S#6: Dress Up
So today I’m heading off to the NSW Writers’ Centre, schmoozing in a manner that could potentially change my fortunes. So what’s a girl to wear?
How about this (minus the snow and with an infinitely more dignified hat):
They may think I’m a refugee from the middle ages, but they’re reasonably likely to remember me (“Louise Curtis? That girl in the huge velvet dress?”)
That’s my theory, anyway!
Play along at home: Wear something awesome, somewhere unexpected.
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).
#47: Fall asleep spooning
Last week CJ was sick (he’s better now). His cold coincided with my caffeine-withdrawal headache, so we both just wanted a lie down at the same time. Heater on, curtains closed, shared body warmth. Bliss.
Not awesome enough for you? Never fear!
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).
Tres awesome, non?
And here’s all two days of the story 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.”
Meringues (and cthulhu)
Welcome to July and “When Good Libraries Go Bad”. We interrupt your regular viewing to make this important safety announcement.
Cthulhu: coming soon to eat a planet near you.
What are they? Giant planet-eating monsters. With tentacles. (Which also tells you exactly why they appear in July’s twittertale.)
Who invented them? Probably lots of people, but H.P. Lovecraft is the big guy.
What do they look like? Every day in July I’ll post a picture of either a library or a cthulhu. Here’s a few to get you started (all from Flickr):
And now we move seamlessly into a three-ingredient meringue recipe.
Turn oven on to 100 degrees Celsius.
Beat four egg whites until stiff peaks form.
Slowly add half a cup of caster sugar (I used normal sugar, which isn’t as good).
Add half a tablespoon vanilla.
Spoon them onto greased baking paper in the oven until they look cooked (don’t open the door to check, just turn the oven off when they start to brown and take them out at least half an hour later).
Alternatively, you can eat the entire mixture raw. MmmmMMM.
As you can tell, I didn’t use baking powder, didn’t use any kind of technique to shape them, and was too busy eating to photograph them cooked.
Meringues are so excellent, and so cheap to make.
S#18: Hot stuff
Wearing sexy clothes is hazardous stuff. Steff Metal technically advised readers to wear a suspender belt with stockings, but:
1. Ew
2. Ow
I therefore chose instead to wear sexy boots to work. These sexy boots (bought for me by a sexy bridesmaid when I was engaged):
The cat comes separately.
I wore the boots on Monday and Tuesday, as I went a-tutoring. Certain problems became apparent rather quickly. Those things are seriously heavy. They’re also seriously tall, sending me towering above the six-foot range. Being hot has never been my speciality.
Since I’m also eating almost no chocolate (huge shock to the system, and always makes me lightheaded), my walking was never going to be graceful. I cunningly managed to almost fall over several times, and I had enormous difficulty getting in and out of the car (you try strapping a five-inch block to your feet and see how it works). It was perfectly clear that if I continued driving in these shoes I’d have a horrible crash and die.
And thus my experiment with being a hot young thing has passed into history.
Fatalities: 0
Play along at home: Wear something you probably shouldn’t. Feel free NOT to share it in the comments this time.
In other news, I’ve decided (literally last night) to register for a young adult and children’s lit festival THIS SATURDAY. I’m more than slightly scared, since my primary purpose is to schmooze with industry professionals (and learn from their seminars, of course). Like all writing festivals, it’s like a giant, expensive job interview with scores of mentally unstable applicants charging headfirst into a genteel brawl.
I’ll blog about it on Sunday!
In other other news, here’s some of the meals I’ve been eating (note the vegies) – a lunch and a dinner:
Tomorrow: 3-ingredient dessert of doooooom!
Ten grams
I’m letting myself have ten grams of chocolate today. Exciting stuff. (Nope, that wasn’t sarcasm.)
This morning I weighed 78.9, which is at least within range of where I should have started this weight-loss session from. Now there’s two and a half kilos left to reach my current goal of 76.5 by the new end date of 21 July (three weeks away).
But neither of those things are actually the topic of today’s blog.
Yesterday I heard about the NSW Writers’ Centre holding a conference about young adult and children’s fiction – this Saturday. In Sydney.
The thing is, there are representatives from two big Australian YA publishers there, and it may be worth my while being in the same room (sad but true). So I’ll get up three hours early, drive to Sydney, attend sessions, hope like crazy my submission/s are selected by the interactive panels at the end – and then I’ll drive home. And I’ll talk to people (ugh!) in between.
Scary stuff.
There are three ways this can go:
1. I get really tired. Nothing happens, except possibly some education.
2. I make a shiny new contact/s to send books to.
3. I annoy important people, and my slushpile submissions are listed for indiscriminate burning in publisher offices across Australia.
I’ll let you know. m
#158: Cheesy Scenes
And. . . action!
For today’s awesomeness I used tasty cheese, fetta, and cream cheese (bought another delicious block yesterday).
This first scene is, OBVIOUSLY, the opening drama of the recent “Sherlock Holmes” adventure. My own small tribute to a great work.
As you can CLEARLY see, there’s a drugged young lass writhing picturesquely on the table, and Sherlock Holmes (clearly Sherlock, since he has a hat. And eyes) is rushing in to save the day. Hurrah!
After assembling the following dramatic climax to the epic Lord of the Rings trilogy (because nothing says, “Arg! Gollem just bit off my finger!” like cheese), I called CJ into the room. The look on his face was priceless. He sat down beside me and simply stared for some time.
There’s a traditional fantasy blessing and/or curse that says, “May you live in interesting times.” Thanks to marrying me, CJ is guaranteed to fulfil that saying. What a lucky guy.
Moving on.
Despite his intelligence, CJ somehow mistook the ring of power (which is CLEARLY shown in the extended features to be variable in size) to be some kind of shield. As if the seething pool of cheese lava didn’t give it away! See it bubble and spark!
Critical viewers may note that Frodo and Sherlock have some features in common. But the truly observant will notice that Frodo has the characteristic curly hair of his race – and, most importantly, he is MUCH shorter. So there.
The rest of my immediate family joined in, in their own way. Here my infamously grumpy cat (the one you DON’T put in a fishtank if you want to live) contributed the FLAMING EYE OF SAURON. Terrifying, I know.
And. . . scene.
Play along at home: Think of the best movie you’ve seen lately. Wouldn’t it be better in cheese?
#94: Eat novelty food
Don’t you just love an unnecessarily complex meal? I know I do. Last Friday I discovered individually stone-grilled steak at the Weston Club in Canberra (for $10 at lunch time Thursday or Friday). You get your choice of sauce (I voted mushroom), plus vegetables or salad, plus your preferred form of potato (chips, mash or roasted). This is how it looked when it first arrived:
This was brilliant stuff (unless you like your steak rare, in which case you are far too classy to be here). I spent the whole meal cutting off bits of steak, searing the sides on the stone, dunking them in mashed potato, dunking them again in the mushroom sauce, and eating. *sigh*
It was exquisite.
Play along at home: Find a club or restaurant that does similarly unnecessary stuff to food, eg. a Teppinyaki restaurant. It’s playing with your food for grown ups!
Attentive viewers would have noticed that I accidentally posted one of July’s library pics yesterday. I hope you enjoyed it. Believe me, there’s a LOT more coming – every single July day will feature either a library or a cthulu (naturally the cthulu photos will be photoshopped ever so slightly). I’m pretty sure you get smart and richer (and possibly more tentacley) just looking at them. I know I have.
Coming soon: Sexy (don’t worry, it’s child-safe – and horrifying mental picture-safe too)
Recreate movie scenes using cheese (thanks to Ben for THAT suggestion)
Three-ingredient Thursday: Dessert (one I prepped before starting my four weeks of healthy eating)
Sort wedding photos
And a surprise or two.
S#90: Love Letter
I’ve written letters. I’ve written love letters. But I’ve never written a love letter in chalk on the side of my house – until today.
This was Secret # 3, for those attempting to keep count.
A few days ago, I bought chalk.
Today, CJ went out during the day. This was one of the rare occasions he’d arrive home before dark. I had to take my chance.
After procrastinating for many hours, I finally bit the bullet – I had to do SOMETHING awesome today, after all – and went outside. Specifically, I went outside clutching a heat pack with one hand, and scrawling a message of love with the other. I’d hesitated for several reasons:
#1. Love is icky. Everyone knows that.
#2. I’m a writer, and meant to be original. And there’s something about love that makes it the world’s greatest cliché (in every possible sense of “great”).
#3. It’s cold outside.
#4. If there’s anything the internet has taught us, it’s DON’T EVER say what you really feel.
#5. We have just one appropriate wall – the car-port wall. It is ever so close to the neighbours, who spend a lot of time in their front yard. There was a strong chance they’d see my epistle before CJ did.
I dragged up my courage, put it where my dignity used to be, and went to work. Sure enough, it was at precisely that point our neighbours decided to deal with their bins. We literally opened our doors at the same time (our side door faces their front door). Fabulous. Their bins, incidentally, are located less than three metres from the wall of love – easily within reading range. So I jammed my beanie a little tighter on my head, clutched my heat pack a little closer, and wrote the first true words that came into my head.
I was so embarrassed afterwards that I could barely meet CJ’s eye. He was so pleased he’s been hugging me at a 350% increase all day. (Worth it!)
Oh, and CJ – you’re now officially allowed to read Steff’s list at http://steffmetal.com/101-ways-to-cheer-yourself-up/
Play along at home: If you love someone, let them know – in chalk. It can’t possibly be as embarrassing as my experience was, so man up.
Incidentally, has anyone been making comments that aren’t getting through? My spam filter reports that it has fielded more spam than it’s actually run past me. If it’s you that’s been vanishing off the edge of the map, please let me know by emailing fellissimo[at]hotmail[dot]com.
Food
I wrote at https://twittertales.wordpress.com/2010/06/23/new-years-resolution-in-another-month/ about my plan to eat for maximum digestive health for four weeks, as naturally and gently as I could (today is day 5). Since I’ve been reading about pregnant-lady foods, I know herbs can be pretty intense. So I’m not taking any, except actually in food (so it’s LIKE a detox program, but without stripping my stomach of nutrients or causing me to fall down). I confess I am taking folate, and vitamin C (to try to absorb iron, which appears to be working better than iron tablets). But mostly, I’m just eating good food.
It’s a shock to the system.
I’ve had a theory for a while that I eat so much chocolate that it’s become a vital part of my digestive system. I haven’t had any chocolate since last Monday – no caffeine at all, actually – so I have the usual headache (fading now, as usual after a few days).
I just finished a plate of celery, red capsicum and hommus for morning tea (instead of, say, a family size pack of maltesers), so it’s natural that my body is a bit freaked out. I think the internal cogs creak and clash for a week or two (based on “the all-bran challenge” ads) before they remember how the system is actually meant to work. So I feel sick after eating almost every meal. But I do have moments of glowing virtue every so often, so that bodes well for the future. I think the easiest thing to do, which also has the greatest physiological response, is to drink a glass of water before breakfast (especially if it’s warm, with a squeeze of lemon). Sometimes drinking that water makes me feel as if someone’s just kicked me in the stomach, which I believe is because my gut needs something to get it working, and is shocked when that something isn’t chocolate. I assume that once the digestive system is actually working, the pain will stop. It’s actually really cool that ordinary food is having such a big effect, because it shows how easy it is to seriously improve my health (after the initial fortnight, anyway).
I’m still really bloated, which I figure is also a “What?!? You’re feeding me REAL FOOD? Arg!” from my belly. I’ll let you know how things change over the next three weeks!
S#83: Community Classes
The stars aligned for this one.
I have several friends who are serious about their historical dancing (AND their historical costume) and in fact I first met CJ at a ball (which had a theme of “pirates” – the photo of me on the right was taken that very night*). Swimming is one of my main modes of exercise, but it’s far less appealing in Winter, so I came up with the idea of joining proper dancing classes during Winter. And Steff Metal’s list of awesomeness gave me the push I needed to actually do it.
So CJ and I rocked up today for the first of four lessons with John Garden, who is mad as a spoon. (That’s him with the possessed eyes and the vest.)
He possesses a flourishing beard and a brood of young dancers (at least one of whom hasn’t hit puberty yet, but is a perfectly courtly partner). His wife attends all the classes, and makes her own period clothing. The classes always have live music, including John’s hurdy gurdy at every possible moment. The dance company is called “Earthly Delights”.
Only dance masters could imagine so many different ways to walk, hop, step and jump. My mind was spinning within minutes (ah, edumacation). Soon the rest of me was spinning too, as we made hay and minuets and a whole lot of other things I can’t pronounce.
I mentioned John is mad. “As a spoon” was the phrase, I believe.
People grow beards for different reasons. Some simply don’t care for human contact. Some couldn’t be bothered shaving. Others are so utterly wrapped up in their life that the beards just. . . happen. John is one of those. He’s constantly saying things like, “Oh, this dance is based on the first play performed in Australia – by convicts, you know – although of course we don’t know for certain that this exact dance was performed in the play. It was a musical, though, so it’s possible. A funny play, satirising the military. But of course! Are you a lady this time Eddie?”
The phrase “Are you a lady?” comes up rather a lot in his line of work. Not quite as often as “Where were we? Did I say left or right?” and so on. And throwaway lines like, “I was reading a manuscript from 1755 just this morning and IT said that. . .” or, “Something terribly funny happened in 1705. It was in all the papers. . .”
Last but not least, he’s the master of the double entendre. Except he doesn’t appear to notice. At all. Not a quirk of the eyebrow, not a knowing glance, not a cautiously modulated voice. I counted four wonderful lines today. One of them caused another young gentleman to double over in hysterical giggles, at which point John paused, blinked and said, “Oh yes. Very well.”
Community classes: beards, frocks, and misplaced innocence. That, and peculiar new skill sets. Do it, if you possibly can.
*So THAT, ladies, is how to dress to discover the man of your dreams.
Apparently. . .
Tomorrow’s awesomeness: I haven’t the faintest idea. Although I now have the necessary equipment for Secret #3, so maybe I’ll do that.
