Y'know, two days of no appetite combined with a tendency towards hypoglycemia is really uncomfortable...

The laundry is in the bag, and if I go up to the laundramat they will do it for me. If.

The dishes are beginning to conspire against me.

I still have book reviews to read. At this point I'm trying to find reasons not to buy things. Any reason will do. But I know if I just blow off the rest of the list I'll miss the next blasted Newbery winner or something.

bleah

ETA spent too much,just have to hope the next carts don't have much in them. Laundry still here. Dishes still planning a revolution. But at least I can go to work tomorrow with a clear conscience.

When did I start being the kind of person who listens to radio stations that announce the weather with Gene Kelly instead of Jim Morrison?

On a Friday night, when I'm actually riding the trains at rush hour, I usually can get home in forty minutes.

It took me an hour and a half to get halfway. Including shuttle buses. Overcrowded shuttlebuses. I bailed out at that point and walked over to the other trainline and got home around 7.

I'm just hoping that this is actual problems and not the government buggering up my transit system for the big practice drill that's happening one of the weekends this month, because I've got to take the trains to and from work tomorrow too.

Experimented with Welsh rabbit to go along with the experimental White Zinfandel I bought (I'm a teetotaller normally, but I'm researching a story.)

Okay. Forgot to buy porter when I got the Zinfandel, so I popped around to the little liquor store in the square. I asked for porter and the little Chinese lady behind the counter just blinked at me. "Beer," I expanded and she pointed me at the coolers with a very vague wave. There was something called itself porter, but they wanted me to buy the sixpack and that wasn't worth it. I ended up buying a can of Guinness, which is stout, but probably from the right islands, right?

Printed out the recipe from Alton Brown. Realized I forgot the cream, again, but I had a jar of English clotted cream I meant to use up months ago in the fridge. It's cream, right? And I didn't feel like going out again.

So, assemble ingredients. Dry mustard, got it. Worcestershire sauce -- just enough at the bottom of the bottle. Kosher salt, ditto. Pepper -- well, it ain't fresh ground, but it'll do. Butter. Toast. Get that ready first. Flour... pry flour out of freezer, which is icing over again dammit, and try to remember that I need to go to Sears and find out about a new gasket. Refrigerator is less than five years old, but the darn freezer just won't stay sealed. Butter -- yup. Measure things into cups like Alton does so I don't have to try to do it later. Shred cheddar. All set? Put the butter in the saucepan and start whisking in the... dammit I forgot to measure the flour.

Quickly get flour from bag and add to already melted and starting to turn brown butter. Whisk like a madwoman. 2 minutes and the stuff isn't going to turn brown yet? Alton are you mad? Wait, he's got it on medium heat and I'm remembering a different roux recipe. Too late, add the worcestershire salt and pepper and then the beer and turn down the heat while opening the clotted cream.

Clotted. My god, it isn't clotted, it's SOLID! A spatula won't do it, it takes a steak knife to start persuading this stuff out of the jar and into my dark brown mess. Turn the heat off entirely and keep persuading, stirring now and then to try to get the cream to melt. (Which it does, actually.) At this point there's no hope, so add the cheese anyway a bit at a time, stirring and stirring and well, it doesn't taste absolutely awful... oops, add the mustard and the hot... what hot sauce? Alton!!! Oh, there it is, right in the ingredients list. 2 drops. I must have hot sauce here somewhere, but for two drops, I'll be a wimp.

Cut up the toast on the plate and spoon... er... squidge the lumpy cheese stuff onto it. There's way too much for any human being to eat, so leave that to settle on the turned off burner. Fetch out little bitty bottle of White Zinfandel...

Eat. Drink.

Think.

Well, it's not actually awful... Might be a good combination when made by someone who knows what he's doing. Maybe.

And the remaining cheese sauce may be okay -- it got a lot less lumpy left to its own. i'll add a bit of milk to it and heat it up again later this week to try again.

But on the whole... well... maybe I should stick to frozen food.

It's a lovely clear day, there's no humidity or rain to blame it on, it's just dead.

But the DSL on the same flippin' phone line? That's working fine.

Gah.

I have the internet again! I have the phone! I am connected to the world! And what am I going to do?

That's right!

SLEEP!

*falls over and takes nap*

Working on Saturdays is just no fun.

I got home last night, wandered through the living room and kitchen, shedding attire and acquiring something to drink, sauntered into the bedroom, sat down at my big old rolltop desk, peeled off my glasses, and turned on my computer, all on autopilot. I sipped at my drink while the computer played the Bill Gates song and chuckled itself to life, letting the brain cells idle after a long day of work. My desktop came to life, Sam Gamgee looking fraught on the slopes of Mount Doom through a forest of little icons that probably ought to be collected into folders soon. My hand reached for the mouse. I clicked on the little icon that would connect me to the world...

PAGE NOT FOUND.

*blink*

Hmmm. I thought. Perhaps the kerfuffle at LJ has finally melted their servers. I'll try checking my e-mail.

*typetytypetytype*

PAGE NOT FOUND.

Uh-ooooh.

*typetytypetytype*

PAGE NOT FOUND.

Visions of disaster flashed through my brain. Somewhere a thousand million monkeys typing all at once had failed to produce Hamlet, and instead had foisted a computer virus of such virulence upon the world that no CDC quarantine could prevent catastrophe.

"Oh, Woe! The Internet Has Gone Toes Up!" I exclaimed, and reached for my phone to call my mother and bid her a fond adieu before the asteroid arrived and turned the planet over to the cockroaches.

NO DIAL TONE.

"That's it, time to run screaming into the streets!" I got to my feet, preparing to spread hysteria and fear, when I noticed that the lights on my modem appeared to be blinking in an unfamiliar pattern.

Putting my glasses back on, I confirmed this, and the brain cells which had gone into *notatwork* mode began to fire again.

CHECK THE WIRES, LUKE, Obi-wan Kenobi advised me from the poster on the wall. (He never does get my name right.)

But the wires were all plugged in, intact, complete.

Instantly, my brain cells divided into opposing camps. "We told you, we told you, the Internet has Gone to Meet Its Maker, and taken the phone system with it!" cried the Happy Panickers.

"Oh, come now," said the Pooh-pooh Few. "How on earth is Al Gore going to get the entire Internet into his house, and manage to squeeze in the phones, too?"

"Miniaturization?" Sarcasm City offered promptly. "First you squish all the ether part down into one little blob about the size of jelly donut, then you take the hardware and load it into a trash compactor..."

"Perhaps it's only this street," said a lonely voice, somewhere under the racket of the ongoing debate. "We lose the lights on a regular basis, why not the phone lines?"

Ah! A glimmer of light in a sea of despair!

"Perhaps it's only this house," Logical Lil went on, relentlessly. "The phone and the DSL are on the same line. Did you pay the phone bill?"

Did I pay the phone bill?

"Yes," I said firmly. "Yes, I paid... I mean I set up automatic payments... I mean, well, unless I screwed something up, yes I paid the phone bill."

So off I hiked to the nearest payphone. (No, I don't have a cellphone. Yet.) Called the nice repair people. Played silly buggers with the voicemail system. Asked for an agent. Got put on hold. Listened to the lovely music. Examined my fingernails. Listened to the lovely music. Went through my wallet. Listened to the lovely music. Investigated the coins in my pocket. (Ooh, look! A fifty-lira piece from Turkey!) Listened to the lovely music. Practiced my yoga breaths. Listened to the lovely music. Tried to wake up my foot. Listened to the lovely... "Yes, hello, er... why did I call? Who is this? Oh, yes, yes! That's it. I am calling because my phone isn't working."

The nice repair person did a test on my line which only lasted for one and a half songs and came back to tell me that there's a break in the outside lines. A repair crew will come to restore me to the arms of the universe.

How soon?

Up to forty-eight hours.

Forty-eight hours? No problem. I've got the internet at work *pauses in narration to hug keyboard* and it's not like I need to call anyone except my mom and my best friend to let them know that my phone is out in case they try to call me. I can do that before I leave the payphone, if only I can persuade it to accept Turkish lira.

So, I sauntered home, back to my apartment and wandered through the living room and kitchen, shedding attire and acquiring a snack, got to the bedroom, sat down at my desk, peeled off my glasses and fired up the computer, listening to the Bill Gates song as I spread peanut butter over celery sticks to fill in the time. I was crunching happily when I reached for the mouse, clicked on the little icon and ...

PAGE NOT FOUND.

Right.

No internet.

For two days.

I am sooooo addicted.






*sigh*

Yes, I'm spammy today...

My doctor wants me to get more calcium into my diet. Oh, boy...

Like a lot of grownups, I thought I'd reached the age where drinking milk gave me problems. Digestive difficulties, as it were. Too long an interruption in the milk-drinking habit had reduced the native flora or fauna or whatever lactobacilli are to an insufficient population.

I've changed my mind. Now I think it's the milk, not me. And this is why -- I can drink some milk without any unpleasant repercussions at all.

So, I invite y'all, if you're in the same boat, to try this experiment.

1) Find a store that keeps its milk in enclosed coolers. Something where you have to open the door to get the milk. Especially if it's a small enough cooler that you can see the back wall of it. That usually means a bodega or other very small venue, but what you want is a store that keeps the milk consistently cold. Those huge open coolers at the big grocery stores are right out. Don't even bother.

2) Check the brands they carry and look among them for a local dairy, or if you can't find a local one, a dairy which has a very short cow-to-bottle distance.

3) Bonus points if the dairy doesn't use growth hormones.

4) Take home some of that brand, keeping it as cold as you can (use an insulated bag if necessary) and then keep it in the cooler part of your refrigerator (not on the door!). Never leave it out on the counter.

5) Start with small portions, and work up.

Then let me know how it goes. I'd love to see if this works for someone else.

*goes back to drinking her milk*

Have you ever heard a pile driver?

Imagine a steady, monotonous knocking, like Paul Bunyan taking chunks out of a forest with his ax on a leisurely morning.

It's a sound that's just regular enough that you can almost sleep through it. Almost. If it's at a distance. Like jackhammers, it's the sort of thing that distance mutes into dream-fodder instead of irritation. And like jackhammers, it tends to start and stop based on some strange criterion which is difficult to suss out from the depths of the pillows you've jammed uselessly over your ears.

Actually, one criteria is clear. They're not allowed to start until 7 a.m. 7:30 for the pile driver, unless they cheat and go a minute or two ahead.

Too bad I'm in the habit of waking up at 8:30, hey? And alas and alack for Tuesdays, which used to be the day I could sleep till 10:30 without a qualm. Getting to sleep at night has never been fun, but lately I stare at the clock, desperately telling myself "you gotta sleep now" and watching the minutes I could be sleeping slip away irrevocably. Morning was my best time for sleeping -- it really was. I almost never have nightmares once the sun is up.

The construction company finally sent around a letter to tell us what they're up to, and how many piles they need to drive before they build the luxury condos a couple of blocks away. Several thousand.

Oy...

Please tell me that there's a special circle of the Bad Place for people who start playing their stereos loudly at 12:15 in the morning...

*bangs head on wall*

Hmm. Everyone's been making noises about the new update screen, so I thought I should take a look. Seems reasonable enough. Incredibly wide on my home computer, which has one of those broad screens... I kind of like the way it lets me easily switch to any of the communities where I have posting privileges (not that I often do.) It's a nice spare sort of screen, which suits me at the moment.

I've been watching all of the Christmas Stockings going up, but I haven't been able to think of anything clever to put in them, so I hereby make a distribution of fresh batteries. Always useful this time of year, right?

Fic wise, I've got some New Avengers stuff bubbling, but unfinished. Can't face anything else, even though I've tried.

Work wise I'm swamped. I bought way too many books this summer, and they're all coming now. Normally books are a good thing, but I've run out of shelf space and I haven't gotten out to get the classes in to borrow the darn things, so I'm having to weed. I HATE weeding. I've spent too many years of my life trying to find a book that nobody has in their libraries any more.

Oh, well.

Happy whichever Holiday y'all celebrate. Heaven only knows when I'll get off my duff and post again.

What would you want to accomplish before you die?

Sounds silly, but I'd want to teach a song to a Girl Scout. I can't teach it to y'all, because I promised when I learned it that I would never teach it to anyone who wasn't a girl scout or write it down. And the promises you make when you are twelve stick hard when they stick at all.

My head is full of songs just now. No one to sing them with, though. Guess I'll have to amuse the walls.

Do you ever find yourself avoiding reality? Ignoring work piled high on your desk in favor of desperately scanning your flist for distractions? Reading the funnies and using the rest of the newspaper to wrap fish?

Well... I'd wrap fish if I had any fish.

I've only got three days to get my desk in order and I'm sitting here at work, not doing it.

Spam me.

Please.

plllleeeeaaaassseee?

Because it's not just a river in Egypt.

But it's shirebound's fault. She just posted a story over at waymeet called A Minor Misunderstanding and

( spoilers for story ahead... read it first! )

Arrgggghhh.

Trying to decide how much of the aggravation is from not having adjusted to the new prescription yet and how much is because the lenses aren't quite right. With the lineless trifocals you get distortion at the edges, but I don't remember it being this bad on the last pair. The transition from clear to blurry is so sharp I can actually see a shadow on the lens. And I'm having way too much fun trying to find the place where the middle focus should be.

Just a bit wordless.

About ninety percent of my clothing, linens, etc. is now either in the closet or the dresser. I've been to the grocery store and there are foods with recognizable shapes and a distinct lack of green fuzz in my refrigerator. Now to just tackle the dishes and the bathroom...

Tomorrow I work again...

Oh, gah, I just remembered that I have to finish the YA fiction cart from home before 5 o'clock tonight. GAH!

Has anyone seen my good attitude? It seems to have taken a trip to the Bahamas without me...

On the other hand, the unplanned bits haven't been too bad. I managed to have schrod at the Locke-Ober for lunch, I got a curtain for my kitchen out of the death throes of Filene's, and I scrounged a half-price ticket for tonight's performance of Spamalot.

The fanfic, however, is going nowhere fast...

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

I don't have to be at work until noon.

*alters alarm clock*

*topples*

With the caveat that I skim like hell when it comes to reading my flist, and am completely unthorough about clicking lj cuts, etc. so you shouldn't expect a lot of comments, is there anyone who has friended me who I haven't friended back who would object if I added them to my flist? I almost never look at the bottom of the info page and when I did recently I was kind of surprised by how many people fell into that category.

Distractions are a good thing...

It's a good think I decided to be a librarian. My endless urge to explain things in great detail -- with references -- to people I've barely met looks like a virtue when I'm at work. But I think I managed to explain why you want to limit your exposure to lead to a twelve year old in a way that made sense to him today, so that's something. Though at one point a friend of mine told me that I needed to sit way before I knew I needed to do it. And I made some small progress on my tiffany lamp.

Definitely overdid it though. But at least I feel better enough to be stupid enough to drive in a snowstorm in a rented car, right? Oh well. I suppose my neck will stop hurting when the tylenol kicks in. *goes to bed*

Managed to stay for nearly five hours too, although that includes a lunch break.

I've got to try building my stamina a little this weekend, I really do.

But for now.

NAP ATTACK!