Well, hello there, blog. It's been a while.
I've noticed that I tend to be a leisure activity binger. I read books all at once, as soon as I get them. Jon will come home from work to find me on the couch, forty pages from the end, and when he says hello all I do is shush him. I like to watch several episodes of a television show all at once, rather than having to wait in agony for the next show. I wait for an author to complete a series before I start it - what if she never finishes and leaves my heroine dangling off a cliff, without a boyfriend?
Apparently my priorities for a satisfying ending are a little skewed.
Because I'm an activity-binger, the longer I'm away from an activity, the less I want to go back and do it. I feel guilty. How could I have put off checking facebook for this long? There's going to be SO MUCH in my news feed when I go back. Might as well just not turn on the computer. If I take a two week absence from a video game, I might as well sell it back to the store - realistically, I will never, ever finish it (Here's to you, Twilight Princess, Epic Mickey, and Final Fantasy X, all languishing in a drawer in my living room).
And how could I expect gentle readers to care an ounce about a blog that I haven't posted on in two months?
Which leads me to another reason for my blogging aversion: pregnancy has turned me into an introvert.
Pregnancy is so bizarre. Just google any medical issue and add the words "in trimester" and you'll find a plethora of mommy forum posts. "I've never, ever had a headache before in my life, and now I have them every day!" "Does anyone else have problems with their ankles popping?" "I have a strange desire to go mountain climbing and eat a pile of crawdads!"
Jonny says that having a "Jonny shard" inside me has given me some of his personality characteristics, including a desire to stay at home with my spouse rather than be around other people. Perhaps it's just part of "nesting" - my mind is preparing for the major hit my social life will take when I have to tote around a squealing baby and a diaper bag. (But it will be an adorable squealing baby! Dawww!)
Regardless, I've always considered blogging an explicitly extroverted activity. It's keeping a journal, but for people who want other people to read their journal. So this newfound introversion might partially explain my absence as well.
But here! Here is a blog post! (And a rather lengthy one at that - sorry.) So at least the first barrier is gone - I've stopped the avoiding game. I'm sure I can tackle the introversion issue - it might just take a while. Perhaps a few months. :)
Love,
Katie
Friday, November 4, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Date a girl who reads
Apparently this has been making the internet rounds for a good long while, but it's new to me, and I found it positively heartwarming. Of course I would. Please forgive the re-post.
Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.
Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.
She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.
Buy her another cup of coffee.
Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.
It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.
She has to give it a shot somehow.
Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.
Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.
Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.
If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.
You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.
You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.
Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.
Or better yet, date a girl who writes.
Date a Girl who Reads
by Rosemarie Urquico
Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.
Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.
She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.
Buy her another cup of coffee.
Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.
It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.
She has to give it a shot somehow.
Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.
Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.
Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.
If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.
You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.
You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.
Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.
Or better yet, date a girl who writes.
Friday, August 19, 2011
"Mark but this flea"
So we had to take Calvin and Susie to the vet last week for their yearly shots. The cat carrier is a lot heavier when it's holding two overweight full-grown cats, rather than two kittens! Anyway, as we were leaving, the cashier asked us if we needed any products - any food, medicines, flea protection. I declined, since they're indoor cats and we've never had any problems with pests.
I had to say it. Of course we never had any problems with pests. Until I took our cats to the vet. And now they both have FLEAS.
At first, Jon and I couldn't figure out where all the red itchy bumps were coming from. He didn't even notice any bumps on himself until about a week went by and I insisted that he must have some, if I keep getting bitten. So we checked the cats, and sure enough - fleas.
Of course it was after office hours for the vet, and I insisted that we had to start addressing this flea problem RIGHT NOW. So I went to the store to survey the options. Shampoo? Yeah right. Susie doesn't even let us brush her half the time. Powder seemed risky, so we went with the over-the-counter gel.
Do not ever buy the over-the-counter, under $20 flea control. Just don't. It was on the cats for about 60 seconds before they licked near it and started twitching and foaming at their tiny little mouths. I panicked.
"Jon, we have to wash it off! It's going to kill the kitties!"
The cats were already going crazy by this point, but we eventually wrangled them into the tub, rubbed some soap on the spot, and hosed them down. Thank goodness for removable massaging shower heads.
Did I mention my husband is a saint? My husband is a saint.
So I went to the vet today and bought the good stuff. In addition, we're removing the fleas the old-fashioned way - a comb and a cup of rubbing alcohol + water (to drown the little blood-sucking buggers). We're also vacuuming and washing the sheets. A lot.
Mean little things.
Love,
Katie
I had to say it. Of course we never had any problems with pests. Until I took our cats to the vet. And now they both have FLEAS.
At first, Jon and I couldn't figure out where all the red itchy bumps were coming from. He didn't even notice any bumps on himself until about a week went by and I insisted that he must have some, if I keep getting bitten. So we checked the cats, and sure enough - fleas.
Of course it was after office hours for the vet, and I insisted that we had to start addressing this flea problem RIGHT NOW. So I went to the store to survey the options. Shampoo? Yeah right. Susie doesn't even let us brush her half the time. Powder seemed risky, so we went with the over-the-counter gel.
Do not ever buy the over-the-counter, under $20 flea control. Just don't. It was on the cats for about 60 seconds before they licked near it and started twitching and foaming at their tiny little mouths. I panicked.
"Jon, we have to wash it off! It's going to kill the kitties!"
The cats were already going crazy by this point, but we eventually wrangled them into the tub, rubbed some soap on the spot, and hosed them down. Thank goodness for removable massaging shower heads.
Did I mention my husband is a saint? My husband is a saint.
So I went to the vet today and bought the good stuff. In addition, we're removing the fleas the old-fashioned way - a comb and a cup of rubbing alcohol + water (to drown the little blood-sucking buggers). We're also vacuuming and washing the sheets. A lot.
Mean little things.
Love,
Katie
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Tough Girl
Female role models in literature and media have come a long way. Sure, it's not hard to rise above the June Cleaver/Disney Princess archetype of the 1950s, but still - a lot of girls in books and TV shows really kick butt.
I think it's wonderful that girls are encouraged to be themselves and yet aspire to sheer awesomeness. Children's lit is full of spunky, courageous heroines who conquer and take names: Pippi Longstocking, Junie B. Jones, and Eloise are just a few. Though on the continuum between Pippi Longstocking and Shirley Temple, I can tell you which side I fall on. And it's not the side of the girl who has superhuman strength, stands up to authority figures, and single-handedly chases two robbers out of her home.
I'm far too quick to ask for help, whine, or cry. When I need to stand up for myself, the words just don't come. Other people's opinions of me matter much more than they should. I can't even carry a watermelon to the car without getting exhausted (granted, it is 100 degrees outside, but still). I'm wide-eyed and naive...and I sing to my animals. In a list of 150 adjectives to describe me, I think "tough," "independent," and "ass-kicking," would likely be absent.
When someone like me tries to act tough, it ends up looking like an 80s Music Video:
Wait, no. Even Billy Joel is tougher than me. How about this one?
There we go. Backstreet Boys meets Buttercream Gang.
Drawing from these two videos, here's a list of things I can do to get tougher:
That's one thing I really enjoyed about Disney's Enchanted - even though it subverted and broke Disney and fairy tale tropes to high heaven, at the end, it was really ok for Morgan (Robert's daughter) to want to be a princess.
Of course, if parents didn't let their little girls grow up to be princesses, who would support the $4 billion Disney Princess Franchise? Hmm...
Love,
Katie
 |
| Olivia Dunham from Fringe. She'll set you on fire with her mind...if she doesn't shoot you or punch you out first. |
 |
| That would be Pippi. |
When someone like me tries to act tough, it ends up looking like an 80s Music Video:
Wait, no. Even Billy Joel is tougher than me. How about this one?
There we go. Backstreet Boys meets Buttercream Gang.
Drawing from these two videos, here's a list of things I can do to get tougher:
- Hang out in places where there's more graffiti
- Learn to dance (especially moves with lots of hopping)
- Get an extra-large shirt that says HOMEBOY
- Become a mechanic
That's one thing I really enjoyed about Disney's Enchanted - even though it subverted and broke Disney and fairy tale tropes to high heaven, at the end, it was really ok for Morgan (Robert's daughter) to want to be a princess.
Of course, if parents didn't let their little girls grow up to be princesses, who would support the $4 billion Disney Princess Franchise? Hmm...
Love,
Katie
Monday, July 18, 2011
Clean cup! Move down!
What, Kitty? You're looking at me like you've never seen a clean room before.
...
Gentle readers, please don't think about that one too hard.
Anyway, I promised you after-pics, so...
 |
| Before |
 |
| After! |
You guys are such great motivation.
 |
| Note the absence of piles on the floor. |
 | ||
| Calvin is just proving how tall he is. Yes, we know. You're a big cat. |
 | ||
| Of the two, Susie is actually more likely to pose for a picture. |
It's a dandelion, releasing fluffy white seeds to the wind! My color scheme is bright blue and gold, and I find the image of letting the wind carry you off very relaxing. And my bathroom is a very peaceful, cheery place, as bathrooms go. But only a few days after I painted it up there, a visitor pointed out,
"Katie? You know you have the word 'release' painted on your bathroom wall? ...In a bathroom? You know...release?"
Thanks. Great. I don't care if no one else in the world thinks that, now I DO.
So this weekend I replaced it with some dandelion-inspired art:
 |
| Paper collage |
Oh well. Perfection isn't my game. There's a reason there isn't an "after" picture of the office closet.*
Love,
Katie
*No, I did not just stuff all my junk in there. But I didn't exactly clean it out, either...
Friday, July 15, 2011
Hazardous materials
I really love Burt's Bees Herbal Deodorant, an alcohol-based spray with sage and citrus. But the last time I bought a bottle, it smelled quite nasty - not really what you want in a deodorant. I wrote Burt's Bees (ah, the wonders of the internet) and they offered to send me a free bottle. It arrived in an...unusual fashion.
I was in the kitchen when I saw someone on my front stoop. I went to the door and it was the mail carrier, large postal bin in hand.
"Uh, hi, ma'am. I know this is kind of strange..."
"Yes?"
"Well...the post office thought there might be a hazardous material in this package addressed to you." I looked inside - it was from Burt's Bees.
"Well, I'm expecting it - I know what it is."
"Ok...well, you can have it. I'm just not allowed to touch it."
"So you can deliver a potentially hazardous material, as long as you don't have to touch it?"
He laughed. "Apparently - I've never done this before."
"So what do I need to do?"
"Well - just reach in the bin here and remove it."
The bin was open at the top, but the opening was crisscrossed with plastic tape - presumably to keep the package from accidentally falling out. So after struggling for a few minutes, I yanked the package out of the bin. The postman looked relieved.
"Uh, ok, well I guess that's it. Thanks a lot." I don't think a mail carrier has ever thanked me for picking up my mail!
In other news, kitten!
If you're not one of the 1.9 million people who have already viewed this video...now you have. Thanks, Renee!
It's a good thing I didn't order green apples by mail. Then the postman would have been terrified!
Love,
Katie
I was in the kitchen when I saw someone on my front stoop. I went to the door and it was the mail carrier, large postal bin in hand.
"Uh, hi, ma'am. I know this is kind of strange..."
"Yes?"
"Well...the post office thought there might be a hazardous material in this package addressed to you." I looked inside - it was from Burt's Bees.
"Well, I'm expecting it - I know what it is."
"Ok...well, you can have it. I'm just not allowed to touch it."
"So you can deliver a potentially hazardous material, as long as you don't have to touch it?"
He laughed. "Apparently - I've never done this before."
"So what do I need to do?"
"Well - just reach in the bin here and remove it."
The bin was open at the top, but the opening was crisscrossed with plastic tape - presumably to keep the package from accidentally falling out. So after struggling for a few minutes, I yanked the package out of the bin. The postman looked relieved.
"Uh, ok, well I guess that's it. Thanks a lot." I don't think a mail carrier has ever thanked me for picking up my mail!
In other news, kitten!
If you're not one of the 1.9 million people who have already viewed this video...now you have. Thanks, Renee!
It's a good thing I didn't order green apples by mail. Then the postman would have been terrified!
Love,
Katie
Monday, July 11, 2011
Is it fear or courage which compels you, Fleshling?
There comes a time in every kitteh's life when he is forced to confront his worst fears:
Humans are not exempt from this. Readers, meet my private shame:
Private shame, meet readers:
Ok, so this isn't exactly private - we host board game night every Wednesday, so people see it every week. But that doesn't make me feel any less ashamed!
Now before you say anything: I firmly believe that messes are like weight issues. It's not a competition. One person's mess (or weight) is infinitely more frustrating to them than to anyone else. And it never helps to hear, "Well, you're thinner/more organized than me, so what do you know?" It just makes one feel more shameful, not less. So please comment with wisdom and kindness.
Ahem. /rant
So my hope is that by publishing photos of my private shame, I'll be motivated to correct it. It will be more fun to post "after" photos when it's all cleaned up.
Plus, there are lots of fun projects I've been meaning to create and post about, and I can't do anything until I have a workspace to create in.
So a week from today, I solemnly promise to post "after" pictures of my office, no matter how badly I fail at the organization mission. There will be posts about things that are more exciting than cleaning too, I promise. Thanks for serving as my motivation and support group - everything's better with a party!
Love,
Katie
Humans are not exempt from this. Readers, meet my private shame:
 |
| My office. Eek. |
Private shame, meet readers:
Ok, so this isn't exactly private - we host board game night every Wednesday, so people see it every week. But that doesn't make me feel any less ashamed!
Now before you say anything: I firmly believe that messes are like weight issues. It's not a competition. One person's mess (or weight) is infinitely more frustrating to them than to anyone else. And it never helps to hear, "Well, you're thinner/more organized than me, so what do you know?" It just makes one feel more shameful, not less. So please comment with wisdom and kindness.
Ahem. /rant
So my hope is that by publishing photos of my private shame, I'll be motivated to correct it. It will be more fun to post "after" photos when it's all cleaned up.
 | ||||||
| Those are just boxes filled with random objects - from batteries to paperclips to USB cords. A banana box and a basket full of objects smaller than tennis balls! Yup...this will be a long haul. |
So a week from today, I solemnly promise to post "after" pictures of my office, no matter how badly I fail at the organization mission. There will be posts about things that are more exciting than cleaning too, I promise. Thanks for serving as my motivation and support group - everything's better with a party!
Love,
Katie
Saturday, July 9, 2011
So not the drama.
I wish I could tell you that in the last month, I've been having amazing adventures, exploits too scandalous to publicize on the internet. Well, I can tell you that. I'm a horrible liar, though, so you'd probably know how true that is (or isn't.)
I did get to meet a policeman at Hobby Lobby yesterday, though. I was running a ton of errands yesterday, and bought some fabric to make curtains for our bedroom at FM Store. It was a terrific bargain, so when I paid with my $50 bill, I got a $20 bill in change.
I almost asked for a different bill - it was weird. It was the old style of bill, with the small face, but it felt brand-new. It was printed strangely - the front didn't have an equal border around all the sides, so the design was cut off at the top just a skotch.
But there had already been a mix-up at the register. The clerk had overcharged me and I'd pointed it out, and she and two managers were huddled around the ancient machine trying to get it to void the first purchase correctly. Not wanting to make a bigger stink, I just took the bill and left. I went straight to Hob Lob, rounded up my needs, and attempted to pay with the $20 I just received.
That's when they called the cops on me.
Ok, so they were super-nice about it. They checked it under the little blacklight machine (three of them, actually), and said they were suspicious of the bill, but not of me. I waited for the police to get there. He checked all the $20s in my purse, asked me where I got the imposter twenty (it's a great thing that I tried to spend it right away, so I remembered!) and marked on it with a pen. He said it could just be really old - it was from 1981 but still felt brand new - but he had to confiscate it because it was really suspicious and he wasn't sure. But he didn't arrest me or anything! Very dramatic.
I didn't read much Babysitter's Club when I was a kid, but I did read the one where Stacey gets in trouble for accidentally passing a counterfeit bill. Of course, since it's the Babysitter's Club, the girls take it upon themselves to catch the counterfeiters, and, since it's the Babysitter's Club, they succeed! That's all I remember about the book, but I kept thinking about it at Hobby Lobby yesterday. Thankfully, I probably look like a counterfeiter about as much as a preteen goody-two-shoes babysitter, so I was safe.
Love,
Katie
I did get to meet a policeman at Hobby Lobby yesterday, though. I was running a ton of errands yesterday, and bought some fabric to make curtains for our bedroom at FM Store. It was a terrific bargain, so when I paid with my $50 bill, I got a $20 bill in change.
I almost asked for a different bill - it was weird. It was the old style of bill, with the small face, but it felt brand-new. It was printed strangely - the front didn't have an equal border around all the sides, so the design was cut off at the top just a skotch.
But there had already been a mix-up at the register. The clerk had overcharged me and I'd pointed it out, and she and two managers were huddled around the ancient machine trying to get it to void the first purchase correctly. Not wanting to make a bigger stink, I just took the bill and left. I went straight to Hob Lob, rounded up my needs, and attempted to pay with the $20 I just received.
That's when they called the cops on me.
Ok, so they were super-nice about it. They checked it under the little blacklight machine (three of them, actually), and said they were suspicious of the bill, but not of me. I waited for the police to get there. He checked all the $20s in my purse, asked me where I got the imposter twenty (it's a great thing that I tried to spend it right away, so I remembered!) and marked on it with a pen. He said it could just be really old - it was from 1981 but still felt brand new - but he had to confiscate it because it was really suspicious and he wasn't sure. But he didn't arrest me or anything! Very dramatic.
I didn't read much Babysitter's Club when I was a kid, but I did read the one where Stacey gets in trouble for accidentally passing a counterfeit bill. Of course, since it's the Babysitter's Club, the girls take it upon themselves to catch the counterfeiters, and, since it's the Babysitter's Club, they succeed! That's all I remember about the book, but I kept thinking about it at Hobby Lobby yesterday. Thankfully, I probably look like a counterfeiter about as much as a preteen goody-two-shoes babysitter, so I was safe.
Love,
Katie
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Growing up is hard to do.
It may make me an old lady, but I've developed a wonderful Monday night ritual: snack food, half a Woodchuck hard cider, and Ozarks Public Television. This evening is far more enjoyable if I've worked a full day and need to turn off the brain for the night. Getting back into the swing of the work week requires a culture shift that apparently takes a lot out of me.
It starts with Antiques Roadshow, at 7pm. People bring their treasures, priceless or otherwise, to the appraisers. Could this silver set from my aunt's attic be worth thousands? These ancient comic books we found beneath the seats of an old truck we found - are they worth anything at all? The thrill of the possibility of a hidden fortune brings people to wait in line for hours for appraisers to tell them what they have - or don't have.
Someday I want to go. I have two books I got at a yard sale that I'd just like to know more about. I know they're not the next big find, and probably wouldn't make it on the air - but I'm just so curious about where they came from! My librarian tricks are all exhausted. They're coming to Tulsa in July, but I missed the ticket application deadline. Alas.
After Antiques Roadshow is American Experience. Jon and I stumbled onto this program one night when nothing else was on, drawn to a documentary about a strange, charismatic preacher named Jim Jones. I'm not sure how we both missed this chunk of American History (maybe because every history class I ever took stopped at WWII). We knew the jokes about drinking the Kool Aid, but ignorant of where exactly they came from. That's not a story you want to stumble into on a Monday evening, but after seeing other stunning and moving presentations on subjects from the Panama Canal to the Freedom Riders,* I've developed a deep taste for the depth of information and cultural wealth they offer.
So if I wasn't sure of my official "grown-up" status from my recently-developed hatred for dandelions in my lawn, I'm certain of it now. Level up!
Love,
Katie
*If you haven't seen the new presentation on the Freedom Riders, I strongly recommend it. It's superb. You can actually watch it online.
It starts with Antiques Roadshow, at 7pm. People bring their treasures, priceless or otherwise, to the appraisers. Could this silver set from my aunt's attic be worth thousands? These ancient comic books we found beneath the seats of an old truck we found - are they worth anything at all? The thrill of the possibility of a hidden fortune brings people to wait in line for hours for appraisers to tell them what they have - or don't have.
Someday I want to go. I have two books I got at a yard sale that I'd just like to know more about. I know they're not the next big find, and probably wouldn't make it on the air - but I'm just so curious about where they came from! My librarian tricks are all exhausted. They're coming to Tulsa in July, but I missed the ticket application deadline. Alas.
After Antiques Roadshow is American Experience. Jon and I stumbled onto this program one night when nothing else was on, drawn to a documentary about a strange, charismatic preacher named Jim Jones. I'm not sure how we both missed this chunk of American History (maybe because every history class I ever took stopped at WWII). We knew the jokes about drinking the Kool Aid, but ignorant of where exactly they came from. That's not a story you want to stumble into on a Monday evening, but after seeing other stunning and moving presentations on subjects from the Panama Canal to the Freedom Riders,* I've developed a deep taste for the depth of information and cultural wealth they offer.
Love,
Katie
*If you haven't seen the new presentation on the Freedom Riders, I strongly recommend it. It's superb. You can actually watch it online.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
One Minute Book Review: Gogo Monster
I found this gem while browsing the internet for some lighthearted shoujo manga (hey, don't judge) - but it is anything but. It still looked good, so I asked the library if they'd order it, and they did! Don't you love the library? (Hint: the answer is either, "yes," or, "not yet.")
Anyway, Gogo Monster is an ADULT graphic novel about a Japanese boy who feels monsters in his school. I emphasize adult not because it's heavy on sex or violence, but because the plot doesn't sound that grown-up. And boy, this book is dark. It reminded me of a cross between Donnie Darko and the strangest parts of Spirited Away.
Anyway, Yuki (the boy) has always felt that the monsters were nice, or at least ambivalent. But his behavior grows increasingly erratic as he feels their control of the school slipping to a new crowd of monsters - ones that aren't so nice. You're never really sure if the monsters are real or if Yuki is actually disturbed. Oh, and there's a kid who wears a box over his head all the time, and he's Really Flippin Weird.
So that's Gogo Monster in a nutshell. The art is mesmerizing, and it only took me a few hours to read (the first time - it's confusing enough to warrant multiple readings). If it's your cup of tea, it comes with high recommendation.
Love,
Katie
P.S. In other graphic novel news (old news, but news nonetheless) - TokyoPop is shutting down U.S. operations. And my new favorite manga is published by them, which means I MAY NEVER FIND OUT HOW IT ENDS! (Ok, it's shoujo, so girl gets boy, obviously...but HOW?) Katie = sad.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Heroes
My big brother is a hero.
He's absent from a lot of the stories I tell about my childhood, because for the first sixteen years of his life, he lived with his mom. But he would visit, and my sister and I would fight over who got to sit next to "Thumper" at dinner. His name is John Jr, but I guess everyone thought that was confusing with John Sr. around, so until fifth grade, that's the only name I knew him by. And yes, that means I just outed his childhood family nickname to everyone on the internet. What are sisters for?
When I started middle school, Thumper moved in with us. We didn't really get close. I was in middle school, remember? I wasn't really bonding with anyone at that age. But he played football, and I went to all his games. Thanks to him, I impress my husband with my knowledge of referee hand signals.
When he graduated from high school, Thumper joined the Navy. He met and married a gorgeous woman, and they have three beautiful children. In the years following his time in the Navy, he worked very hard, often multiple jobs, to provide for his family and become an EMT, then a firefighter. He's also an excellent cook!
Obviously I am proud of John for so many things. But I don't think I've ever felt prouder than tonight when I saw this photo:
He's absent from a lot of the stories I tell about my childhood, because for the first sixteen years of his life, he lived with his mom. But he would visit, and my sister and I would fight over who got to sit next to "Thumper" at dinner. His name is John Jr, but I guess everyone thought that was confusing with John Sr. around, so until fifth grade, that's the only name I knew him by. And yes, that means I just outed his childhood family nickname to everyone on the internet. What are sisters for?
When I started middle school, Thumper moved in with us. We didn't really get close. I was in middle school, remember? I wasn't really bonding with anyone at that age. But he played football, and I went to all his games. Thanks to him, I impress my husband with my knowledge of referee hand signals.
When he graduated from high school, Thumper joined the Navy. He met and married a gorgeous woman, and they have three beautiful children. In the years following his time in the Navy, he worked very hard, often multiple jobs, to provide for his family and become an EMT, then a firefighter. He's also an excellent cook!
Obviously I am proud of John for so many things. But I don't think I've ever felt prouder than tonight when I saw this photo:
I think this is my brother, a firefighter in Joplin, MO...or a long-lost twin. He and his family are safe, and he's working very hard to help everyone who is not - even if he's not the hero in this particular photo. I love him and his family very much, and I'm honored to be a part of it. I pray for his safety, and the safety of his colleagues, friends, and neighbors in Joplin, and I hope you will do the same.
Love,
Katie
Monday, May 16, 2011
No use crying over spoilt milk
For the last two weeks, two delicious half-gallons of Ozark Mountain Creamery milk were sitting in our fridge, waiting...and waiting...and waiting. I was so worried that they would spoil, and yet I was too busy eating and drinking other things to care. Talk about first-world problems.
Anyway, Jon succeeded in drinking it all. That boy has a talent. (Well, a lot of talents, but milk-drinking is surely among them.) Then this evening, Susie knocked the empty glass milk jug off our kitchen floor, where it hit the tile and shattered into a million gazillion pieces.
And now she's sitting on my stomach, pretending to not remember. Sneaky.
I have a lot of strange habits, but here's a weird one: I distrust food that's been around for too long. I don't like eating the last two pieces of ham in a package. I'll eat everything in the fridge before I eat that apple that's slightly shriveled...until it slimes and I throw it in the compost bucket. Sometimes I make a conscious effort to use the last of something in a recipe. But two days before the sell-by date, I start eying that milk suspiciously. On the sell-by date, I push it off on friends or make yogurt out of it. After the sell-by date, I consider it spoilt.
Now, I know that often things are perfectly fine past their dates. I eat eggs months past their dates (crack 'em into a bowl first, though). It's not the date that bothers me - it's how long the container has been opened, and how much of it is gone.
I think this strange notion of freshness comes from growing up with Dad, who owns and runs a grocery store. One of the great perks to this job is that if the man wants ham for lunch, he brings home a package of ham and eats a ham sandwich. Unfortunately for some of his fridge-mates, he often forgets to check the fridge for the three half-empty packages of ham already in there. Which brings the grand total to four packages of ham. We also had a small family, and (again- grocery store) lots of food items to choose from. So it might take us a month or two to get through the four packages of ham. Which means the last two or three slices are gross. This also kept me (and I guess, everyone else?) from eating those last two or three slices, so it was a self-fulfilling prophecy.
But the real reason I don't drink milk past the sell-by date is that I know there are perfectly good uses for it after it has spoiled. I'm not talking about chunky, color-changing spoilage. I'm talking about milk that's just sour - it might have minor curdles, but the scent doesn't bowl you over. You can use milk in this state for most recipes that call for buttermilk. Pancakes, muffins, some yeast breads, cornbread,* and Jon's favorite, buttermilk biscuits. I've tried a few recipes, but I like this one the best. Don't let its lack of fat put you off - they're delicious, without being too heavy. And Jon can make them in under a half-hour, so they're not too complicated! Enjoy!
Love,
Katie
*Remind me to post about cornbread sometime. It's a long story!
Anyway, Jon succeeded in drinking it all. That boy has a talent. (Well, a lot of talents, but milk-drinking is surely among them.) Then this evening, Susie knocked the empty glass milk jug off our kitchen floor, where it hit the tile and shattered into a million gazillion pieces.
And now she's sitting on my stomach, pretending to not remember. Sneaky.
I have a lot of strange habits, but here's a weird one: I distrust food that's been around for too long. I don't like eating the last two pieces of ham in a package. I'll eat everything in the fridge before I eat that apple that's slightly shriveled...until it slimes and I throw it in the compost bucket. Sometimes I make a conscious effort to use the last of something in a recipe. But two days before the sell-by date, I start eying that milk suspiciously. On the sell-by date, I push it off on friends or make yogurt out of it. After the sell-by date, I consider it spoilt.
Now, I know that often things are perfectly fine past their dates. I eat eggs months past their dates (crack 'em into a bowl first, though). It's not the date that bothers me - it's how long the container has been opened, and how much of it is gone.
I think this strange notion of freshness comes from growing up with Dad, who owns and runs a grocery store. One of the great perks to this job is that if the man wants ham for lunch, he brings home a package of ham and eats a ham sandwich. Unfortunately for some of his fridge-mates, he often forgets to check the fridge for the three half-empty packages of ham already in there. Which brings the grand total to four packages of ham. We also had a small family, and (again- grocery store) lots of food items to choose from. So it might take us a month or two to get through the four packages of ham. Which means the last two or three slices are gross. This also kept me (and I guess, everyone else?) from eating those last two or three slices, so it was a self-fulfilling prophecy.
But the real reason I don't drink milk past the sell-by date is that I know there are perfectly good uses for it after it has spoiled. I'm not talking about chunky, color-changing spoilage. I'm talking about milk that's just sour - it might have minor curdles, but the scent doesn't bowl you over. You can use milk in this state for most recipes that call for buttermilk. Pancakes, muffins, some yeast breads, cornbread,* and Jon's favorite, buttermilk biscuits. I've tried a few recipes, but I like this one the best. Don't let its lack of fat put you off - they're delicious, without being too heavy. And Jon can make them in under a half-hour, so they're not too complicated! Enjoy!
Love,
Katie
*Remind me to post about cornbread sometime. It's a long story!
Wheat Buttermilk Biscuits
Adapted from the "Classic Biscuits" in Crescent Dragonwagon's
(yes, that's her name) Passionate Vegetarian
(yes, that's her name) Passionate Vegetarian
1 cup white flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
2 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp cold butter (if you're using unsalted, add a smidge more salt)
1 tbsp vegetable oil
3/4 to 1 cup buttermilk (or sour milk)
Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Sift the dry ingredients together into a large bowl. Cut the butter into pieces and drizzle the oil over the bowl. Blend it all together quickly with a pastry blender until thoroughly mixed and crumbly. Add the 3/4 cup buttermilk and stir until the milk is mixed in, and there aren't major puddles lurking about. Then use your hands to work the dough into a ball. If it's still too crumbly, add more buttermilk, but don't overmix! Give it about 4-5 good squeezes and then pat it out into a rectangle on a floured surface. Cut with a pizza cutter into the size you want (I usually do about 2-3 inches square). Place on a greased cookie sheet and bake 10-12 minutes.
You can add herbs, honey, raisins, oatmeal - the possibilities are limited only by your imagination. Ms. Dragonwagon has quite a list of variations in her book, so if you haven't checked it out, I recommend it! The library doesn't seem to have it at the moment :( but you can borrow mine or check out the Google Books preview - or request that the library order another copy!
Friday, May 13, 2011
A really, really, really green Christmas...
Video time! I found this today. I thought - I should really wait until Christmas. But I just couldn't take the chance of losing this one to the huge folder of bookmarks, so here goes:
The following clip is from one of my all-time favorite Christmas specials, "The Year Without a Santa Claus."
Apparently, it's a favorite for this family, too:
Thanks, awkwardfamilyphoto.com!
Happy Friday,
Katie
The following clip is from one of my all-time favorite Christmas specials, "The Year Without a Santa Claus."
Apparently, it's a favorite for this family, too:
Thanks, awkwardfamilyphoto.com!
Happy Friday,
Katie
Thursday, May 12, 2011
At least I traded my heels for Chacos...
I know, I know - it's been forever. Almost a whole week! I'm sure you've been desperately checking for updates.
Yup. It's true. Blogging has made me even more self-absorbed than I was before. And that's not easy, folks.
Anyway, I have some good news:
And a lot, lot less of this:
Well, that's the plan anyway. I've had a good start to it today, anyway. Laundry, dishes, and even vacuuming.
Yes, at heart, I'm a liberated 1950s housewife. And a feminist. That's right, I can be both. Shannon Hayes says so. (But after my brush with appendicitis this winter, let me say that her ideas about health insurance are bunk.)
So here's hoping your beautiful May day is just as fulfilling, whether that's because you're working hard or hardly working.
Love,
Katie
Yup. It's true. Blogging has made me even more self-absorbed than I was before. And that's not easy, folks.
Anyway, I have some good news:
I dance upon the graves of my final exams, and am looking forward to returning to my nice little life. A heck of a lot more of this:
I saw Chef Thomas Keller make cookie magic on the Today Show this morning.
Legen-dairy (as in, I really hope I have a gallon of milk to go with those).
This:
I made these magnets last week for someone's birthday. Mod-Podge - huzzah!
They each have a different Fruit of the Spirit on them. Kindness is a kitty!
Here's the whole set, and they're mailed away.
I actually remembered someone's birthday! (Thank God for Google Calendar!)
And this:
Well, that's the plan anyway. I've had a good start to it today, anyway. Laundry, dishes, and even vacuuming.
Ok, so running the roomba is a loose definition of "vacuuming."
At least if I describe it in a way that makes it sound like I worked or something.
Yes, at heart, I'm a liberated 1950s housewife. And a feminist. That's right, I can be both. Shannon Hayes says so. (But after my brush with appendicitis this winter, let me say that her ideas about health insurance are bunk.)
So here's hoping your beautiful May day is just as fulfilling, whether that's because you're working hard or hardly working.
Love,
Katie
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Excuse me, Miss - Your children's librarian is showing...
I have to tell people about things I love. And I love this book:
You caught me. It's children's literature. But WAIT! I promise, you will love Pete too, when you get to know him. After all, I stayed up until midnight last night with about ten friends - coloring. With crayons. Wonders never cease.
So embrace your inner child and check out this book. It's nominated for a Missouri Building Block Award this year, and it's my pick for the winner. If you have kids, or work with kids, or you think you will ever talk to a kid sometime in your life, Pete the Cat is a good friend to have - if your kid hasn't met him, they will love you for the introduction.
Ok, I'm overselling.
I could read you the story of Pete the Cat and his brand-new white shoes...but I'd rather let these two do it. They're cuter than me. (And that's saying something!)
And in case you didn't catch it at the end: "The moral of the story is: No matter what you step in, keep walking along and singing your song. Because it's all good."
Happy Thursday!
You caught me. It's children's literature. But WAIT! I promise, you will love Pete too, when you get to know him. After all, I stayed up until midnight last night with about ten friends - coloring. With crayons. Wonders never cease.
So embrace your inner child and check out this book. It's nominated for a Missouri Building Block Award this year, and it's my pick for the winner. If you have kids, or work with kids, or you think you will ever talk to a kid sometime in your life, Pete the Cat is a good friend to have - if your kid hasn't met him, they will love you for the introduction.
Ok, I'm overselling.
I could read you the story of Pete the Cat and his brand-new white shoes...but I'd rather let these two do it. They're cuter than me. (And that's saying something!)
And in case you didn't catch it at the end: "The moral of the story is: No matter what you step in, keep walking along and singing your song. Because it's all good."
Happy Thursday!
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
"First we eat; then we do everything else." - M.F.K. Fisher
I had a huge to-do list for today, and even managed to accomplish some of my grandiose ambitions. At the urging of my facebook friends, however, I took a small detour from my errands to meet Renee downtown for lunch. And I am really glad I did.
*All of the photos below are borrowed from the Aviary's facebook page...I really hope they don't mind, especially because I'm saying nice things!
The Aviary Cafe and Creperie opened only one week and one day ago (I feel like a restaurant hipster!). I'm a fan of Downtown Springfield on Facebook, and there has been a bit of a buzz about the opening. I watched a lot of Kitchen Nightmares while I was sick a month ago, so I was prepared for the hiccups of a new restaurant. But in every aspect, the Aviary was shockingly delightful.
First, the dining room is simply gorgeous. The bird theme is natural and not forced, and the colors are beautiful. (I'm pretty sure that gray color is the same one I picked for my bedroom!) There's also a lovely ceiling installation with globes from our own Springfield Hot Glass studio. The overall quality of the dining setting, from the cute wine bottles (with stoppers!) they serve water in, to the heavy silverware in a precisely-folded cloth napkin, was impressive.
They have a panini menu for lunch, and Renee ordered a ham and cheese panini. I ordered a crepe from the "second courses" section of the regular menu - the Venitian Garden, with spinach, asparagus, and ricotta, topped with sour cream. Both came with side salads, with perfectly herbed croutons, apples, small pieces of goat cheese, and a balsamic vinaigrette. The food was...let's just say very tasty. Very, very tasty. So tasty that Renee and I really couldn't stop talking about how tasty it was. Ok, so occasionally we talked about other things. Like how beautiful the decor is. And how I'm going to blog about it. And how I need to print little business cards to drop at places I love, telling them to check my blog, because I'm going to write about them. (Yeah, I'm not self-absorbed at all.)
The service was friendly and professional. Our server easily persuaded us to try a dessert crepe - the Sugar and Spice, which was a very good decision. The spiced sugar had caramelized to a rounded, sweet, sticky pile of heaven. Also, the prices are reasonable - my crepe, side salad, and half of the dessert came to under $10.
So thank you, Aviary, for a delicious and inspiring lunch. I hope to have many of these with you in the future. And thank you, Facebook friends, for persuading me to put aside some of my errands for a much-needed respite.
*All of the photos below are borrowed from the Aviary's facebook page...I really hope they don't mind, especially because I'm saying nice things!
The Aviary Cafe and Creperie opened only one week and one day ago (I feel like a restaurant hipster!). I'm a fan of Downtown Springfield on Facebook, and there has been a bit of a buzz about the opening. I watched a lot of Kitchen Nightmares while I was sick a month ago, so I was prepared for the hiccups of a new restaurant. But in every aspect, the Aviary was shockingly delightful.
View from the front door.
First, the dining room is simply gorgeous. The bird theme is natural and not forced, and the colors are beautiful. (I'm pretty sure that gray color is the same one I picked for my bedroom!) There's also a lovely ceiling installation with globes from our own Springfield Hot Glass studio. The overall quality of the dining setting, from the cute wine bottles (with stoppers!) they serve water in, to the heavy silverware in a precisely-folded cloth napkin, was impressive.
See! The ceiling! Pretty! Pretty!
They have a panini menu for lunch, and Renee ordered a ham and cheese panini. I ordered a crepe from the "second courses" section of the regular menu - the Venitian Garden, with spinach, asparagus, and ricotta, topped with sour cream. Both came with side salads, with perfectly herbed croutons, apples, small pieces of goat cheese, and a balsamic vinaigrette. The food was...let's just say very tasty. Very, very tasty. So tasty that Renee and I really couldn't stop talking about how tasty it was. Ok, so occasionally we talked about other things. Like how beautiful the decor is. And how I'm going to blog about it. And how I need to print little business cards to drop at places I love, telling them to check my blog, because I'm going to write about them. (Yeah, I'm not self-absorbed at all.)
This looks a little like my lunch, but with more cheese. Mmmmm...
The service was friendly and professional. Our server easily persuaded us to try a dessert crepe - the Sugar and Spice, which was a very good decision. The spiced sugar had caramelized to a rounded, sweet, sticky pile of heaven. Also, the prices are reasonable - my crepe, side salad, and half of the dessert came to under $10.
This is the Peach Melba, which I will have to try next time!
So thank you, Aviary, for a delicious and inspiring lunch. I hope to have many of these with you in the future. And thank you, Facebook friends, for persuading me to put aside some of my errands for a much-needed respite.
Friday, April 29, 2011
One-minute review: The Dark Vineyard
My reading tastes are pretty eclectic, but I don't usually grab the standard adult mystery fare. Almost two years ago, Walker's first Bruno detective novel, Bruno, Chief of Police, caught my eye:
Bruno's the police chief of a small town in the French countryside. And he fights crime. When crimes actually happen...that is, rarely. Even then, he investigates trouble by speaking to people in the town as friends and neighbors, sort of like a French Andy Griffith.
Bruno's investigation style and pragmatic sense of justice slightly clashes with the feds if a serious crime happens to occur in the little town of St Denis, as it does in The Dark Vineyard. Bruno responds to a field fire at an agricultural research station on the edge of town, and it looks suspiciously like arson. Soon after, an American wine-making conglomeration shows up in St Denis and wants to make a large land deal. Then one of the prime suspects in the arson dies suspiciously, and Bruno has a mess to unravel. Throw in lots of good wine, a little romance (not too much) and some muted, chin-stroking humor, and you've got a quaint mystery novel.
But the real reason to read this novel is the food. You'll have to put down the book several times for a snack after reading about delicious artisan cheeses and Bruno's truffle omelets. And you might suddenly look down at the grocery store to find your cart laden with French wine, baguettes, and goat cheese. Consider yourself warned.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Some trust in chariots
Saturday my car window got stuck in the down position. And the steering column (I think) has been making a strange popping noise when we turn the wheel. So this morning I used the truck to drop off Jon at work at 7(!), then stopped for breakfast at Gaileys. The truck's defrost fans are malfunctioning, so the driver has to wipe the fog off the inside of the windshield with a rag every few minutes to be able to see.* But it gets us there. Except this morning when I got out of Gailey's, and it didn't.
I sent out a frantic mass text, but soon realized that everyone who had to be awake at 8am probably was for a reason - and that reason was not jumping my car. Especially since...well, if you haven't noticed, it's been kind of rainy.
So I caught the bus to my meeting and made arrangements to meet two very, very special people that afternoon at the truck. After I finished work I took the bus back downtown, and we pushed the car to an alley (it was in a parallel parking spot with someone in front, so we couldn't maneuver the car to a jumping position). By the way, I owe these people dinner...and maybe breakfast, too.
After about 20 minutes of trying to get it to start, I called a tow. Then I tried to put it in neutral to move it closer to the curb, and it started! All I had to do was release the emergency brake. I reached down for the handle...and found nothing. More frantic phone calls ensued (this time to my dad, who sold me the truck), and after getting on my knees on the road, in two inches of rushing water, with three cars waiting behind me, peering up under the dash, I finally found the metal rod where the handle had once been.
I was already late for class and soaking wet, so after I picked Jon up from work, I just stayed at home, in spite of my night class. Oh, and we picked up a bottle of wine on the way. It was on sale.
I checked my horoscope for today and it says I will need to change my routine. No flipping joke.
On a serious note, I think for the last few months, God's been telling me to have hope. And a lot of really horrible things have happened in the last few months. God says, "Have hope," and so I keep hoping things won't happen, and then they do. But I don't think I'm supposed to have hope that things will get better. I think I'm supposed to have hope that in the end, eventually, God wins. And that's enough. When I'm knee deep in two inches of water, I can hope that I find the brake release, but just because God tells me, "Have hope," doesn't mean I can blame him when I can't find it. It just means I can continue to hope that things will eventually all be put to rights, and in the meantime, praise God I have friends who will push cars in the rain for me, that the truck actually started (eventually), and that when the woman who previously held my position at the library left, she also left her umbrella in the desk, and hasn't been back to claim it in six months.
So that's my nice little life today - grateful in the little things, enduring through the frustrating things, and badass in the tough things. Two inches of water. In my work pants and dress shoes.
Love, Katie
*Yes, this is dangerous, and we're getting it fixed ASAP. All this happened this weekend, ok? I promise.
I sent out a frantic mass text, but soon realized that everyone who had to be awake at 8am probably was for a reason - and that reason was not jumping my car. Especially since...well, if you haven't noticed, it's been kind of rainy.
That's Ozark, MO, folks. Courtesy of KY3.
After about 20 minutes of trying to get it to start, I called a tow. Then I tried to put it in neutral to move it closer to the curb, and it started! All I had to do was release the emergency brake. I reached down for the handle...and found nothing. More frantic phone calls ensued (this time to my dad, who sold me the truck), and after getting on my knees on the road, in two inches of rushing water, with three cars waiting behind me, peering up under the dash, I finally found the metal rod where the handle had once been.
I was already late for class and soaking wet, so after I picked Jon up from work, I just stayed at home, in spite of my night class. Oh, and we picked up a bottle of wine on the way. It was on sale.
I checked my horoscope for today and it says I will need to change my routine. No flipping joke.
On a serious note, I think for the last few months, God's been telling me to have hope. And a lot of really horrible things have happened in the last few months. God says, "Have hope," and so I keep hoping things won't happen, and then they do. But I don't think I'm supposed to have hope that things will get better. I think I'm supposed to have hope that in the end, eventually, God wins. And that's enough. When I'm knee deep in two inches of water, I can hope that I find the brake release, but just because God tells me, "Have hope," doesn't mean I can blame him when I can't find it. It just means I can continue to hope that things will eventually all be put to rights, and in the meantime, praise God I have friends who will push cars in the rain for me, that the truck actually started (eventually), and that when the woman who previously held my position at the library left, she also left her umbrella in the desk, and hasn't been back to claim it in six months.
So that's my nice little life today - grateful in the little things, enduring through the frustrating things, and badass in the tough things. Two inches of water. In my work pants and dress shoes.
Love, Katie
*Yes, this is dangerous, and we're getting it fixed ASAP. All this happened this weekend, ok? I promise.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
If I'd-a known you was comin'
Happy Easter, everyone! To celebrate, Jon and I visited family - but that didn't stop me from cooking! For me, holidays are all about the food (ok, seeing family is fantastic too). So for Easter dinner I brought all the sides - layered salad, German potato salad, strawberry pie, and...
Coconut cake! This is not *my* coconut cake - a mishap has rendered my photos temporarily (perhaps permanently) inaccessible. *le sigh*
I've been wanting to bake a coconut cake for a while. There's a recipe in my Best Recipe cookbook, and Harry and Sally (of When Harry Met Sally) had one at their wedding. But it's hard to eat a whole cake by oneself. Enter: relatives.
But while I'm proud of the way the cake turned out (the pie was good too, but didn't have enough sugar in the filling) I consider my crowning achievement the carrying apparatus. I know that people have Tupperware cake containers for traveling with a layer cake - but I don't! And one of those would take up so much room in my small kitchen, and I'd only use it a few times a year. So I had to improvise. I used our wooden Chinese Checkers board, covered in foil, as a cake board. I topped it with a basket of the perfect size. I tied some string around the whole thing and presto! Carrying device.
Here's the recipe, adapted from America's Test Kitchen's The New Best Recipe:
In a small bowl or liquid measuring cup, beat the egg and egg whites with a fork until combined. Add 3/4 cup cream of coconut and vanilla and beat vigorously until combined. In a large bowl (if you have a standup mixer, this is an excellent bowl to use!) combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt (again - mixer, use a paddle attachment). Add the butter, piece by piece, and stir until the mixture is crumbly, and the lumps of butter are smaller than peas. Slowly add the egg mixture, stirring constantly, until batter is combined. It will be thick and sticky. Divide between the two pans. Bake for 20 minutes, then turn the pans around (so the side that was in the back of the oven is now in front) and bake for another 10 minutes. Remove the cakes from the pans and cool on wire racks. Don't turn the oven off! Spread the coconut on a baking sheet and toast in the oven for 15 minutes, stirring about 3 times during cooking.
Frosting: The regular recipe tells you to make your own egg white/buttercream/coconut icing. I had a lot on my plate today, so I combined the vanilla frosting with 1/4 cup of the cream of coconut, and used that to frost the cake. To finish it off, lightly press handfuls of the toasted coconut onto the top and sides of the cake until it's fully covered. Voila!
Coconut cake! This is not *my* coconut cake - a mishap has rendered my photos temporarily (perhaps permanently) inaccessible. *le sigh*
I've been wanting to bake a coconut cake for a while. There's a recipe in my Best Recipe cookbook, and Harry and Sally (of When Harry Met Sally) had one at their wedding. But it's hard to eat a whole cake by oneself. Enter: relatives.
But while I'm proud of the way the cake turned out (the pie was good too, but didn't have enough sugar in the filling) I consider my crowning achievement the carrying apparatus. I know that people have Tupperware cake containers for traveling with a layer cake - but I don't! And one of those would take up so much room in my small kitchen, and I'd only use it a few times a year. So I had to improvise. I used our wooden Chinese Checkers board, covered in foil, as a cake board. I topped it with a basket of the perfect size. I tied some string around the whole thing and presto! Carrying device.
Here's the recipe, adapted from America's Test Kitchen's The New Best Recipe:
Coconut Layer Cake
Ingredients:
- 1 egg
- 5 egg whites
- 1 can cream of coconut, divided (In the grocery store, this is near the alcohol - it's used most commonly in piña coladas.)
- 1 tsp vanilla
- 2 1/4 cups flour, sifted
- 1 cup sugar
- 1 tbsp baking powder
- 3/4 tsp salt
- 1 1/2 sticks of butter, softened, but cool (not melted), and cut into pieces
- 1 container whipped vanilla frosting (I used Duncan Hines, because it was the cheapest.)
- 4 cups sweetened coconut
In a small bowl or liquid measuring cup, beat the egg and egg whites with a fork until combined. Add 3/4 cup cream of coconut and vanilla and beat vigorously until combined. In a large bowl (if you have a standup mixer, this is an excellent bowl to use!) combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt (again - mixer, use a paddle attachment). Add the butter, piece by piece, and stir until the mixture is crumbly, and the lumps of butter are smaller than peas. Slowly add the egg mixture, stirring constantly, until batter is combined. It will be thick and sticky. Divide between the two pans. Bake for 20 minutes, then turn the pans around (so the side that was in the back of the oven is now in front) and bake for another 10 minutes. Remove the cakes from the pans and cool on wire racks. Don't turn the oven off! Spread the coconut on a baking sheet and toast in the oven for 15 minutes, stirring about 3 times during cooking.
Frosting: The regular recipe tells you to make your own egg white/buttercream/coconut icing. I had a lot on my plate today, so I combined the vanilla frosting with 1/4 cup of the cream of coconut, and used that to frost the cake. To finish it off, lightly press handfuls of the toasted coconut onto the top and sides of the cake until it's fully covered. Voila!
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Tangled: A Review
I waited to post my thoughts on Tangled, the 50th animated feature in Disney's canon, until I thought most people had seen it, who want to. Spoilers abound, so read at your own risk.
All in all, I really enjoyed the movie. Jon and I went to the Palace and saw it, and didn't regret the six bucks. It was funny and cute in all the typical Disney ways. And beautiful - the animation was excellent. I wanted to say that upfront so that the rest of this post doesn't sound so harsh. Because when I say it was typical Disney...
Well, let's just review the plot, shall we?
So we start with a sick queen, who's about to have a baby. The king and his people search the whole kingdom for a magical golden flower that can cure her. But that magical flower is being hidden by a woman who uses its power to keep her youth. The people find it, pick it, and use it to make a broth that the queen drinks.* So the queen gives birth to a daughter with golden hair. The evil woman, obsessed with youth and beauty, thinks nothing of harming a little girl.
So the woman steals the baby girl away and names her Rapunzel. Rapunzel lives a relatively happy life, hidden in the forest away from her family for sixteen years.
But Rapunzel wearies of her secluded life, and wants to visit the outside world. She sings at the top of her tall tower,while she twirls around in circles, brushing her long golden hair. Oh, and she has an animal friend, too.
Meanwhile, rogueish, dashingly handsome boy is...being dashing and handsome. And running from the authorities. Because, you know, girls want bad boys. But not too bad.
Pretty squeaky-clean for a bad boy, isn't he? Yes, I know, he's not really Disney. Moving on...
Rapunzel's "mother" warns her that the world is a cruel, cruel, wicked place, and that she should never leave her tower.
But she really, really, really wants to go to the festival...er, to see the floating lights that appear every year on her sixteenth birthday. Mum says no. Luckily, the gorgeous boy happens to stumble upon her secluded hideout. After...coercion (and a lot of frying pans to the head ala Princess Peach) he agrees to take her to the lights, part of a festival the town holds every year for the missing princess.
On the way, there's a singing bar scene.
Rogue-boy gets hurt, and Rapunzel heals him with her magic hair-powers, singing to him while bathed in golden light.
So they get to the festival and have a nice time. During a song, they almost share a kiss on a boat in a lake, surrounded by lots of floating lights, but are interrupted by the big bad's twin minions.
Yup. Not making this up. Fast forwarding: There's some perceived betrayal, and Rapunzel goes back home to Mama, and Rogue-boy gets arrested. Cue hilarious jail break!
So, one dramatic rescue sequence, a falling villain death, a near-death prince, and a miraculous recovery later, Rapunzel gets reunited with her long-lost family. Everyone lives happily ever after.
Now, let me reiterate - I'm not complaining. I love me some good, old-fashioned Disney tropes. Especially for a 50th film (which is such a nice round number), it makes sense to make something formulaic, comfortable, and good. And a lot of Disney films have similarities in plot, character, and structure. But watching this movie felt a little bit too comfortable, like I'd seen it all before. Which of course, I have.
Tangled brought in almost $200 million at the box office, almost twice as much as last winter's Princess and the Frog. Now, I might be alone in liking The Princess and the Frog (I did like Hunchback of Notre Dame, after all, so that ruins some credibility), but I found that plot really original, and the songs unforgettable (I remember the flower song from Rapunzel, but that's it). Plus, it had a really strong, ambitious female protagonist, whose goal is to own her own business. Sure, Rapunzel's no wilting flower, but she has much more in common with Sleeping Beauty than Tiana. I do think Tangled appeals a bit more to younger viewers more than Princess - the colors are brighter (and there's more pink and purple, for those three year old girls), the story is simpler, and most importantly, the movie is shorter.
So if you haven't seen it, see it. It's good. But know what to expect - a short and sweet fairy tale that hearkens to the golden ages of Disney.
Love, Katie
*At this point, Jon pointed out that this movie could have had a lot to say about sustainability. There's this amazing magical flower that has the power to heal anyone forever if we can figure out how it works. Let's destroy it in order to save the queen. Sadly for us environmental hippie types, that question wasn't raised within the movie. Ah, well.
All in all, I really enjoyed the movie. Jon and I went to the Palace and saw it, and didn't regret the six bucks. It was funny and cute in all the typical Disney ways. And beautiful - the animation was excellent. I wanted to say that upfront so that the rest of this post doesn't sound so harsh. Because when I say it was typical Disney...
Well, let's just review the plot, shall we?
So we start with a sick queen, who's about to have a baby. The king and his people search the whole kingdom for a magical golden flower that can cure her. But that magical flower is being hidden by a woman who uses its power to keep her youth. The people find it, pick it, and use it to make a broth that the queen drinks.* So the queen gives birth to a daughter with golden hair. The evil woman, obsessed with youth and beauty, thinks nothing of harming a little girl.
So the woman steals the baby girl away and names her Rapunzel. Rapunzel lives a relatively happy life, hidden in the forest away from her family for sixteen years.
But Rapunzel wearies of her secluded life, and wants to visit the outside world. She sings at the top of her tall tower,while she twirls around in circles, brushing her long golden hair. Oh, and she has an animal friend, too.
Meanwhile, rogueish, dashingly handsome boy is...being dashing and handsome. And running from the authorities. Because, you know, girls want bad boys. But not too bad.
Pretty squeaky-clean for a bad boy, isn't he? Yes, I know, he's not really Disney. Moving on...
Rapunzel's "mother" warns her that the world is a cruel, cruel, wicked place, and that she should never leave her tower.
But she really, really, really wants to go to the festival...er, to see the floating lights that appear every year on her sixteenth birthday. Mum says no. Luckily, the gorgeous boy happens to stumble upon her secluded hideout. After...coercion (and a lot of frying pans to the head ala Princess Peach) he agrees to take her to the lights, part of a festival the town holds every year for the missing princess.
On the way, there's a singing bar scene.
Rogue-boy gets hurt, and Rapunzel heals him with her magic hair-powers, singing to him while bathed in golden light.
So they get to the festival and have a nice time. During a song, they almost share a kiss on a boat in a lake, surrounded by lots of floating lights, but are interrupted by the big bad's twin minions.
Yup. Not making this up. Fast forwarding: There's some perceived betrayal, and Rapunzel goes back home to Mama, and Rogue-boy gets arrested. Cue hilarious jail break!
So, one dramatic rescue sequence, a falling villain death, a near-death prince, and a miraculous recovery later, Rapunzel gets reunited with her long-lost family. Everyone lives happily ever after.
Oh come on. PICK YOUR MOVIE.
Now, let me reiterate - I'm not complaining. I love me some good, old-fashioned Disney tropes. Especially for a 50th film (which is such a nice round number), it makes sense to make something formulaic, comfortable, and good. And a lot of Disney films have similarities in plot, character, and structure. But watching this movie felt a little bit too comfortable, like I'd seen it all before. Which of course, I have.
Tangled brought in almost $200 million at the box office, almost twice as much as last winter's Princess and the Frog. Now, I might be alone in liking The Princess and the Frog (I did like Hunchback of Notre Dame, after all, so that ruins some credibility), but I found that plot really original, and the songs unforgettable (I remember the flower song from Rapunzel, but that's it). Plus, it had a really strong, ambitious female protagonist, whose goal is to own her own business. Sure, Rapunzel's no wilting flower, but she has much more in common with Sleeping Beauty than Tiana. I do think Tangled appeals a bit more to younger viewers more than Princess - the colors are brighter (and there's more pink and purple, for those three year old girls), the story is simpler, and most importantly, the movie is shorter.
So if you haven't seen it, see it. It's good. But know what to expect - a short and sweet fairy tale that hearkens to the golden ages of Disney.
Love, Katie
*At this point, Jon pointed out that this movie could have had a lot to say about sustainability. There's this amazing magical flower that has the power to heal anyone forever if we can figure out how it works. Let's destroy it in order to save the queen. Sadly for us environmental hippie types, that question wasn't raised within the movie. Ah, well.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Wouldn't you like to be a pepper too?
I have absolutely no motivation to do my homework. Only one final project and an exam to go, and then I'd be done for the forseeable future. But when given the choice between long-term and short-term satisfaction, I suppose procrastinating by watching Kitchen Nightmares* and Nostalgia Chick and reading lots of TVTropes seems better than writing a "Reference Pathfinder" or some such nonsense. Especially when I'm sick in bed, my motivation to work ahead is practically nil. ("Ahead" here is relative - I should have started this project months ago.)
So after gluing my eyes to my laptop screen all day, I've become aware of what I have in common with a quirky, deadly-turned-adorkable robot:
So in case you're like Johnny 5 and me, here are just five sites I subscribe to or visit for a quick laugh. (We'll talk about the merits of Google Reader another day, yes?)
Love, Katie
*Not my first choice of Hulu selections, btw - but I'm all caught up on Fringe, Bones, and Castle. What's a girl to do? I do take suggestions...
So after gluing my eyes to my laptop screen all day, I've become aware of what I have in common with a quirky, deadly-turned-adorkable robot:
So in case you're like Johnny 5 and me, here are just five sites I subscribe to or visit for a quick laugh. (We'll talk about the merits of Google Reader another day, yes?)
- Cakewrecks: Unless you've been living under a rock, you've probably seen this cake blogger who posts the most horrible cakes you can imagine...and some gorgeous ones on Sundays. This Sunday's Sweets are all literary - perfect for that librarian in your life.
- Not Invented Here: This webcomic about computer software developers has enough relevance to most workplaces to be funny, even if you don't know computers. The geek humor, though, adds a delightful bonus.
- Engrish Funny: On some days, my favorite section of the Failblog/Cheezburger conglomerate.
- Unhappy Hipsters: Pairs photos of modern architecture and design with darkly funny captions.
- Cute Overload: Squeeeeeee!
Love, Katie
*Not my first choice of Hulu selections, btw - but I'm all caught up on Fringe, Bones, and Castle. What's a girl to do? I do take suggestions...
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