "She's having a reaction to the shot," and gave her a shot of steroids. The vet and assistant were great with her-- they had a huge towel they wrapped her in, and kept cuddling her and talking to her. The vet finally said "We'd like to keep her for a little bit and keep an eye on her." They took her in the back. After they had collected all the pills and stuff, they said she was doing okay, but they want to keep her for a few hours. I know they say she's okay, but it's just making me uneasy. I hate when unexpected shit like that happens. I want to be forewarned about emergencies, dammit!

I had the beginnings of a migraine this morning-- not bad when I got up but it got worse instead of better, which is backwards from the norm. Because it wasn't bad when I made my coffee, I made decaf. When I went out to get stuff to make chili, I went to the Sbux next door to the Teeter and got a grande cappuccino. Heh, I thought, that'll fix it! And I sucked that thing down like the tasty magic elixir I knew it to be. And lo, it was good. And besides that, it worked. I am now zooming like a 3-year-old playing airplane, and the migraine is no more. Yay, cappuccino.

The vet just called and said Molly's attack is over, but they want to keep her for another couple of hours just to be sure. They're also going to check her blood to be sure the tumor hasn't spread, or at least I think that's what she meant. They're going to remove the tumor next week at the same time they're cleaning her teeth. I'm bad and don't normally go for a lot of dental work for cats, for god's sake, but they showed me the infection she has in her gums, and ya gotta deal with that. Sigh. It's an expensive month for the kitties.

Oh, and when Carmen got home, she was all relieved and everything, only to have Miranda hiss at her every time she approached. Poor Carmen! First that strange person got way too familiar with her and then her own sister called her names when all she wanted was a friendly sniff and cuddle.

Time to put the caffeine high to some use and hit the kitchen. Chili coming up!

Well, let's see about an update.

I actually got email last night from the friend from my teen years that I saw in Richmond when I was there. I didn't really expect that. I wish I could feel like I could relax and trust him, instead of watching every word I say. It's not that I care what he and his family think, but my mother really does care, and she still lives there, so I can't tell him anything that Mother would be unhappy to have broadcast all over the tiny town. Nothing like a little paranoia to keep you on your toes. It's too bad, too. It'd be fun to have someone to visit when I go back to Richmond. He's so.... seductive, though not in a sexual way. Not with women, anyhow. He's just fun to talk to and always draws me out. I've read the emails two or three times each before sending to check for potential revelation of anything that shouldn't be revealed. Sigh.

I had a very scribal weekend-- had a little workshop for a friend on Saturday; she's never scribed at all and wants to begin, and she invited two others who are intermediate level. It made it rather confusing for me, since I thought I was going to be doing all basic beginning level stuff. And on Sunday I had a play date with zihuatenejo and harleenquinzell. I painted some and we looked at potential scroll layouts and new calligraphy hands. Fun.

Today I was looking for something in an older entry and found that syaldia had asked for the recipe for the Peanut Butter Pie and I hadn't seen the request. So, herewith, the recipe behind a cut. ( Recipe )

I haven't taken any migraine meds for probably a week. I had a bad migraine one day but decided to tough it out-- I think there will be a lapse between short-term and long-term disability coverages and I figure I'll need the meds a lot more when I'm in class than I do when I'm sitting here with nothing to do. Hasn't been too bad otherwise. I hope I can get the rest of the information I need for the paperwork soon; it's making me buggy worrying about it. Erk.

Well, I made my Pot-au-feu and am now reminded why a friend calls it "pot o' food." My god, even with the vastly reduced quantities I used, I still have huge amounts of food. I got smart, though, and packed up a bunch of single servings and stuck them in the freezer. I think the variety of all the meats and veggies is what makes it so good; I don't think the original version as posted online with just beef sounds interesting at all. Julia's description said the name means "pot on the fire"; the pot was put on the fire and whatever was handy was thrown in and was left to cook slowly all day. I have no idea why I got such a strong urge to make this, unless the relatively simple holiday meals left me feeling atavistic. Weird, but I am now well supped. VERY well supped.

I am also enjoying the music site that nomadicmedic posted a few days ago. It doesn't have "alternative" setting, but has certainly provided a suitable variety of music tonight. It shows what's going to play next, which is handy, especially since it doesn't have a setting for "for god's sake, NO BOB DYLAN!!" Ahem.

I read an interesting mystery yesterday and am still trying to figure out how I feel about it. I mean, I liked it well enough to seek out the next book in the series, but it's damned strange. The book is Eight of Swords and the protagonist is a '60s radical who's been hiding for 30 years because of something he did back in the day. The author is playing coy about exactly what it is, but there's no statute of limitations, so I'm assuming somebody died, probably in the explosion that supposedly killed our protagonist. I liked the character. At the end of the book, though, he goes to a meet with the knowledge that he's going to kill a man, and he does. The guy has a gun and was going to kill HIM, but our man gets the drop on him. He does think "I'm going to have to live with this the rest of my life" and in the interest of fair play, speaks to give the hit man a chance to surrender. Then when he swings around with his gun, bam. I think it bothers me that I identified with him, a lot, at least till we got to the shooting-in-semi-cold-blood part. All the killing in Pulp Fiction didn't bother me as much as this did; that whole thing was so far removed from any reality I know that I didn't identify with anybody.

My cat, however, brings me back to my reality-- my purpose in life is not to kill bad guys, or even worry about the ethics or morals thereof, but to provide her a lap to flomp in, and scratch her belly when it's presented to me. Which it is. She's most undignified, and I love it.

And we’ve made it to Friday. I didn’t have a good day, though there is not a single thing actually wrong. I just had a headache all night, so I didn’t sleep well. Then Mother, awake and alert, talked non-stop. I’m still not awake enough for that, and it’s twelve hours later. (Of course, who ever is?

The repairman came this morning to install the replacement disposal, and the first thing Mother asked him when he got in the door was, “Are you the one that married….” True small town behaviour. There were actually two men—one to do the work, one to lean against the counter and watch. They must be from the local Transportation Dept. Heh. An hour after they left the kitchen still reeked of stale cigarette smoke from their clothes.

My son and grandson called to reschedule; one of their family members died last night, so they’re coming Christmas day. I’m kinda glad they didn’t come today, what with the migraine and all. Of course, that sort of suggests that I think I won’t have one when they get here, which is pretty much the opposite of what I’m really thinking. We went to the Chinese Buffet for “dinner”—the big meal is at lunch, if you haven’t twigged to that yet.

I sat down to read this afternoon and wound up taking a long nap; all three of us sat in our chairs/sofa and slept for a long time. Big excitement, I tell you. It helped my head, though the migraine still isn’t completely gone.

Tomorrow’s big excitement is going to be making meat loaf; I think I’m going to be making most of the Christmas dinner, too. I’m thinking to roast a chicken; Mother is going to make her sweet potato casserole with the crumbly brown sugar and pecans on top. We’ll wing it from there. Oh, and I made another Peanut Butter Pie tonight. Daddy looked at it and said “Is that mine?” and Mother and I cracked up.


Otherwise, I am not happy with his lack of progress. He is a ghost of himself-- way too quiet; he almost never speaks unless we ask him something directly. I really do think the anaesthesia/hospitalization has taken away the man I knew, and I don't know if he'll be back.

I miss my kitties. I wanna go home. I want my Daddy back. I want everything to be okay again.

I had a very pleasant Turkey Day. Made two pies (not the most successful; I think my oven Has Issues) but still good. Kind of puttered around and called everybody I needed to call for a Holiday.

My brother is in California soaking up the sun; it was the usual Akron winter weather when they left so it obviously didn't occur to him to take shorts; he's now regretting that oversight. What a way to suffer. And anonamys couldn't leave her internship till Thurs AM sometime, so was just getting into Seattle when I called. She was getting doggy-kisses and much affection from the cats (nothing so tacky as kitty kisses; they'd save that till nobody was watching, get a grip) and she and freudian_slip were getting ready to go to his family's for dinner. Mother said she fixed a much-scaled-down version of their traditional meal; she and Daddy just enjoyed the hell out of it. They're both sick to death of institutional food by this time, so home cooking was just the ticket. Plus, some friends brought them a jam cake, which I hadn't thought about for years, probably, but made my mouth water when I heard the words. Yum. Mother also said Daddy hasn't been disoriented, which was the thing that had me the most worried. And she said they think his foot-drop (learnt the name from Amy) will go away after some time.

So I was happy as a clam to hear that my peeps are doing well, and was able to go to harleenquinzell's house for dinner with a light heart. Everything was well in hand when I arrived, though breathless as any major meal is at that point in the prep. I'm glad that I'm "family" enough that I can get there early and help a bit instead of it being a big formal type thing. Yay, family! zihuatanejo and his parents came for dinner, too. His parents were great fun. They had just driven up from Fla; believe me, after I make a trip of that length I am incoherent and certainly not up to being alert, nevermind charming and funny. Mad props.

Dinner was wonderful, of course. It always is, there. And I had fun talking to foklens about rock-and-roll. And it was real rock-and-roll we were listening to/talking about, too, not over-processed "rock." I espoused my theory that rock-and-roll should be something that your mama would hate and didn't think till later that I don't hate it, but my mama does, so that makes it okay for me. I don't know how their mamas feel about it. I was feeling good enough (after having to take more Imitrex than I wished, but damn, it worked) that I was enjoying the hell out of having the speakers cranked and a good bass line having its way with me. I remembered how much I like that music, and was able to articulate that the only reason I don't listen to it more often is the damn migraines. And I'm gonna go hear foklens' band play at the Upper Deck on New Year's Eve. Yay! I've been wanting to do that, so I'm happy to find out they're playing some time when I don't have an exam or paper due within two days, or some event that I have to attend for whatever reason.

Well, I suppose I should get started on the next big project. Le Sigh. Here I am, all in the mood for kicking back and enjoying turkey and rock-and-roll, and I have to write a paper. And, oh, yeah-- this one is 50% of the grade for the class. Oh, I had definitely better get to work.

So. I had a physical a few weeks back. ( Boring details here )

It's been a long, expensive morning. I had an 8:30 appointment to get the oil changed in my car. I also need to get it inspected (overdue--oops) but my guy doesn't do inspections. Oh, well, I'll get the oil change and then go. Not so fast, there, missy. Seems that I need new wiper blades and new tires on at least the front two tires before it'll pass. Oh, and I need an alignment, too. Since Steve doesn't do tires I know it isn't just a scam, but I still have to get it done. Up the street to the tire place. I didn't think to check the time when I left Steve's, but the oil change was fairly quick. Not so the tires. Sigh.

I did take a book, but it turns out to be by the same author as the book I just abandoned out of disgust. (An un-funny rip-off of one of my favorite series ever.) Steve had good magazines, including the most up-to-date in a good variety of genres, but not so the tire place. Nope, nothing there but sports and hunting-type outdoor mags. Do they think only good-ole-boys buy tires? Okay, there was one-- count 'em, ONE-- Good Housekeeping. Geez. I went back to the bad mysetery book. At 11:00 I was set-upon by a smarmy loudmouth who decided that I really needed to know the entire plot of the latest Clive Cussler he had read-- I'm betting this author is quite the hit with conspiracy buffs. Geez, President Lincoln tied to the smokestack of a ship going down the Potomac, and replaced by an actor who was then killed at the Ford Theater? Poison poured into the ocean to cause "red algae" (as the man called it)? "It makes you think," the smarmy one intones with a meaningful nod. "If you like history and are into mysteries." I did my best to not look like I was interested in history, which wasn't too much of a stretch, especially right then. I don't even recall what he said about the third plot he kept telling me was intertwined; "Cussler always has three stories in his books." I guess my brain was just awash in red algae. I would have given my eye teeth for an iPod right then. It would have been so cranked up.

I finally threw myself on the mercy of the clerk, and bless her heart, a mere half hour later the car was done and I was away from the crazy "history" man. Not that it had anything to do with history, mind you.

I still need to get the wipers, but that's pretty minor, all things considered.

I have my first class of the semester tonight. It's at State, and I think I might walk. Class will be out before it gets dark, at least for a few more weeks, I think. I've heard the class might move, which would mean walking isn't in the picture. Oh, well.

I took a wild hair and added fresh peach chunks to my bean/corn/salsa salad for lunch and it was really good. Who knew? Hell, what on earth made me think of it? Glad I did, though.

One of my neighbors-- I think it's Miss Lily-- hammers like a girl. taptaptaptap This wouldn't be strange at all if she were physically a girl, but she's a tranny, and presumably has the upper body strength of a man. An out-of-shape, middle aged man to be sure, but still. I'm sure it would be taken amiss if I were to offer to teach her how to hammer. I mean, I'm a girl (okay, middle aged and out of shape) but I know the bit about not expecting to get any power by swinging from the wrist. Geez. (Hmmmm... sounds like I think Miss Lily swings from her wrists.... not exactly what I meant. I don't even really want to think about Miss Lily swinging. Eek.)

I splurged tonight and got a steak for dinner. It was a reasonably good one to begin with, and then I marinated it for an hour (shoulda been longer but my patience ran out) in a bourbon marinade that I cobbled together after reading several recipes online. (About that information seeking behavior...) I wound up with too much vinegar and too little bourbon in it, but that can be fixed. It was a very good tender steak, all in all, and I think I really needed red meat for some reason. Yum.

Back to the term paper.