Outside Books

Much of this journal is friends-only. I tend to be fairly lax about updating my friendslist, so if you think you should be on it and aren't, drop me a line!

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... why, yes, actually, I do want credit for my freehand pumpkin-carving skills. And all my trick-or-treaters this year appeared to be under eight, which might explain why I didn't get any recognition, despite several clear nods to movie canon. (The only real explanation for this particular choice of jack-o-lanterns is that last year I did Harry Potter Himself -- I wanted to try glasses -- and I was feeling uninspired this year. A white pumpkin, if I could find a full-size one, would probably have been more appropriate; as it stands, this one looks more generally demonic than anything else. Still -- those pupils are fiddly work.)

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Why do people keep posting about whipped cream on my friendslist? Admittedly, by "people" I mean maybe two of you, and by "keep posting about whipped cream" I mean mentioning it in passing in a strictly culinary context. But it is still deeply unfair, because all I have in the house is Cool Whip Light, and while it is all very well to say that Cool Whip Light is better for me than whipped cream (most things are) and more convenient to boot, the fact remains that whipped cream tastes better.

Even more tragically, when one has decided to throw together a pan of pumpkin-bread pudding (on the sound principle that one should not simply eat Cool Whip out of the container, even if one occasionally does so), it is disheartening to realize that the Cool Whip just doesn't measure up to all the all-natural full-fat goodness of the pudding. On the plus side, it is good pudding.

In vaguely related news, I just tried to cap off an ordinary reading jag of Dorothy L. Sayers's Lord Peter Wimsey oeuvre with the Jill Paton Walsh volume-and-a-half, and... I think it's sort of the Cool Whip problem all over again. (Walsh's stand-alone -- A Presumption of Death -- is actually an interesting historical mystery novel, just not when one is expecting Sayers's characters.) I had to go back and reread half the Lord Peter stories and especially "Talboys" to make the (fictional) world come out right again.

In the past week, I have also reread most of Louisa May Alcott's children's books; in the Great Scheme of Naomi's Comfort Reading, I should be moving into poetry tomorrow. Or possibly classic Buffy/Angel fanfic. We all have our preferences, don't we?

... I still want whipped cream. Humph.

Why is it that I can turn out a delicious cake before breakfast, throw together a batch of icing and ice the cake to perfection... but I can't use !@#$% decorator icing to save my life?

(I have tried just about every brand of decorator icing in existence, and the best I can manage is extremely shaky writing. I think possibly I should invest in bulk rice paper and get really good at cutting out designs instead -- I'm tolerably handy with scissors. Or I could take a cake decorating course, but that would be cheating.)

This post has been brought to you by the waste of an awful lot of icing. But at least the cake will taste good.

P.S.: I do not believe that it is possible to fit "Congratulations" across a 9x13" cake. "Mazel tov" works a lot better because you can put it on two lines and put a cutesy little something-or-other -- in this case, linked hearts for a wedding shower -- in the leftover corner. Now You Know.

So -- windowboxes. The cute little rectangular containers dangling from things like windows and porch railings. About as standard in temperate American suburbia as picket fences, right?

Why is it that I had to go to four garden center/nurseries (including Home Depot) before I located one that sold both (a) basic plastic windowboxes (would've preferred something nicer, but whatever) and (b) one solitary dusty pair of brackets with which to attach them to my porch railing? Have windowboxes become an endangered species while I wasn't looking? Are bracket purchases now monitored under the Patriot Act? I mean, bwuh?

The whole windowbox thing started because of -- yes, for once the icon fits -- bunnies. Until I figure out more Flowers Bunnies Won't Eat (daylilies when they're big and strong; marigolds, maybe), I am suspending operations. Er, literally suspending them. And putting them in large pots.

For my next amazing trick, I will be running a meeting to plan adult education for my synagogue for the entire Jewish year beginning this coming September. *headdesk*

What is the correct adjective for "bean-related," as in "I think I just had a minor bean-related breakdown when I realized that my pantry is out of both red and white kidney beans in mid-minestrone?"

... Fabaceous? Leguminaceous? Fabaphelic, perhaps?

Also, what does it say about me that I reacted boldly to this crisis by opting to (a) look up "bean" in Lewis & Short, followed by (b) declaring it Southern Fusion Minestrone and adding crowder peas along with chickpeas? (Am resisting the urge to go for broke, toss in collard greens, and serve it with grits gnocchi. This is mostly because it's a little late to start making gnocchi. But with any luck the crowder peas will just impart a slightly smoky flavor.)

Incidentally, our household has an overabundance of carob chips as an indirect result of Tu b'Shevat. Any recipe suggestions -- beyond the obvious Use Them Like Chocolate Chips, Duh -- would be appreciated.

ETA: While the end result was less "minestrone" and more "random vegetable-legume soup" (we opted to skip adding pasta for the time being), it was still exceedingly yummy, especially with lots of parm-reg grated on. Of course, there are very few things which are not yummy under those circumstances.

I keep having an urge to post about food on my Real Blog, but that doesn't seem consequential enough to warrant breaking silence. However, in case the world needs to know it, I'm going to try a mustard-coated baked cod and potatoes recipe from last month's Bon Appetit, fix a mess of kale (it turns out I like kale), and do something with blueberries for dessert. Oh, and there will be challah, of course.

I'm just restless enough to make lists. Anyone want to ask me for top-fives? (They may not get answered till Sunday, depending.)

Look what rymenhild made me! (That's the Hebrew letter "nun," for anyone trying to figure out why a cursive I goes with "Nadav.") The text comes from my Gashlycrumb Torah poem, which I recommend to anyone who doesn't read my Real Blog but enjoys mild Bible-related geekery.

And Judith pointed out the equally important, as she puts it, "metrosexual" account of the creation story in Genesis from the New Yorker. Not to be missed whatever your views on (dis)organized religion. :)

I am avoiding work-related email, so here is a bit of poetry in response to the latest meme going around:

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And here is my version of the ubiquitous LJ interests meme. Is it just me, or is every single person with "Judaism" among their interests getting it as one of their selections here?

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I hate having my eyes dilated at the opthalmologist's. Hate hate hate. I know they need to check on my retinas, but what on earth can I do for the rest of the day, sitting around squinting with no ability to focus? I need to prep for class tomorrow, and reading about two pages in a row makes my head swim. I also can't study Torah, update course webpages, or curl up with a Fun Book. (Don't ask how I'm posting to LJ -- it involves pushing my glasses way down on my nose, punching the text size in my browser way up, and taking advantage of my mad touch-typing skillz.)

Oh well. At least now I have current prescriptions for both glasses and contacts, which was the object of the exercise. If anyone has favorite glasses frames along the same lines as my current ones -- which for the vast majority of you who have never met me in person, are also rather like Fred's on Angel -- I can always use ideas.

In other news, classical Sufism = nummy. When I get back to being able to read, that is. And the Megillat Esther graphic novel is indeed the coolest thing I have seen in a long time. Will get around to blogging about it soonish. As soon as I get my eyes back.