A friend mentioned she was reading My Life in France, Julia Child's memories of the early years of her marriage (spent, oddly enough, in France) and I suddenly felt I must read it too. So I am, and I can hardly put it down!
I never saw any of Julia Child's cooking shows or other TV appearances and I'm only registering that a movie was made of this book because there's picture on the cover of my copy of Meryl Streep in a market and wearing a pink cardi on her shoulders. So that's not what grabs me. And it's not the food stuff - I have no aspirations toward that level of cooking - or the locale, really.
It's that voice. The voice of the narrator is everything for me. And it's obvious that Julia Child was a person you'd want very much to know, if you could. It's invigorating to read about somebody so passionate about a subject, and so energized about learning, and so focused on the fun of it all.
Bonus: she met a lot of artists and writers and conditions generally in postwar Paris that I know from my other reading, which grounds things for me and adds new perspective.
This book will go on my gift-giving list. But not this edition, with its Meryl Streep cover and complete lack of photos inside of the people being written about. That's a rare oversight in a memoir and what a loss it is, when those people are so fascinating.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Flat as a pancake
In addition to about a metric tonne of chocolate, there was a complete pancake crisis at my place over Easter weekend.
I'm good at pancakes, so periodically I'm called upon to make rather a lot of them, which several years ago led me to purchase a nonstick two-burner griddle for my ceramic-topped stove. Since then I've used that griddle for so many things, the nonstick stuff wore out and I had to stop using it. So with Easter looming, the pressure was on to get myself a (better) replacement.
Voila! The griddle of my dreams, complete with delicious-looking cookbook. I was a happy girl when I took that picture. Then I took off the rest of the wrapping and looked at the bottom of the griddle and realized you can't use it on a ceramic-topped stove (it doesn't make 100% contact with the heating surface and was in fact designed for a gas or electric stove; put it on a ceramic top and it will warp, thereby voiding the warranty.)
So back it went. And home I came again with the next level up at 5x the price and 6x the storage size - an actual electric griddle. Thing of beauty except for two tiny nicks in the nonstick.
So back that went. And I spent Easter doing this:
The skillet in front? Totally burnt most of the pancakes I trusted it with. So I'm still hunting for a griddle and hoping to find it before the next big gorgefest.
I'm good at pancakes, so periodically I'm called upon to make rather a lot of them, which several years ago led me to purchase a nonstick two-burner griddle for my ceramic-topped stove. Since then I've used that griddle for so many things, the nonstick stuff wore out and I had to stop using it. So with Easter looming, the pressure was on to get myself a (better) replacement.
Voila! The griddle of my dreams, complete with delicious-looking cookbook. I was a happy girl when I took that picture. Then I took off the rest of the wrapping and looked at the bottom of the griddle and realized you can't use it on a ceramic-topped stove (it doesn't make 100% contact with the heating surface and was in fact designed for a gas or electric stove; put it on a ceramic top and it will warp, thereby voiding the warranty.)
So back it went. And home I came again with the next level up at 5x the price and 6x the storage size - an actual electric griddle. Thing of beauty except for two tiny nicks in the nonstick.
So back that went. And I spent Easter doing this:
The skillet in front? Totally burnt most of the pancakes I trusted it with. So I'm still hunting for a griddle and hoping to find it before the next big gorgefest.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
You know how to whistle, don't you?
Horrifying discovery of the week: whistling gives you wrinkles!
Seriously - I was teaching somebody how to whistle the other day, and standing at the mirror and puckering up I suddenly saw my parallel-universe self, a lifelong pack-a-day puffer, and realized what I'll look like at 80 if I keep it up.
This bothers me because I can whistle a tune like nobody's business, for a really long time... hours, if I'm doing something really boring.
Like the time I was Executor for a guy who had done a lot of wordworking in his day and never met a scrap of wood, metal, or elastic band he didn't think he could find a use for (wrong) and I whistled for about three days straight clearing up the mess in his basement.
Eventually his tenant told me he considers whistling to be unladylike, which I suspect was code for Please Stop, You're Slowly Driving Me Insane, but I kept going anyway. Hey, it's not like he was offering to help carry all that heavy stuff out to the Dumpster!
Anyway ever since the Mirror Incident I've been trying not to whistle. I keep catching myself and stopping, but I'm not catching myself any less frequently as the days pass. I think I might really miss whistling if I stop for reals.
Do you think it really matters if I have a lot of wrinkles in my lipstick?
Don't answer that. Even at 80 I expect I'll care.
And you know, I'll always have nose harmonica. Small mercies!
Seriously - I was teaching somebody how to whistle the other day, and standing at the mirror and puckering up I suddenly saw my parallel-universe self, a lifelong pack-a-day puffer, and realized what I'll look like at 80 if I keep it up.
This bothers me because I can whistle a tune like nobody's business, for a really long time... hours, if I'm doing something really boring.
Like the time I was Executor for a guy who had done a lot of wordworking in his day and never met a scrap of wood, metal, or elastic band he didn't think he could find a use for (wrong) and I whistled for about three days straight clearing up the mess in his basement.
Eventually his tenant told me he considers whistling to be unladylike, which I suspect was code for Please Stop, You're Slowly Driving Me Insane, but I kept going anyway. Hey, it's not like he was offering to help carry all that heavy stuff out to the Dumpster!
Anyway ever since the Mirror Incident I've been trying not to whistle. I keep catching myself and stopping, but I'm not catching myself any less frequently as the days pass. I think I might really miss whistling if I stop for reals.
Do you think it really matters if I have a lot of wrinkles in my lipstick?
Don't answer that. Even at 80 I expect I'll care.
And you know, I'll always have nose harmonica. Small mercies!
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
How the driving is going
So, yes. It's now April, which means I have 2 months to pass a road test or start over from scratch with my driver's license.
And though I am seriously questioning why I need a license at all given that I have barely driven since I got the one I have nearly five years ago, I did get out last night to practice. It didn't go so great.
First mistake: deciding to just get out there before I talked myself out of it, with complete disregard for the time of day. Usually I go out in the morning, just after rush hour. I'm used to the traffic flow then and it didn't occur to me it would be different just before 6pm.
First clue I'd made the first mistake: looking at block-long lineup of cars waiting in the road I needed to make a left into. Right! The other rush hour!
It's a two-lane road and normally I make a left into the left lane, then quickly change lanes to the right just like I learned in driving school so I can make a right turn at the end of the block.
This time though - that row of cars blocking me from my left turn. What's the rule about that? Was I supposed to drive straight into the right lane or wait at the corner for some traffic to clear?
I opted for plan A and followed some other cars into the right lane, then compulsively checked my rear view mirror and
Hello police officer!
(and thank you for not following me with sirens flashing, because I don't quite know whether you're supposed to pull over in the middle of a busy stretch of road or go a bit farther where you won't block traffic.)
I reached my Fake-Important destination, parked perfectly, chatted with another driver who has the same kind of car I do and felt like an idjit when he asked what model year mine is and all I had retained about that was, Not one of the ones affected by the recall (and then felt vindicated when he didn't realize our car has Toyota parts in it and later models have been recalled), resisted the urge to say HA, went into a store and came out again, and headed home...
... promptly messing up my timing and nearly hitting another car.
Sigh.
Back in my driveway and still cursing myself, I realized I had forgotten to bring my cell phone with me - if I had hit the other car I wouldn't have been able to call anybody in panic, even.
Then I realized I had also forgotten my housekey.
Isn't it lucky that a friend with a second set was a short walk away?
And though I am seriously questioning why I need a license at all given that I have barely driven since I got the one I have nearly five years ago, I did get out last night to practice. It didn't go so great.
First mistake: deciding to just get out there before I talked myself out of it, with complete disregard for the time of day. Usually I go out in the morning, just after rush hour. I'm used to the traffic flow then and it didn't occur to me it would be different just before 6pm.
First clue I'd made the first mistake: looking at block-long lineup of cars waiting in the road I needed to make a left into. Right! The other rush hour!
It's a two-lane road and normally I make a left into the left lane, then quickly change lanes to the right just like I learned in driving school so I can make a right turn at the end of the block.
This time though - that row of cars blocking me from my left turn. What's the rule about that? Was I supposed to drive straight into the right lane or wait at the corner for some traffic to clear?
I opted for plan A and followed some other cars into the right lane, then compulsively checked my rear view mirror and
Hello police officer!
(and thank you for not following me with sirens flashing, because I don't quite know whether you're supposed to pull over in the middle of a busy stretch of road or go a bit farther where you won't block traffic.)
I reached my Fake-Important destination, parked perfectly, chatted with another driver who has the same kind of car I do and felt like an idjit when he asked what model year mine is and all I had retained about that was, Not one of the ones affected by the recall (and then felt vindicated when he didn't realize our car has Toyota parts in it and later models have been recalled), resisted the urge to say HA, went into a store and came out again, and headed home...
... promptly messing up my timing and nearly hitting another car.
Sigh.
Back in my driveway and still cursing myself, I realized I had forgotten to bring my cell phone with me - if I had hit the other car I wouldn't have been able to call anybody in panic, even.
Then I realized I had also forgotten my housekey.
Isn't it lucky that a friend with a second set was a short walk away?
Monday, April 5, 2010
Organizational intervention
Lately I've been really mad at my house for being too small and at the same time being more perfect for me than any other house that comes up for sale in my area, assuming I could justify paying about $75,000 per room for the extra space such a shift would give me, plus moving expenses. And I really can't.
So even though I usually keep Good Friday as a day of quiet reflection, this year I spent the day emptying out all the kitchen cupboards and tossing everything so old as to be unusable (how did I miss those painkillers back in 2005 when they first expired?) or coming from a time when I did things differently than I do now.
And that is the big lesson: as times change, habits change. When I was writing all the time, I baked bread a lot and made elaborate suppers, because those activities make for good mulling of plot points and character motivation. Now I'm doing textiles - more hands on, less mulling required, way less time available. I need tea and quickbreads from the grocery store in the main cupboards, not yeast.
It took about four hours to get the cupboards empty and wiped clean - depressing when you consider exactly how small a space we're talking about here.
I made some sad discoveries, like this bag that could have had anything in it...
... and turned out to have the expensive chocolate-shop treats purchased last July and immediately misplaced.
Also: some happy ones.
I forgot I had collected these vintage Pyrex sweeties, even though I used to use them all the time for all kinds of different things.
When I was partway through I could see light:
And now I am in it.
Everything that used to sit on the counter is now up in a cupboard, and honestly? Walking through the kitchen and seeing that clear space and feeling the mental freedom it gives - that's worth all the effort and then some.
So even though I usually keep Good Friday as a day of quiet reflection, this year I spent the day emptying out all the kitchen cupboards and tossing everything so old as to be unusable (how did I miss those painkillers back in 2005 when they first expired?) or coming from a time when I did things differently than I do now.
And that is the big lesson: as times change, habits change. When I was writing all the time, I baked bread a lot and made elaborate suppers, because those activities make for good mulling of plot points and character motivation. Now I'm doing textiles - more hands on, less mulling required, way less time available. I need tea and quickbreads from the grocery store in the main cupboards, not yeast.
It took about four hours to get the cupboards empty and wiped clean - depressing when you consider exactly how small a space we're talking about here.
I made some sad discoveries, like this bag that could have had anything in it...
... and turned out to have the expensive chocolate-shop treats purchased last July and immediately misplaced.
Also: some happy ones.
I forgot I had collected these vintage Pyrex sweeties, even though I used to use them all the time for all kinds of different things.
When I was partway through I could see light:
And now I am in it.
Everything that used to sit on the counter is now up in a cupboard, and honestly? Walking through the kitchen and seeing that clear space and feeling the mental freedom it gives - that's worth all the effort and then some.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The trouble with sunny days
Sunny days are so beautiful you just want to be out in them. So it's very very important to rush blindly through the door because sunny days are the best at showing you just how dirty the house is.
And what's worse, all that happy energy you got from looking out the window at the sunshine? Totally transferable to scrubbing the doors of the kitchen cabinets and chasing dust bunnies with the vacuum.
Usually I get along just fine ignoring the house in favour of, say, watching old movies and knitting, or just staring at the computer screen or maybe answering the phone - man, you'd be amazed how many telemarketers have my number - but today, no. I had to clean.
I cleaned for almost a whole hour! before heading out for groceries. And when I came back I could see that the house is still dirty.
But on the bright side, I no longer care. And after I've had a little nap to recover from my efforts, I probably still won't. That's the other trouble with sunny days... it only takes a few hours to get used to them, and then you end up in front of the TV or computer or phone again.
And what's worse, all that happy energy you got from looking out the window at the sunshine? Totally transferable to scrubbing the doors of the kitchen cabinets and chasing dust bunnies with the vacuum.
Usually I get along just fine ignoring the house in favour of, say, watching old movies and knitting, or just staring at the computer screen or maybe answering the phone - man, you'd be amazed how many telemarketers have my number - but today, no. I had to clean.
I cleaned for almost a whole hour! before heading out for groceries. And when I came back I could see that the house is still dirty.
But on the bright side, I no longer care. And after I've had a little nap to recover from my efforts, I probably still won't. That's the other trouble with sunny days... it only takes a few hours to get used to them, and then you end up in front of the TV or computer or phone again.
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