Print Story Another week.
By ana (Sat Sep 18, 2010 at 07:39:40 PM EST) omnomnomgak, ajua!, vagina full of funny peppers (all tags)
That makes two of 'em. My day, as a microcosm of the week that was.

Or, you know, not. All week I held on, waiting for the weekend. Not that anything would be different, really, but at least I would be on my own, doing whatever I want, without the requirement that I sit at my desk for eight hours a day.

Anyway. Saturday. Did laundry. Wrote some while the machines cycled. Watered plants. Washed the blankets on my bed, to rid myself of the peculiar stain right where the cat used to sleep. But suddenly didn't anymore, as of about mid-week. Which was a day or two before I found the stain. Anyway. Came out; I think maybe it was mouse blood.

And then the weekly trip to the grocery store. I had skipped the dreaded "what do you want to eat this week?" phase, mostly just canvassing the shelves and replacing things that had run out. But a plan materialized. I have some leftover rice; the rice cooker works nicely if you make at least a cup, and after it cooks, that's about four times as much as I need to be eating at a single sitting. I had done a beef kung-pao style stir fry last weekend, and reheated the leftovers after coming home from a choir rehearsal. It was good; I thought perhaps I'd do a fried rice version of that. Impulse buy: pineapple for the stir fry.

Non food item. The softball team toxicfur and I played for up through last season (0-9-1, thanks) was playing their last game today. I think in this league everybody gets into the playoffs, only to be offed in the first round. The opponent was a church called High Rock, who were league champions a couple years back. So I wandered down to the common and got there going into the top of the 6th (they play 7 innings by default), to be told our team was up 6-3. Wooo... Winning, with just 2 innings to go.

So they allowed 3 runs in the top of the 7th, and there was time for an 8th inning, and they allowed another run then, and were unable to come back. Rather a heart-breaker, 7-6 in extra innings to end the season. We went to the nearby dive bar to drown our sorrows. As my parking meter was expiring I made my excuses, waded through the crowd to the street, where I remembered I'd failed to pay for the beer I drank. So I waded back through the crowd, put a fiver under the pitcher (I'm a lightweight, which at least is cheap), waded back through the crowd again, and came home.

I answered queries about how toxicfur was doing with neutral platitudes. I'm proud of myself for that.

A trip to the garden later in the afternoon brought a harvest of cherry tomatoes (or are they grape?) one full-sized tomato to replace one that got overly soft without turning fully red on the kitchen windowsill; some string beans, and a couple Thai funny peppers. I did not harvest the okra, which is not fit for human consumption.

Stir fry. It went well, though the cat thought I really should feed him first and then twirl food around the kitchen if I still felt like it. There was a third of a jalapeño I'd used the rest of on a pizza. So I diced garlic, sectioned an onion, chopped up broccoli, decided not to stir-fry the beanses I'd just picked, and got out the peanuts and the pineapple. Sauce, per recipe. Finely chopped peppers.

Fed the cat after I turned off the fire under the wok-alike, and before eating myself. He was happy.

Comes the question of how you eat such a concoction with chop sticks. The chunks are of disparate size and I don't have the skill of stacking a bunch of different items on my chop sticks. This general class of problems includes how you eat salads with small tomatoes (grape? or were they cherry?) and croutons.

Anyway. Attempting to eat the fried rice with chop sticks and then the leavings with a fork produced the result which seems obvious in hindsight: the finely minced things that didn't stick to something else were preternaturally enhanced in their abundance relative to, say, rice and beef and pineapple. This would include diced jalapeño and Thai peppers.

¡Ajúa! as Garrison Keillor might say.

Perhaps I should use radishes in my stir-fry and leave the funny peppers to somebody who knows what the fuck they're doing.

I have re-runs for one more pull at this.

Oh, and I finished the bottle of mead I bought in Vermont. The winery (meadery?) was having a mead festival to push its new season's produce. I have a cute wine glass as a souvenir. Well, I will have finished it by the time I drink this glass in front of the teevee.

And oh, look. There's a Thai pepper seed stuck to the inside of my wine glass. Perhaps I should wash my moustache as well.

Anyway. Surviving. Having a bit of fun.

Oh, and the kitty story.

Wednesday night I was late coming home after choir. This would be the first time since the day everybody else in his household moved away that I hadn't provided dinner on schedule. Calcifer was no place to be found, despite canvassing the neighborhood twice, the second time with dish and spoon making catfood-dispensing sounds.

Elevenses, I heard him come in, we both demanded to know where the other had been, I fed him, and all was forgiven.

Or so I thought.

Thursday night was windy, and the open attic windows allowed the wind to slam the attic door shut, and then slam it open again, making a dull thud that echoed through the house but wasn't easily identified. I slept fitfully, wondering what the cat had found to knock over.

Half two in the morning, I hear unmistakable cat sounds. He has a mouse. He's proud of himself, and is meowing his tale of huntsmanship (huntscatship) through a mouse in his teeth.

He arrived in the hallway outside the bedroom door which seems to be the killing field (Silas killed a rabbit there not that many weeks ago). From the sound of things, the mouse escaped at this point. For all of a second, there was a sound of loud thumping, going rapidly down the stairs. I wondered if Calcifer had fallen all the way down the stairs, but no, he seemed to be fine, and he recaught his prey, and proceeded to eat it outside the door.

On the carpet. Of course.

Crunch crunch crunch meow, smack purrrrrrrrrr. Gag retch retch gak.

Or as one of my twitter friends put it, #omnomnomgak

So I turned on the light, cleaned up the parts of the mouse he hadn't chosen to eat, and then (mercifully on the hardwood bedroom floor) the parts he had eaten, along with his dinner from the previous evening. While he purred loudly and rubbed on my ankles.

It's almost like he was telling me, "See? This is what I hafta do if you don't feed me regular meals."
< To The Emperor! | It's the Nights That are the Hardest >
Another week. | 11 comments (11 topical, 0 hidden) | Trackback
so far, so good. by clock (2.00 / 0) #1 Sat Sep 18, 2010 at 08:47:05 PM EST
you have put into words why it is that i have never taken to cats.  i prefer the less predatory flavor of pets.  though when i finally take up falconry...

I agree with clock entirely --Kellnerin

You don't have time for falconry. by wiredog (4.00 / 1) #8 Sun Sep 19, 2010 at 09:51:05 AM EST
I knew an eagle falconer in Utah. It's a time consuming hobby. Plus, Stacky won't stand for frozen rats in the freezer.

Earth First!
(We can strip mine the rest later.)

[ Parent ]
Easily solved by Scrymarch (4.00 / 1) #10 Mon Sep 20, 2010 at 02:24:46 AM EST
By dedicated rat freezer / beer fridge.

Iambic Web Certified

[ Parent ]
Ah! by ammoniacal (2.00 / 0) #2 Sat Sep 18, 2010 at 09:09:53 PM EST
That's my remaining vestige of life with $OTHER_HUSIER. I love chopsticks and now that I've used them regularly for the past 5 years, I'm pretty handy with them. Really, I find the main trick is to not apply too much pinching pressure and rely upon food's natural stickyness to work in your favour. Try to keep the angle of separation at the tips to a minimum.

"To this day that was the most bullshit caesar salad I have every experienced..." - triggerfinger

Natural stickiness... by ana (2.00 / 0) #3 Sat Sep 18, 2010 at 09:20:53 PM EST
involves having a cook who knows how to make it do that.

"And this ... is a piece of Synergy." --Kellnerin

[ Parent ]
What kind of rice do you use? by ammoniacal (2.00 / 0) #6 Sat Sep 18, 2010 at 11:39:07 PM EST
Try some sticky/glutinous rice, if you can get it. Jasmine is less sticky, Basmati even less so.

"To this day that was the most bullshit caesar salad I have every experienced..." - triggerfinger

[ Parent ]
or an egg by iGrrrl (4.00 / 1) #11 Mon Sep 20, 2010 at 09:28:56 AM EST
I put one in to help other bits stick together.

"Beautiful wine, talking of scattered everythings"
(and thanks to Scrymarch)

[ Parent ]
chopsticks by Kellnerin (4.00 / 2) #4 Sat Sep 18, 2010 at 09:24:33 PM EST
are not the same utensil as a fork and should not be used in the same way. They are also not tongs (although they can be used in a similar fashion). Eating rice with chopsticks requires (a) that you conceptualize the bowl and chopsticks together as a food-delivery system and (b) that you have a bowl that is of the proper shape. If the bowls you own are of a different size and shape than what you see at Chinese restaurants, this may be inordinately hard. Try one of those huge latte cups that are bowl-shaped, if you have one, though that is also not ideal.

Anyway, the trick for eating stuff with the granularity of rice is to raise the entire bowl to your lips and use the chopsticks to sweep the food out of the bowl into your mouth. It totally works. Stickiness of the rice is not required. Try it with the leftovers; no one's watching.

"Plans aren't check lists, they are loose frameworks for what's going to go wrong." -- technician

I order sticky rice and salvage my pride. by ammoniacal (2.00 / 0) #5 Sat Sep 18, 2010 at 11:26:43 PM EST
You're right about the bowl, though. A flat plate can be quite vexing with dried-out rice.

"To this day that was the most bullshit caesar salad I have every experienced..." - triggerfinger

[ Parent ]
I'm told... by ana (4.00 / 1) #9 Sun Sep 19, 2010 at 06:17:48 PM EST
there's a genuine Chinese rice bowl from the Peabody-Essex Museum shop waiting for me. Thanks for the recommendation.

"And this ... is a piece of Synergy." --Kellnerin

[ Parent ]
Not apropos, I think, but by johnny (4.00 / 2) #7 Sun Sep 19, 2010 at 08:12:02 AM EST
in my dream just before waking this morning, I was married to ana and to a deliciously-shaped woman in her 20's. I don't know who she was, or don't remember.

The three of us were naked in our bed, which was in the front seat of a large automobile. I do admit that I felt a little odd being married to ana, since, as much as I may esteem our friendship, I've never thought of him in that way. Anyway the balance was rectified somewhat when a second good looking naked woman was added to our marriage. I don't remember any ceremony, only suddenly realizing that I was now married to ana and two women. Who were crawling over me to get to the door of the car because they had to use the toilet.

This woke me up and called to my attention the fact that I might benefit from a bathroom break myself.

When I got back to bed I discovered that I was now only married to Dear Wife, who had slept through my entire extramarital multi-way marriage.

Or maybe it is a propos? I was going to make this the subject of my HuSi diary today but I like it better as a comment here, where ana, my sort-of ex is likely to see it as a proper homage to coin a phrase.

She has effectively checked out. She's an un-person of her own making. So it falls to me.--ad hoc (in the hole)

Another week. | 11 comments (11 topical, 0 hidden) | Trackback