#141: Broadway Day
Oh what a beautiful moooooorrrrrniiiiiing!
The funny thing about movies is they take a REALLY long time to watch. Especially “Oklahoma”. My friends and I watched the three-hour version (with Hugh Jackman), and it is SO not suitable for children. Wow! I think it gave me nightmares. Drugs, murder, assault, racism, and at least two things I never ever even mention on this blog (both of which happened in song, too).
We also watched “Moulin Rouge” (which I love, and always have – I was devastated the first time I saw it, because I was so hoping Satine’s predicted death was a metaphor). We planned to watch “Sweeney Todd” (speaking of the unsuitable-for-children variety of musicals) and “Singing in the Rain” (which actually *IS* the hearty, happy musical that we innocently expect from “Oklahoma”), but we ran out of time.
Also, I think something happened to our brains. (And no, there wasn’t any alcohol. At all.)
I have hazy recollections of Fay beating up Ben with a baguette, of myself lurking around the kitchen with a hammer, and of Fay doing strange and wonderful things to my hair.
If CJ is killed with a hammer, I’m going to be in soo much trouble.
I find it suspicious that no photos were taken of Fay beating up Ben. If he’s killed by a baguette, I for one will be asking questions.
Since I’m eating healthily these days, we ate hommus and turkish bread, home-made soup, cheddar-sprinkled corn kernels, and more hommus with celery, capsicum and carrot. And lasagna for dinner.
(I have successfully lured my second brilliant author to the blog this year – Sandy Fussell herself commented on S#29: Write to your idols.)
No cthulhus were harmed (this one’s from Flickr – he is facing the White House, with – as you can see – a thoughtful expression):
#122: Hummus Hat Trick
My blender hates me.
It’s sad, when I love my blender so much. But it’s true. It’s skulking in the corner of the kitchen bench right now, glaring at the wall. It won’t even look at me in case I get ideas.
He’s overworked, I know. Hummus was the third thing I made him make this week (after a huge pile of soup and a delicious citrus thing), and it’s only fair that he wants to retire. Or maybe become a toaster (I practically never use the toaster).
It was the hummus that really made him mad. I found a recipe with no tahini (sesame paste), because I didn’t have any tahini. That left olive oil, lemon juice, cumin, garlic, a whole lot of chickpeas, and an unspecified quantity of water.
I chucked them all in the blender and pushed the relevent button – callously disregarding specific instructions about liquid content.
Sound the blender makes when blending juice:
whirrrrrrrr
Sound the blender makes when blending soup:
thk thk thk whirrrrr
Sound the blender makes when blending hummus:
thkthkCRACKCRACKCRACK
*silence*
*smoke*
It’s possible I should have added more water.
The hummus was delicious, though. And it stays fresh for a week, so I’m eating some every day.
Gandalf is visibly recovering from Sherlock’s attacks (for those new to the blog: hi! Welcome! They’re fish).
There’s a guest post today at Urban Muse:
http://www.urbanmusewriter.com/2010/07/guest-post-gods-need-social-networking.html
Tomorrow: Broadway Day (including incriminating photos)
And, from bookshelfporn.com:
Age
I like getting older. I associate advancing age with better knowledge of how to deal with life, and definitely with better perspective (lost in a foreign country? Been there! Dumped by a first love? Been there! Chronic illness? Been there! Lost a best friend? Been there!)
It’s weird and sad, though, to realise that by the measure of wider society my prettiest moments are all gone. Seems like I’ve lost some kind of opportunity. But it’s just another reason to be grateful – others in their late twenties must be losing the only thing they ever liked about themselves. (Not losing completely, of course – a lot of people look better with wrinkles, or more body fat, or grey hair, or simply the sly twinkle of old age in their eye.)
Aging is the new puberty. My body is changing and I may as well just go with it. At least, looking at my mum and grandma, I know exactly where I’m heading. (Unless cyborg surgery becomes the norm, of course.)
Guest post today at http://www.urbanmusewriter.com/2010/07/guest-post-gods-need-social-networking.html
#119: Cook with home-grown herbs
I made a wonderful thing today. (Once again, it’s a serve of fruit, cunningly disguised as junk food due to the obscene sugar content.)
I squeezed one and a half oranges, two lemons, and three limes. That made about a cup and a half of juice. I added a cup of sugar and a cup and a half of water, plus half a teaspoon of bicarb soda (the secret ingredient).
Once they were mixed, they served five people – on the rocks, and strewn with mint leaves from my own mint plant.
I’ve never cooked with anything I grew* before. It was incredibly satisfying – and of course, insanely delicious.
Oh! And while I remember, I should mention that in this month’s twittertale each name is a tribute to a great writer (particularly those I associate with libraries) –
Nix, the monster mage, is named after Garth Nix. Apart from being a brilliant writer, he is a good person (and a Canberran). And he’s especially deserving of this tribute, since “Lirael” (the second book of his YA trilogy) has some of the msot excellent library scenes you’ll ever see.
Steve, the narrator/air mage, is named after Stephen Moffat, who’s written all the truly excellent recent “Dr Who” episodes (including one in an abandoned library).
Terry, the mind mage, is named after Terry Prachett, in tribute to the Unseen University library that features in many of his discworld books.
Phil, the muscle mage, is named after both Philip Reeve (his “Larklight” series is the funniest adventure series ever, and is safe for any age) and Philip Pullman (who has never once written an ordinary book).
The cthulhus are secretly named Clive (after C. S. Lewis) and Pam (after Pamela Freeman). Just because they’re excellent (the writers are excellent, I mean – although the cthulhus are too).
*stole
And from bookshelfporn.com, here’s another wonderful thing:
“When Good Libraries Go Bad” so far
1
A tentacle circled my neck, squeezing the life out of me with agonizing skill. “Steve!” came Terry’s voice. “Steve! Wake up!”
*
I opened my eyes to Terry, leaning over me. He looked scruffy without his mind-mage robes on. “Your cthulhu nightmares suck.”
“Sorry.”
*
We got up for breakfast. As the mind-mage, Terry got cereal. Phil the muscle-mage got steak. As air-mage, I got zip. And MY robe is puce.
2
“Oi, Steve, stop being nervous,” said Terry.
I said, “Shut up or I’ll CO2 you.”
Phil cracked a smile, exercising at least twenty muscles.
*
We hiked across the desert toward the Forbidden Library. Terry cleared his throat when we were still twenty miles away: “I sense something.”
*
Phil tensed, ready to attack. Terry shook his head: “It’s dead – but still radiating.”
“So. . . ?” I prompted.
Terry said: “It’s a cthulhu.”
3
Five miles away, and I tasted dead cthulhu on the air. Phil was sure he could make the corpse slither away, though, so that was reassuring.
*
At last we reached the three storey iron- and bone-bound doors of the outer library. I sensed breathable air inside. “After you, Phil.”
*
Phil focused, and the great doors cracked open, spraying chunks of blood-stained iron bigger than my house. “And now we wait,” said Terry.
4
We barely slept. I had nightmares, but Terry had his own to distract him. At dawn, we heard the rustling of pages. We waited back to back.
*
A pack of graphic novels emerged and sniffed at my feet. They smelled what I wanted them to smell – a friend. And so they imprinted on me.
*
When I judged my literature army to be big enough, we walked inside. A single giant tentacle lay across the threshold. I removed the stench.
5
More books joined me every hour – everything from gardening to war. I was dizzy with the smell of leather bindings and dust.
*
Phil wanted to move the tentacle, but Terry insisted we climb it. Some mountaineering books made steps for us, and it only took a few hours.
*
“There’s a problem,” Terry whispered.
I said, “What?”
“The cthulhu – it’s either a mother or a daughter. And I can’t tell which is alive.”
6
We ducked into a cobweb-strewn chamber and were attacked by a squad of how-to books. They pounded my head and I wasn’t able to focus.
*
Phil pushed me aside and tore apart the books with his mind. Terry was taken over by empathic rage and he punched me in the gut. I folded.
*
Ten books rushed Phil at once and I reached out with my mind and made him smell of oil just in time. They calmed down, and Terry did too.
7
“It’s Nix,” Terry told us at last.
I said, “The monster mage! No wonder WE were sent. We need to find his spell book – and destroy it.”
*
Phil coughed: “How will we do it?”
“1. Look, and 2. Live,” said Terry.
I said, “You know what a cthulhu’s weakness is? They’re too big.”
*
“How is size a disadvantage?” Phil asked.
I said, “Because hopefully they won’t notice us.”
“Right,” he whispered.
8
Terry shook me awake. “They took Phil!” I stood at once, but all my books were asleep and there were no others to be seen. Terry whimpered.
*
“Is that your fear or his?” I said.
Terry said, “His. Which means he’s still alive.”
“Good.” I sent a shelf of James Bonds to find Phil.
*
I asked, “Do you think it was Nix or the live cthulhu that took Phil?”
“Nix. I can feel him laughing. And he knows I can hear him.”
9
The Bond books returned with an illustrated series on the Moulin Rouge. I altered the air so they fled in disgrace.
[there’s more to come today, but I haven’t written it yet 😦 ]
All but one of my books are off in the world, slicking down their hair and trying to look their best. The other one is promised to Publisher D (I acquired a publisher’s email address at the writing con last Saturday), but the beginning isn’t working right.
I may have ruined my healthy eating yesterday, since I ate five biscuits and a jam donut (plus a sugar-packed home-made lemonade). I hope I can still make my next weight target of 76.5 kilos, but it’s certainly not a sure thing. I’ll swim today and tomorrow, and hope for the best.
It’s VERY noticeable that my writing suffers when I eat less chocolate. That’s not good.
At least it’s not cocaine.
Publisher A will announce the long list of their edit-my-manuscript-with-me competition next week.
Three-Ingredient Thursday: Baked Apple
Does the existence of fruit make a dessert healthy? You decide.
1. Peel and core the apple.
2. Block one end of the hole with butter and put a whole lot of sugar and a bit of cinnamon inside before blocking the other end with more butter.
3. Cook on high in the microwave about three minutes (the apple should look like pie apple when it’s done – yellow instead of white).
4. Forget to take a picture until you’ve eaten most of it.
Every so often, the thought of fruit turns my stomach, especially when I just know that apple lurking in the fridge is going to be sour. This method solves that problem, and is especially delicious in Winter.
Tomorrow: Cook with your home-grown herbs (or in my case, the mint plant I stole from the neighbours).
Coming soon: A linked list to every single awesome thing I’ve done so far.
Throughout July I’ll be posting a picture of either a library or a cthulu (or perhaps, someday, both) as companion to the twittertale “When Good Libraries Go Bad.” Thames&Hudson published a book of library photos taken by Candida Höfer. You can see the details at http://www.thamesandhudson.com/9780500543146.html. This photo is a reproduction from that collection (pass your mouse over the picture to see which library it is).
S#71: Fruit and Veg
Today is Friendsday Wednesday – a day to celebrate friends (either by a DIY public holiday, by meeting someone at their work cafe for lunch, or just calling someone you love to like). http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=348494771209&index=1
I celebrated by buying a ridiculous amount of fruit and vegetables to feed my impoverished associates.
It’s always good being as absent-minded as yours truly, because I get home from shopping and say things like, “Wait a sec. . . is that. . . yes it is! A coconut. Huzzah!”
Yesterday I made hommus (for the first time in my life; I’ll blog about it officially soon). Tomorrow I’ll be making soup for lunch, and serving all these items as snacks during the day, as I desperately try to not eat chocolate or lollies – the fruits and mint here will all go into a mighty delicious drink of awesomeness. I may even let someone else have a sip.
Mmm. . . shiny.
In other news, yesterday I bade a sad farewell to Sherlock, my reticulate cory. He was an impulse purchase (although he DID solve my snail problem) who will grow far too big for my tank – and he’s made Gandalf (my Siamese fighting fish) sick. I have a friend with a 150L tank just for loaches and tetras, so it was perfect. She even has a reticulate cory already (frighteningly large, too). I watched Sherlock in his new tank for a very long time, and he was clearly delighted with his much bigger environment (which has hundreds of hidey-holes to explore). It’s sad to see Sherlock leave, but I know everyone’s better off.
In other other news, I’m now halfway through my four weeks of digestive awesomeness. The lack of chocolate makes me want to punch the universe in the face, and I’m nauseous a lot (less so as time passes, but I think I have some genuine food intolerances to sort out). And, as you probably gathered from the accusations of pregnancy flying about, I’m rather bloated. Only sheer self-righteous determination is keeping me going. I still haven’t re-achieved my 78 kilos (I gained three kilos due to a combination of factors), but I will still probably make 76.5 (actual healthy weight range) by the time the four weeks are up.
Tomorrow: Three-Ingredient Thursday: Baked Apple
And here’s another beautiful thing for you to gaze upon, once again taken by Candida Hofer and published by Thames&Hudson:
S#27: Love Your Fear
I hate and fear Winter. More than you’d think.
It’s July now, and I’m already dreading Winter next year. I usually get depressed in March, by horrified anticipation. My face peels off, my skin burns (dermatitis – I’m literally allergic to clothing), and the core of me stays cold until October.
So I’m going to try to love Winter. If I can pull it off, I’ll save myself six months of annual misery.
Here’s what I’ve found to love about Winter:
– I love the smell of wheat packs
– The constant beanie-wearing cleverly conceals bad hair days
– Garlic becomes a food group
– There’s nothing to dread; it gets better from here
– Chocolate becomes a food group (and tastes better, and doesn’t melt)
– Body odour is not an issue like in Summer
– There’s far more sunshine inside
– My cats are MUCH friendlier
– I love making soup, and lasagna (CJ makes the best lasagna ever), and anything containing potatoes.
– I’m safely distanced from Christmas (family events give me panic attacks, and giving presents is a nightmare on my stupid income), and Christmas holidays (when I earn less than $50 a week for six weeks).
Play along at home: What do you like about Winter?
Throughout July I’ll be posting a picture of either a library or a cthulu (or perhaps, someday, both) as companion to the twittertale “When Good Libraries Go Bad.” Thames&Hudson published a book of library photos taken by Candida Höfer. You can see the details at http://www.thamesandhudson.com/9780500543146.html. This photo is a reproduction from that collection (pass your mouse over the picture to see which library it is).
S#29: Write to your idols
In preparation for the writing festival on the weekend, I visited the websites of most of the guest authors, and picked the five books that looked most suited to my taste – “The Ruby Talisman” by Belinda Murrell (about a modern girl who wakes up one morning next to her great-grea-great grandmother just as the French revolution begins), “The Rage of Sheep” by Michelle Collins (about a high schooler working out her life, love and faith in a rather unpleasant 80s small town – the writing was instantly involving and funny throughout), “Mischief Afoot” by Moya Green (a little young for me, but fun and funny to read), “Samurai Kids 1: White Crane” by Sandy Fussell (A bunch of kids train for a samurai contest – but all of the kids are missing limbs or sight or the desire to fight), and “The Starthorn Tree” by Kate Forsyth (about a goat-boy who must flee his home and cross class and species boundaries in order to fulfil a prophecy and depose an evil ruler).
They were all excellent. So which one blew my mind?
“Samurai Kids 1: White Crane” by Sandy Fussell.
A great book needs a great story and great characters. All the above books had that. Sandy’s book also had a sly but gentle humour leaking through every page, and an elegantly unique way of describing the main character’s feelings – through his spirit, the white crane. What is more, although it’s not a moral tale, it has a depth of hope and meaning that is unmistakable – the hero, after all, is a one-legged samurai warrior. So anything’s possible. And there’s the warrior’s code, too (minus the traditional suicide bit – it is mentioned in the book as being “old-fashioned”), which is great for people who are drawn to the idea of honour. And the gradual unfurling of the characters is wonderful. The closeness of the friendships reminds me of “The Fellowship of the Ring”.
But my favourite part was the sly but gentle humour.
Samurais aren’t allowed to handle money.
“A samurai serves because it is his duty. Not because he desires gold coins,” Sensei told us.
“How will he eat then?” Mikko asked.
“With his mouth,” Sensei answered.
I took my chance at the festival to go up to Sandy and say (rather incoherently) how wonderful she was (she was very sweet and genuinely flattered – as she should be, since I read hundreds of books each year, and my taste is impeccable). I’ll also make sure she knows about this entry.
Play along at home: Who’s your favourite living author? Tell them why.
Coming soon:
Love your fear
Friendsday Wednesday (have lunch or dinner with a friend, or just call them). http://www.facebook.com/?sk=events#!/event.php?eid=348494771209
Three-Ingredient Thursday: Dessert (quasi-healthy this time)
Make hummus
Unusual anniversary
And here’s your cthulhu quota for today:
Felicity Banks 