Migration

This blog is mostly from the time before, and the time before that. The new and now is over at www.thelouredux.com

Would you look at that...

We're in St. Louis again. Or kind of. We are actually planted in the West County suburbs for the time being, which is the locale of my pubescence so it makes me tense and angsty in a different way than I am angsty normally. So much of loving St. Louis came from moving away from the burbs and getting to the meat of the city in its central corridor. Not that I can't get there, it's just that it's a hike and I've become used to five minute drives vs. 20 minute or more drives. No one in LA will pity me, I don't even pity myself, it is just taking some brain adjusting.
Otherwise... We're back! Which is cool as heck. Heck is very cool. Hell not so much. I don't know what I am talking about. I feel obliged to blog because it has been a big deal, but really I'd rather just shove some provel in my face, drown it with a Vess, and finish up with some Ted Drewes. Yes the move back has thus far been mostly about eating my way through the city's treasured food staples. All of which are culinary/nutritional nightmares==but taste oh so good to the native tongue.
The end.

Oh blog, it's not you.

I am just profoundly boring.


So let's recap the year a bit shall we?

We're still in Columbus, despite a spring push on my part to get back to the Gateway. At this point, it seems we will be here eternally. Which wouldn't be terrible--Columbus has some true awesomeness. It is hard to start to let the ol' roots grow when it feels like removal is still eminent.

Played a lot of derby. This is the first time in my life that I feel I can walk away from it. I don't know what has changed exactly, but I think it might actually lead to a healthier relationship with the pastime should I opt to continue. And I probably will.
Oh and hopefully in 2010 there will be a derby comic anthology with a lil story by yours truly. Keep your eyes peeled. I have seen the final result and it is fairly terrific. The artist who drew it has a uniquely classic style that makes my featherweight tale something a little pithier. I have small faith in the comic book industry's ability to put anything out in a timely fashion, so it may be 2011. Or never. But let's be optimistic, it is Christmas after all.

I started baking. For money, instead of a bigger butt. It is by far the hardest job I have ever had. Of course, in some ways that makes it the easiest because I am not bored out of my ever loving mind. It has, as mentioned, ripped my skin to shreds. (For instance recently one of the oven racks got stuck midbake and I reached deep into the bowels to retrieve my pans. I have three horizontal lines from the rack above it. I am a fool in a very small space with a very hot thing.) I come home and usually pass out or should pass out, made a zombie by the nonstop action of a long shift I go through a range of emotions throughout the day: it is very satisfying to bake a near perfect batch of bread, and crushing when a missed timer means a batch of cookies gets extra crispy, It's an odd sort of perfectionism, and my days are a balance of trying to make things tasty and beautiful but also do so at a pace that doesn't lead to a 12 hour day. I get to experience triumph and failure over a little (okay scads of) butter and flour. All inall I like it, even though I am still only mediocre at it. It is not a career for life--my body is already telling me it is too old to keep it up--but I am glad I have taken the opportunity to do it.

I had half of my wisdom teeth out in September. And ow. And the crazy. I ended up with a sweet case of dry socket, probably owed to some deliciously violent vomiting from the anesthesia and the painkillers. Also being, as I was told, too old for the procedure (I should be in the grave by 29 maybe,or at least put in a home) I tried to drop the vicodin early in the process because it made me seriously stupid and crazy and ill. However, owwwwww.

Those are the highlights--I am sure there was more. Mostly I ate a lot of food. Watched much television. Read less books than I should have. Wrote even fewer sentences. Doodled a bit. And, sure, angsted more than someone in their late 20s has a right to.


Perhaps I will be less boring in 2010. But, Blog, don't go holding your breath.

Try a little... bargain meat

Dear Kroger,

Thank you so much. I was recently in one of your stores (the vast one, next to the city). I was there to pick up a few sundry items on my day off. We ran out of soda--and you know how I have been a fiend for carbonation lately. I was leaning over some confusing Manager Special beef platter when ne of your stock boys said hi to me; I wasn't sure if it was a customer service, "Hi" or a let's chat about your Return of the Jedi purse. "Hey there," so I decided against the tray in order to ensure a return to invisibility. Having worked in customer service, I know it is encouraged that clerks and stockers and the like to check in on customers. Make patter. While I am talented as the customer service asker, I truly dislike being the askee. That's really neither here nor there, as it's not as though this fellow chased me down for a dissertation on Hoth system. In fact I easily returned to my invisiblity, trading meat browsing for yogurt browsing. I heaved a jug of orange juice into the cart, because I should never shop thristy because I proceed to crave every juice imaginable.
This is when you made your first move, K. Over the tinny pa system came the first subtle, storytelling chords of Otis Redding's Try a Little Tenderness. As you know, this song makes me all sorts of sparkly inside. It is not, however, designed with invisibility in mind. As the song builds, the dancing--the frantic otherworldy twitching I call dancing--sneaks up through my lower intestine and into my nervous system. I am left helpless by the crescendo, a mess of limbs and hair dance/twitching with complete disregard for being out in public with folks who just want to buy Froot Loops. I ducked into the pasta aisle to avoid notice, just in case the light head bobbing I resolved to limit myself to got backed up and the surplus came out fingertips and feet as it almost certainly always does. However there was a another stock chap down this aisle--also eager and willing to assist me should I need it (good training, K) so I paused and quickly selected some mushroom ravioli. Which I am sure will be delicious, even if it was a hurried selection. The song was building to its crescendo and I could feel myself overfilling--despite my best efforts to nod, whistle, and lowly sing out the excess.
I scooted over to the health food section. No one is ever there after all. I thought I could huddle, shake out a few grooves, and resume my shopping with no notice. Otis kept building building building. He was really begging for it this morning. Little did he know he was also prompting some chick with Elaine dance moves and music induced mania to commit some atrocities by the Tofutti. I started to release, a little ankle shake, an imperceptible shoulder waggle, when two more stock guys turned the corner and started heading my way. I caught my breath, tightened my limbs, and attempted to look super interested in some spelt. The stock boys, why the hell is everyone so g-d friendly?, smiled at me. Otis was about to take it home, break it down, take it to the top, over the edge, etc etc. The vibrations in my bones let me know there was no way I could be still. I resolved to go wherever my body took me in the moment--men in matching polos be damned. I let the song fill my ears...
Try
try
try
a
little

But Otis didn't continue, instead the dulcet tones of your PA system informed me that there was a sale on somesuch and that of course I could be saving lots of cash with your customer savings program. Normally I would smack someone on the mouth for turning off Otis at his peak, especially to replace soul with customer loytaly messaging. But today, K, you knew it was just what I needed. I straightened. Felt a bead of sweat drip down my back and headed for the soda aisle. You even politely played Billy Joel, some good comedown kind of tune, and then continued with some eighties rot I didn't even know the words to.
So, while I must question your taste in music K, knowing how to relieve a gal of the threat of publicspasms is indeed something to be celebrated. Thanks so much.

The facts were these

Based on a rigorous schedule of (grocery-store purchased) hair dyeing, my hair is becoming fairly unnaturally red. Not Joanie red, but red nonetheless.

My forearms and hands have become horribly mutilated by the oven at work. The oven at work, combined with my propensity for accidents. I have been accused of cutting, working with cats, or just bruising incomprehensible amounts from derby. None of the burns are painful or oozing at the moment;I consider this progress.

My car also smells yeasty.

I get a break from the derbs for over a month starting. right. now. I am hoping to use this time to recapture old hobbies, habits, and hopes. Since this year has been on giant, disappointing plateau for me as an "athlete," there is always the possibility an old love could usurp this one. I doubt it, but never say never. (I am hoping for writing. But killing four years of writer's block is a hefty thing to ask for). I would also like to volunteer for an organization, but I haven't pinpointed one yet. I always have planned to do more of this, but nothing short of selfishness for time has kept me from it.

Oh, and perhaps I will blog more. But only so long as I can keep it away from being self-pitying and musing. Less angst, more action is the theme I am adopting from this point forward. It's a fine lesson to learn at age 28.

Second Cake

super sweet birthday cake
Originally uploaded by dedi

Not so elegant. made for my friend Dedi's surprise b-day. Chocolate chip icing with ganache accoutrement to make it not look like a mush of frosting and chips. It was a fine cake, just really sweet for my taste, and I kind of hurried through some steps for no good reason. So the filling got gobbled by the cake, the layers were a lil uneven. Chocolate chips in icing=good, however spreading generic sugary icing with chips=nightmare--especially if the cake is deliciously delicate. Buttercream or cream cheese in the future for sure


UPDATE: Brought a piece home and the next day I could not stop eating it. Yum!

Rosemary & Chocolate Cake with Rosemary Buttercream

Rosemary & Chocolate Cake with Rosemary Buttercream
Originally uploaded by BozAphra

I knew you were comin' so I baked a cake.