Severe allergic reactions. Today I told Noah what to do if my throat is really closing (take me to an ER for some epinephrine) even if he has to trick me: "Let's go to a movie!" At least I wouldn't drive myself this time.
I'm trying out this set of actions: nasal wash; Flonase; Claritin 40 mg (like they take in Europe, unlike our 10 mg dose). I'm also going to try eating foods that cut inflammation down ... nuts, fish, red grapes, apples, oranges ... we'll see.
So far, my throat is still itching and feels swollen, my ears still feel weird, my skin is a little itchy but no hives, I have my sinuses calmed down ...
Pretty brain dead with it all. I will tell you I'm thinking about the GRE, about running a business, about making things full/part time ...
Life is quite different, and it is only beginning to sink in.
08 September 2009
27 August 2009
Cursed by The Wheel of Time and ...
Here I am in the city of my childhood, living this beautiful little time wherein I can sleep and eat and play with nieces and go to Friar Tuck down the road, and read, and rediscover my humanity and my writing life and my art making and blah blah blah, and what do I end up reading?
Effing The Wheel of Time, for a third time, and Twilight.
Now, to argue for whatever remaining brainpower and coolness I might have in your mind, I am rereading The Wheel of Time again in preparation of THE LAST BOOK coming out on October 27, while I will be en route with Noah to Seattle. There is an entirely likely possibility that I will read it to him in the car while hopped up on anti-nausea meds. And sadly it is not even the last book--it is part one of three parts which together make up the last book, which is cheating, because the now-dead original author wanted the last book to be one book, even if it was 2000 pages long, which it would be, because the man has introduced at least 200 characters worth following by book 7 of 11 so far. As a former worker in the publishing industry (former, yall!), I can admire the brilliance of publishing three things for a loyal reader to buy instead of one. And I will buy them all and love it.
Twilight ... do I have an excuse? Not really. My brother's wife owns all three, and I saw them on their shelves, and I wanted to read something while he was bleeding my rear brakes in his little alleyway parking space. And then I read 57 pages without stopping. This is why I don't pick up bad novels--I will read them all the way through, I will read every word, and I will do it in like five hours. I read wickedly fast, which is why I love reading The Wheel of Time, because I can read it over a few weeks since each book is 800 pages long. (I know, I know, I'll read Infinite Jest some day.) So now I am reading Twilight, and it is terrible, and I know exactly what will happen, and I don't like any of the characters, and they talk crap about the Pacific Northwest and rain and that hurts my feelings. But I am reading it anyway.
I would ask for reading suggestions, but to be honest, I won't take them. I have two series of novels to work on between apartment hunting and car repair and reading books to my nieces.
Effing The Wheel of Time, for a third time, and Twilight.
Now, to argue for whatever remaining brainpower and coolness I might have in your mind, I am rereading The Wheel of Time again in preparation of THE LAST BOOK coming out on October 27, while I will be en route with Noah to Seattle. There is an entirely likely possibility that I will read it to him in the car while hopped up on anti-nausea meds. And sadly it is not even the last book--it is part one of three parts which together make up the last book, which is cheating, because the now-dead original author wanted the last book to be one book, even if it was 2000 pages long, which it would be, because the man has introduced at least 200 characters worth following by book 7 of 11 so far. As a former worker in the publishing industry (former, yall!), I can admire the brilliance of publishing three things for a loyal reader to buy instead of one. And I will buy them all and love it.
Twilight ... do I have an excuse? Not really. My brother's wife owns all three, and I saw them on their shelves, and I wanted to read something while he was bleeding my rear brakes in his little alleyway parking space. And then I read 57 pages without stopping. This is why I don't pick up bad novels--I will read them all the way through, I will read every word, and I will do it in like five hours. I read wickedly fast, which is why I love reading The Wheel of Time, because I can read it over a few weeks since each book is 800 pages long. (I know, I know, I'll read Infinite Jest some day.) So now I am reading Twilight, and it is terrible, and I know exactly what will happen, and I don't like any of the characters, and they talk crap about the Pacific Northwest and rain and that hurts my feelings. But I am reading it anyway.
I would ask for reading suggestions, but to be honest, I won't take them. I have two series of novels to work on between apartment hunting and car repair and reading books to my nieces.
25 July 2009
Moving
Well, well.
We're leaving Urbana in two and a half weeks, moving to Saint Louis for two months, and then moving to Seattle in mid-October. I'm done working my job in a week and a half! Wahoo!
We're using ReloCube to store our stuff and move it to Seattle for us ... should be interesting. Lots of breakables to pack ...
and since we'll be only taking the Civic to Saint Louis and Seattle, and the two cats are moving with us, we will have really limited amounts of stuff with us for a while. Makes me think, why do I have the rest of my stuff? So the getting rid of things ensues.
I am actually excited about it, just also low-key.
We're leaving Urbana in two and a half weeks, moving to Saint Louis for two months, and then moving to Seattle in mid-October. I'm done working my job in a week and a half! Wahoo!
We're using ReloCube to store our stuff and move it to Seattle for us ... should be interesting. Lots of breakables to pack ...
and since we'll be only taking the Civic to Saint Louis and Seattle, and the two cats are moving with us, we will have really limited amounts of stuff with us for a while. Makes me think, why do I have the rest of my stuff? So the getting rid of things ensues.
I am actually excited about it, just also low-key.
28 June 2009
Thinking in Colors
Maybe this is what I'm here to do: think in colors, textures, fibers, spaces, and sometimes lines and paragraphs. That's where I feel peaceful these days, in colors. It's hard to explain, but it's like the weight of color theory, art history, and tunnel vision on one presentation of color all happening in my mind.
Blue like cobalt glass, like cobalt oxide, like my 75 ceramic tiles, like cyanotype, like blueprints, like a weaving made with blue cotton thread.
I'm not a weaver, but I'm thinking in weavings, too, and I could learn to weave. Noah's mom had a beautiful loom that was offered to me after she died, but with no skills and no place for it, we couldn't take it. I think it's okay. Sad in that way of things passing but okay in the way of art equipment being in use by someone somewhere.
We're starting to look for apartments in Seattle, and we're trying to find one with room for me to do some serious dyeing. I need big flat spaces, a sink, and a stove, so it shouldn't be too hard. It feels incredibly self-validating to say, I need studio space, and then to look for it.
Green like summer sunlight through the maple leaves, like the spring on its way to its deepest point, like new growth on a philodendron, like my batik piece, like lots of yellow dye with a tiny bit of blue.
I'm using my pastels now to try to get these colors down. They all have descriptions written next to them. Oh, typical, can't have images without words, can we?
I keep thinking, I have an unlimited color palette in yarn dyeing. Oh my god. That is unheard of. I was a ceramicist first, happily stuck with the colors of things that would form a glaze on clay. I loved my ash glazes--gray. My iron-rich clay from Missouri--red, then purple in the kiln. I was never a painter, never a photographer; in surface design, I was most excited by cyanotype and its one color, blue. Maybe I'll end up moving towards natural dyes because of this, just in an effort to limit the palette.
When I decided to try painting pictures at home, I bought black paint and nothing else.
But I have these memories of colors, of skies, of times of day, of plant textures, and I think, I would wear those as socks or a scarf. I would wrap the night sky full of fireflies around me; I would put summer green leaves on my feet. There is a joy in this functionality, this object-making, and in my part of that process, producing color.
I miss knitting so much, more than I can explain, more than I miss almost anything else connected to my arm injury. But this is a good way to stay close.
And who knows, maybe I'll end up weaving yarn. Sometimes I imagine giant weavings full of dropped stitches hanging from the ceiling against the wall ... in a medium brown, mud brown, burlap brown. It's been a long time since I took the things from my mind and made them happen; maybe it is time.
Blue like cobalt glass, like cobalt oxide, like my 75 ceramic tiles, like cyanotype, like blueprints, like a weaving made with blue cotton thread.
I'm not a weaver, but I'm thinking in weavings, too, and I could learn to weave. Noah's mom had a beautiful loom that was offered to me after she died, but with no skills and no place for it, we couldn't take it. I think it's okay. Sad in that way of things passing but okay in the way of art equipment being in use by someone somewhere.
We're starting to look for apartments in Seattle, and we're trying to find one with room for me to do some serious dyeing. I need big flat spaces, a sink, and a stove, so it shouldn't be too hard. It feels incredibly self-validating to say, I need studio space, and then to look for it.
Green like summer sunlight through the maple leaves, like the spring on its way to its deepest point, like new growth on a philodendron, like my batik piece, like lots of yellow dye with a tiny bit of blue.
I'm using my pastels now to try to get these colors down. They all have descriptions written next to them. Oh, typical, can't have images without words, can we?
I keep thinking, I have an unlimited color palette in yarn dyeing. Oh my god. That is unheard of. I was a ceramicist first, happily stuck with the colors of things that would form a glaze on clay. I loved my ash glazes--gray. My iron-rich clay from Missouri--red, then purple in the kiln. I was never a painter, never a photographer; in surface design, I was most excited by cyanotype and its one color, blue. Maybe I'll end up moving towards natural dyes because of this, just in an effort to limit the palette.
When I decided to try painting pictures at home, I bought black paint and nothing else.
But I have these memories of colors, of skies, of times of day, of plant textures, and I think, I would wear those as socks or a scarf. I would wrap the night sky full of fireflies around me; I would put summer green leaves on my feet. There is a joy in this functionality, this object-making, and in my part of that process, producing color.
I miss knitting so much, more than I can explain, more than I miss almost anything else connected to my arm injury. But this is a good way to stay close.
And who knows, maybe I'll end up weaving yarn. Sometimes I imagine giant weavings full of dropped stitches hanging from the ceiling against the wall ... in a medium brown, mud brown, burlap brown. It's been a long time since I took the things from my mind and made them happen; maybe it is time.
08 June 2009
I Haven't Died
Believe me.
My younger cat Eto got sick yesterday after drinking the water-vodka-essential grapefruit oil infusion I made to freshen up my house (DIY reed diffuser, yall), as he knocked it over and drank it and then threw up and squeaked a lot. Terrible and funny. It felt like coaching a kid sneaking booze ...
My brother may be getting a new job, a dream job, doing vintage restoration on cars from the teens to the 80s. Pretty sweet, but we are both not getting our hopes up.
I feel kind of bland, can you tell? Kind of white rice these days. Kind of.
Tell me all how you are.
My younger cat Eto got sick yesterday after drinking the water-vodka-essential grapefruit oil infusion I made to freshen up my house (DIY reed diffuser, yall), as he knocked it over and drank it and then threw up and squeaked a lot. Terrible and funny. It felt like coaching a kid sneaking booze ...
My brother may be getting a new job, a dream job, doing vintage restoration on cars from the teens to the 80s. Pretty sweet, but we are both not getting our hopes up.
I feel kind of bland, can you tell? Kind of white rice these days. Kind of.
Tell me all how you are.
20 May 2009
Kale Pesto
It was a hit, on its own and with 8 oz. linguine. (Doesn't that sound fancy? Would your mind change if I told you the linguine might be four years old and might have moved between two apartments?)
Kale Pesto
1 bunch kale (99 cents at the grocery store; buy some already)
2-3 cloves garlic, minced (maybe unnecessarily minced)
Zest of half a lemon
Small handful almonds
Small handful walnuts
Salt
Tons of olive oil
Boil 2-3 quarts water; add trimmed kale. (The easiest way to trim kale is hold it by its leaf end and pull down away from the stem, against the vein grain.) Boil maybe three minutes, stirring a little. Drain quickly. Do not overcook!
Add with other ingredients to food processor. Puree as much as possible. Maybe pour olive oil in through the chute while it's running; maybe not. I can't tell if that actually helps.
And eat it ... yum. It ends up tasting like some vaguely parsley-spinach pesto, kind of. The lemon is great.
Kale Pesto
1 bunch kale (99 cents at the grocery store; buy some already)
2-3 cloves garlic, minced (maybe unnecessarily minced)
Zest of half a lemon
Small handful almonds
Small handful walnuts
Salt
Tons of olive oil
Boil 2-3 quarts water; add trimmed kale. (The easiest way to trim kale is hold it by its leaf end and pull down away from the stem, against the vein grain.) Boil maybe three minutes, stirring a little. Drain quickly. Do not overcook!
Add with other ingredients to food processor. Puree as much as possible. Maybe pour olive oil in through the chute while it's running; maybe not. I can't tell if that actually helps.
And eat it ... yum. It ends up tasting like some vaguely parsley-spinach pesto, kind of. The lemon is great.
18 May 2009
Showing Back Up
Sometimes we entertain and go to gatherings many times in a row, like this last weekend, and we end up bringing home leftovers or leaving leftovers, and suddenly, I don't cook for days. It is always odd, this huge energy of cooking and then the leavings after.
Regardless, I go to a grocery store midway through the mayhem and buy things like kale. Kale, kale, kale. I am in love. (I also lust after golden beets.) It's also full of iron, so maybe I'm anemic too. And today I thought to myself, hmm, kale pesto. That sounds crazy. That sounds like that terrible hummus you made when you were drunk several years ago that included canned peas. (It was awful. We'd been aiming for spinach. I don't recall exactly why we used peas, but I regretted it immediately. There is no redeeming canned peas.)
But then the people at the Times go and write about kale pesto ... and I'm entranced. I'll probably eat it tomorrow. Maybe without cheese. Not sure yet.
I dyed more yarn, and every time I do, I feel like I could do this for a living. With some surface design and writing thrown in. I need better tools and I'd like more room, but I am happy to have space to do it at all. I need to make a niddy noddy. I shall make one out of PVC pipe.
My arms are not better. This is still very sad.
The weather is turning, and that is not sad.
I'm trying to take full advantage of living so close to the library, what with my new library card and all. I want to read books about bookmaking. It makes me feel like a cannibal.
Noah has graduated, and, in a fitting end to his terrible semester, his group members have not turned in their final project correctly and he has to take care of it. No big deal, but a terrible last note.
We are finally both out of school. It is shocking. I'm sure we'll establish some kind of more-normal cohabitation, but so far it's a lot of looking at each other and watching TV online together. As it well should be.
Eat your kale, friends, and enjoy the height of spring. Make merry with me, ye who have been studying too hard. Come into the sun.
Regardless, I go to a grocery store midway through the mayhem and buy things like kale. Kale, kale, kale. I am in love. (I also lust after golden beets.) It's also full of iron, so maybe I'm anemic too. And today I thought to myself, hmm, kale pesto. That sounds crazy. That sounds like that terrible hummus you made when you were drunk several years ago that included canned peas. (It was awful. We'd been aiming for spinach. I don't recall exactly why we used peas, but I regretted it immediately. There is no redeeming canned peas.)
But then the people at the Times go and write about kale pesto ... and I'm entranced. I'll probably eat it tomorrow. Maybe without cheese. Not sure yet.
I dyed more yarn, and every time I do, I feel like I could do this for a living. With some surface design and writing thrown in. I need better tools and I'd like more room, but I am happy to have space to do it at all. I need to make a niddy noddy. I shall make one out of PVC pipe.
My arms are not better. This is still very sad.
The weather is turning, and that is not sad.
I'm trying to take full advantage of living so close to the library, what with my new library card and all. I want to read books about bookmaking. It makes me feel like a cannibal.
Noah has graduated, and, in a fitting end to his terrible semester, his group members have not turned in their final project correctly and he has to take care of it. No big deal, but a terrible last note.
We are finally both out of school. It is shocking. I'm sure we'll establish some kind of more-normal cohabitation, but so far it's a lot of looking at each other and watching TV online together. As it well should be.
Eat your kale, friends, and enjoy the height of spring. Make merry with me, ye who have been studying too hard. Come into the sun.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
