Yarn is My Life

Once I finish this cup of coffee and this blog post, I will be hopping in the shower, then packing myself up and heading off to the gynecologist (yay), and then to Penn Station to catch my train home for the holidays, where I swear, at some point, I will catch up with all of your lives. My reader is still below 100. Totally manageable.

In the mean time, I thought I'd give you a little insight into the mistress to who has recently claimed all (and I do mean all) of my free time.

Behold...

3 half-finished Stegosauri, and 4 half-finished Penguins

 

Actually, they're a little more than half-finished.  Maybe three-quarters.  They just need to be stitched up and stuffed, and two of the penguins are getting little Santa hats--those will be going to my parents bearing IOU's.  The other two penguins go to children of friends, the three stegosauri go to other children of friends (and one child-of-cousin).  Once those are finished, I just need to knit an elephant (already on the needles) for BFF's daughter, and a brain slug for my cousin, and then... then...

Then I can knit these for myself :) This has pretty much nothing to do with the "Twilight" phenomenon and everything to do with beautiful, snuggly, warm mittens that will keep wrists as well as fingers warm (and look smashing with my fur coat!). I haven't seen the movie, and thus far I've only read the first book, but I totally fell in love with these when I saw them and simply must have them.

So as you can see, yarn has completely taken over my life.  This happens every now and then, usually somewhere around Christmas when I realize I am broke and therefore choose to wow my friends and family with thoughtful handmade gifts that are low in cost but crazy in time-commitment.  But I'm coming up the home stretch, and once I've finished this lunatic binge of production-oriented knitting, I'll be back to curling up with the needles while I watch TV, and will have plenty of time to blog and be blogged.  Or something like that.

Until then... bear with me.  And leave questions in the comments section!  So far only Hope has asked anything.  I know I'm an open book and all, but seriously, there's got to be something you want to know.

Come on.  There's very little I won't answer, so feel free to be creative.

Until then... Happy Holidays!  And safe travels to all of you who are off to visit family!

Confessions of a Procrastinating Blogger at Christmas Time

'Tis the season... for me to run around like a chicken with its head cut off making last-minute gifts that surpass my poverty with their thrift and thoughtfulness... and hence fall way behind in both blog reading, and blog writing.

Sorry about that. I'll be back in your comment sections in full force sometime soon.

I hope.

That being said, the official completion of my Masters Degree (just got my Thesis grade in email today--an A! Woohoo!) has left me with quite a lot of backlog on my plate. This afternoon I did laundry for the second time this week! Now all of my sheets and towels--in addition to the majority of my oversized wardrobe--are clean.

My apartment, on the other hand, is not. I'm saving that for tomorrow... or Saturday... Sunday at the latest, cross my heart!

I decided at the very last possible minute to knit a ton of Christmas presents--especially considering that I will be seeing not one, or two, but THREE recently-turned-one-year-old boys who will be needing gifts. Knit Stegosauri it is. I also have all the parts knitted for 4 stuffed penguins. Two of them will be going to my parents, bearing IOUs for larger knitting projects (I am *not* putting in the considerable amount of time and effort required to knit a sweater for someone if they haven't picked out the pattern and the yarn themselves) and the other two are just-in-cases for all the various and sundry children I will be seeing.

Damnit, I just remembered: BFF's little girl already has a penguin from me! Hmmm... wonder if I can alter the pattern somehow to be a Panda Bear. Will have to look into that. After I knit 3 dinosaurs and sew up a travel jewelry wallet equipped to carry a dozen pairs of earrings for my mom. (DS, you and my mom would totally hit it off in the jewelry department... she takes a dozen pairs of earrings for a 5 day vacation!)

And so, my darlings, all of that... coupled with as many "Sorry I haven't seen you in forever, Happy Holidays!" meet-ups as I can cram into my schedule (like some long-overdue mojitos with the lovely Miss Ashley tomorrow), and all the pre-holiday errands that can no longer be ignored... is why I am, and will most likely continue to be, woefully absent from blog-land for the next few days.

And so I leave you with the following:

1. Curry made with "Lite" coconut milk is never as good, no matter how many calories it saves. Don't do it.

2. I've noticed a lot of new faces popping up in the comments lately. Welcome!! Thanks for stopping by... and for sticking around! Anything you're dying to know about me or the blog? Drop a question in the comments and I'll do a "Froggy Answers Your Questions" post sometime soon. (This offer is open to old readers as well... just taking a page from Hope's book. What can I say? I'm a slacker.)

Merry Whatever-it-is-that-you-choose-to-be-merry-about-in-December!

Are those... Golf Balls?

The sky is currently shedding golf ball sized snowflakes all over Brooklyn, and New Yorkers have *me* to thank for it!

Why?

Because against my better judgment, having seen the weather forecast, I decided that it was time to finally (read: for the first time since October) do my laundry. As such, the snow began to fall just as I finished loading 60-some pounds of laundry into two jumbo washing machines at the laundromat down the street.

If the snow keeps up at this rate, and actually sticks to the sidewalk, I'll be rolling my laundry cart home through at least 2 inches by the time my laundry is finally done.

Why is it that the loveliest things are often the most annoying?

Warm Fuzzies

Tonight I saw a one-night-only production of one of my favourite musicals--You're a Good Man Charlie Brown--as a fundraiser for the Make A Wish Foundation.

In the spirit of the evening, and because this show has always had the ability to make me stupidly cheerful, I will forgo with all the bitching I was going to do about mundane crap that annoyed me today, and instead leave you with some song lyrics that always serve to remind me just how important the little things are.

"Happiness"

Happiness is finding a pencil.
Pizza with sausage.
Telling the time.

Happiness is learning to whistle.
Tying your shoe for the very first time.

Happiness is playing the drum in your own school band.
And happiness is walking hand in hand.

Happiness is two kinds of ice cream.
Knowing a secret.
Climbing a tree.

Happiness is five different crayons.
Catching a firefly.
Setting him free.

Happiness is being alone every now and then.
And happiness is coming home again.

Happiness is morning and evening,
day time and night time too.

For happiness is anyone and anything at all
that's loved by you.

Happiness is having a sister.
Sharing a sandwich.
Getting along.

Happiness is singing together when day is through,
And happiness is those who sing with you.

Happiness is morning and evening,
daytime and nighttime too.

For happiness is anyone and anything at all
that's loved by you.

Crossover

I've noticed it slowly happening over the past several months, but in the last few days it's become increasingly obvious. My body is slipping steadily back into old habits.

Namely, staying awake all night and sleeping late into the day.

On one hand, I suppose it doesn't really matter, being that I don't have a job. On the other, it doesn't bode well for adjusting should I ever find one that requires me to be coherent before noon.

The trouble is, it's a difficult habit to break, particularly when I have absolutely no compelling reason to be out of bed before 11:00am, other than some feeble notion that "normal people" or "adults" get up at a certain time.

Honestly, I wonder where that notion comes from. I mean, in my specific case, it would be my parents. They're both fairly early risers (though I assure you that wasn't always the case) and subtly frown on me when I sleep well into the daylight hours. For the rest of the world--or the U.S. at least--I suppose it comes from the 9-5, the "real" members of the "grown-up" workforce that rise at 6am, eat breakfast, don a suit and tie and head off to the office.

But why should that be the measure of adulthood? Why should I try to deny my body's natural rhythms in answer to the call of a workforce that has never held any interest for me?

The answer to that question is, clearly, that I shouldn't.

Which I suppose makes the real question: why do I feel compelled to do so anyway? Or, at the very least, why do I feel like I should be compelled to do so, and therefore feel guilt that I do not?

I have no answers, and truly, when you get right down to it, it's hardly worth losing sleep over.

I certainly won't.

Done...?

I just emailed Thesis to my professor, a full two and a half days before it was due, just in case he had any final thoughts/suggestions/things he wanted me to clarify. Being that he is quite possibly the most over-extended person I know, I doubt he'll get back to me with anything.

So... I think this means... I'm... done... with my Masters.

Now what?

Asses and Elbows

I was very sorely tempted to post, in its entirety, the IM conversation I just had with the English Ex, but I didn't want your brains to simultaneously explode.

Let's just say that a conversation that begins with your ex boyfriend asking "Do you think my obsession with butt plugs is odd?" can only head in one direction.

My brain feels like mush, and I really need to get on track and work on Thesis. I think I can finish the bulk of it today before Grey's Anatomy if I can just crack down and get some work done, but my brain is just not in the proper gear and I have no idea how to get it there.

Maybe I need to bake something. That seems to be my solution for everything these days.

I am awash in various degrees of panic over various and sundry subjects. Most specifically: Thesis, the deplorable state of the economy, and my accordingly non-existent job prospects.

So far I've got two possibilities: Homeless Person and Lottery Winner, with the latter obviously being the more desirable of the two.

I'm also seriously considering egg donation, if they'll take a chick who used to smoke and did a lot of drugs in the late 90s.

Any other suggestions? My tits aren't big enough to be a stripper...

Where the hell is my motivation??

I have so much work to do and so little motivation to actually do it.

I've designed one more week of the residency that is my Thesis, but I'm starting to loose focus. It's awfully difficult to design a residency for communally writing a play when you have no idea what sort of stuff the students would come up with, and are therefore writing a predictive model based on... what? Pure freaking imagination. And mine appears to be malfunctioning today.

I'll just bake some more bread. Maybe that will help. Carbs solve everything.

I think I'll go make a list of the readings that will be assigned to participants. It's not a lesson plan, but it's something...

One Down, One to Go...

Tonight was the final reading of my work in my Playwriting class. While the play itself isn't finished, the 10 minutes of it that were read tonight were very well received. It was gratifying to know that I'm not the only one who thought a diatribe on the original Star Trek series versus the movies was funny, and that the other students in my class engaged with my characters as much as I did. I'm actually really excited to finish writing it.

After, that is, I spend the next 3-5 days entirely devoted to completing my Thesis. My ultimate goal is to have it complete by the end of the day on Friday so I can email it to my professor and ask if he has any suggestions for me to enact in the final days before it is due. Barring that, however, it's due on Monday.

And then... I will be done with my Masters.

Which, given the current state of the economy,is more scary than it is exciting. I can't quite shake the feeling that I have just spent a painfully large sum of money on a degree, only to go back to waitressing, or worse... temping.

I think I'd rather chew my own leg off.

Think I could pay off my student loans with limbs?

Starting Tuesday on the Right Note

From the award-winning documentary, "Playing For Change: Peace Through Music."

I've always loved this song, and the warm fuzzies here are almost overwhelming. Happy Tuesday!



I realize in retrospect that the subject of this post is a terrible pun... but I kinda like it. Apologies to the pun-sensitive.

The more I think about it...

... the more I realize that it was not a good date.

I should not have to defend the fact that I (gasp!) watch television, or religiously read D-Listed, to someone I've known for less than an hour.

So my question to myself is: Why did I make such an effort to like this guy, when he had very little going for him other than his interest in me? Is it natural to keep looking for the positives when the negatives are so clearly in the majority, or is it just a sign of desperation?

An Epic Romance, It Is Not...

Last night I went to a holiday party and got drunk with a bunch of my favourite people (Hey there W, how are you feeling today?). I came home, decidedly intoxicated and high on good company and lots and lots of carbs, and sent an email to Match Guy basically telling him that he needed to ask me out. How did I operate the keyboard in my completely obliterated state? No idea.

Lo and behold, this morning (nearly afternoon) he began bombarding me with texts--which included mocking me for needing to nap away my hangover, which really wasn't fair. Nobody would have wanted to be around me before that nap, least of all me.

Anyhow, I napped, showered, and headed into the city to meet up with him.

And it was...

Okay.

The jury is still very much out, though I think they are leaning toward "No Go."

I feel like I have to try too hard around him. I mean, I know that I'm smart and witty and entertaining, but it's like there was this constant pressure to be all three at once--which is fucking exhausting, btw--and when I slipped for a moment I felt like I was undergoing the third degree.

As I rode the subway home, I took a moment to step outside myself... and I immediately realized that the look on my face was not that of a girl who had just had a great date.

Furrowed brow and pursed lips ≠ Butterflies and rainbows

However, it wasn't terrible. I didn't make up an excuse about needing to get home before dark so I didn't get raped (yes, I've used that one before). And while he's not a great kisser, when I let him bite my neck (long story) I kinda wanted to rip my clothes off right there.

Considering that I'd love to have sex again before the end of 2008, that might merit a second date for further investigation.

Well Since You Asked...

After simultaneously texting and emailing for a few ridiculous minutes, I just spent an hour on the phone with Match Guy.

And while an hour telephone conversation--particularly with a near stranger--is generally unheard of, the jury is currently out.

First off, it was an hour of what was essentially goofy banter about nothing in general; and while I am certainly a fan of banter, I am also a fan of conversations where actual information and ideas are exchanged. He's silly and made me laugh (and occassionally squirm when an attempted joke did not land), but also appears to have the attention span of a moth and I'm not convinced he's capable of carrying on an actual, serious conversation.

Second, he won't man up and actually ask me out. He's hinted, and kept trying to convince me to come up to Morningside Heights at 12:05am after he finished writing a paper that's due at midnight, but wouldn't just say "Hey, want to get a drink on _______?"

Don't get me wrong, I am in no way writing him off after one phone conversation. Like I said, it's rare indeed for me to spend that much time on the phone with anyone. Just that... I'm trying to dissuade myself from my usual cycle where I get all excited about something that turns out to be nothing at all.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned Mr. Perfect On Paper. I met him online, through something free and utterly shameful (Craigslist, I think). We emailed, had some rather scandalous IM sessions, and talked on the phone for several hours.

Then we met, and... nothing. No chemistry, no spark, nein, nyet, nada. Talk about a let down.

And don't even get me started on Rodent Man.

So, in general, online dating has a tendency to build my hopes only to dash them all to pieces, so I'm trying to keep things in perspective.

I'm also trying to stop myself from being exceedingly picky, like I often can be. I'll wait until I meet him in person before I make any judgment calls. If he ever actually asks me out.*

I hope he does. He's awfully cute.

---------
* Yes, yes, I am fully aware that this is the 21st Century and I could just ask him out myself, but if there's one thing experience has taught me it's that when I do all the pursuing and planning, things end as soon as I stop. I need a man who is capable of taking the initiative and demonstrating that he actually wants to see me. I don't think that's asking too much...

Update

He emailed me.

I am such a fruitcake.

The Lighter Side of Why I Suck At Dating

I feel it's only fair that I tell you all that after my last rant-ish post, I went and gave my Match.com profile a complete overhaul.

Hell, I paid something like $70 for a 3 month membership, and one of those has come and gone with exactly nothing to show for it. Being that the economy is officially in the shitter and as such my job prospects are essentially nil, I figured it was time to start looking for a return on my investment, whether it be an enduring love to take my mind off the fact that I'm about to be broke, a dirty shag to keep me warm when my heat goes off, or a sugar daddy to pay my rent when the loans run out.

So I jumped back into that proverbial pond with a spear and a net, prepared to do a little fishin'... and found a feature on Match's website that's either new, or I just hadn't noticed before: the "Reverse Match."

In a nutshell, instead of running a search for someone whose profile fits all the arbitrary criteria that you deemed either Very or Not Very Important on a scale of 1-5, it shows you a list of people who are looking for someone with your criteria.

Since I am historically terrible at choosing men for myself, I thought I'd give that a whirl and see if any nearby, attractive, non-sociopathic males were looking for a girl like me.

Lo and behold, I found one!

Not only that, but we exchanged hourly goofy emails for the better part of the afternoon.

Now I haven't heard from him in 5 hours and I'm totally convinced that my last email somehow put him off.

Not that, you know, he actually has a life and just hasn't been around a computer.

Because that would be logical.

And when it comes to dating? This frog throws logic right out the proverbial window.

I just hope it doesn't hit a pedestrian. I'd kinda like to get it back.

Must Everything In Life Be a Challenge?

Filtering through my google reader while trying to figure out how to structure my day (do I devote it entirely to school work? run some errands first? bake more bread? do laundry? what should I have for dinner? why the hell can't I make a decision lately??), I noticed a recurring theme among several blogs.

Namely, dating, and the difficulty thereof.

What? A single gal reading the blogs of other Singletons?

Shocking. Truly.

As I look back on the past decade of my life--for it has been 10 years since I uttered the words "I love you," and even then I was inwardly cringing and wondering how long it was going to take me to screw up the courage to finally end a tortured and unhealthy relationship--and I have to ask: Why does it have to be so difficult?

Of the many men I've dated since then end of that particular fiasco, there were a few that I could have fallen in love with, but some wrench would be thrown into the works to bring the whole thing crashing down. We'd be separated by an ocean, say... or his ex-girlfriend. You know, little stuff.

There were plenty that I dated simply because they were there--or perhaps because I drank too much in my early 20s, and my judgment was therefore not entirely sound. They all had some redeeming qualities: a wicked sense of humor, fabulous looks, a sizeable... intellect. But they all also had qualities that wound up being deal breakders: hitting on my best friend, creating drama wherever they went, the inability to place me anywhere on their priority list, let alone in the Top 10. And then there were some who just vanished, faded away into the ether without explanation... which would annoy me for a few weeks, and then I'd get over it and move on to the next eventually-unsuitable-suitor.

So my question is, and has been for some time, why, in a city of millions, is it so difficult to connect with another person on more than a superficial level?

Other than the fact that I have serious trust issues, and fear opening up to anyone lest they a.) find a way to hurt me, or b.) become so emotionally dependent on me (like the afore-mentioned tortured and unhealthy relationship) that I feel like I'm suffocating in a sea of over-zealous and needy affection.

I've never really had a relationship (okay, "relationship") that didn't fall into one of those two categories.

I can't say that I'd even know what to do with one should it come along.

But damnit, that doesn't mean I wouldn't like the opportunity to try.

Argh... Part 5,683

I saw Slater last night.

It was weird.

We're both charter members of the same theatre company, and last night we had an organizational meeting. I had a feeling he'd be there, but hadn't adequately prepared myself for the weirdness of pretending nothing was wrong when clearly EVERYTHING was wrong.

So, so wrong.

And weird.

So weird and wrong that I came home and started baking bread and drinking rum (I never drink rum!) at 9:00pm.

The thing bugging me the most is: NOW what do I do about the Peru gifts? I was all set to just mail them to him, but now that I have an established place and time where I'll see him, doing so feels awkward.

By the same token, so does showing up to a meeting to hand your former-best-friend-who's-taken-to-ignoring-you a scarf and a piece of frikkin' Macchu Pichu.

ARGH.

It feels like I've been saying that a lot lately...

I Did It!! Take Two

10,166 words in about 6 hours, and the novel is actually Done.

Story arc complete.

I so totally rock.

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head...

Or, more accurately, on the porch several feet away, safely seperated from my nice cozy dining room by a set of sliding glass doors.

But the sentiment is still the same, or something.

At any rate, it's the last day of my visit to PA, and the first day on which I have nothing in particular planned--no visits with friends, no major holidays, no Black Friday visits to the mall, or Post Black Friday returns to the mall to tell Lens Crafters they screwed up the prescription in my new glasses--and, somewhat appropriately, it is pissing down rain, further cementing my resolve to not leave the house unless absolutely necessary.

What, then, is a girl to do?

I could be responsible and attempt to work on Thesis, which I have yet to do on this vacation. I could sit down with Photoshop and the cast pictures I took of the kiddos and get to editing, since I promised I'd have them ready by, oh, tomorrow.

Or, I could attempt the ultimate act of insanity and attempt to finish my NaNo Novel.

True, I've already crept across the 50K finish line, but it kinda bugs me that the story itself isn't complete. Judging by the length of the rest of the novel, I could probably finish out the story arc in about 10K words, and since I average roughly 2K an hour, if I were to start now and break only for lunch, I could probably finish up before dinnertime.

Madness?

Uh, yeah.

Am I gonna try it?

Bet your ass.

I Did It!!

 

Despite myriad distractions and life constantly trying to get in the way... I did it!  I wrote 50K words in 29 days.  Phew!

And the most ridiculous part of it all?  The story isn't even *done*!  I was so worried that I didn't have enough story to make it to 50K that I padded the beginning with all sorts of unnecessary stuff--and here I am at 50K and the most significant part of the story hasn't even been written yet!

Nothing for it but to keep going, and then go back when it's all done and weed out the fluff.

Right now I'm just going to bask in the afterglow.  Weeding can wait until after December 15th.

The Ties That Bind

Growing up, I always wanted to be Cyd Charisse.  Here's one half of why:



And if you're not convinced, here's the other:



There are things we always think of as inheriting from our families.  Our eyes.  Our hair.  Our allergies and our back problems.

But there's something else that we rarely think of.  Our loves.

Tonight, while taking a bathroom break from family movie night, I began singing "Gotta Pee!" (to the tune of "Gotta Dance," above), which is not an unknown phenomenon in our house, and it immediately made me want to watch "Singing' in the Rain."  So I made the request and my parents obliged.

I was raised by my parents, my mother especially, to love old Hollywood musicals.  I think "Singing' in the Rain" was my first ever movie obsession.  When my family first got a VCR, and before "Labyrinth" came into my life, I would watch it every day. It was slowly supplanted by "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers," but even so, "Singin'" was always the foremost of movie musicals in my world.

About 30 seconds into the 700th or so watching this evening, I remembered why.

I know that loving this film, and others of its era, and desperately wishing that I had a fraction of the talent of Gene Kelly, or Donald O'Connor, or, of course, Cyd Charrise, is part and parcel to being part of my family.  Just like the large, deep-set eyes and the fast metabolism.

And truly?  I wouldn't have it any other way.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Happy Thanksgiving to all the American readers out there... and really, to everybody, because thankfulness should not be limited by nationality.

In addition to fabulous friends and family, here are a few things I am thankful for at this moment:

• My train back to PA was not Standing Room Only this year.
• Pouring over mail order catalogues with my mother, marking stuff we want for Christmas... before the turkey is even out of the oven.
• Watching "Futurama" with my dad over beers at 1:30am, and making him laugh when I referred to the "Girls Gone Wild" commercial shown twice every commercial break as "Underage Boobfest."
• Stripey pajama pants from Peru.
• Whatever university's marching band is currently playing "Rodeo" in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.
• The smell of turkey.
• My mom actually remembering to buy my cranberry sauce this year (I'm the only one who eats it).
• Game Night with some of my Girls, where my BFF and I came back from way behind to kick ass at "Cranium: Pop."
• A shower with water pressure.
• Furry llama slippers.
• Fresh cinnamon rolls.
• Only a little over 7k words to go on my NaNo.
• Only 2 1/2 weeks left to go in my Masters Degree... actually, let's file that under "Thankful-But-Terrified," shall we?

And of course there's much, much more... but I need to shower and churn out a thousand words or so before family time begins :)

Hope everyone has a fabulous day, holiday or not!

Sloth

I just went shopping because I am out of clean clothes and have neither the time nor the inclination to do laundry between now and my 9:30am train to PA tomorrow.

Unfortunately, I did not buy underwear. Guess I'll be washing those in the sink.

Nothing like going home for the holidays with a suitcase full of dirty laundry!

Mom and Dad will be so proud.

A New York Kind of Day

Yesterday was a good day.

After closing down the show with the kiddos on Saturday, I made my way home and got a loooong (and much needed) night's sleep, awaking early on Sunday to head into Manhattan and get a student rush ticket to see August: Osage County--partly because I've been wanting to see it, and partly because I have a response paper due tomorrow the subject of which is a play written in the past 25 years.

The thing with student rush tickets is that you have to show up and get them right when the box office opens, which is at noon, and the show doesn't start until 3:00. So, after procuring my ticket (for the amazingly affordable price of $29.50), I decided to head uptown and spend a few hours in the Natural History Museum.

In retrospect, I think I chose that museum (as opposed to, say, the Guggenheim) because it's the one that my uncle would have enjoyed most.

I spent a few happy hours wandering around the fourth floor, oooh-ing and aaaah-ing over dinosaur bones like a little kid (though to be honest, most of the little kids I encountered were more of the shrieking variety than the oooh-and-aaah variety). I also checked out a temporary exhibit on horses that, geek that I am, I found totally fascinating. I need to go back for the live reptile exhibit before it closes!

There were no photos allowed in the Horses exhibit, but here are some dino bones for you to enjoy:

 

My favourite dinosaur!!

 
 

Hello!

 
 

Not as scary as the one in Toys R Us

Note to Winter visitors:  The coat check at the Natural History Museum may only cost $2, but the line takes forever on Sundays!  I thought I was going to be late for the show!

Fortunately I made it back to Times Square with a few minutes to spare and was able to grab a mediocre slice at a pizza place around the corner from the theatre (I hadn't eaten all day) and still make it to my seat with enough time to browse the bios in the Playbill before the show started.

The show itself was FANTASTIC. Excellent script, excellent cast--Estelle Parsons (Roseanne's mom on "Roseanne"), who recently took over the lead, is freaking AMAZING--and the set design, a whole three story house on stage!, is also brilliant. The whole thing, in fact, is brilliant. I highly recommend anyone who is in the New York area and has a chance to see it do so immediately.

And of course, nothing would top off a quintessential day in New York without some craziness on the subway--this one in the form of some random guy chatting a stranger's ear off about real Jamaican jerk seasoning (the guy was white as snow) and how there was a massive UFO sighting in Staten Island two weeks before 9/11, so the two are obviously related... he was still talking when he got off the train three stops later. Alone.

All in all, it was a good day. And just what I needed after the lunacy of last week, and before diving into the lunacy that the rest of the semester holds in store.


On a completely different note, thank you, everyone, for your kind words and thoughts regarding my uncle. I've heard from both of my cousins and they seem to be coping as well as can be expected. Please keep them in your thoughts and prayers, I certainly am. As for me, I'm still trying to figure out how to grieve, but I think the museum was a start.

...

My mom called a little while ago, just as I was sitting down and preparing to be productive, with some bad news.

My uncle died from an overdose.

He was family by marriage, and he and my aunt have been divorced for many years. He had a lot of issues and could never seem to get his shit together (see above), at least, never for very long.

After the divorce, I think I was the only member of the former in-laws who didn't completely write him off. The last time I saw him was at my cousin's wedding, but I would always ask about him, wanted to know how he was doing. Sure, he was a fuck-up, but he was also funny as hell and incredibly smart, and I always loved being around him. When he was sober. And while his actions were never the best illustration of it, I know he loved his kids.

And today, it's his kids--my cousins--that are in my thoughts.

They've had it rough over the years, dealing with a father whose life is continually falling into a shambles, who could never be relied on for, well, anything. Neither of them talk about it much, but I know it's taken its toll. And to have it end like this, right before Thanksgiving, and with some other lurid details that I do not care to share with the internet at large, well... this makes me, personally, angrier than I've ever been with him. For not being able to get it together for the sake of his kids and grandkids, to leave them with this as the final memory of their father. It leaves me with a heavy heart, and no idea what to do or say for either of them, other than to let them know that they are both in my thoughts.

And while I hope that my uncle has now found the peace he couldn't find in life, my greater concern is for the peace of those who were left behind to pick up the pieces.

Today and every day I will be sending them my positive thoughts and love, and cling tight to the hope that, like all of the bombshells life drops in our laps, this too shall pass...

300!

My three-hundredth post!!

And a very anti-climactic one it shall be, because I? Am Wiped. Out.

I stayed out too late last night celebrating a friend's birthday, and had an 11am call time for a two-show day with the kiddos. I walked into the dressing room and the following conversation ensued:

Kids: Wow, Froggy, you look really tired!
More Kids: Yeah, you do! You look tired!
Me: Great guys, thanks for letting me know I look like shit this morning.
Costume Lady: (laughs)
Another Kid: Your hair looks hot though.

Ahhh... my teenagers. How I shall miss them!

Wah

I didn't even cry this much when the Steelers lost to the Patriots in the playoffs in '02.

Sexy Wishes: A Meme

The ever-girly (despite what the Gender Analyzer may say!) Princess of the Universe tagged, well, everyone for a meme... and since she turned it into a contest, how could I refuse?

The rules:

1. Post three "sexy" wishes.
2. Link back to the tagger (done).

Sexy wishes are easy, being that I haven't gotten any in quite awhile (and haven't gotten any that was actually worth the effort in even longer!), so here goes!

1. I would like to have sex again before the end of 2008. Preferably with a man who knows what he is doing and that I will still find attractive when I am sober.
   
2. I would like to find a man who actually appreciates my lingerie collection, so that I can torture him by prancing around the apartment in it but not letting him touch me until after dinner/movie/game-of-scrabble/whatever is over.
3. I would like someone to invent a toy that runs on solar power, because nothing is more frustrating at the end of a long day than dead batteries! Plus, I've given up hiding mine, since no man has entered my bedroom since I moved into this apartment, so it just sits on the windowsill in the sun all day. Perfect!

There it is! I have decided to tag Deutlich, Ashley, and Sequined, because I have a feeling their answers will be the most entertaining... should they chose to do it.

No pressure ladies :)

On a side note, it's 1:00am and weird techno organ music has been coming up through my floor since I got home at 8:30. I'm not sure what to make of that.

I imagine it's going to make sleep difficult.

On the bright side, I got my NaNo novel over 35K! Coming up the home stretch! The rest of my life is still in shambles, but I'm celebrating the small victories.

Exquisite Pressure

A book I'm reading for my newly-revamped-thesis-project uses the term "Exquisite Pressure" to define a working environment where people are given just enough time to create something they can truly own, without having time to judge or over-analyze. While this particular book refers specifically to an artistic/theatrical setting, I think the term could be applied anywhere that deadlines occur--office projects, school papers, etc.

The pressure I'm feeling right now, however? Is most definitely not Exquisite.

I have so much to do, so much to think about, and I'm having a very difficult time prioritizing.

The show with the kids opens in 2 days, so that, obviously, demands a good deal of my attention. The time commitment is finite, but the mental commitment is infinitely more extensive.

I've got that job audition next Tuesday and need to create a lesson for it, for which I need to do some research. As this is the most proximal deadline, it should probably be at the top of my priority list... but that would involve actually being able to make a priority list!

My play (or the 10 minutes of it being read aloud in class) doesn't have to be complete until mid-December, but I need to give my actor requirements to my professor by the end of the week.

My NaNo novel is falling by the wayside a bit this week, but I've got 31k words written, and I think I'll be able to get a lot done while I'm in PA for Thanksgiving and am not afforded the myriad distractions that can be found in my apartment.

And then, of course, there's Thesis. Honestly, other than reading some background material while traveling on the subway, I am thinking very little about Thesis this week. I'll worry about it when this show is over.

I also need to find time to bake some more baguettes, as I'm going to run out soon and that will definitely make me cranky.

Finally, to top it all off, I totally broke down and cried last night over this whole Slater situation. As much as I just want to be Capital-A-Angry about being so unceremoniously friend-dumped, the overwhelming emotion I am feeling over all of this is Hurt. I have apparently lost one of my best friends, and I have absolutely no idea why. And that... sucks.

The gifts I brought for him from Peru just sit there on my dresser, taunting me. What am I supposed to do with them? I can't give them to someone else, nor can I throw them away. Part of me just wants to mail them to him to get them out of my house, but do I include a note? Gah!

And of course, now my paranoid mind is reading into all of our mutual friendships as well... like the fact that B (formerly known as Maybe Crush, remember him?) hasn't written back to an email I sent several days ago. He's *always* slow to respond, but now of course I'm wondering if Slater has said something about me to make him not want to talk to me.

Clearly, my paranoia is still in High School.

It's just the icing on the cake of an already stressful month, and I wish I could just let go, but really... how can you just let go when someone you trust hurts you? When someone whose support you genuinely needed just up and decides they don't have time for you?

If you know, please... do share.

Pet Peeve of the Day

People who are surprised when the subway starts moving.

That's what it's THERE FOR!!

Freaking morons.

(And no, at 12pm in the middle of Brooklyn on the most useless train in the entire system--which doesn't even go to Manhattan--they are NOT tourists. They're just idiots.)

*sigh*

It's been a long freaking day.

Food Porn

On Saturday, I did not go to rehearsal. My voice was shot and it seemed silly to go when I couldn't speak--which turned out to be a wise decision as my hangover was of the late-breaking variety and I spent the better part of the afternoon feeling like ass and berating myself for my own irresponsibility.

I did, however, bake a TON of bread.

Aside from making this (which, incidentally, is much simpler to make than it looks):

I also made a ton of baguettes and part-baked them.  Which means, essentially, that you take the bread out of the oven halfway through the baking process, when just a few little spots of brown have begun to appear on the crust, and let them cool.  You then wrap them in parchment paper and plastic wrap and stick them in the freezer.

So, whenever you want a freshly-baked baguette (or whatever kind of bread you've made), you just take one out of the freezer and pop it in the oven.

And let me tell you, taking this:

 

(I was trying to capture the steam rising off of the bread... you can sort of see it in front of the jar of mustard lurking in the background.)

And slathering it with butter, dijon mustard, cave-aged gruyere, and some sort of fancy ham that's sort of like prosciutto, but less salty?

I'm not sure there's anything better.

Oh, and if you save back the tail end of the baguette to smother in Nutella for dessert... that's pretty sweet too :)

Thank You Keith Olberman

For anyone who hasn't seen this yet, I think it may be the most emotionally and intellectually compelling argument I have yet heard on the issue.

"...because this is the only world we have, and the other guy counts too."

Well said, Keith. Well said.

Cause for Ambien

This afternoon I sent out an invite on Facebook to NYC friends--mostly people in my program--to come see the show I've been working on with the kids for the past two months.

About half-way home on the subway this evening, it occurred to me: I didn't remember adding Slater to the list.

So when I got home, I logged onto Facebook... and he's no longer on my friends list.

I ran a search, and found two accounts with his name. One in Boston, and one with no photo or info. Then, like, an hour later I got a Facebook email from a friend about her birthday... and his name was on the list of people it had been sent to. But unlike all the other names, it wasn't linked so I couldn't click on it to get to a profile.

So... what gives? Is there some strange glitch in the Matrix, or have I officially been de-friended for some transgression of which I am completely unaware?

As if I didn't have enough on my mind already.

Christ, I'm never going to get to sleep tonight.

Ugh.

It was several.

I am not hungover in the traditional sense (yet. It could be one of those sneaky late-breaking hangovers, we'll see), but I am very tired and my voice is shot to hell.

While I had a great time waxing philosophical with the Lovely A about how we don't really smoke anymore--over half a pack of American Spirits--I am now in no way prepared to face my day, and all the lunacy that it holds in store.

I'm hoping a trip to McDonald's before rehearsal will fix that.

T.G.I... What day is it again?

Good grief, this month is slipping away from me faster than I thought possible! Which on one hand is a good thing, as my life will feel far less lunatic once November is over... on the other hand, the reason my life is so lunatic is that I've got a million things to do before the month is up and the days just keep disappearing!

Like, just for example, the paper that I realized only moments ago is due TOMORROW. Granted, it's a 2 page response to a storytelling performance I attended--a pittance in the world of academic writing. But I attended it last week. Let's hope my memory and the notes I took hold up until I get a chance to write that paper tomorrow morning.

Because right now? Tonight? I am going for a drink. Or several. Probably several, considering I am meeting the Lovely A, and it has long since been proven that "just one" is not in our vocabulary. Case in point, the last time she and I met up for a casual drink on a Friday ended up with me pouring her into a taxi at 4am, after speaking to her boyfriend on the phone to assure him that yes, she would be getting home okay. Why was I the one to determine this? I'm not sure, as I was certainly in no state to be making judgment calls... but I digress.

That being said, before Tuesday the 25th I need to:

1. Write 2 response papers.

2. Find time to see a play, written in the last 25 years, about which to write the second response paper.

3. Survive Hell Week for the play with the kiddos. (6 days with no less than 4 hours of rehearsal on each given day, oh my lord).

4. Come up with a 15 minute lesson covering some aspect of Shakespeare's plays as, hello! I have an audition for the one company in NYC that I would kill to work with!!. And I have a week to plan for it.

5. Nail that job audition.

Then, after the 25th, there's...

- Thanksgiving

- NaNoWriMo (I past the 25k mark! Halfway there!)

- Oh, right, THESIS!!

- And a play. That I have to write. For a grade.


Needless to say, this little frog is feelin' da pressure. Hence the drinking.

Happy Weekend!

Battle Chicken Part II: Thanksgiving

(Narrated by the late Don Lafontaine)

This Thanksgiving...




One Chicken... will take a stand...

 

And... LOSE.

To the victor go the spoils, on... Thanksgiving.

 

Coming soon, to a table near you.

___________
Original post can be found here.

Sleeping Strange

I knew I was in for it last night when, every time I was on the verge of falling asleep, my whole body would jerk violently, waking me up. I have no idea how I finally managed to fall asleep, but I knew that my subconscious had it in for me.

First...

I was waiting for an elevator with some of the characters from Gossip Girl, theoretically to go home (because in my dreams I get to live in classy buildings with elevators). That's when I started falling over. I'd lose my balance, start drifting backwards, then my legs would give and I'd go crashing into a wall or whoever happened to be standing behind me (well hello there Chuck Bass! How are you this evening?). Every time the elevator arrived, someone would hit the Close Door button, waiting for me to get it together. My mind was completely alert, but I had no control over my limbs.

Then...

I was in my parents' backyard, getting ready to sleep in a tent (that had screened walls, a nice bed, and a flat screen TV). Only it wasn't really my parents' backyard, it just looked like it. A shady figure snuck out from behind my neighbor's hideously ugly hedge and suddenly I KNEW he was there to kill me. Only he didn't. As I sprawled flat on the ground, hoping not to be noticed--while wearing lingerie and thigh-high fishnet stockings... why?--he crept into another screen-walled tent, this one containing a refrigerator, some shelves, and a stainless steel table. He opened the fridge to return some bread dough that I'd left at the Gossip Girl & Co apartment. That's right, the strange sneaking man was bringing me dough.

Then...

Floodlights came on, helicopters appeared, and a man in military garb appeared with his retinue atop my parents porch. Orders in Spanish were echoing from a bullhorn mounted on the helicopter as military personal poured into the yard from around the hedge and the sides of the house. I was screaming "Digame en Ingles!" and crying...

Then...

I woke up, went to the bathroom, got a drink of water, and fell fitfully back to sleep.

Where...

I was at rehearsal with my kids, where I had inexplicably brought a tray of bread dough that was rising (notice a theme here?). Rehearsal ran over and I was going to be late for a hair appointment, so I rushed out and across the street where there is a kitchen-supply store--to buy tupperware to safely carry the rising dough to my hair appointment--only when I got outside, the store was no longer there and the street was lined by several surly fabric merchants. I kept walking up and down the street, as though that would make the store magically reappear, until finally giving up and going back down to the rehearsal room, where the dough had meanwhile gone bad.

Next...

I was still determined to make it to my hair appointment. I took the inexplicably pristine subway one stop (again, why?) then got out to find a taxi, ending up with a non-yellow cab who said he would take me for $3. I got in the back and sat down and zoned out, only to snap back to myself a few minutes later and realize we hadn't moved, the driver was outside talking to his buddies! I yelled at him to hurry up, that I was late, so he got in the car and we started driving...

Suddenly...

I was in the back seat of a different car, filled with other people--some who I know from the real world, others complete figments of my imagination. We were driving through brown dirt mountains, sort of like that opening segment in "The Shining," only not as creepy. This was an off-shoot trip of some sort of camp or retreat, and we were going to... a nudist resort. Yes. We were staying for several nights, but as we pulled into the parking lot I realized that I hadn't brought anything with me other than the clothes on my back. We entered the resort, which was mostly a bunch of big crazy swimming pools, and almost immediately lost track of each other. Though it was supposed to be a nudist resort, very few people were actually naked. The two "real world" friends stripped down and jumped into the pool (although one kept his shirt on, which he always does at the beach. Shirt and no pants, gotta love it), and I followed suit, though I ended up just hanging onto the ledge and watching the crowd--until a little girl came up to me and asked if I had "girl parts," at which point I left the pool. The sun set almost instantly and it got cold. I asked the resort manager where my room was and he loaded me into a car to drive me to a neighboring Holiday Inn style hotel...

Where...

I encountered another friend, who was inexplicably excited that this hotel had overnight-train-style bathrooms where you showered over the toilet.

Then...

I woke up.

__________
I was reading this book before I went to bed, which explains all of the bread references, but as to the rest of it.... wtf??

Gender-me?

No idea how this website works, but it analyzes blogs and attempts to determine whether they are written by a man or a woman by somehow comparing the writing to a control-group of male and female authored blogs.

So I decided to give the ol' Frying Pan a look-see. The result?

"We guess http://das-frog.blogspot.com is written by a woman (58%), however it's quite gender neutral."

Nice, I rather like being gender-neutral.

Hmmm... I wonder what it has to say about the girliest blog I read?

"We think http://winnipegprincess.blogspot.com/ is written by a man (64%)."

Wow, okay, that was not what I was expecting... Either Princess of the Universe is keeping something from us, or their algorithm could use a little tweaking. I'm guessing it's the latter.

Okay, how about a blog actually written by a man?

"We have strong indicators that http://redactedblog.blogspot.com is written by a man (94%)."

Dan will be relieved.

Peter, on the other hand, appears to be in trouble.

"We guess http://peterdewolf.wordpress.com is written by a woman (56%), however it's quite gender neutral."

[Pause while Froggy feeds address after address into the machine, looking for a solidly female response to mirror the 94% male given to Dan]

I am perplexed. The highest certainty of female authorship I could encounter from my blog roll was Molly, coming in at 71%, followed closely by Deutlich at 68%.

But many of my other bloggy ladies showed up with startlingly high percentage certainty of being male... so either there's a whole lot of fakery going on out there, or this algorithm is decidedly warped.

I'm guessing it's the algorithm, as I've met Ashley, and she is most certainly not a man, despite this website's 78% percent certainty that she is.

So what is it that constitutes "masculine" writing? A good vocabulary and grasp of basic grammar? Is that why so many of my girls are getting labeled as boys?

This whole thing just has me a bit confused. Go check it out yourself. What does a stranger's algorithm say about you?

Irksome

I... am annoyed.

This is actually a significant downgrade from a few hours ago when I was thoroughly pissed-off, composing ranty blog posts in my head on the subway, and just generally in need of a juice box.

Or, you know, a fifth of gin. Whatever.

So clearly I've calmed down a bit, but the bottom line is: I am... displeased.

You see, in the last month I have heard nary a peep out of Slater, other than an invitation to attend his Master's Thesis presentation, which I had promised to attend ages ago, before he fell off the radar and essentially friend-dumped me by failing to return phone calls or text messages, and responding to lengthy emails with emotionless 2 line messages.

But, being the good friend that I am, I said I would go.

And dutifully this evening, I cut short a meeting that really could have stood to last longer and not feel so rushed, to hop in a taxi and race up to campus.

I arrived promptly at 7:00 for an event described in the invite as starting at 7:00ish... and promptly walked in on a class being held in the room I was told to go to.

Oooookay.

I both texted and called Slater, as well as texting another friend who I thought might have been invited. I received no responses. I would have texted others, but I didn't have any phone numbers.

I went back downstairs to the lobby where there are computer terminals and checked all of my email accounts to see if there’d been an email about a change. There hadn't.

I waited around outside to see if I’d run into anyone on their way in. I didn't.

I went back upstairs to see if there was a note on the door to the classroom that I’d missed. There wasn't.

I walked over to the building where most of our department can generally be found lurking in the lounge between classes to see if there was anyone who might know what was going on. There was a meeting in the lounge, and thus, there wasn't.

I went back to the original building and checked the junk mail folders of my email accounts in case an update had accidentally been filtered there. It hadn't.

I waited outside some more where I ran into my professor from the Uganda course who said I could go ask at the 7th floor office and they could tell me what room was being used. I went to the 7th floor and asked, but they could find no reservation including either Slater's name or the topic of his thesis. Help me? They couldn't.

At this point, I had spent half an hour running around, trying my damnedest to attend the thesis presentation of an individual who hadn't even seen fit to return my freaking phone calls for over a month, and I bloody couldn't.

So I sent him a text saying I'd tried and failed and was going home.

When I got home I emailed him a detailed list of my efforts, similar to the above (though of a decidedly more neutral tone).

Shortly after 9:00, I received the following text message:

"We had to relocate for that reason [the class, ed.]. I am so sorry you waited that long, i should have put up a sign but i was so tense i forgot to."

I texted back and asked at what time they had relocated, seeing as I arrived on time myself... and I never got a response. To that, or to my email.

Over a month of radio silence and disbelieving looks when people ask me "How's Slater?" and I tell them I have no idea; half an hour of running around like a lunatic trying to find a way to see his freaking thesis because that's just the kind of friend I am; two texts, a phone call, and an email...

And that's all I got.

A two line text message.

Is it wrong of me to say that it's not enough?

Froggy's Kitchen

I should probably be working on my NaNo Novel right now (Wordcount: 16,284, hope to be at 20k by the end of the day) but instead I thought I'd fulfill your requests for recipes and other foodie goodness!

The Kaiser Rolls

First, a disclaimer on bread baking in general. I've been doing this for awhile. Bread-baking has been a hobby of mine for years, and in the last year or so I've started doing it quite often. It's not too terribly difficult, but it is time-consuming, and does take some practice. You may want to start out with a more basic loaf before diving into things like rolls and bagels. Let me know if you're looking for recipes!

Right, on to the rolls.

I found the recipe here, which has recently become my go-to resource for bread recipes--these people know their stuff! I'm not going to cut and paste the recipe, as the linked post is quite detailed with lots of helpful pictures, so you can check it out there!

That being said, I think I did alter the recipe to use a poolish, which is basically a small portion of the dough that is made the night before and left out to proof at room temperature. It gives the dough a richer flavour.

Shaping these was a little tricky, but I did a bit of research and gave it my best go. The rolls puffed up a bit more than Kaisers are supposed to, but the end result tasted great, so for a first attempt I was pleased.


Bagels

These were tricky, and some of them came out better than others. Once again, I found the recipe on The Fresh Loaf. This recipe came from a book which is totally going on my Christmas list, The Bread Baker's Apprentice, and as such I stopped into Barnes and Noble and read over the book's version of the recipe before embarking on this particular mission. The shaping instructions in the book were a bit clearer, which helped.

Based on information I found on another website (I think I'm going to try this recipe next time), I boiled the bagels longer than indicated in the BBA recipe--2 minutes per side--and also added malt syrup to the water rather than baking soda. Unfortunately, I over-baked a few of them afterwards. Definitely a timing issue that needs to be worked on!

Oh, and my "Everything Bagel" topping consisted of: coarse sea salt, fresh ground pepper, poppy seeds, toasted sesame seeds, dried minced onion, and dried minced garlic. Tasty!!


Pizza

Oh, the neverending search for the perfect, NY style pizza dough! It is a long and arduous task, and one that has resulted in many a pizza dinner, some better than others.

I'm not sure which recipe I pictured in the last post, but the most recent candidate was found here. While the consistency of this dough was not exactly what I had in mind, it has the best flavour of any recipe I have tried so far. However, the consistency problem could be chalked up to two factors.

1.) This recipe gives a baking time that is WAAAAAYYYY TOO LONG! I pulled it out at exactly 20 minutes and my cheese was about 2 seconds away from being burnt. Of course, it's technically my fault for not checking on the pizza sooner, so next time I'll be more careful.

2.) The yeast. This recipe differs from every other pizza dough recipe (and nearly every bread recipe) I have tried in that, rather than dissolving the yeast in the water as the first step, all of the other ingredients are mixed together and then the yeast is sprinkled over the dough and kneaded in. Being that I used Active Dry rather than Instant yeast (I just learned the difference a few days ago, oops!), the yeast might not have activated properly. I'll have to get a different type and try again.

Another key to good pizza is a pizza stone. They're a bit on the pricey side (or so I'm told, mine was a gift), but I hear that unglazed/untreated quarry tiles work just as well. Learning to get a pizza onto a pizza stone without launching the toppings across the back of the oven takes some time--I'm still learning myself. Though this last attempt was the most fruitful to date.


Herbed Chicken with Roasted Savory Sweet Potatoes

This meal was insanely easy to throw together.

First, the chicken.

Preheat oven to 350.

Take a large chicken breast--or more sections of bone-in chicken if you're feeding multiple people--and trim off any excess fat or skin, but leave most of the skin on. Rinse, and pat dry with a paper towel.

One side at a time, sprinkle liberally with salt, fresh ground pepper, sage, thyme, and paprika. Use your fingers to lightly rub in the spices.

Place chicken in a large baking dish, uncovered, and bake for one hour.


Now, the sweet potatoes.

Peel and dice as many potatoes as necessary, based on the number of people you are feeding. Place diced potatoes in a large bowl and drizzle lightly with olive oil. Add salt, pepper, paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, and thyme (if I'd had any rosemary, I would have added that too). Toss for a minute to evenly coat potatoes with oil and spices.

Spread potatoes on a large baking sheet and place in oven on lower rack. Bake for approximately 30 minutes, turning once about halfway through baking time.

Voila! Serve with a chopped salad or other veggie and you are good to go! I like Annie's Naturals Organic Ketchup for dipping the potatoes. Tastes better than Heinz AND no high fructose corn syrup! I've tried making my own ketchup several times, but it always comes out tasting like tomato sauce. Now that I've found Annie's, I stopped.


Pumpkin Ravioli

I found this recipe here, an excellent resource for user submitted and reviewed recipes. If you make an account, you can save recipes to your recipe box and have them on hand anywhere that you've got an internet connection! (Side note, my BFF turned me on to this one which is totally rockin' and adored by anyone I've ever made it for!)

The only significant change I made to this recipe was adding some freshly ground pepper to the filling to give it a bit more bite. Otherwise I made everything as-is.

Rolling the dough was a bit tricky. In the end, I went to my fabric stash and found some muslin, which I cut into a rectangle and attached to my giant butcher's block cutting board with duct tape. I then liberally floured the muslin and rolled the dough out on that. The dough tried to stick to my rolling pin, but if you keep some flour on hand you should be fine. They do make cloth sleeves for rolling pins (my mom has one) for rolling out sticker dough, but alas I do not have one. Hey, work with what you've got, right?

My chief warning is: Do Not Overfill Your Ravioli! I did, and it made it a pain in the arse to seal them up. Fortunately, none of them exploded while boiling, but I thought they would.

Now, I served them with a Garlic Pumpkin Cream Sauce that I sort of made up as I went along. The sauce itself was decent, but was a bad combination with the ravioli for two reasons: first, the sauce was too rich and overpowered the flavour of the ravioli itself; and second, the sauce was a yellowish-orange colour, which clashed horribly with the reddish-orange of the pasta. Read: it did not look pretty, and in case you hadn't noticed from the photos, I like my food to be pretty.

That being said, I would recommend serving these simply with butter or oil and salt. Save the rich sauces for a simpler pasta.


And there you have it! Notes from Froggy's Kitchen! Tonight I will be making a chicken using this, which is super-easy and makes a fabulous bird!

Photos will be forthcoming, I am sure.

Quickie

About to dash out the door to rehearsal (in the rain, ick!) but just wanted to share:

The Russian Who Never Called just friend requested me on Facebook.

GAH!

Bits 'n' Bobs

Wow, food porn sure brings the lurkers out the woodwork! Welcome, new friends, make yourselves comfortable :)

I will absolutely honor the requests for recipes and the like, but not today, as I have a wedding to attend and lots of stuff to get done before I leave--like writing 1700 words for NaNoWriMo (current wordcount: 13,133... over 1/4 of the way there!), since lord knows I'll be too drunk to do it when I get home.

So, on to the randomness:

I think John Stewart has a bit of a man-crush on Paul Rudd (who could blame him?), but that's okay, as I think I've got a bit of a girl-crush on Rachel Maddow.

Grilled salami & pepper jack on homemade Italian bread = possibly the awesomest sandwich ever. I recommend you go make one right now! Provided, of course, that you know how to bake bread...

I wrote to Cute Conference Guy last night, and got a response this morning. While the response was prompt and friendly, it didn't quite seem like an "oh, I remember thinking you were hot and hope this is an entryway into further communication" type email, so.... I don't know. I will write back and see what comes of it, but I'm not holding my breath.

The wedding I'm attending tonight is one that I've been looking forward to all year. I've known this couple since I first moved to NYC, and they might just be my favourite couple ever. Also, they manage to throw fabulous parties in tiny Brooklyn apartments, so I have high hopes for this evening. Let's just hope my phantom, here-one-minute-gone-the-next cold stays away for the evening.

And the new shoes I got to wear? Beyond fabulous! The red is a little darker than the picture, but paired with my vintage 1950s royal blue velvet party dress? They're going to look killer. (And if they don't, I've got plenty of plain black pumps to fall back on.)

Also wedding-related, I am currently attempting to recreate this look, which I have managed twice before with minimal difficulty... but right now my hopes are not high. Fingers crossed that it works, or I will be doing an emergency wash-under-the-faucet-and-flat-iron before leaving the house.

In case you couldn't tell, I like getting dressed up for other people's weddings. Perhaps because it's doubtful I'll ever have one of my own (nor do I want one, for that matter), but mostly because it's an excellent excuse to get all decked out and remind myself (and everyone else) just how nicely I clean up when I put my mind to it.

I hope the weather holds out. It's fairly grim and grey right now, but I think it's supposed to brighten up later.

Hmmm... it appears that most of this randomness was wedding-related. Guess I had a theme after all!

Right, off to be productive.

Happy Friday!

More Reasons Men Should Be Lining Up At My Door...

As we all muddle our way through the day, dealing with post-election depression (it's sort of like post-partum depression, only without being responsible for an infant), I thought I would provide you all with a little fluff to brighten your day (and whet your appetite).

Behold!  Further evidence that my continuing singleness is absolutely criminal.

Exhibit A
Homemade Kaiser Rolls.



Not bad considering they were my first attempt.

Exhibit B
Homemade Bagels


Proof that I actually did it myself.



Um, hello?  Who wouldn't want to wake up to fresh bagels on a Sunday without having to leave the house?

Exhibit C
Homemade Pizza



I've been making pizza at least once a week, sometimes more, as I continue my search for the ultimate crust recipe.

Exhibit D
Herbed Chicken with Roasted Savory Sweet Potatoes

 

A.) Sweet potatoes are a million times better when made with herbs and spices vs. sugar and marshmallows; and

B.) It's moderately depressing eating a rockin' meal like this alone while watching Bones on your DVR.

Exhibit E
Pumpkin Ravioli... FROM SCRATCH!!

Seriously. From.  SCRATCH.

Does this one even require further justification as an illustration of my awesomeness?  No?  Good.

Exhibit F
Behold... My Halloween costume:



Okay, okay, so it's not food... but only, like, 3 people actually got to see my costume on Halloween, so I felt the need to share. Especially considering that if I keep eating all of this fabulous food by myself, I'll never fit into that costume again!

I'm the smiley face :)

And so here I sit, basking in the smell of the two ginormous loaves of Italian bread currently baking in my oven, and contemplating what I will do with the leftovers after cooking an entire chicken just for myself.

Expect another installment in this series before the week is out.

Jubilation

11:05pm.

I checked the time on my cell phone as I exited the subway, cursing the G train for having taken so long, and NYU for making us attend class rather than stay home glued to MSNBC.

I reached the top of the stairs and stepped onto the sidewalk. A few muffled shouts echoed down the street, but that's not unusual for Brooklyn.

It was as I turned the corner onto my block that the car horns started. Blaring down the street with a rhythm saying something other than the usual "Hey you! Get out of my way!" More cheers filtered into the general cacophony and I quickened my pace toward home.

It was like a ripple effect. One by one, apartments on my block erupted into raucous cheers. Through the windows, shadows bounced as people jumped and danced in celebration.

And I knew.

As a smile broke across my face and my stoop came into view, a voice from a neighboring window echoed the thought that was circling through my head.

"It's just like World War II ending!"

Tonight Brooklyn, and America, celebrates.

Yay, Participatory Democracy!

 

Alas, my polling station did not have stickers, thus I am forced to make due with this digital version.

At any rate, today I voted! Hooray! And I hope all of you able to do so did the same.

This is an exciting election for me, not only because for the first time since I've been able to vote, it looks like my candidate of choice will actually win, but also because this is the first election where I've actually been able to vote in person.

When I turned 18 it was not a presidential election year, and I could not justify missing two days of college in November to trek back to PA and vote for the state senate.

In the 2000 Bush v. Gore election, I was living abroad and voted by Absentee, then sat in the kitchen of my grotty student flat with my other American flatmate, staring at election coverage on British television, chain smoking and bemoaning the fact that we were 6 hours ahead and would not be able to get the results until the next morning... or, as it turns out, until several days later.

In the 2004 Bush v. Kerry election, I was living in NYC but still registered in PA, voting once again by absentee.

Thus, it was with genuine excitement that I got dressed and prepared to head up the street to my polling station (only about 6 blocks away) and cast my vote in what is possibly the most important election of my lifetime so far.

I made my way to the polling station, which was somewhat chaotic having something like 10 precincts voting in the same room, and only one booth for each, but the lines weren't all that long and, amazingly, nobody seemed to mind.

There was a palpable sense of excitement and even joy in the air, humming with the clicking and clanking of the ancient voting booths. As I signed in and took my place in line, a girl emerged from the voting booth and did a little dance, giving a whoop of joy. A few minutes later, her boyfriend followed suit. The people in line made idle, friendly chit chat with each other as we moved slowly forward. Another woman came tumbling out of the booth and came up to her friend in line.

"Those words were so small! I couldn't see anything! I was just like, show me where Obama at, I don't care about them other names, just show me Obama!"

Much as I may have wanted to, I could hardly fault her for her disinterest in the other offices holding elections. I had no idea who these men and women running for Brooklyn Court Justices were either.

As I took my place at the head of the line, I watched as the gentleman in front of me had serious trouble with the booth--the giant red lever appeared to be stuck. I stood, frozen, thinking: Well wouldn't it just figure if the freaking booth broke right before I get to vote!. Fortunately, the volunteers set things to rights and I was able to enter and cast my vote without any difficulty, smiling as the red lever slid smoothly back to neutral.

As I left the polling place, I got the distinct feeling that this election has pulled voters out of the woodwork who would not normally be bothered, and that excites me--that people in this country are finally taking an interest in how it is being run. Sure, it took an expensive, seemingly-neverending war and a serious financial meltdown to wake them up, but now that they are awake, perhaps we can finally do something.

It's time to remind the rest of the world that, while we have been behaving like the bully on the playground for the last decade or so, there is still some good left in this nation. A lot of good. We just need to start acting like it.

As I was walking back to my apartment, a guy headed in the opposite direction stopped me in the middle of an intersection.

"Did you just come from voting?"

"Yes, I did."

"How is it over there?"

"It's not bad, not bad at all."

I wondered, how could he tell? What made him ask me? Perhaps it was because I was the only person on the street who appeared gainfully employed, but I like to think it was the smile on my face.

Sleep or Breathe?

Fortunately, this is a choice that most normal people never have to make.

I, on the other hand? Am screwed.

You see, unlike everyone else on the planet, who after taking sudafed will immediately either pass out or become a catatonic mess, I will spend an entire night tossing and turning, heart racing, unable to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time, plagued by half-waking dreams involving the insubstantial plot of my NaNoWriMo novel laced with characters from the original 90210.

Right.

So basically, in an effort to not have a clogged up nose, thereby not sleeping with my mouth open all night, thereby not waking up with a sore throat... I ended up not really sleeping at all.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

I hate being sick.

P.S. - What Have I Gotten Myself Into?

50,000 : The word count goal for midnight on November 30th.

1,930 : Words so far.

30 : Minutes spent trying to log onto massively overloaded website to update my word count.

1 : Rooms cleaned before writing commenced (because my apartment has reached such a disaster level as requires cleaning rooms one at a time)

2 : Other massive writing projects to be completed (or nearly completed) during the month of November (a play, and, oh yeah! A freaking THESIS which is going to have to be completely re-planned due to fuckery of the University's review board.)

3 : Days since cold symptoms first appeared, which seem to be neither increasing nor diminishing

240 : milligrams of sudafed consumed in the last 24 hours.

11ish : Number of times I stood up and immediately got a headache/felt dizzy/both.

0 : Number of directions I can move my neck without feeling stiffness and/or pain.

2 : Stores visited in search of candy corn, all for naught!

4 : Episodes of first season of the original Beverly Hills 90210 watched.

6 : Times wondered in which season David Silver's annoying little friend accidentally shoots himself.

2 : Incorrect actress identifications (Hot Math Teacher's Wife ≠ Erica Hahn on Greys, and Cindy Walsh ≠ the mother from "Son in Law," I blame the sudafed).

3 : Times I've almost ended this post, the come up with something else to add to the list.

29 : Minutes since I should have gone to bed. 36 after edits.

Match.com = Just as Frustrating as the Real World... UGH!

So far my foray into the world of Match.com has yielded incredibly depressing results, which leads me to wonder: why exactly did I think this would be any easier than meeting someone out in the real world? And why did I pay for the opportunity to be disappointed?

Of every man that I have reached out to either by winking or emailing? NONE have responded. Not a single bloody one. The most interesting prospect didn't even view my freaking profile! Wow! I had no idea I was that uninteresting and/or unattractive.

Of all the men who have contacted me? One is somewhat interesting, but I can't seem to get excited enough to actually respond to his emails on a regular basis. And the rest? Are either: far too old, prematurely balding, poorly spoken (which is a deal breaker for me) with wretched grammar (even MORE of a deal breaker), well-spoken but have a profile that reads like a Dungeons and Dragons game-book, or just plain wonky-looking. In other words, not at all interesting to me. Like, even in the slightest.

So I'm beginning to wonder. All those profiles of men that I actually found attractive and/or interesting--and I was surprised to find so many!--that got me to say "oh the hell with it!" and pay for a membership to see what came of it... are they even real? Or does Match just sprinkle them through the website to lure in unsuspecting single girls? Not to be conceited, but I am a fairly attractive girl, which is why I find it just a liiiiiittle bit insulting that NOT A SINGLE FREAKING MAN that I have contacted has returned the favor. I mean, seriously, talk about disheartening...

Yes, I know I'm whining. Mostly I'm just annoyed with myself for shelling out money for this bullshit, as now I feel that I need to keep using it to "get my money's worth" even though all it's doing is pissing me off. Blech.

That being said, I totally need to email that guy from the conference. Just as soon as the decongestants kick in and remove the congestion-induced fog from my brain.