(I'm pretty sure this is only exciting for myself, I warn you.)
My birthday/Christmas present from my in-laws arrived this week: a food processor, to replace the broken-down third-hand Cuisinart that's older than I am. (I now have an at-least-thirty-years-newer version of the processor that I already had, which is nice because the old blades and base fit the new stuff, and so if anything breaks after the warranty's up, I can just mix and match.)
So, we decided to give this new food processor a try on Monday night, to see how it works compared to our old one. (My hope: "Hooray! It works the same, except that we don't need to use popsicle sticks to hold the work bowl together.") We made my borscht, because I always use the food processor to chop up all the beets, carrots and onions before I start cooking them. I let the thing run until it was all chopped evenly, expecting that it would do the same as the old one, and give me a whole bunch of small pieces of vegetables.
The thing pureed it all. It pureed raw beets and carrots. Without any liquid added. Turned it all into a thick purple paste. What the what?! How is that even possible?
I feel mad with power now. I have the ability to puree raw carrots: the world had better watch out.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Peaceful
This hasn't been the most peaceful week. Some of it is my own fault: on Sunday afternoon I had way too much caffeine (made a "chai nog" latte that involved both a double-shot of espresso and some very strong chai) and was zooming around for the next twenty-four hours. At my friend Andrea's Hanukkah party I was talking at triple speed the whole time, and then I only managed a few hours of sleep that night. I was even feeling buzzy for part of Monday. I'm apparently a bit of a lightweight when it comes to caffeine.
(On the positive side, after Chris fell asleep on Sunday night, I got a crazy amount of dissertation work done. Like, I reorganized my chapters and then wrote a few pages of introduction.)
Some of this less-than-peaceful week is outside of my control. There are some big issues that we're trying to figure out, and even at the best of times it's easy for my anxiety to take over.
But tonight I choose to be peaceful. I've deliberately taken a little more time doing everything. We had a couple of good friends over and I made a good and filling meal. Supper was a little late because I took a walk to my cheese shop. While we were waiting for the meat to be done cooking, we all drank big mugs of gen mai cha tea. Now that they're gone, I'm listening to Glen Hansard and sitting by the Christmas tree. (Not that Glen Hansard is particularly Christmassy.)
Sometimes it takes some work to slow down. But I'm glad that I did.
(On the positive side, after Chris fell asleep on Sunday night, I got a crazy amount of dissertation work done. Like, I reorganized my chapters and then wrote a few pages of introduction.)
Some of this less-than-peaceful week is outside of my control. There are some big issues that we're trying to figure out, and even at the best of times it's easy for my anxiety to take over.
But tonight I choose to be peaceful. I've deliberately taken a little more time doing everything. We had a couple of good friends over and I made a good and filling meal. Supper was a little late because I took a walk to my cheese shop. While we were waiting for the meat to be done cooking, we all drank big mugs of gen mai cha tea. Now that they're gone, I'm listening to Glen Hansard and sitting by the Christmas tree. (Not that Glen Hansard is particularly Christmassy.)
Sometimes it takes some work to slow down. But I'm glad that I did.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Confession
I... I may have gone overboard with the Christmas crafts and decorating, folks. It started so innocently, with the tree and the wreath. And then with the windstorm last weekend that gave me so much extra greenery. But then I got too many ornaments for the tree, and I decided to do whatever I wanted on my birthday, and I was so excited about my pretty Christmas tree...
I spent part of my birthday making a Christmas centrepiece for my dining room table.
And I covered my dining room window with greenery. Well, you should see for yourself what my dining room looks like now:
You should click to make this one bigger, to get the full effect of my Crazy.
And yes, I know that we need to get the electronic cables under control again.
I know that a big part of this decorating mania is an attempt to ward off any potential holiday-related homesickness. I guess it's also because I'm tired of doing things on a small scale just because we have a small apartment: the giant tree and the nice decorations feel like the sorts of things I would do in a "grown-up" home, rather than a temporary-ish residence. It's an attempt at laying down some roots where I am.
This decorating binge is also the result of my excitement that the infamous LynnieC is flying in to Victoria on Saturday and staying at Ky's for Christmas. Lyn loves Christmas more than anyone else I know, in spite (or, dare I ask, because?) of several years working in retail. I've spent many Christmases with her and her family, and the idea of spending this one with her and Ky makes me feel a little bit like I'm home.
Okay, fine. I'm also procrastinating. You know how much I love using domesticity for procrastinatory purposes.
I spent part of my birthday making a Christmas centrepiece for my dining room table.
And I covered my dining room window with greenery. Well, you should see for yourself what my dining room looks like now:
You should click to make this one bigger, to get the full effect of my Crazy.And yes, I know that we need to get the electronic cables under control again.
I know that a big part of this decorating mania is an attempt to ward off any potential holiday-related homesickness. I guess it's also because I'm tired of doing things on a small scale just because we have a small apartment: the giant tree and the nice decorations feel like the sorts of things I would do in a "grown-up" home, rather than a temporary-ish residence. It's an attempt at laying down some roots where I am.
This decorating binge is also the result of my excitement that the infamous LynnieC is flying in to Victoria on Saturday and staying at Ky's for Christmas. Lyn loves Christmas more than anyone else I know, in spite (or, dare I ask, because?) of several years working in retail. I've spent many Christmases with her and her family, and the idea of spending this one with her and Ky makes me feel a little bit like I'm home.
Okay, fine. I'm also procrastinating. You know how much I love using domesticity for procrastinatory purposes.
Monday, December 07, 2009
Couldn't wait any longer
We were going to wait to decorate the GINORMOUS TREE until tomorrow, but after Chris finished trimming bottom off the tree this afternoon, it was pretty clear that the branches were done settling and it wouldn't make any difference if we just went ahead and decorated tonight. I can't believe how nice it is to have my living room filled with Christmas tree. All those glowing lights make me so happy.
After the decorating was done, I played around with the camera, trying to get some good shots of the tree in spite of the low light in here, and ended up taking this one, in the (poorly-done imitation of the) style of my birthday buddy Marc Vandersluys (happy birthday in forty-five minutes, Marc!):
(Wow. My hand kind of looks like a scary claw in that one.)
You know, I like myself in that picture. (And I usually don't like pictures of myself.) That was a nice way to spend my last evening as a 28 year old.
After the decorating was done, I played around with the camera, trying to get some good shots of the tree in spite of the low light in here, and ended up taking this one, in the (poorly-done imitation of the) style of my birthday buddy Marc Vandersluys (happy birthday in forty-five minutes, Marc!):
(Wow. My hand kind of looks like a scary claw in that one.)You know, I like myself in that picture. (And I usually don't like pictures of myself.) That was a nice way to spend my last evening as a 28 year old.
Sunday, December 06, 2009
GiST: Starting to look Christmassy around here edition
1. Homemade Chai Nog lattes, made using my own cappuccino maker. (Why has it been sitting in a cupboard for so long?)
2.
3. Why yes, we did decide to put a 6-foot-tall Douglas Fir into the World's Smallest Living Room. I'm way too amused by how much of the living room is taken up by Giant Christmas Tree. Seriously:
We're going to have to move the dining room table around so that we can still get around the house freely. And it's glorious.
4. Spending an evening putting strings on Christmas tree ornaments while listening to Handel's Messiah.
5. Such a lovely weekend.
2.
3. Why yes, we did decide to put a 6-foot-tall Douglas Fir into the World's Smallest Living Room. I'm way too amused by how much of the living room is taken up by Giant Christmas Tree. Seriously:
We're going to have to move the dining room table around so that we can still get around the house freely. And it's glorious. 4. Spending an evening putting strings on Christmas tree ornaments while listening to Handel's Messiah.
5. Such a lovely weekend.
In which I am really eight years old
I'd decided to celebrate my birthday a little early this year, and planned it for last night. It was already fairly little-kiddish (as my birthdays usually are), in that I invited people to come to my house and play board games as we consumed cupcakes.
And then, part way through last week, I found out that the Lighted Truck Parade was again happening on the same night as my birthday party.
And so I shifted around all my plans so that I could have a late supper at Denny's (which I knew was along the parade route), watching the parade out the window and pretending it was for my birthday. I told everyone that they could just meet at our house an hour later than originally planned (although two of my friends came along with us, which was pleasant).
Birthday Parade huzzah! I think next year I'm going to study that parade route in advance, and then find a restaurant that can take reservations, and reserve a table beside a window. Meaning that my entire birthday party plan will be to watch the parade.
(But I'm not as much an eight-year-old as Christopher is. I asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday, and the only answer he will give is "Build robots." He knows he's getting Lego Mindstorm for birthday/Christmas, and that he has to wait until his birthday to open the box, and so he doesn't care about what else happens after that. Other people can come here and eat cake or whatever; he's building robots.)
And then, part way through last week, I found out that the Lighted Truck Parade was again happening on the same night as my birthday party.
And so I shifted around all my plans so that I could have a late supper at Denny's (which I knew was along the parade route), watching the parade out the window and pretending it was for my birthday. I told everyone that they could just meet at our house an hour later than originally planned (although two of my friends came along with us, which was pleasant).
Birthday Parade huzzah! I think next year I'm going to study that parade route in advance, and then find a restaurant that can take reservations, and reserve a table beside a window. Meaning that my entire birthday party plan will be to watch the parade.
(But I'm not as much an eight-year-old as Christopher is. I asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday, and the only answer he will give is "Build robots." He knows he's getting Lego Mindstorm for birthday/Christmas, and that he has to wait until his birthday to open the box, and so he doesn't care about what else happens after that. Other people can come here and eat cake or whatever; he's building robots.)
Friday, December 04, 2009
Transitions
I have this delusion that I'm the sort of person who adapts well to new situations. I don't know where I got this idea. I ended up discussing this yesterday first with my counselor and then with my group that I call "Yoga for Depressed People," because somehow the theme of everything today was "Transitions and How Maryanne Struggles With Them." Okay, my yoga instructor missed that last six words when she announced the theme for the day.
On the small scale, I've struggled with the transition from working at the university on microfilm to working at home on my computer. I thought it would be an easy transition, because it's a return to my old routine. However, I guess it doesn't work like that when I've adjusted to another routine for so long. It's not an automatic thing where I fall back into the old patterns. I need to figure out what works and treat it like I'm setting up a new routine entirely, using the methods that worked well last time, instead of expecting that this is going to be an automatic thing.
On the larger scale, I feel like I'm entering into an entire phase of transition in my life. On Tuesday I turn 29, that year of transition between my twenties and my thirties. It's really hitting me how much I have to embrace the approach of my 30s, rather than stare in the mirror and wonder who that unfamiliar person is. (In my head, I'm 23. It's still confusing to me to find clothes that fit and look right on me, because I used to be able to grab them off the rack without trying them on.)
At the same time, as I get deeper into my dissertation, I start to face the fact that I'm working my way toward being finished being a student, after twelve years of university. Regardless of how long it takes for me to finish, this dissertation is the last thing before I graduate and have to enter Grown Up Life, where I earn money, (hopefully) don't live in a basement suite, and don't sleep in all the time. The further I get through this dissertation, the closer I get to the next part, where we move away from here and start a family.
And this is the funny thing: I look forward to my 30s. I look forward to being finished, and not paying tuition, and moving closer to home, and everything else that Being Finally Finished and Growing Up entails. But change always scares me a little, as does the realisation that I'm entering into a phase where I'm preparing for all that change. In yoga yesterday, we worked on paying attention to that space between breaths, on the transition from one physical position to the other, working on doing those things well and mindfully. And that's what I need to do with my life: instead of dragging my feet about the next phase, I need to stop and appreciate where I am now, and prepare myself for what comes next.
On the small scale, I've struggled with the transition from working at the university on microfilm to working at home on my computer. I thought it would be an easy transition, because it's a return to my old routine. However, I guess it doesn't work like that when I've adjusted to another routine for so long. It's not an automatic thing where I fall back into the old patterns. I need to figure out what works and treat it like I'm setting up a new routine entirely, using the methods that worked well last time, instead of expecting that this is going to be an automatic thing.
On the larger scale, I feel like I'm entering into an entire phase of transition in my life. On Tuesday I turn 29, that year of transition between my twenties and my thirties. It's really hitting me how much I have to embrace the approach of my 30s, rather than stare in the mirror and wonder who that unfamiliar person is. (In my head, I'm 23. It's still confusing to me to find clothes that fit and look right on me, because I used to be able to grab them off the rack without trying them on.)
At the same time, as I get deeper into my dissertation, I start to face the fact that I'm working my way toward being finished being a student, after twelve years of university. Regardless of how long it takes for me to finish, this dissertation is the last thing before I graduate and have to enter Grown Up Life, where I earn money, (hopefully) don't live in a basement suite, and don't sleep in all the time. The further I get through this dissertation, the closer I get to the next part, where we move away from here and start a family.
And this is the funny thing: I look forward to my 30s. I look forward to being finished, and not paying tuition, and moving closer to home, and everything else that Being Finally Finished and Growing Up entails. But change always scares me a little, as does the realisation that I'm entering into a phase where I'm preparing for all that change. In yoga yesterday, we worked on paying attention to that space between breaths, on the transition from one physical position to the other, working on doing those things well and mindfully. And that's what I need to do with my life: instead of dragging my feet about the next phase, I need to stop and appreciate where I am now, and prepare myself for what comes next.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
There was no joy in Mudville
Bronwyn wrote about this better than I can, but tonight Saskatchewan Roughrider fans have broken hearts. You know, while I only spoke positively about today's Grey Cup championship, I wasn't quite sure. I guess it's because we've only won the Grey Cup three times in ninety-seven years. I was hopeful but felt cautious.
And then it suddenly looked like we had it. My team was amazing today. Everyone seemed to have it together, and we were dominating over the seemingly-unbeatable team. By the fourth quarter, I turned to my friends and said with amazement, "I think we might win the Grey Cup!?" A few minutes later I started thinking gloatingly about how CBC Sports would have to eat their words about their prediction that the Alouettes would beat us by 16 points.
And then we lost in the last second, in the most heatbreaking way imaginable. An extra man on the field allowed them to re-kick a missed field goal. It took me half an hour before I could really fathom that we'd lost by that single point. It was harder because we'd briefly thought we had won. We sat in silence for what seemed to be an eternity.
When did I become someone who cares this much about any sport? This is a relatively new thing, the result of marriage to a man who loves his hometown team deeply, whose mother speaks about individual players as if she knew them. It's also the result of being a Saskatchewanian on the West Coast: the familiar and home-like are so important to me out here. The Riders are so deeply intertwined with our prairie identity, with our identification of ourselves as the perpetually hopeful underdogs, the Charlie Browns of Canada.
And somehow I've become a person who feels weepy about how sad the head coach is. Who thinks words like "I would like to hug those football players." Who feels strongly that the team should keep quiet about whose fault that loss was. (Sometimes the "more than a game" attitude is a bad thing in my province.)
I'll be picking up a dejected Christopher from the airport tomorrow morning. I've baked cookies (which I will take along), and will keep the Rider flag on our car.
Edited to Add: So, it turns out that Ky (who always gets my references) has never heard of/doesn't remember "Casey at the Bat," even though she has apparently seen the same Disney sports specials that I did as a kid. And so here's a link to the YouTube video.
And then it suddenly looked like we had it. My team was amazing today. Everyone seemed to have it together, and we were dominating over the seemingly-unbeatable team. By the fourth quarter, I turned to my friends and said with amazement, "I think we might win the Grey Cup!?" A few minutes later I started thinking gloatingly about how CBC Sports would have to eat their words about their prediction that the Alouettes would beat us by 16 points.
And then we lost in the last second, in the most heatbreaking way imaginable. An extra man on the field allowed them to re-kick a missed field goal. It took me half an hour before I could really fathom that we'd lost by that single point. It was harder because we'd briefly thought we had won. We sat in silence for what seemed to be an eternity.
When did I become someone who cares this much about any sport? This is a relatively new thing, the result of marriage to a man who loves his hometown team deeply, whose mother speaks about individual players as if she knew them. It's also the result of being a Saskatchewanian on the West Coast: the familiar and home-like are so important to me out here. The Riders are so deeply intertwined with our prairie identity, with our identification of ourselves as the perpetually hopeful underdogs, the Charlie Browns of Canada.
And somehow I've become a person who feels weepy about how sad the head coach is. Who thinks words like "I would like to hug those football players." Who feels strongly that the team should keep quiet about whose fault that loss was. (Sometimes the "more than a game" attitude is a bad thing in my province.)
I'll be picking up a dejected Christopher from the airport tomorrow morning. I've baked cookies (which I will take along), and will keep the Rider flag on our car.
Edited to Add: So, it turns out that Ky (who always gets my references) has never heard of/doesn't remember "Casey at the Bat," even though she has apparently seen the same Disney sports specials that I did as a kid. And so here's a link to the YouTube video.
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