these days of leiderhosen

It's the birthday of Edward Abbey who said, ""There is science, logic, reason; there is thought verified by experience. And then there is California." I am not quite sure exactly what he might have meant, but I have to agree. A more comprehensive quote, I think: "You know you have achieved perfection in design, not when you have nothing more to add, but when you have nothing more to take away." Antoine de Saint-Exupery Sorry for the lack of posts this last little bit; I've been working a temp job for the Oakland Unified School District. Seems the Teachers' Union is on the verge of striking and OUSD needs to hire 2,000 substitute teachers. I've spent the last week interviewing people to replace the teachers temporarily and after months of having no one other than Steven and the cats to talk to, I've found it great fun. This week? More of the same: we've only hired 600 replacements. I'd love to see an American experiment: all the money...

I am lying in bed in my treehouse house, listening to the rain. Steven is off at the Zen Center and left me with a perfectly beautiful latte in a thermos cup so if I wanted to, I could go back to sleep and it would still be serviceably warm. Scattered over the bed are my most recent library books: Marjane Satrapi's latest cartoon novella, My Kind of Place (Susan Orlean, mentioned before),The Devil in White City, and a collection of Gay Talese's portraits. Oh, I am a lucky girl. Tomorrow we are having dinner guests (Diane and Jay) and I have yet to figure out exactly what we'll be having, other than homemade vanilla ice cream. I do know that I have yet to find four placemats or napkins that match. This worries me. Weekends also are a connumdrum. I never plan for them and feel very boring without anything to propose when one asks, "What shall we do?".

Yesterday I had a yoga class at our so I've enough ache today to make me feel like I actually did something productive. I even learned a new pose: twisted pidgeon. With any luck, I will get back to the studio tomorrow. Today I had a three and a half hour interview with a pack of semi-rabid but adorable recruiters, who seemed very willing to pimp me out. I was so exausted by the end of it I fell into bed and dreamed of the Virgin Mary who was grocery shopping and having trouble deciding which honey to buy and ended up with the gallon tin of Sue Bee. Oh, how perfectly adorable are these?: Okay, maybe not at my ripe age of 95, but they'd certainly camoflauge the Catholic pool-cue legs. Stockingirl.com might be the last place to find proper cuban heel stockings.

Today's output: - braised lamb shanks in balsamic (save, braises always taste better the second day) - pasta bolanese base (save, in little plastic baggies in the freezer like other controlled substances) - meatloaf (Mostly eaten. Martha's recipe. I resisted the temptation to mold it into the shape of someone's face. And Dad said all those art classes were a baloney... ) - fruitcake , three loaves (save. Dang, that stuff's expensive to make! Think twice before chucking it out. My cousin Nancy gave me the most astonishing fruitcake for Christmas, so these puppies are headed for a long, boozy vacation in the back of the fridge.) - juicy orange cake (save. Mark Bittman's recipe. The damn thing over flowed the pan and threatened to take over the joint. It sits in its glaze, staring at me from the stove. I figure it will be heaven with a cup of black coffee tomorrow.) The massive grease burn up my left arm has started to heal at last, but it still itches a good bit. ...

Steven has just introduced me to AutoGene: a movie of an art installation by Peter William Holden put to the tune of Singin' in the Rain by the magnificent Gene Kelly. Check out the video on the link. Now I won't be able to get that song out of my head all day.

I have just been chided by my friend Linda K. (who is currently in India and just started her own blog: http://dimsphere.blogspot.com/ : check out the elephants and all the ladies in saris) asking what the fresh heck is up with the current "no photos" status. The fact is that I am a lousy photographer (when I remember the camera), but I reckon if I am going to blog and want you to read it, some illustrations are in order and I shall improve in the future. So. From this last month here are a few, with explanations : My most recent gift a long awaited creme brulee torch. The kicker was that my odd older brother has one and if a simian like him can have one, Steven figures I'll be okay with my own. This little gizmo has inspired the very tired line, said with a peculiar accent "We meet again, Mister Bond...." The joke could be getting a bit stale. Butane is rather difficult to find. Bad cinema humor, on the other hand, is not. The yogu rt cake from Chocolate and ...

I have spent my Sunday morning at the communal baths and if there is any smutcsh or nastiness left in my pores, I am not responsible for it. I have now perfected the graceful entrance and exit to the cold plunge (50 degrees F, otherwise known as "really oh so fucking cold") which involves folding oneself into the icy water rather than timidly dipping and retreating. And also not going back into the hot pool afterward cause the pins-and-needles sensation all over is much, much worse. The look of pity/amusement on the other bather’s faces can be a bit much, but at least no one is tactless enough to point and laugh outright. The first time I tried this treacherous pool a couple years ago with my friend Mix, I thought I was having a stroke as something in my brain popped and slowed everything w...a...y ...w....a......y d...o...w...n. I think I frightened/horrified her and not just because we were two naked, damp, straight girls either. I am much better at the whole process now...