Michael Clayton was next, but a family member who also wanted to see it is dining elsewhere tonight, which is a story unto itself, and perhaps one day we will go into it. But to go with the chili, I dug out a movie that has been in the collection for some time. I knew it was not going to be pleasant, but figured I’d be finished with dinner before that part got started.
I was right, and I was wrong.
It is not a good dinner movie, especially the beginning, which is the birth of our hero. But I stayed till he emerged from the cave, and found the second redhead. By then I had finished my chili and salad, and came in here to watch this.
At Whole Foods last night, I wanted to get some chowder for a family member who was working late in SF. Alas, there was none to be had. There was shrimp bisque, crab and corn chowder, northwestern chowder, cioppino and a Thai soup. As I was pondering the matter, a customer walked briskly up. He checked the contents of each pot, letting the lids fall with a loud bang. He picked the cioppino.
The family member makes a very excellent cioppino of his own, and as I was debating whether to just forget the soup, another gentleman stepped up. He headed straight for the cioppino.
I got the small container. Then I headed for the ice cream section where, after much deliberation, I chose Rice Dream marble fudge, Ciao Bella mango sorbet and a dark cherry soy ice cream. More on these another time.
Turned out that the family member ate duck and fig handmade sausages in SF. He was still talking about those sausages during dinner tonight.
Yes, I’m still watching the carbs, and while it’s true that one does not get hungry on this diet, by the dinner hour, it’s time to focus on the main meal of the day. Especially when one has forgotten to eat a snack, and has a forkful of avocado and orange sections on the way to its destination. It is not a good time to hear from a telemarketer.
But this was someone representing Apple, wanting me to pay attention to their protection plan. I have every intention of getting this plan, but was not willing to put the fork down and dig out my credit card just then. I treated the caller to a detailed account of my computer problems, to which, of course, he had no decent response.
Last night, as I was soaping a pot in order to cook another much-anticipated supper, the phone rang. It sounded very much like the same caller. Checking to see if I was ready to buy. Did he catch me at a bad time? Was I going to rinse off my hands and go get my credit card? Did I give him a piece of my mind?
Does this diet make me grumpy? Nah.
I know these people have to make a living. I also know where I can get the plan for a lot less.
The bear collection was vast and highly priced. After much picking through, I found two with no trademarks or logos. The stock agencies where I sell photos are strict about such things, and one will only take the images where the bears are facing away from the camera.
I passed up the quilts, which would have made great backgrounds. Then I got in line to pay. The woman took one look at the bigger bear.
Seller: That can’t be the right price.
Me: That was how I found it on that sofa over there with the quilts.
Seller: And look, the tag is on upside down. We wouldn’t do that.
Me: Silence
Seller: I mean, I can’t believe that bear would go for $15.
Me (not really wanting to pay that much for a used bear anyway): Silence
Seller: Let me ask (indicates other seller) him what he really wanted for this bear.
Me: You are holding some antique measuring cups for me.
Seller (gets cups): Oh yes, these. And the little pitcher too. Okay, let me add these up (calculates).
Me (thinking if she offends me once more, I will leave) Silence.
Seller (smiling): All right, that will be $20 (puts stuff in a bag)
Me (warily): Thanks.
Wasn’t sure what to expect, maybe a depressing film at best, given the synopsis. But it’s a delightful surprise, bewildering at first, but very, very funny.
Back into a few more carbs since the family member still faithful to the South Beach diet is now coming apart. Dinner was spaghetti and Vietnamese spinach soup.
While I was not in line, technically speaking, I did have to lean against a display table while waiting for my repaired laptop to be brought from the back. It took a while because I decided to ask why the purchase date on the invoice was August of last year instead of January, which was when I bought it this year. Obviously they knew it was still under warranty because there was no charge.
The display was of iPhones. A customer was peering intently at one model, hunkering down to get at the right eye level. He wore an expression of intense delight. One of the geniuses was manning the greeter position at the door while the greeter was seeing to my laptop. I truly hoped the customer bought an iPhone, he was quite beside himself as he tried them out.
The answer to the odd date? It was probably the day the online store (not Apple) got a shipment of Macs. When I buy AppleCare, I need to bring this up so they will change it.
On the way to the car, I heard someone upstairs at Zibibbo’s singing in Italian. It was a balmy night, and my option key was fixed.
It was a particularly trying shot: a small bear, a bunch of daffodils beginning to wilt, rubber bands and lots of tape for positioning, the tripod as high as it would go. After several futile attempts, the doorbell rang. I was up on a bench. The bear was releasing the tape, and listing to one side.
When I call out ‘Who’s there’, and no one says anything, I get the feeling there’s someone annoying out there. When I say it for the third time, and get a tentative but friendly ‘Hi there!’, I know for sure it’s someone affiliated with a certain religious group. I stand at a distance, thinking I might have to go get some more bunches of daffodils when a face peers through the slats of the gate.
Religious person: Hello, I’d like to tell you about . . .
Me: Do you see the No Soliciting sign right in front of you?
Rp: But . . . but I’m not a solicitor!
Me: Yes, you are. Soliciting.
The bear is neither amused nor sorry to be leaning over so much. The rubber bands are too tight. I resort to tying the flowers around its neck with string. Bingo.
Last night, the woman behind me had two geraniums, a pot of New Guinea impatiens and a rubber tree plant. My cart had a vat of olive oil, some artisan sausages, chicken legs, steelhead salmon fillets, cashew nuts, and a bag of oranges. Plus a very large hydrangea bush for ten bucks.
It was bigger than usual with goods spread from the sidewalk out front, along the driveway and into part of the backyard. On the little back porch, people were standing in line. I asked the fellow in front of me if this was the line to pay. Yes, he said, but it turned out he was mistaken. The sellers had roped off this area because of the jewelry. Rings were popular. In the back, one of the sellers confided that she recently lost ten lbs on a diet that removed inflammatory foods.
Finally, it was my turn. Ignoring the jewelry, I went for the masks arranged among the vintage gloves and hats. This week, I’m posing bears again. They generally sit fairly still.
I try not to stare at my fellow shoppers and the interesting combinations of food they buy. A few sidelong glances sufficed Saturday at Trader Joe’s (again). The gentleman in front of me was very wide through the middle with average size arms and legs. He was clutching three bags of the guilt-free potato chips in one hand, two jars of almond butter in the other. Then he offered his profile. If you recall the Nowhere Man from Yellow Submarine, this man was the almost-but-not-quite morbidly obese version.
After about three weeks on the South Beach, I’m coming unglued and easing back into carbs here and there. Not a lot, but some. I have energy!
One of the items I looked forward to as a snack was almond butter. Once you get the hang of natural nut butter, it’s nice to know there’s only one ingredient: nuts. However good for me the almond butter was, nutritionally speaking, it was unsalted and very bland. Even though I stored it in the fridge in the approved manner, i.e. upside down, the solids still managed to part company with the oils, and I sometimes had a gob of stuff to coax back to the creamy stage. Given the choice between that and the usual sugar-free popsicle, I made the obvious choice (can’t eat cheese and cheese-related items on the diet).
Three weeks without sugar will sharpen your taste buds. I bought some sunflower seed butter at Trader Joe’s last weekend, and was surprised at the sweetness. The ingredient list contains evaporated cane juice. Very tasty.
So there I was again at the Genius Bar, and it was a much busier night than Monday. When it was my turn, I had to lean in between a couple who continued their conversation as I tried to explain my laptop woes to my genius. I couldn’t hop up on a stool due to my back being thrown out of whack over the weekend. Sometimes I wish I were a larger person with extra jumbo elbows. The genius listened patiently as he fooled with my laptop while he monitored the talkative couple’s machines. He was annoyed but trying hard not to show it.
A family member picked this moment to ask the genius, ‘Say, can I get one of those Genius shirts?’
‘No!’ barked the genius. No glance up, no smile.
Apple stopped selling the shirts a while back. If you want one badly enough, you can find it at eBay and such.
My new but already beloved MacBook Pro is at wherever the Apple Store sends them to get repaired. The old PowerBook G4 is stepping in today, but since I took a heavy duty painkiller for my back, not a lot will be done other than to finish up the taxes.
Meanwhile, it’s going to get hot this summer, a few days anyway, and the G4 tended to heat up fast. If you have similar problems, here are some DIY ideas from Lifehacker via Engadget. A binder, a towel rack and a few corks - your laptop and wallet will both be happier.
The Mercury News is in transition. Why else would the comics be in different sections from day to day, and sometimes in the Entertainment magazine? Recently, they’ve gone to half pages when you least expect it. Makes folding the paper during my usual working lunch quite the challenge.
I depend on SFGate for most of my news and features. When I’m stressed, I’ll read The Poop, their blog on raising kids. Today, it discusses Garfield minus Garfield.
As one who never found the comic funny, but had to put up with kids who thought it was, this is a fascinating angle.
The option key on my new MacBook Pro didn’t work right. It’s the closest I’ve come to pounding on the keyboard, and productivity plummeted.
So there I was in line with my name up on the big screen. My first time, but sadly, not the last. The genius pried off the top of the key, showed me what he thought was wrong, fixed it as best he could. It was higher than the other keys, and a part underneath was bent slightly. However, if the problem persisted, he said the Mac would have to go in for an extended stay.
This is actually okay, I have a backup, the older G4 laptop. Next time, maybe Cho’s will be open and I can get potstickers as part of the whole Palo Alto thing.
And I got to mess with the Air. Wow. But I do believe that the air (the kind we breathe) is better in an Apple Store.
There we were, finishing up a nice supper, when the two gentlemen (who arrived after we did, and got their food before us) headed toward the exit. One reached into the back of his pants with both hands and either rearranged his shorts or gave himself a good scratch, hard to tell which.
Let’s see. The Spanish Inquisition. Stellan Skarsgard. Javier Bardem. Natalie Portman. Natalie is tortured and raped. Some movies I’d just rather skip. But a quick glance or two told me the look of the film is riveting.
A family member has been told by his doctor to shed the extra weight. Since the South Beach diet worked in the past, and is easier to take with a fellow sufferer, I decided to go along. Day 2, Phase 1. It’s going to be a long 12 days. But I found a box of sugar-free popsicles in the freezer this afternoon. From last summer, I think, and they look edible through the wrappers. No no, I’m not hungry enough to eat the wrappers, at least not yet.
So it is with some irony that I find myself making tarts for photos. Actually, they aren’t so hard to resist because cheese makes me itch. I spent a large part of the weekend looking for raspberries, but had to be content with strawberries. These early berries seem more fragile, and at least one carton furred up with mold before I could use them.
Currently, there are three tarts stacked on top of one another in the fridge. I’m out of the bought glaze. I’m on the last roll of toilet paper again. My tax person is hounding me to make an appointment, but I’m not ready.
I come across this sort of thing when I’m looking for work-related info. You think I’m kidding. Actually, I was trying to find a reference to that J-Lo, Jon Voight movie that we sat through so long ago.
And people keep talking about Angelina Jolie’s ‘bump’. Now this is a real bump.
Could a woman’s long hair support the weight of a man? Could a carpet really fly? Did the witch who took away Ariel’s voice have access to current technology?
Dinner was on the light side, and I watched the episode of Farscape where Crichton is in a coma and plotting revenge on D’Argo, cartoon-style. It was confusing enough to kind of take away my appetite. That was followed by the last episode of the MI-5 DVD series, the one where two important cast members are put in unholy jeopardy. My entire GI tract shuts down during these shows.
A few hours later, and I’m hungry. There are scones, both blueberry and apricot, but something in them makes me itch. Two slices of Marie Callender apple pie left, too, but I don’t want anything that sweet. The only real possibilty is a spinach salad with avocado, orange sections and homemade croutons, the latter being soggy after several days in the fridge. This was made for a photo session, and the avocado is still fresh and green, having had a lot of lime juice added to insure their pristine condition. Because it is my dessert, I added two large dollops of mayo.
Tomorrow I begin some serious work with the chocolate chopped last week.
In the Bay Area, it’s not as easy as you might think. Most of the time, we have no need for heavy outerwear, and even when it’s in the 40s, a surprising number of residents run around in shorts and a tee. Well, maybe shorts and a sweatshirt.
When a son needed such a jacket for an upcoming trip to NYC, I was coaxed along because, ‘Mom, I don’t know what to look for.’
Twenty-somethings usually don’t make requests like this. As it turned out, I desperately needed to get away from the horrific cough of another family member, whose lungs have been shaken, stirred and turned inside out these past many days.
After discovering that Macy’s and other such only carry lightweights, we wound up at Any Mountain. My son announced that he had a moral obligation not to wear Michelin-man down jackets. That culled out most of the choices, which included camouflage snowboarding jackets with fur-lined hoods. There was only one possibility, but it was on the pricey side. A quick check on the iPhone to Amazon yielded the same for a bit less, but not in the right size.
By this time, it was determined that the true test of a suitable jacket was the amount of sweat produced after zipping it up.
Exit another store. I don’t know how my kids got to be such picky shoppers. I quit taking them with me when they found that hiding under the revolving clothes racks was great fun. I always thought that guys made quick work of shopping. My other son can spend the better part of an afternoon in one shoe store.
On to Burlington Coats. Not my favorite store. I used to find things for my mom in there. I hung back, looking for hydrating shampoos and girlie socks at The Rack. When I caught up with my son, I had a movie moment, the kind where the camera pulls back to reveal the character is surrounded by endless desert or trees or crowds. In this case, he was in the middle of racks and racks of coats, lightweight, heavyweight, overcoats, peacoats, trenchcoats. And he was sweating.
We emerged about an hour later. He had his urban jacket in a tasteful, manly color, all lined with lots of down, but concealed in such a way that he only looked as if he’d had a really filling dinner.
He had a disturbing resemblance to the mailman in Three Days of the Condor. If I had any doubt he was other than who said he was, this was dispelled when he scaled the telephone pole out back in record time.
Martin Schoeller doesn’t take the usual glam photos, and his images can be a bit disturbing if you are used to the prettier pictures. From Popular Photography’s Images from 2007.
When I have a lot of work to do at night, I am easily distracted. How could I not go to this page, which tells how to take care of squirrel dental problems. Now I know what a squirrel burrito is.
Scroll down a bit, you’ll find a link that shows how to approach a squirrel with a Dremel hand drill.
Not just one or two, but maybe 10 or 12 all over the yard. From my desk today, I spotted with my peripheral vision what looked like a cat skulking along the base of the fence. Cats I don’t mind. But for the rodents, I have a bowl of overripe fruit to lob, and I can report that a dried up Clementine is not a good substitute for a rock. Although a Clementine will not shatter a car windshield, which I did once with a rock, a smallish one at that.
Missed the squirrel. Perhaps I can construct something like this, and have some fun. Not sure how they did it.
It lingers, the bug. Just when I thought I was free, back it comes this afternoon, a vague queasiness, tiredness, a froggy throat. The runs came back as well.
At dinner, I watched as a family member ate leftover barbecued baby back ribs and hash brown patties. It smelled good, but I was having none of it, even though my stomach was beginning to rumble. Nothing in the fridge appealed, most of it being raw.
We had to run out to Whole Foods, whose pastry department is the best place to get a surprise gift for someone who’s done something very nice for you and isn’t going to send a bill. After I picked out three of the big fancy desserts, including the one shaped like a coffee cup, I headed for the soups/stews island. Rejected most, settled for the turkey.
All this wearing my heaviest coat, which is heavy indeed, the kind with two layers of fasteners. I was happy to see other shoppers wearing overcoats, though none quite as extreme as mine. Then I saw something that made me feel much better, and finely dressed at that.
Over by the fresh mozzarella, highly favored by another family member, a couple was talking to a clerk. The guy was dressed in a light jacket, the woman had on black furry boots that looked to be made of bear. At least six inches thick. I must find these online and post a picture.
The turkey stew/soup was most excellent, I should have gotten the big container.
I began by playing the robot at the Scrabulous site. That was certainly an eye-opening and degrading experience as it quickly racked up huge scores using words I’d never heard of. I was used to family games where we never bothered to keep score.
Over the course of many humiliating losses, I began to consult the online dictionary that comes with Scrabulous. Faced with either all vowels or all consonants, one gets a little desperate against an unseen, highly superior opponent who has access to an enormous vocabulary of obscure words. I never thought of it as ‘cheating’. During family games, we automatically google if someone comes up with a questionable word.
Since three of my Facebook fellow players are from across the pond, they produce words from time to time that are unfamiliar to me, but which I accept without question. It’s all for fun, after all. They do talk funny over there. But then I guess so do we.
But I would never call consulting a dictionary cheating. This particular one does not allow the word ‘toga’, for example, which is puzzling.
Nevertheless, it will be interesting to follow the progress of the Hasbro lawsuit against Scrabulous.
I’m sure there were many preorders for the MacBook Air soon after it was announced. For a few minutes I thought about doing it myself. Such is the power of hype. Now that things have settled down a bit, some, like Paul Boutin at Slate, are saying the Air should have some of the features of the iPhone, including its ability to access the web with tremendous ease.
My old G4 Powerbook is showing its age. I need something that will process my ever-increasing photo processing needs, so I’m going with the 17″ MacBook Pro. The smaller screen of the Air would mean I would have to spring for a separate monitor. Don’t want to lug around a monitor from room to room.
Mired in January doldrums, a bug that won’t go away, an inability to get ahead on work thanks to that bug - this is the perfect kind of film to watch in the evening (after a visit to my tax person). Nothing too deep here, highly entertaining, somewhat nifty special effects, child actors who are not annoying, set in a place where I used to live (Seattle).
Dinner was the leftover beef stew from last week. The meat was more than tender, the potatoes all melty in a tomatoey broth. A big spoon, a big bowl.
Now you might think that this would be news only if the owner were French, for example. In which case, the owner would ignore the cat.
In this case, the cat belongs to a Chinese grandmother, who claims it can say ‘Laolao’, which means grandmother in the dialect of its owner.
It also can say ‘gan sha ne’, which translates to ‘What are you doing?’ Can a cat make the hard ‘g’ sound? Could we see a video, please?
How many cats in the world are asking their non-Chinese owners, ‘What are you doing?’ You have to admit that gan sha ne is probably a lot easier for a cat to say than ‘What are you doing?’ or ‘Where is my food?’
Last week, I made wontons for a photo shoot. I didn’t get around to cooking any, leaving them in a couple of plastic bags in the fridge. At some point over the weekend when I was sick, a family member placed some heavy objects on top of the bags.
Today, I am still queasy, and discovered the wontons. Had I been a bit more careful, I might have a photo op with wonton soup, but alas, they were all glopped together. Even after I dropped them into broth, they insisted on remaining unified. After breaking them apart as best as I could, I have a soup that is unappetizing to look upon, but tasty.
If you can’t get out to the henhouse and seize a chicken to make a proper broth, Trader Joe’s is a fine substitute.
The good news is that it’s not the vomiting thing going around. The bad news is I sound like Alec Baldwin. I chugged half the jug of Tropicana yesterday until my stomach complained of acidic conditions. My errand running ended when I realized I’d best be near a bathroom.
I sent a family member out for toilet paper, because even though I generally stock up, the apocalypse does tend to arrive now and then.
Today, food is not real welcome, which I guess is a good thing.
The beef stew cooked for over four hours while I dealt with taxes. Don’t ask. This is the perfect movie to be entertained by after such an ordeal. While scooping up warm stew full of potatoes, carrots and beef so tender it made me glad I’m not a vegetarian.
I knew the movie would be fun, and didn’t require a lot of heavy thinking. The other choices were Bourne Ultimatum and Jindabyne, neither seemed right for a Friday night.
If the future isn’t here now, it’s coming very soon. The price? Why, compared to the Mercedes SLR McLaren (just under a cool half mil), it’s a steal. While some might argue that the Mercedes does indeed fly, we are talking flight in the aeronautical sense.
Buyers are apparently lining up. In case you’re reaching for your wallet, make sure you have a pilot’s license.
When I’m in the food picture-taking mode, the fridge is filled with pretty stuff. Currants, blueberries, uncooked but filled wontons. Shrimp patties with salmon and cilantro. Fresh dill. Fresh mozzarella. Creme soda. There would be strawberries, but even in California, January is not such a great time. I know, because I shopped last night in vain.
Outside the fridge, there are wondrous-looking biscuits from Whole Foods. Sourdough rolls from Trader Joe’s. Avocados. Cara cara oranges. Baby yellow potatoes. An enormous assortment of Christmas hard candies.
Of course, it depends on what family members have been trained to recognize as ‘Don’t touch that open-faced sandwich’ or ‘The pudding has stuff that’s not food’. So far, no one has actually eaten anything destined for photographing. Maybe because the grub I usually dish up for meals looks nothing like what I take pictures of.
We were in the city during the holidays, got a glimpse of the spider at the Embarcadero. I’ve written about her before, and am very glad her works can be seen locally.
Just in time for January’s weight loss attempt comes the latest in the M1-5 series, known in the UK as ‘Spooks’. I try to catch up on this kind of British viewing during supper, and lately, it has been the Monarch of the Glen shows, which are excellent for dining to.
But M1-5 is another animal entirely. Dinner tends to gets cold while I sit white-knuckled. It’s the best of its kind that I’ve ever seen, engaging characters, horribly intense situations, breakneck pace. I forget to breathe. Don’t make the mistake of watching the interviews too soon. Or even reading the Netflix descriptions too closely. The writers have no qualms about killing off key cast members.
After a long time away from the show, despairing that I’d ever find out what happens to the crew, now Vol. 5 is out. There’s a ‘long wait’ for the first disc at Netflix. I guess I’d better eat supper while I can.
The sun was out. This was not in the forecast. Taking advantage, a family member and I headed out for groceries. My rain jacket was still a mess from numerous trips out to take pictures in yesterday’s downpours, so I just wore a waterproof vest. First mistake.
A couple of seconds after leaving the car at Costco, the umbrella inverted itself. Inside, it was as if the apocalypse was arriving tomorrow, with gridlock in the aisles, hostile-looking people pushing carts aside in their rush. At the banana section, one whole side had only green ones. The other side was really picked over. I clumsily pushed one box aside. Second mistake. Immediately, the woman next to me reached over and got the two best bunches. Not a word. I uncovered another box as a man pressed in, waiting to do the same.
I heard a shopper say to his wife that they needed toilet paper. Family members know that I stockpile enough to last till the apocalypse.
A flock swept into the pyracantha bush during a brief lull in the winds. It never stopped raining, and one robin decided to freshen up a bit, shaking out his feathers, and having a drink too. This is taken through a less than clean window with camera settings for indoor shooting.
According to the Beeb, one trader bought 1,000 barrels to bring the price up, then sold it immediately for a loss. Just to be able to say he bought oil at $100/bbl.
It’s been a challenging holiday season, so I’m just now getting around to making Christmas dessert. No family members suffered, because there were sugar cookies. These were so laden with additional decorative icings provided by the usual suspects that if I ate a Christmas tree (bigger than the star and bear ones), I would tremble for several minutes after.
The chocolate cake was made this morning. Tonight after dinner, the above-mentioned went off to Yoshi’s in SF for a concert. I whipped the cream, made the chocolate buttercream. Next, I thickened the cherry juice and added the Trader Joe Morello cherries.
Then, because I can’t wait till 11:30 p.m. or whenever they roll in, I made up one for me. First the cake cubes. Cherries were spooned over. A layer of pudding next. Repeat. Dollops of whipped cream on top. No liqueurs used, my preference.
They’ll be surprised, I think. I always wind up making these things at night when I can’t get a picture. Tomorrow, perhaps.
We’re not talking beef bouillon as comfort for the ill here. What we’re really going to discuss is meat, mostly of the pig variety, placed directly into an alcoholic drink.
Some time ago, I mentioned the bacontini, a favorite of those who prefer a slight fatty sheen to their refreshing beverages. But at this site, items bringing an extra punch include ground pork, sweet Italian sausage and Spam. Yes, that Spam.
There are photos. One looks like squirrel brains at the bottom of the glass.
Just as good the second time around.
The roast duck was purchased, but the apple slices cooked with a bit of cinnamon and sugar, and peas in cream were home-cooked.
No Dark and Stormy drinks were ingested for the first time in two nights, because the family bartender was having dinner out.
I didn’t know what else to call it. Here’s the article from The Times, which links to the actual painting, or repainting by Lluis Barba of Bosch’s The Garden of Earthly Delights.
Last year, I got in line with many, many people at the Hallmark store. It was so cold we lined up close to one another to keep warm. (We in Northern California are a bunch of wimps when it comes to winter, mostly because we tend to underdress. Few of us own heavy coats, and if we did , we sure wouldn’t wear them to do this kind of shopping.)
This morning, the line at Target at 7 a.m. was not so bad, a stark moon shone over us and the crowd was cheerful. I was early enough that entire aisles of Christmas things were mine alone. This didn’t last long.
Post-Christmas is very different from other kinds of shopping. People go in groups, coverage is coordinated, and they tend to yell happily to one another across the store. It’s not confined to women. Christmas quilts go fast. Men tend to hunker down in front of the remote lighting control section. It’s the best time to get an artificial tree.
I was there for one item, a box of non-reflective ornaments for photographing. What did I come out with?
1. two boxes of ornaments
2. three new stockings because the old ones were impossible to fill comfortably
3. two Santa hats
4. two packages of gift boxes
5. one package of gift bags
6. one nutcracker
7. two packages of tags
8. three rolls of wrap
9. one bag of red bows
10. one star ornament
11. one package of cookie cutters
12. one pair of Christmas argyle knee socks
What I looked at seriously, thought about but didn’t buy:
1. the Christmas gnome
2. a Christmas quilt
3. a Christmasy duck
4. a Pooh sitting in a rocking chair reading to Piglet
5. jingle bell wreaths
Obviously not the usual bright stars and Christmas tree variety of cookie, but fascinating.
Today is to be spent making various cookie doughs of the normal holiday kind, so they can chill overnight. Tomorrow will be spent making a huge mess with glittery colored sugars, red, green and white icings, sprinkles and all the other fun things that can go on dough and still be edible.
This year’s gingerbread houses will be more ambitious, although the idea goes against the wishes of family members who love to pour on the candies. Later, there might be pictures, depending on the outcome, and how much more shopping and cooking has to be done.
There were 6,000 stuffed animals by a self-taught taxidermist, placed in domestic situations such as card playing and taking meals. The auction house sold it off in lots for 336,000 pounds, although an artist, Damien Hirst, offered a million pounds for it all. The owner of the collection is now suing the auction house.
Should any aspiring taxidermist, self-taught or professional, wish to recreate some of these scenes, he is welcome to begin trapping from nature’s bounty of small animals on my property. They are currently in their prime, fat and sleek of coat after a mast year in the oaks. Haste is urged, because they are reproducing at record rates.
