It's happened again. I happened to glance at Facebook pictures featuring people I know in an overly intimate position.
Is nothing sacred? Am I just a prude?
Wait. I know I'm not a prude. I just don't want to see you kissing someone. I'm sure you have kissed people and I'm sure that some people regard you as kissable and therefore, attractive, I just don't need photographic evidence.
***
In other news, I made Strawberry Scones last weekend and they were a success. By success, I mean all eaten within 24 hours as opposed to Ryan's recent biscuit attempt, which have been designated as dog biscuits (and not eaten at all). Somehow he got too much baking powder or soda in them and they tasted, as I described to him, not unlike "licking quarters." Oh well. He's made a lots of good things. And the proportion of good things to things that taste like quarters is quite satisfactory.
Strawberry Scones
2¼ cups all purpose flour
¼ cups sugar, plus extra for sprinkling
1 tablespoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
8 tablespoons butter, cubed
1 egg
¼ cup plain yoghurt
½ cup milk
orange zest from one orange
1.5 cups sliced and diced fresh strawberries
1. Preheat oven to 425F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. In a small bowl, combine the egg, yoghurt, milk and orange zest. Whisk to thoroughly combine.
3. Place the dry ingredients (flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt) in a large bowl. Pulse to combine. Add the cubes of butter and cut the butter into the flour with a pastry cutter, to just before a coarse meal texture.
4. Add the strawberries to the flour mixture and mix to coat. Add the wet ingredients and fold them into the dry ingredients, mixing just until the dough comes together and all of the flour is hydrated. Don't mix too much or you will lose fluffiness.
5. Scoop out onto prepared baking sheet and sprinkle some sugar. Bake until slightly browned on top, for about 15 minutes (use a toothpick to test doneness).
6.Remove the baking sheet from the oven and let the scones cool on the sheet for a few minutes. I had leftover dough, which I froze for quick scones next time.
YUM.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
The Garden and It's Spring!
We planted a garden. Well. Ryan did most of the work - I supervised while managing a bottle of Ithaca Brewing Company's finest pale ale.
Still, it's very exciting. This morning I went down and checked our little plants - all of the tomatoes (Cherries and Black Prince heirlooms) and about half of the peppers (Lady Bell and Jalapeño) have little buds or flowers on them. We also have oregano and Thai basil in pots and Lauren and Matt from downstairs have some parsley, sweet basil and cilantro (apparently some people seem to disagree with me that it tastes like soap) seeds going. Now if we can just convince the other downstairs neighbours not to throw their cigarette butts and trash onto the vegetable plot we'll be set. I think this is manageable because they are moving out in a week.
I also packed up all our woolly winter clothing and started eying my bathing suits, not to mention getting rid of clothes I never wear (to make room for....more clothes!). Today is supposed to be 72 degrees and clear all day long. We're planning a backpacking trip along the Fingerlakes Trail.
Yesterday was pretty idyllic as well (except for folding a huge pile of delinquent laundry) - we went to Huntervale and I rode 4 ponies, who were (mostly) fabulous, while Ryan fished for bass. Next week, a trip to Devon Horse Show.
The weather has been unbelievable. Everything from mid-nineties and humid, to thunderstorms, to nighttime frosts, to grey and cloudy and then, finally, on Saturday, hail. HAIL. I guess this is "spring."
Still, it's very exciting. This morning I went down and checked our little plants - all of the tomatoes (Cherries and Black Prince heirlooms) and about half of the peppers (Lady Bell and Jalapeño) have little buds or flowers on them. We also have oregano and Thai basil in pots and Lauren and Matt from downstairs have some parsley, sweet basil and cilantro (apparently some people seem to disagree with me that it tastes like soap) seeds going. Now if we can just convince the other downstairs neighbours not to throw their cigarette butts and trash onto the vegetable plot we'll be set. I think this is manageable because they are moving out in a week.
I also packed up all our woolly winter clothing and started eying my bathing suits, not to mention getting rid of clothes I never wear (to make room for....more clothes!). Today is supposed to be 72 degrees and clear all day long. We're planning a backpacking trip along the Fingerlakes Trail.
Yesterday was pretty idyllic as well (except for folding a huge pile of delinquent laundry) - we went to Huntervale and I rode 4 ponies, who were (mostly) fabulous, while Ryan fished for bass. Next week, a trip to Devon Horse Show.
The weather has been unbelievable. Everything from mid-nineties and humid, to thunderstorms, to nighttime frosts, to grey and cloudy and then, finally, on Saturday, hail. HAIL. I guess this is "spring."
Sunday, May 17, 2009
What do you do for money?
So I haven't been a prolific poster recently. I think that the main reason is that my mind has been really focused on my current job and I don't feel comfortable talking about it on the internet. It's not fair to my students/clients/staff.
I haven't been knitting, I haven't been cooking, I haven't been taking care of the house properly, I haven't been writing here. I have also come to the conclusion that I really don't want to work more than 3 to 4 days a week, if I can help it. It goes against everything I was raised to believe (work hard! get rewards!) but I am finding that I think the leisure to do what I want is really the best reward. Also that I shouldn't be defined by the work that I do - even if that is something that I love doing, like riding horses.
I'm going to go as far as to say that the question "What do you do?" as in implying "What do you do for money?" is almost rude. Maybe I think so because I started to hate answering it so much when I worked for the hedge fund. My standard answer to the question became, "I work for a hedge fund but I'm not a republican. Yes, they are just as evil as you've been told."
When I was a horse trainer, the answer was always greeted with: "I rode a horse once." So while I originally liked answering the question, I got tired of the stories about someone going on a trail ride and the horse "bucked them" or "started going really fast."
Now I have such a convoluted answer, I really don't like bothering. Every answer seems like a betrayal to everything else I do. And I can't really list everything and I don't really feel that what I do for money is the same as what I, well, do.
But I suppose it's a question, like any other, that people use to learn about other people. Obviously I've asked the question myself, but I think I tend to wait until the person volunteers the information. I mean, what if you want to not work at all. How do you answer the question then?
I think this all stems from my frustration with being defined or boxed into a category and my frustration with defining or categorising others. I'm sure I do it though much my own chagrin. It just seems like a lazy and more importantly harmful thing to do. Lately I've been feeling very categorised all too often.
Well this has turned into a bit of a ramble. Oh well.
I haven't been knitting, I haven't been cooking, I haven't been taking care of the house properly, I haven't been writing here. I have also come to the conclusion that I really don't want to work more than 3 to 4 days a week, if I can help it. It goes against everything I was raised to believe (work hard! get rewards!) but I am finding that I think the leisure to do what I want is really the best reward. Also that I shouldn't be defined by the work that I do - even if that is something that I love doing, like riding horses.
I'm going to go as far as to say that the question "What do you do?" as in implying "What do you do for money?" is almost rude. Maybe I think so because I started to hate answering it so much when I worked for the hedge fund. My standard answer to the question became, "I work for a hedge fund but I'm not a republican. Yes, they are just as evil as you've been told."
When I was a horse trainer, the answer was always greeted with: "I rode a horse once." So while I originally liked answering the question, I got tired of the stories about someone going on a trail ride and the horse "bucked them" or "started going really fast."
Now I have such a convoluted answer, I really don't like bothering. Every answer seems like a betrayal to everything else I do. And I can't really list everything and I don't really feel that what I do for money is the same as what I, well, do.
But I suppose it's a question, like any other, that people use to learn about other people. Obviously I've asked the question myself, but I think I tend to wait until the person volunteers the information. I mean, what if you want to not work at all. How do you answer the question then?
I think this all stems from my frustration with being defined or boxed into a category and my frustration with defining or categorising others. I'm sure I do it though much my own chagrin. It just seems like a lazy and more importantly harmful thing to do. Lately I've been feeling very categorised all too often.
Well this has turned into a bit of a ramble. Oh well.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Bad Behaviour.
Today at Wegmans, I heard a (grown) woman drop a 24 pack of beer (causing a mess) and then watched her (literally) run away. RUN. I thought, after seeing this, that no matter how old she was, she wasn't old enough to be drinking alcohol.
I want to start a website called: I Judge You When You Behave Badly In Public.
I want to start a website called: I Judge You When You Behave Badly In Public.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Today At The Dog Park
I arrived and standing on the big hill in the middle of it, were two people who could not keep their hands off each other. In a fit of disgusting displays of affection, he had his hand in various nooks and crannies that are usually only explored within the privacy of the bedroom, not to mention his tongue in places that are usually the realm of ENT doctors.
They had a sort of labby-collie type black and tan dog that tended to be on the less socialised side. On more than one occasion I saw Jeeves adopt his ears back, snapping stance, the one where he is clearly trying to tell the other dog, "I am uncomfortable with your behaviour, leave me alone" by way of a high pitched bark.
Also at the park was a mother and her little girl, also on the less socialised side of things. The girl had not been taught how to be around a dog which, from my point of view, from the moment they arrived and she was instantly knocked over, created a dangerous situation. She was knocked over because she ran right into a dog from behind, who in turn, chased her and ran her down.
I was standing and chatting with a few people, while our dogs played together. A woman walked up to one of the people I was talking to, a man, and said, "Is this your dog?" gesturing to the black and tan dog that belonged to octopus couple.
"No." He replied.
"Well, that dog just pissed all over my daughter. "
The man made some sort of noise indicating acknowledgment.
"Do you know who's dog it is? It pissed all over my daughter."
The man's girlfriend said, "I don't know, I'm sorry."
The woman replied, "It's just disgusting."
The wet little girl stood their, with a blank expression on her face.
When the woman finally discerned who owned the offending dog, she didn't go and talk to them about the matter. She complained about it some more to us, saying that they had stood their laughing while their dog defiled her daughter. She bided her time until they made a move to leave the park, at which point, she shouted at them from across the park.
Then she took her child, left the park and went to the police.
I'm not kidding.
Bad Manners All Around. The nauseating couple should have made a good faith effort to stop their dog from micturating over the poor little girl and the stupid woman should have set a much better example for the little girl. Dragging her around the park to yell at strangers? Going to the police? There are worse things than piss in this world. Instead of teaching the girl to get over shitty things that happen to you, by being sympathetic (but not angry!), she taught the girl to make ineffectual complaints and be thoroughly rude to strangers (by whom I mean the man she accused of being the dog owner in the first place). She didn't even show her how to voice her grievance like an adult - if she really wanted some kind of apology or closure, she should have approached the couple and addressed the issue with them appropriately instead of shouting across the park.
She took the dog pissing on her daughter personally.
So while I started my trip out to the dog park, wishing that there was some kind of posting about dog park etiquette for dogs (i.e. it is not safe to bring a leashed dog into the dog park, it is disgusting not to pick up after your dog, etc.) I realised that these sorts of things are probably as ineffectual as that woman's outrage. People are just jerks sometimes.
They had a sort of labby-collie type black and tan dog that tended to be on the less socialised side. On more than one occasion I saw Jeeves adopt his ears back, snapping stance, the one where he is clearly trying to tell the other dog, "I am uncomfortable with your behaviour, leave me alone" by way of a high pitched bark.
Also at the park was a mother and her little girl, also on the less socialised side of things. The girl had not been taught how to be around a dog which, from my point of view, from the moment they arrived and she was instantly knocked over, created a dangerous situation. She was knocked over because she ran right into a dog from behind, who in turn, chased her and ran her down.
I was standing and chatting with a few people, while our dogs played together. A woman walked up to one of the people I was talking to, a man, and said, "Is this your dog?" gesturing to the black and tan dog that belonged to octopus couple.
"No." He replied.
"Well, that dog just pissed all over my daughter. "
The man made some sort of noise indicating acknowledgment.
"Do you know who's dog it is? It pissed all over my daughter."
The man's girlfriend said, "I don't know, I'm sorry."
The woman replied, "It's just disgusting."
The wet little girl stood their, with a blank expression on her face.
When the woman finally discerned who owned the offending dog, she didn't go and talk to them about the matter. She complained about it some more to us, saying that they had stood their laughing while their dog defiled her daughter. She bided her time until they made a move to leave the park, at which point, she shouted at them from across the park.
Then she took her child, left the park and went to the police.
I'm not kidding.
Bad Manners All Around. The nauseating couple should have made a good faith effort to stop their dog from micturating over the poor little girl and the stupid woman should have set a much better example for the little girl. Dragging her around the park to yell at strangers? Going to the police? There are worse things than piss in this world. Instead of teaching the girl to get over shitty things that happen to you, by being sympathetic (but not angry!), she taught the girl to make ineffectual complaints and be thoroughly rude to strangers (by whom I mean the man she accused of being the dog owner in the first place). She didn't even show her how to voice her grievance like an adult - if she really wanted some kind of apology or closure, she should have approached the couple and addressed the issue with them appropriately instead of shouting across the park.
She took the dog pissing on her daughter personally.
So while I started my trip out to the dog park, wishing that there was some kind of posting about dog park etiquette for dogs (i.e. it is not safe to bring a leashed dog into the dog park, it is disgusting not to pick up after your dog, etc.) I realised that these sorts of things are probably as ineffectual as that woman's outrage. People are just jerks sometimes.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Facebook is so weird. Not that I'm judging.
I've seen pictures of old friends, posted on Facebook, that make me feel as if I've walked in on them having sex and then turned around, only to find the door locked behind me and to then discover that they don't care that I'm in there and are continuing with their...machinations.
I guess that's a rather long metaphor, but the pictures are just so unabashed, so "out there" that the only choice one has is to start making pop psychology diagnoses. At least that's what I do.
"She has always used her relationships with men to validate herself, so therefore she is posting these pictures of herself in these blatantly sexual positions in order to appear more attractive in the eyes of others. What she doesn't realise is how transparent this is and also, how quickly she needs to get herself into therapy."
One picture in particular, the person looks like they are being date raped. Date raped.
In addition to inappropriate pictures, there are jokes occasionally made on peoples posts that I think are childish, inappropriate and rude. A (straight) male friend changed his relationship status and it was met with, "Can't wait to meet him" and "What's his name?" jokes.
This is a funny place for me to be in. I am far from prudish and certainly far from anyone who gets offended by pretty much anything -I do have my fair share of somewhat scandalous pictures posted up on Facebook. I'm not particularly fond of political correctness (don't get me drunk and started on cultural relativism. Or Garrison Keillor, for that matter). It is just weird to want other people to see a lot of this stuff. Or know about it.
Maybe it's not them, it's me. Maybe I'm showing my age - I feel like I missed the everyone-knows-everything-about-you-in-digital generation by a couple of years. Young enough to know what it is, too old not to be horrified or totally grossed out. I mean, no one even had a cell phone when I was in high school until my senior year and even then, it was a rarity.
*******
I guess that's a rather long metaphor, but the pictures are just so unabashed, so "out there" that the only choice one has is to start making pop psychology diagnoses. At least that's what I do.
"She has always used her relationships with men to validate herself, so therefore she is posting these pictures of herself in these blatantly sexual positions in order to appear more attractive in the eyes of others. What she doesn't realise is how transparent this is and also, how quickly she needs to get herself into therapy."
One picture in particular, the person looks like they are being date raped. Date raped.
In addition to inappropriate pictures, there are jokes occasionally made on peoples posts that I think are childish, inappropriate and rude. A (straight) male friend changed his relationship status and it was met with, "Can't wait to meet him" and "What's his name?" jokes.
This is a funny place for me to be in. I am far from prudish and certainly far from anyone who gets offended by pretty much anything -I do have my fair share of somewhat scandalous pictures posted up on Facebook. I'm not particularly fond of political correctness (don't get me drunk and started on cultural relativism. Or Garrison Keillor, for that matter). It is just weird to want other people to see a lot of this stuff. Or know about it.
Maybe it's not them, it's me. Maybe I'm showing my age - I feel like I missed the everyone-knows-everything-about-you-in-digital generation by a couple of years. Young enough to know what it is, too old not to be horrified or totally grossed out. I mean, no one even had a cell phone when I was in high school until my senior year and even then, it was a rarity.
*******
Friday, April 10, 2009
Richard Coyle, Bad Movies and Sleepiness.
It's 1 in the morning, I fell asleep for several hours after I returned home from work this evening and now I am perky and wide awake. I didn't get enough sleep last night because Jeeves had a panic attack due to fireworks being let off somewhere nearby. I'm not sure why dogs hate fireworks so much. 
And so, I'm going to go to bed quite late again and thus beginning the endless catch-22 of the proverbial night person.
Why Richard Coyle? Because I had a strange dream the other night where Richard Coyle was a friend of mine. I realised when I woke up that I wouldn't mind having Richard Coyle be my friend. I bet he'd be a lot of fun.
And so, I'm going to go to bed quite late again and thus beginning the endless catch-22 of the proverbial night person.***
I just finished watching a really weird movie called the Libertine. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone. I'm not even going to link to it, because it really wasn't that interesting enough. It's starring Johnny Depp in the somewhat biographical role of John Wilmot, the 2nd Earl of Rochester. He does a great job, but the plot is confusing and just not very interesting. I found it because I was looking for things Richard Coyle has done - he had a small role in it.Why Richard Coyle? Because I had a strange dream the other night where Richard Coyle was a friend of mine. I realised when I woke up that I wouldn't mind having Richard Coyle be my friend. I bet he'd be a lot of fun.
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