Monthly Archives: January 2010

Happy things

While it is indeed true–like the bumpersticker said–that the best things in life are not things, I find that certain things, from time to time, make me pretty darn happy. And that’s the kind of happiness I usually want to share, because you just might get a little of your own happy from the same things. And while we all want to get in touch with our own Mother Theresa, isn’t it just more fun to have your own happy, instead of just altruistically appreciating someone else’s?

In no particular order, here are some things that are making me smile this week:

Emile Henry, when I can afford it. Found a few pieces dirt, dirt cheap the other day, totally by accident. Still made me feel a little grown up to buy it. Given my druthers, I’d prefer to furnish my table with nothing but hand-thrown plates and bowls and such. But EH and other storebought labels like it come in a close second–simple, sturdy, substantial, beautiful.

Amaranth. I’ve been popping the seeds and leaving them in a bowl on the stove for impromptu snacking. So simple and delicious. I’ve also been splurging on some locally-grown red amaranth sprouts for sandwiches–a rich scarlet purple, they’re lovely and tasty, two qualities most good food should have.

The Saveur 100. I know other folks are still mourning the demise of Gourmet, but my food porn of choice has long been Saveur. This 100 issue is compiled entirely of reader submissions, and it’s as good as ever. My copy is already dog-eared and ready for re-reading.

Bob’s Red Mill Homemade Wonderful Bread Mix. Ignore the cumbersome name. This bread is the more, well, bread-y of the gluten-free types I’ve sampled. The chickpea flour keeps it from having that cakey sweetness that the rice-based versions have, and the texture is a winner–just a little chewy, it holds up to sandwiches and keeps very well for a week or more. It’s so good I’ve even (temporarily) forgiven myself for using a pre-made mix. Fresh out of the oven, smeared with a little Kerrygold and some of my friend’s apricot butter? Heavenly.

He who has ears

Wise Words

It’s a good place for a child, the woods. You don’t learn much about people, but you learn silence. Patience. And that there’s nothing much to fear in the wilderness–less than there is on a farm or in the city.

~Ursula Le Guin’s Aeneas in Lavinia

Timing

It’s interesting that while I’m mulling over difficulties expressing myself in fiction, I’m reading a novel founded on giving voice to a woman who had none. Ursula Le Guin’s Lavinia is a retelling of a portion of Vergil’s Aeneid, told from the point of view of a character Vergil in his work left silent.

One thing I have always loved about Le Guin’s work is its intelligence and its patience. She knows how to let a story build in its own time, how to let the characters speak for themselves until we come to love them, or not. Lavinia didn’t grab me from the first page, as some books do. But as the thread of the story spun out, her Lavinia became compelling, a character with the knowledge of her own creation, finding her own voice and volition while simultaneous bending to the inexorable will of fate. The novel becomes, by the end, so much more complex than its already rich premise–Le Guin’s work with Lavinia and her poet explores how it is we all create and live and tell our own stories. It’s oh so timely, and I could do worse than learn from such a writer.

One way to save the world

The first time I ever used the phrase “utterly charming” to describe a movie, I was talking out Fantastic Mr Fox, just a few weeks ago (I guess my taste in film doesn’t usually run to “charming”). The first time I used it to describe some other form of entertainment was a couple of years ago, when I was introduced to Samorost. I believe I also used some of the following words: “fascinating”, “intriguing”, “genius time-suck”, “Aw, it’s over?”, and “Ooooh, there’s a Samorost 2?!”

And now, in honor of the fact that there is a Samorost 3 (well, sort of), I refer you to the original. It’s a diverting way to spend an afternoon, exploring this little driftwood world. Click the picture to play.

Dog ninja, I am not

Four AM is, apparently, the hour of choice for marauding packs of stray dogs. Before the new schedule, I’d never had a problem with streetwise beasts. This morning counts the second time I’ve had a heart-pumping showdown with a gaggle of mutts. Fortunately they were more mischievous than bloodthirsty, but it’s got me thinking about self-defense. I may have to improvise some bicycle-mounted, quickly deployed instrument of emphatic discouragement, if for no other reason than to keep from getting teeth-holes in my beloved merino wool shirt (seriously… I think Merino sheep must be force-fed rainbows and moonbeams. It’s the only explanation for the magical properties of that fabric).

If you died tomorrow in a fiery crash on your way to work, no one would say Well, what did she expect, DRIVING to work like that?

If I went down in a flesh-rending frenzy of chomping and slobber, I wouldn’t fare so well in the watercooler discussions. What did she expect, riding a bicycle in the middle of the night?

What do I expect? Just a little cold air on my face, the flexing of my own muscles, and the good kind of adrenaline rush–not the impromptu dog-ninja warrior kind.

If only this were my problem...