Pathetic

I was on my way out the door to the gym, but now I'm writing a post instead. here's why:

Last night I spent the night at my good friend Sheila's house. We watched the Oscars and ate the latest incarnation of my spinach and artichoke dip and drank wine. We laughed, we cried, I was particularly inspired by the folks who won best song, and their call to "make art!"

I came home this morning with the intention of heading straight back out to work off all the dairy I've been eating (as though it were crack, and i an addict). Sometimes cutting something out of your diet can turn it into a tempting vice...

But when I came home, Mister came down and presented me with yet ANOTHER battle wound, this one the sickest yet. It took me three rinsings to get all the blood off of his fur to see the wound for what it was, and expose it enough to put his extra strength ointment into it. All of his other wounds had finally healed and I thought we were in the clear. Not so, not so. This one is relatively superficial, it still isn't as bad as that one time with the raccoon and the huge open hole that I had to stick back together with this weird super glue fake skin stuff. I do have faith in my nursing ability at this point in our relationship, it's mister's ability to heal in his old age that has me worried.

(By the way, according to Jon Stewart's method of figuring out your stripper name, one of my many options is "Mister Pleasant"...)

So now, I've decided that it is more important for me to hang out in my room with meow than to get to the gym. I'll do it later. I mean it. I'll go tonight after work.

Speaking of my room, I must tell you how exceptionally clean and zen-like it is. I've re-arranged it yet again, and now the focal point has become my beautiful valentine's day orchid. It is living happily in front of the window, and every day it seems to grow new blooms. I was very nervous at first, but it seems so happy now that I feel more confident that i won't kill it.

I had another show with my band, Dig A Pony. It was raining again. The sound system at this little cafe is truly horrendous, it sounded like I was singing through a blanket, and not in a good way. I probably shouldn't have used the mic, the place is small enough. But at the time I didn't really care. I was really focused on what the songs are all about. Most of them I wrote about my journey out here, what I was chasing and what and who I left behind. It's been a year, and I'm feeling pensive. I have changed a lot, and my vision of my life has changed. I think that I have become simpler. Stupider, maybe, but I think it's okay to be stupid for a year. Just not much longer than that or it has more of a chance at becoming a permanent state, instead of a rest.

Right now, I am desperately anxious to see my family next month when we convene in London. I miss them all a little too much, it hurts. MUST MOVE CLOSER. Patience, my child. A virtue I think on every day... when does patience become pathetic? When is it time to pick up and make something happen? Looking forward to some Wall Sister Magic. You'd think that in Southern California I'd be surrounded by Glitz and Glamour, but I have yet to see anything that really compares to what occurs when the three of us get together. My sisters are the epitome of Glamour, and how it translates to everyday living. Emmy looks like a movie star in Carrharts and cow manure, and Soe looks like a supermodel in a flour-encrusted apron. It's all about the attitude and being yourself. Now, my challenge is how to be famously intriguing whilst cleaning my cat's pussing neck... He is so grounded.

I don't have a specific topic, so I'm set to ramble.

Mister got in another fight and has a slice in his ear. I cleaned it with peroxide and put neosporin on it, that's all they would do at the vet, I know. He came in this morning and his eyes were all black and his fur was all tufty and dirty and had little pieces coming out. I saw the spots where someone had bitten him and looked for blood, found none on his throat, but the ear is pretty gross, it's deep.
He's fine though. Looking as regal as ever.

I made pizza for dinner two nights in a row. Trader Joe's is selling pizza dough now for a dollar, and last night I made whole wheat crust and roasted japanese eggplant and onions and mushrooms, basil, spinach and leftover sauce from Brian and I's gnocchi extraveganza this weekend. Carolshine came over and did most of the work: as soon as I found out that she'd moonlighted at American Flatbread in her youth, I started calling her the pizza guru.

So Brian and I had a cooking craze this past weekend, we made gnocchi with tomato sauce. The first batch came out okay, the second came out as mush, but the third came out perfectly. I learned a lot and want to try it again. The next morning we made birds in a nest with hollandaise sauce. Brian made the birds and I made the sauce. The first try was a complete failure because i was using a metal bowl for the double boiler and the yolks cooked immediately. So I switched bowls and started over and this batch came out PERFECTLY!!! BUT, I did decide that next time I will use vinegar instead of lemon juice for hollandaise on eggs, and use lemon only if topping a fish or vegetable.

I think that the next time I cook for someone, I'm going to have to do a repeat of what I now consider to be my signature seafood dish. The trick is getting a really fresh and beautiful salmon steak. All you have to do is a broil/poach in the oven. Top the fish with a nice coating of your favorite miso paste. Place in a baking dish with a lip. Add liquid to come up halfway to the top of the fish. And the liquid is just orange juice, soy sauce, and chopped shallots! I'm pretty critical of my cooking in that I'm always looking for ways to improve the recipe. But this one might be perfect as is. Try it and let me know what you think.

That's all for now, I'm tired and must go and snuggle with meow.

I'm not dead

I just get restless in front of the computer lately. I'm sorry mummy, I'll think of something amazing and long to write soon. Oh, my band has a myspace now and there are a couple of recordings of our practice on there. Let's see, what's the link?
http://www.myspace.com/digapony1

See? that took forever and now my eyes are going square!!! Must stop-need fresh air and sunlight now!!!!!!!

REDN.E.K.

While I was in Vermont, I went to the Brown Cow, a local diner that only serves breakfast and lunch in Newport. I went with Mummy and Papa and one pancake filled me for the day, if that tells you anything. On the way out, I noticed a bumper sticker by the register. It looked like the old GB stickers, or, more recently, VT: The abbreviation circled in Green. But this one said NEK (North East Kingdom). The North East Kingdom is where I call home, and it really means something to be a member of this club.

I gasped dramatically and screamed "oh I HAVE to have this!" As I was pulling out my money, the proprietor shook his head and said "no way! Your money's no good here." I protested until it would have been rude to continue, and then thanked him profusely, leaving the Brown Cow with a full belly and a hefty smile.

Now, it may seem as though my joy were a little too much, but I forgot to tell you the best part of this sticker: right above the NEK in little letters it said "red" in red. Get it? REDNEK.

Now, to those of you who don't really know what a redneck is, or think that it only comes in one shade or dialect, it might be hard to fully grasp this concept. For example, a "Texas redneck" is a different race from a "Vermont redneck". And within the grouping "Vermont Redneck" there are many variations as well. A "Waitsfield redneck" is a far cry from a "Newport redneck". And although some would liken a "Saint Albans redneck" to a "Newport Redneck", I would argue that they are very different still. The one thing that I can see that ties them all together is a love of the land and a love of trucks. But the differences are what set them apart, and a REDNEK is the finest of the bunch, in my opinion.

Not that I'm a redneck. I'm most certainly a wanna-be, a poseur. I've only been on a snowmobile twice, but I did ride four-wheelers through the woods when I was young. And I have no problem shoveling shit or mucking in the garden. And I can build one hell of a campfire. Oh, and drink my weight in cheap beer when called to.

So, I left the Brown Cow torn. I wanted to put the sticker on my car, but no one in Cali would have any idea what it meant. And my car is fixin to bite the dust anyway.

Immediately, I thought of My sister and her Husband. Em is probably one of the biggest redneks I've ever met. Just ask her to revive her accent, it's authentic, I swear to you. But she's driving a European hot rod these days, and a sticker like this could get her car keyed, or worse. She doesn't put stickers on the Zipper, anyway.

But Kevin, Kevin's got a truck. Not only that, he works in Agriculture and goes up into the Kingdom all the time. Kev was in 4-h from a very young age, a sure-fire sign that your neck might be red. Kev listens to classic rock and country. And Kev talks like a farmer.

When I gave the sticker to him, he hesitated. My Dad said "If you put a cat in the oven and it has kittens, you can't call them biscuits!" His implication was that since Kevin isn't from the Kingdom, he's not a rednek. But I disagree. People don't choose where they're born. And certain people fit in to different locations more easily than others. Kevin is among a rare breed of people born in the city who naturally migrate to the countryside, like birds born with a map of who they are and where they need to go to get there.

A couple of days ago, I received an e-mail from Kevin with pictures of the sticker on his big huge truck. What a frickin reird.

Boring

I called Alexis yesterday and announced, "I'm boring, are you going to de-friend me?"

I called Isaac yesterday and asked, "Will you de-friend me if I'm boring? Because I am."

And the thing is, I'm really happy about it. I think that boring suits me for the moment.

Simple repetition of only the most necessary actions. And a little time here and there focused on a project. Simple, small, quiet.

I woke up at 4:30 and now it's 10:40 and I'm not tired. Time to make coffee and decide what to do. Cook? Ride? Sell dresses at Consignment Shop? Coffee first.

Wow! Photos!

I took 431 photographs while I was in Vermont.

Granted, many of them are bordering on the obscenely mundane and awful, but many are quite good, and having the entire collection keeps the memories fresh and clear. Thank you, Soe & Colin!

Snow, snow, and more snow. Snowshoeing. Meeting new pets and falling in love with them. Seeing old friends. Spending time with my wonderful family.

Mummy is now on Facebook and blogger, once again.

Here are a few of my favorite photographs from my trip.



My gorgeous sisters.



Me & Cooper, not Cougar.



Why I should be a sports photographer. Colin shows off on the kicker he & Soe & Kev made.



Isaac shows off, and I am a sports photographer.



Sadie & I went snowshoeing with Mummy.



Mama was on the phone.



Goodbye.

NEKin' it.

Here in Vermont, there is a whole lot of snow. Feet of it. And last night, it got down to -14 below zero. I'm as happy as a clam about it. Papa bought me a pair of winter boots at Pick and Shovel ("Pick and Shove It" to those in the know). He said that since Ames closed down, Pick & Shovel has expanded to include all types of inner and outer wear, whereas it used to be mostly a hardware and building supply center.

We went to lunch at the East Side, sat on the porch and looked out over the frozen white lake. I thought that it looked a little empty without all the little ice shanties, Papa said they aren't allowed out on the lake until after the 14th of January.

I'm especially glad about the boots, because I've been wearing Em's special ones that she bought in Quebec city which are 3 sizes too big for me. And then I could effectively go snowshoeing around the front field without my feet slipping out. Sadie came with me and led the way like a real sled dog.

Right now, the fire is blazing and Papa is making a pot of freshly roasted Guatemalan coffee. Mummy is trying to remember her password for her blog so she can finally write in it again after 8 months of cyber silence. I'm fixing to make a pot of vegetable soup, something clean and hearty after weeks of junk. Gee Whiz!

I'm very excited about the prospect of adding photos to my blog. Soe & Col gave me a digital camera and I've already taken 350+ pictures.

We're contemplating a jaunt for the day tomorrow, but I'm going to try to go into the woods early and take even more pictures.

Coming back up here with Wasuck last night, we talked about our favorite Vermont towns. Mine has always been Eden. No matter what, Eden always has the most snow. And it's so hilly and beautiful, like a cozy white blanket lying peacefully over the evergreens and cabins. Isaac thinks I'm crazy because the cops there give tickets out like every day is Christmas, and I realized he's right. Everyone gets tickets in Eden. Maybe I like Eden for its name. Also, it's about halfway between Newport and Burlington, where the people that I love reside. One day, I hope to have a cabin in Eden. I'll keep an old truck in the barn and spend summers there. Or go in the winter for silent retreats... one day.