Sort of bread for mah soup

I made soup out of some stuff we had...
Rutabaga, turnips, carrots, asparagus, potato, fresh rosemary, turkey broth, a few pinches of salt, celery, garlic, onion, parsley, coriander, a touch of red pepper, some curry... boiled together for an hour...

and realized as I spooned some into a bowl that we didn't have any good, soup-oriented bread. I.e., fresh. So I scoured the internet for a fast bread recipe. There are none that I can find. I remembered creating a form of crackers with Bisquick, but we don't have much Bisquick left, so I decided to go play in the flour.

Preheated oven to 350F.
Rinsed bowl with warm water, then added about a half-cup warm water.
Added about a half-teaspoon of yeast.
Listened to that bubble for a couple of minutes, then got out the flour, baking soda, salt, and sugar.
Stirred in a pinch of sugar, pinch of salt, and a bit of baking soda. Boy, something in there fizzed...
Then added about a cup of flour and mixed together with a cup or so of water. Maybe less.

The dough was sticky so I dumped some flour on the counter and added a handful to the dough, stirring with a wooden spoon and adding more flour until it turned into a big ball.
Took ball and dropped it in the middle of the counter flour. Dumped more flour on top and pushed the mass into a flat thing, adding flour as needed to ensure a nice pliable, non-sticky mess.
Plopped dough (which reminded me of pizza dough!) onto a cookie sheet. The flattened dough was pretty floury so I wasn't too concerned about it getting stuck to the sheet. Stuck it in the oven for 30 minutes.
Oh - I almost forgot, I also poked it with a fork all over the place so it would stay somewhat flat, in case it was thinking about getting a rise out of the situation.
Came out pretty good, actually... a bit chewy, with a few pockets of bread-like substance inside and powdery flour on the outside. I like it.

Oh, and the soup's really good, too... sweeter than I'd expected. I forgot that rutabagas are very sweet!!

~w

OMG Dale's hysterical

Dale just came downstairs and I showed him the remnants of the veggie juice. He goes, "So is this one Steak and Potatoes?" LMAO!!!!!

Breakfast, and a history of my tea experiences

This is the good life. I'm sitting here at my mac drinking freshly made vegetable juice, Da Hong Pao, and eating toast with marmalade next to a couple curried eggs. Life cannot get any better than this. Well, it could, but Dale's upstairs and still sleeping. Some morning Quirkle might make this better than surfing the web for new teas I haven't had yet.

I did a menu of teas for myself (and any guests that come over, or for future "tea parties") and realised that I have over thirty teas/tisanes right now. Some, I don't have much of left, while others are in larger bags or tins. I honestly don't "need" any more tea right now. The Da Hong Pao I'm drinking right now reminds me that I'd like to order some, though... it's very close to being the last of it, if drunk in small quantities (no pots for me right now) and it's one of my favourites. I am pretty certain that it's better than Feng Huan Dan Cong, which I felt was very similar until I drank that for a while and went back to Da Hong Pao. Da Hong is definitely more rounded for me, if you'll call it that. Smooth but with lots going on.

I know, I know, I'm such a tea snob. I cannot help it. It's the entire experience for me... I've not gone as far as the naturalists or hippy types or anything but man, tea is awesome. There's so much more to it than I could ever learn, which totally surprised me when I began to try. My thoughts about tea growing up were, "Salada seems to be redder and tastier than Lipton. Mum, can we get more Salada?" Eventually I discovered Twinings' variety pack, and found out that Earl Grey is absolutely to die for. Flavoured Tea, who woulda thunkit. Shortly after I delighted in Lady Earl Grey and eventually discovered that there were a gazillion tea companies on the shelf.

Then one day, someone at work was drinking something called "Loose Leaf." I'd never heard of that before. She insisted it was better than the bagged teas. I tried some. It was a Twinings Green Earl Grey. It was really, really good... smooth for a green, which I'd tried in a bag by then and despised. Couldn't find it in the store, though, so I gave up on looseleafs and went on with my Earl Grey and English Breakfast. Years later, Dale goes and gives me this weird steeping cup from Adagio and a few looseleafs to go with it. Whoa, I thought. You can buy looseleafs ONLINE!! I soon became a fan of Adagio and the next thing I knew, I had tried just about every one of their sampler packs and a good portion of their blacks and oolongs, as well. But it didn't stop there. I soon found out about teapots with mesh strainers that sit inside. And then Dale's mum gave me a Tetsubin and I found out that the Jasmine I had been having trouble with FLUORISHED in the cast iron. Suddenly, it wasn't just about the tea... it was about the vessels it comes in.

My friend Jen surprised me with a gaiwan a year or so ago. "What's this?" I thought, having never seen one. "Well, you're so into tea," she explains. "It's a gaiwan." More research. Ali Shan became my staple in that thing because I liked to watch the leaves unfurl in it... no strainer needed because it doesn't get too bitter and I could simply keep dumping water in due to its long lasting "infusionability."

I quickly found myself surrounded by five teapots, a gaiwan, several single-serve infusers, a teaball, a stainless mug strainer with cover, a plastic IngenuiTea, and a few "teabag caddies" which I used as "strainer caddies." Then, a few months ago, I discovered a nice gong fu set at a tea shoppe an hour north from here and bought it on the spot. I had not realised that my beloved Ali Shan had been looking for this set all its life!!

Anywho, now I own the aforementioned, a donated copper kettle for boiling my water, an additional Gaiwan with matching cups and a strainer (I think it's a gaiwan, despite the fact it has the strainer and a spout of sorts), a pewter tea cup, little bowls of varying materials, a pretty silver teapot for decorative purposes, Turkish tea glasses, and a travel gong fu set with porcelain tea ware instead of the yi xing clay. Oh, and an insulated carafe that Dale's mum gave me... it's excellent for holding hot water for hours, so I can take my tea upstairs and slowly consume cup after cup without having to keep heating water. Very useful for gong fu, too.

Fun, fun!!!!!

Family is good.

I got lots of nice things for Christmas. Lots. Probably most useful right off the top of my head will be the camera-related stuff and a "static discharger." There are also some new teas to try, a gift card to some indian food place, a couple electronic accessories I love, little bowls for tea-related stuff, some soap for the bathroom (courtesy of my niece, who has, since Thanksgiving, grown TALLER than me by a good inch or two), and two Big Bang Theory DVDs. Another really cool thing that I wouldn't use if I didn't have it (meaning I don't bake but now I probably will because I have stuff to bake in) are these bakeware things with covers and trivets... very neat things, you can bake in them, cool them on the trivet rack things, cover them, refrigerate them, and then shove them right back in the oven. It's a gorgeous matching set, too, in green.

I think my favourite thing right now, though, is a pewter cup that Dale got me. We had been at a Danforth shoppe not too long ago and I saw these beautiful "baby" cups. There was one with engraving on it so it was dirt cheap by Danforth standards, but still too high for me to want to get it, especially since it had engraving on it that I couldn't rationalize around at the time and besides, I have /lots/ of things to drink my tea from so to me it was WAY too extravagant for on-the-whim purchasing. So I walked out without it (lots of willpower that day). I also did not buy myself a pewter teapot, which /was/ worth the price to me, but again, could not rationalize... especially since I'd be unlikely to actually /use/ it, and already have a gorgeous silver one that Dale got me a year or two ago from an antique shoppe. Anywho, Dale got me a beautiful pewter cup, but that wasn't the really cool part. He had it engraved. At first, I thought it was really sweet... "For Tea Only," in blackletter font. Then after I finished drooling over it he's like, "You didn't finish reading." I'm like, "Huh?" and spent a good thirty seconds searching the packaging for text. He finally goes, "Turn the cup around." On the other side is reads "(or Guinness)" which is the beer I like.

THAT was the coolest part. I told him, however, that the cup was most definitely for tea and that the pint-sized tankard with a pewter "Guinness" on it was for the Guinness. He smiled. (He got me the tankard, too.)

:D :D :D

Oh, and he loved his gifts, too. I done better than I'd hoped... he saw the thoughtfulness in them that I'd intended before I got spooked by numbers (he out-gifted me numerically, which I realised after everything was under the tree). I had nothing at all to worry about. I don't know why I worry so much at times... and usually for all the wrong reasons. Probably just upbringing to an extent, and living in a material-oriented world. Human? LOL

Anywho, three days of Christmas is a lot but I loved every minute of it. My niece is just about to turn 12 and even though from my perspective, she's spoiled rotten and has her moments of showing it, she's actually /very/ well-behaved now, and took great pleasure in giving out gifts of her own this year. She obviously loved everything people gave her and any training she's had on thanking people for everything has become innate. It's interesting to have been able to watch these changes in her as she's gotten older. She has a couple good role models in her life, methinks, including her mom. Of course, my nephew was also a little ray of sunshine until yesterday afternoon when he had a bit of a tantrum for a few minutes. That was highly unusual but he's three, had a lot of activity, and had been away from Mom for the longest ever. (She just had an operation so he's staying with Dad for two weeks... this is the half-way point.) I figured it was related to the last, because he kept saying "Momma" into the floor. Eventually his curiosity roused him out of it, though. Felt bad for him but I was more inclined to simply keep playing with family instead of giving him attention. I thought he could figure it out himself... he won't always be catered to in life and needs to learn to be with himself. In case I was wrong, I have nothing to worry about... Grammy was the one to help regain his interest in the proceedings around him. We've got another spoiled kid in our midst!

Great times, lots of family everywhere, and for the first time I think I enjoyed ALL of it instead of just the first couple hours. It's been a welcome addition to my life, having all this family around, but also hard to adjust to. Today Paul and Lynn are coming down and we'll finish up Christmas with friends. :) I cannot convey how lucky I feel this weekend, to experience so much happiness and love around me. I wish Mum could have had this experience at some point in her life and seen what it's really like.

But OH!!! More most awesomeness!!!!!!! Dale got the cats a new toy, and they LOVE it. GO, DALE!!!!!

~w

roxette vs savage garden

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VlIVkDzmEKg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oqGnsP4wOf0

I was driving home tonight when it struck me that Roxette's "Centre Of The Heart" reminded me of the newer song, "I Want You" by Savage Garden.

Some styles never go out of style... LOL

~w

still strangeness

Seems to have counted down the right number of hours. Perhaps this is when my lease is expiring...? OH NOZ!! EXPIRED LEASE?! lol Not sure how to check that in Terminal... :: hmph ::

Network strangeness

Currently on the mac, and counting down... usually it shows network UPtime...?

comfort!

I just finished wrapping Christmas gifts, cleaning the kitchen, neatening at least one of my desks, making ali shan, and heating up my slippers. Now I'm sitting at my desk with nice warm tootsies (wow, I'd forgotten what it's like to have warm toes) and sipping hot tea from the gongfu tray and yanno, I should read a bit while I'm here. :D

Comfort at its finest.

~w

Windows correction

I stand corrected. The work I did may have been overshadowed by the updates. It is now booting at 1:15, consistently, including the login. 49 seconds until login, I log in, and another 20 or so until I can hit the start button and have it do something. I have one program starting up that could be causing a few extra seconds, so that part I'm OK with.

Now to figure out how to tweak the mac... LOL (once I get windows booting in 30 seconds... if possible!!)

~nv

windows updates

Went to shut down my Windows 7 VM today after rebooting to see how long it would take to boot (over 2 minutes). I actually started the timer at least thirty seconds into the process and it still managed to hit 9:20 before I saw "Shutting Down" appear. This is why people at work hate Windows Updates. They have to take their computers HOME with them, and this prevents them from LEAVING. Which means shutting down early, going to the bathroom, coming back, packing up, and then throwing the laptop into a backpack whether it's done or not. I did this myself once, assuming it would finish shutting down on its own in there, and it did not. Somehow, it failed to finish shutting down, but because it was en route, it never went into sleep mode either (didn't expect it to, expected it to shut down). About an hour or two later, at home, I was entertaining guests and picked up the backpack by its handle to stow it in a safer place. The handle was warm. I got the laptop out right away and the screen was black and I could barely touch the thing in most spots. I held in the power button, it shut off, and I placed it on the floor for a minute to cool off before setting it on a desk (seriously, I couldn't pick it up, it was too hot).

That scares me for many reasons. First, I don't know if it was still getting hotter or if it had stayed that way a while. If it was still increasing in temperature, and did so long enough to become a fire hazard, well, enough said. (I've heard of beds catching because people leave laptops on their covers with no ventilation, although it's probably rare compared to the number of people that likely do that.)

Normally I'm not one to protect dumb people. However, being a seasoned tech who did something stupid (trusting technology to shut itself down like it should), I can't help but think that maybe some things are simply not well-thought-out. What happened to the old XP thing of shut down and install updates? Then if you didn't do it then, it could keep prompting you until you said "fine do it." I know not everyone will do what they're supposed to, but leave that choice to the user. Forcing the uninformed (or the uncaring or absentminded) to do something isn't solving the problem. I'd rather get yelled at for losing someone's work during the reimaging process than hear that someone's house burned down. So, give me the viruses, not a fire.

The two-minute boot time is annoying me at home. At work, I have a pattern - I turn it on, walk off and get a cup of tea. That in and of itself takes three minutes. I get back and log in, wait a split second, hit the lock sequence so I can leave it unattended while it finishes booting, and then go off and check in with the colleagues that are already there. This takes another five to ten minutes. By the time I get back to my desk, my apps are loaded (I have them autostart for me so I can be more efficient since waiting for shit takes too damned long). No biggie there. At home, however... I usually fire up Windows (and the VM itself) for one quick reason or another and egads, two minutes to open an application is ridiculous, which is what it really is to me in the end... opening an application. I /know/ I'm booting an entire machine, or resuming one, but come on... I close the cover of my macbook, walk off, come back the next day, open it up, wait one or two seconds, enter my password, and there it is waiting for me even after 37 days. (I just started noticing fluky issues, which is why I checked its actual uptime... and the flukiness only happens with the VM being on, which is understandable anyway.)

I love Windows 7 when it's up and running but crikeys, even after modifying a bunch of startup items, it's still slow. I could get 98se up in 13 to 17 seconds, and XP in 30, sometimes less. What's with this?! I have downloaded something called "Soluto" to see where the issues lie, but from my understanding, people using this to track those things down are only shaving 10 seconds off anyway. So I might be looking at 1:37 down the road, at best, if their times are any indication. I think I'll shut off Windows Updates entirely... W7 is only for my use of certain programs anyway, and those updates got in the way of my boot time testing. It's not like I need to (or do, other than updates) go online with the damned thing. Works perfectly fine the way it is as far as I'm concerned and I'm the one paying for hard drive space so BYTE ME!! Asides, I've got it backed up so I can always replace its little VM file with a new one if it cranks out crap on me.

Evil Windoze. The more I've gotten to know my mac, the more I've begun to dislike Windows, improvements or not.

NOW... that being said, I WILL say that my MAC boots slowly, too, and I'm not exactly enamoured with that. However, I've not figured out how to tweak it yet, so I'm totally clueless and too chicken to mess with it since it's my primary machine hosting everything else. So, I simply put it to sleep each day. Unlike Windoze, the Mac doesn't mind waking up 99% of the time. (The other 1% is typically fixed by resleeping it and reopening the lid in 10 seconds or so, that usually "bumps" it and gives me my password prompt.)

HA!

~nv

Egads

Okay, so... going back to an earlier post... I was blessed this morning with seeing an old friend online. After much discussion, he has reminded me of several things I already know. First, that I am my own worst enemy, even though he didn't outright state that in those words. Secondly, with this discussion, I have slowly (for me it was a crawl) concluded the following.

- I'm human. To demonstrate this, I'm going to leave my earlier posts intact so that I don't ever get the chance to make myself out otherwise. If anyone reading this ever is seeking a similar story to their own, here and there it is. I'm prepared (at least at this writing) to accept that I might be judged for appearances.

- What started out as good intentions evolved into selfish ones. This is why I felt really hurt. It was not Mum's fault that I was hurting, it was my own, because no matter what people (including moms) do to others, it's up to the others how they react. Mum was simply being Mum. She has never changed, and never will, and it's something I'd thought that I'd accepted. Apparently at some point, I stopped accepting it. So, when I saw her being who she is, and not who I wanted her to be, I tanked and took it personally.

- I have had a revelation which may or may not be true, but nonetheless, it horrified me. Growing up, I learned that sadness and anger were not allowed openly (difficult for expressive ole me). Happiness was OK in small quantities. Fear, however, was very acceptable, as well as biting humour. If parents often repeat what they grow up knowing, I was not far from the truth when I said some things to my own parent. If this is the case, I am horrified for what her childhood was like, especially because she did not escape it enough to avoid repeating it for me.

I feel much better now, although, I hesitate to say that with any sincerity because who knows if this weight I just lifted off my own shoulders will continue to stay lifted or not. It's so very easy to allow clouds back into one's own life...

~nv

Dreamy thoughts

So, earlier this morning I had an itchy ear whilst sleeping. I was dreaming, my dream was interrupted by reality (itching), and my thoughts were trying to create words. I remember something along the lines of "the rightmost canal of the things in my head is irritated" and other such descriptions. After several of these, I woke up just long enough to think, very distinctly, "Itchy right ear. Now, sleep."

I don't remember if I actually scratched it or not but I do remember thinking vaguely that if I were to scratch, I should be ever so gentle about it to avoid further irritation.

Maybe I /am/ Cherokee. Or maybe I just learned too much of the language. Either way, it is still obvious to me that words are not my primary thought-language and that I am still interpreting my thoughts into words, even in my sleep. This is how ingrained language becomes as we use it. What a wondrous thing!

-nv

apology

I wish to apologize to the internet's eyes for my last post.  I was very angry at the time.  I strongly considered removing the post, but thought better of it.  It is a reflection of today's thoughts and very strong emotions, and in all honesty, it did not actually quite touch the surface of how I felt, so I consider it pretty tame after all.

Nonetheless, the words were pretty strong, hence the apology.

In other news, the anger has diffused a good deal.  Talking things out with my trusted advisor (that be Dale) helped to point out things I already know:  This is simply going to affect me and I simply have to accept that... and all of my experiences - good AND bad - have helped to make me the person I am, whom many people care about, whether I feel worthy of it at times or not.  Furthermore, I have choices on how this affects my choices going forward, regardless of how I feel about it.

Considering the extremes I've come to know - a mom who hates all shows of emotion compared to Dale, who listens quietly and hugs me whenever I need it - I suppose I can truly appreciate, more than most, just how lucky and/or blessed I really am.  I remember when I first met Dale, how I kept looking for some major thing I couldn't accept because he was too good to be true.  I remember how he said something once and I stood there expectantly, and he was like "what?" and I was like, "and...?"  There was no "and."  He just... is.  It's a remarkable place to be and I know I live in the past a lot.  When I realized this, I set out to make a happy future with this most interesting person, because that future would eventually become the past I'd be living in.  I did not wish to take anything for granted for fear that my future past would suck once again.  Yet, as I woke up by his side each morning, I'd lay there crying.  I couldn't figure out what he saw in me, or why he stayed.  I knew I'd become a strong, decent person, but he was so full of enthusiasm for everything, and so positive and upbeat.  While I can have that side, I know I'm also mopey at times, perfectionistic, and as I mentioned, have trouble leaving the past behind me and looking at what's right in front of me.  So I'd lay there watching him sleep and being so thankful for him.  And, I'd feel my insides twist in pain at the same time, because nothing could possibly be this good.  Life was about being hurt by the people you love, not being unconditionally loved by them.  I figured it would change any second and I'd better appreciate the little moment in time while it lasted.

Nearly seven years later, I still sit here in wonder over this.  I've come to accept that he accepts me for who I am, faults and all, just as I do him.  I've come to accept that I don't have to understand it.  But still I wake up wondering how this came to be.  There were so many possibilities for me, mostly not fun ones.  I could have committed suicide.  I could have become a drunk or a drug user.  I could have become some super brain making lots of money and constantly driving myself to heart attacks.  I could have married a jerk.  I could have ended up pregnant, maybe several times.  Maybe put myself on welfare.  Or, I could have gone through life exactly as I'd been intending to when I met Dale - living alone, no longer dating, and just keeping friends around for amusement, them and my critters and computers.  But no.  There's Dale, trying to find a way to remember the kind of clementines he likes.  There's our cat, Sinclair, with all his furry knots.  There's our other cat, Kitty, drooling on the remote control and purring.  And here we are, going to bed early so I can get some extra sleep - with someone to comfort me, whether I need it or simply want it.

I feel silly at times, being angry about the lack of parents, when I have so much to be happy about.  Just a few hours ago I was commenting how lucky I am to have my job - not just for the sake of having a job, but because I was able to come home and work for a few hours this afternoon, and actually accomplish something.  Not all workplaces permit that.  I am lucky to get along with everyone I work with, to have a few friends there, to like what I'm doing at least, even if I don't always love every aspect of it.  (I'm seriously thinking I'm just not that interested in computers anymore.  Ssssh, don't tell anyone!)

But one thing I will try to remember:  Just because I am happy overall does not mean I can't feel for what I never had.  The trick here is balance - yeah, too bad for me growing up, but now I'm an adult who's made some fine choices in life and has been blessed with a chance to be better than she might have been otherwise.  Get it all out, get over it, and get the heck upstairs to bed.

Kitty's buried her nose next to the remote.

~me

Life doesn't suck, yet it does.

What I don't understand is why one single human being who never gave a damn about me should be affecting me like this. I hate her. I HATE HER FUCKING GUTS.

A month, and nothing from her. She isn't worth the slime on the bottom of my shoe.

Frightened, bitchy little girl, huh? Made amends my ass. Hateful, huh? How's this for hateful? I HATE YOU. That's hateful. Just as you were my whole life, laughing at me, tormenting me, and after making amends, still never being satisfied, and still trying to hurt me, and still succeeding somehow, although why I let you, I've no bloody clue. Fuck you. Go suck ass, bitch.

I'll show you hateful. I am evil, after all, right? You gave birth to Satan. Fine, consider me as such and leave me the fuck alone forever. Asshole. Yeah, I need therapy, because of you!! You hear me, out there in the universe? Do you? I woke up at 4am having nightmares and couldn't sleep to save my life because I kept feeling your cold, icy fingers trying to wrap themselves around my neck. I woke up shivering, terrified of you, again. AGAIN. Then when the icy fingers slunk away with my flailing wakefulness, I couldn't stand it, because I knew you'd left me alone. So either I sleep soundly and fear you, or I wake up alone.

I'd rather wake up alone, I'm at least used to that. My memories of that will eventually fade like all the others sort of have.

Yanno, it dawned on me this morning on my way to work (while avoiding the concept of swerving due to sleep deprivation) that maybe, just maybe, I'm not wrong in thinking that someone who cared - related or not - would have made more of an effort to understand what I was feeling rather than avoiding me altogether and stating their own kid needs therapy. I may be fucked up, but I'm not fucked up enough to be stupid about whether someone has wronged me or not. Even if that whole movie thing was completely innocent, the reaction I got was far from indicative of it.

I think I hate you more than any other person on earth right now. You have let me down big time, "Mum." Big time. You have absolutely no idea, and if you do, you're one sick fucker, hardly better than Dad, and that's pretty damned low. What I need therapy for is to figure out how to live knowing my own mother has always hated me and always will. Because until recently, I had gotten pretty good at denying that.

OMG I am such an idiot for letting you back into my heart. What an idiot.

~Very Disgruntled Person Without A Mother

Mothers

Mothers...

...are there when it suits them.

...feel superior to everyone else.

...don't generally listen to what others have to say unless it's of interest to them.

...hate their children's poetry.

...are indifferent to their kids' good works.

...put down their kids so their kids don't bother with futile attempts at things.

...put up with kids because they "have" to.

...don't have to apologize, although every now and then, they do out of the blue.

...are always right no matter what.

...are so put upon by society that they have excuses for everything.

...give birth to evil, or, at best, children in need of therapy.

...laugh when their children hurt inside.

...are never satisfied.

...always want more than they are given.

...don't consider anything their kids do "good enough."

...are perfectionists and hold others to these high standards to ensure others fail.

...are conditional with their love.

...teach their kids independence so they can take care of themselves while Mom ignores them.

Why does anyone become a mother?

Now, if only I could understand why I'm the only one with a mother... and why people keep calling these women their mothers when they obviously aren't?

~w

integrity

Sorry in advance to Dale, who will also likely read this, but... One reason I love him is because of his integrity. He takes responsibility for his own mistakes, even if, to save face, it costs him what I consider unnecessary personal harm in some way. I've also found that when such things happen, even though he beats himself at first, he eventually finds a reason to see the positive in even that. I don't exactly feel warm fuzzies when he causes himself stress, but I admire and respect him for doing what he believes is the right thing even when it's obvious he wishes he didn't "have" to.

Regardless of my relationship with him, I can honestly say that he's one of few people whom I would earnestly and vigorously defend in the face of inquiry. To even question his character is like questioning whether a book will open its pages to you. For it not to would mean someone else came along and glued it shut.

In other words, it would take one heck of a horrible situation to change his outlook on things.

~w

Poem: Misty Eyes

MISTY EYES

2011120531 - c2011 WLC

Driving home, shiny rain

Listening to what could be pain

And suddenly I realize

The happiness within my eyes

I've wondered lately where you've been

The whys and wherefores and the when

Still the rain is coming down

Reminding me there is no frown

And so I ask myself just why

I'm OK with this goodbye

One day long past I needed you

Creating comfort on my own in lieu

Taking refuge in other places

Seeing me in others' faces

Never understanding why

You would ever say goodbye

Why you couldn't understand

That all I wanted was your hand

A little bit of pride in me

Something more that I could see

Driving home in shiny rain

Maybe I should be in pain

And suddenly I realize

The mistiness within in my eyes

Is the happy place where you had been

The memories from way back when

The rain was heavy coming down

Telling me to wear a frown

The moon is rising, and I know why

I'm OK with this goodbye

you might be a tea snob if...

Okay, so, I'd met this woman a couple years ago at work who later conversed with me about tea.  We asked each other for sources, chatted, etc.  She mentioned this "ruby 18" tea that was soon to come out, which both of us later found at only one online store.  It was quite exciting to discover a new tea through a fellow "tea snob."

I just became acutely aware, however, that as knowledgeable as she is, she probably hasn't spent hours looking for a Chinese white called "anjibaicha."  I don't mean looking as in, let's find it anywhere we find the word "anjibaicha." I mean, as in, looking for the exact tin online, even on Chinese websites with horrible google-translated-into-English versions, actually looking for the Chinese letters so the search is more accurate.  Oh, yes.  This tea snob just got even more into tea, to the point I am willing to convert U.S. dollars to yuan.

So now in addition to brewing preferences from type of tea to timing to type of vessels used for specific teas, I am now looking for a specific tea from a specific (and unknown) brand that I might only find by seeking it in another language.

I suppose I could just ask Dale to ask his friend at work where she got the tea from, and whether she can find it again for me.  But that would be too easy.  Besides, what if she can't or won't or if she leaves and consequently is no longer a good source for the stuff?

~w

New folder from selection (Snow Leopard, OSX)

Applescript (save as an app, and stick on your toolbar for ease of use with Finder items):

tell application "Finder"
make new folder at window 1 with properties {name:text returned of (display dialog "Choose a name" default answer "untitled folder")}
move selection to the result
end tell

Thanksgiving

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. The past few years, I've put together a list of things I'm thankful for.

I remember having this one Thanksgiving with my mom where we had two Cornish Hens, one for each of us, and the potatoes, etc. We took pictures because it was a real treat eating like that. Recently, her and I have gotten into a bit of a spat. I've gleaned that she doesn't understand me nor does she really want to for all her psychobabble over the years. We're currently on non-speaking terms, her because she thinks I'm being hateful and me because I'm not willing to be a doormat for her amusement. That all being said, I'm oddly not as upset as I'd typically expect. Once I got a bunch of crap out of my system, I felt strangely relieved, even though she still doesn't get it. Not exactly happy about the situation but I'm happy not to be worried about what I have to overlook next. I wish I'd stood up to her a bit sooner, although admittedly, it was nice the past few years, enjoying a bit of peace in between storms.

So, this year... I'm thankful for:
- The understanding husband, who has his own opinions and knows how to express them without ramming them down my throat, and who listens to mine even if he disagrees with them.
- The tolerant cat, who watched me pick some sort of gray specks out of his toes earlier before finally cuffing me a good one to remind me of whose toes I'm touching.
- The other cat, who is currently curled up nearby with a very happy look on her face and one foot over her head.
- The time I got to spend with my former pets, who have crossed the Rainbow Bridge.
- The job I go to each day, where I have one boss who generally leaves me alone to do what I know I need to do to keep things running.
- The colleagues I work with who are fun yet good at what they do and serious about doing it.
- The family and friends I have that actually don't mind who I am and wouldn't change me for the world (nor I, them).
- All our worldly possessions, like a house, running vehicles, and gadgetry, which make life so much easier and fun to live with.
- The many places we've had the privilege of visiting this past year.
- Awesome food we've had.

In short, I find life quite bearable... and stuff.

~me

Scrivener, again, I think

I like Scrivener more and more every time I use it.  It's like OneNote on steroids, only a bit harder to use, and I suppose not really the same... it's not a notebook like OneNote, it's more of a binder full of slips of paper and jotted-down notes.  It's meant primarily for words and not media.

But those words are kept, searched, indexed, something, so that they are easily found and referenced.  There are more options to this software than I'd ever know what to do with after two years' worth of use, and I'm excited about it.  LOL!!

~w

movie - Source Code

OMG... Dale's right when he says this is sort of like the Matrix!! We just finished watching Source Code. It's AWESOME. We're gonna have to watch it again. The levels of possibilities... Wow, what a movie. I'd not seen a good theory twister for a while.

:D

~me

cruelty

I've come to the conclusion that my mom only conceived me so she'd have someone to serve her and torment when she got bored.

And don't give me this, "But she's your mom, she really loves you" crap.  That's BULLSHIT no matter how often I try to imagine her changing or caring.  Not all mothers are loving creatures, and I know it very well, despite the few scraps of love I remember witnessing as a kid.  Real mothers don't repeatedly try to get you to watch movies that scare the shit out of you just so they can laugh, and they don't continue to try to get you to watch scary movies when they can't even laugh because they're so far away.  That's not even entertainment anymore, it's just cruel.

It's worse that she's gone and lied to me twice in the same day... first, the recommendation which suggests the movie might be non-scary, then after I voice suspicion and say I'll check on it first, that she's learned her lesson after watching something scary herself and having to run away from the TV.  I checked out the movie.  It's a thriller.

I think I'll just disown her.  It'd be easier.  Yet we haven't even really talked in months because she preaches the Bible, saying it's for my "own good."  Yeah, just like her glassy-eyed father.  God, please, PLEASE don't let me turn into her as I get older... I'm already seeing signs, and it's not right.  At least I didn't have kids to suffer under my hand.

~unloved, hurt-yet-again daughter

Cat regimen

Sinclair, our cat, was being a little snickerdoodle a bit ago.  I was making tuna sandwiches for my lunch and called to him as is the custom.  I dumped the juice and some large chunks on a plate for him and let him have at it while I finished making my sandwiches.  Then, true to being a cat, he appeared at my elbow about 1.5 seconds after I took my first bite.  Paw, paw.  Eyebrow raised, I got up (WITH my plate; experience is a good teacher) and checked his plate, which still has morsels on it.  "Sinclair, come over here," I intoned.  He looked at me from the other room, blinking.  "Sinkie!  You have tuna, right HERE.  Get your little fuzzy butt over here and enjoy it!  You're not getting mine!!"  I sat back down, gently pushing him out of my way with one foot.  He squinted his eyes as he turned away, obviously disappointed that he'd chosen me as his human.  I took another bite, another, then another, and yet another.  I'm afraid to look, but keep eating instead.  Then I feel the paw again.  Hopeful look at first, followed by that "I'm trying to look hopeful but I'm really expecting, you know" look.  I squinted at him and pointed towards the kitchen.  "Yours is in there," I explained, holding back the urge to clock him one.  He glanced at the kitchen, and immediately peered back into my eyes.  "Dude, I want yours, dumbass," the look said, only more innocently.  (Damn that innocent look.)  I got up (again with plate in hand) and double-checked his plate, since he hadn't asked for at least three or four bites... maybe he'd listened and quickly ate the rest of his treat, and was now back for more.  Nope.  I called him again.  "Sinkie!!  You get over here.  Look at this.  TUNA!"  I pointed at the dish, bending over at the waist.  My back protested slightly, but I was not to be dissuaded this time.  He complied somewhat, approaching about half-way, looking at me like he's totally confused.  (Yeah, right.)  "Sinkles!  This is like, the ultimate treat of kitties everywhere.  Get your BUTT over here and FINISH this.  You are NOT getting any of mine until you do.  Besides, mine has mayonnaise in it.  You don't even /like/ mayonnaise, so you might as well eat your share over here!"  He sat on his haunches and licked his chops.  "But momma, yours needs some fur in it."  I stood there a moment, exasperated.  "Fine, don't eat it.  Forget about getting ANY of mine, then.  I don't even care if you DO eat this, you're not getting any of mine now!"

So I sat back down, and he approached quietly.  "No," I told him, and ignored his eyes, my indication to him that I was done horsing around.  I felt his presence for a bit longer, and when I finally turned to see if he was still there, he'd disappeared.

That cat drives me crazy... but yanno what?  He drives me crazy in a very good way.  Earlier, I went upstairs to listen to the stereo and do some magazine reading, which I often put off in favour of goofing off on the computer (a habit I'm slowly trying to kick for at least a couple hours a day).  EVERY TIME I go up there, Sinclair sticks to me like glue, meowing little faint meows of questioning.  "Momma, why are you up here?" he asks, looking around, meowing plaintively.  (He's definitely getting more vocal as he ages... I'm glad it's still cute or he'd be living in the shed.)  "Oh, hi Sinkie, just doing some reading," I explain as I settle into the chair in front of the speakers.  "Mree-ee-ew?" he asks again, rubbing up against me.  I pet him briefly and immerse myself in Mac Life.  "You're my fuzzy," I tell him, slightly distracted.  "Mreew," he answers lightly, and I can see his eyes watching me from over one page.  Ut oh.  Here it comes.  "BUMP!" he says with his big, heavy head, nearly knocking me half-off the chair.  I'm suddenly glad he's NOT the dog I kept likening him to when he was a kitten.  I grab the magazine hard lest it fall off my lap and pet him again with my other hand.  "Yes, momma loves you," I tell him, staring him in the eyes.  He blinks at me.  "Mree-ee-ew?" he asks.  "Gah.  Okay, come here."  I pick him up, which he usually pretends to hate, and flip him onto his back, settling him on my lap.  It's the only real way he "fits" in his adult size.  He looks away as if offended, but I caught a glance just in time to see that the look in his eyes is not annoyed, it's happy and contented.  I kiss his forehead, his ears, his paws.  I tell him I must love him if I'm willing to kiss his stinky little paws.  He looks up at me like, "Uh huh."  He starts purring and looks away again.  I continue my kissing, even as one paw is stuffed up my nose in a weak attempt to stop me.  "Moommoommoomph," I say, digging my nose into his fur, which I'll pay for later in the form of wispies I will only manage to get rid of just prior to the next moomphing session.  Finally, he starts melting out of my arms, so I flip him again so he's sitting on me, hard.  (Man is he heavy.)  I support the front of him with my left arm while I stroke him with my free hand.  He's still purring, but now he wants my left hand to pet him, too.  He pulls one furry arm out of the hold I have him in and rubs up against my left arm.  "Peeeeeeeet me," he thinks to me, rubbing hard and digging his clavical into my humerus in the process.  I reroute my left arm to include his other side again, lest he break something of mine or fall on the floor trying.  "No, no, Sinkie," I tell him softly, "don't fall on the floor just yet."  I keep rubbing and petting and he's purring and purring and repeats the clavical to humerus trick a few more times until finally I feel him stiffen, indicating that he's had enough.  I let him down.  He looks mildly annoyed, but looks up at me.  Then his eyes change again and he rubs up against the side of my chair so I can pet him some more.  After several more long minutes of this, he flops down on the floor and purrs.  The moment he looks away, I sneak in some more reading.

RUB.  Yeah, he's not having any of that, not yet.  So we go through more rubbing of the chair, petting, purring, staring, a contest to see who can do this game the longest.

Now, I have the day off, and I'm making the most of it.  As far as I'm concerned, I don't NEED to read MacLife.  Sinclair just turned five years old.  That five years passed by REALLY quickly and most of that time I was either at work or sleeping.  I look into his eyes, grateful that he's ONLY five, and pet him even more, with earnest love and patience.  I'd much rather remember petting him twenty years from now than I would like to remember reading Mac Life.  As if he realizes that the game is over, he disappears around the corner.  I find him laying just outside the door like a watch-cat, give him a few more pets, unsought, and then settle back in my chair for a real read.

Humans don't own cats.  Humans are willing and doting servants to cats.  And cats, for some strange reason, like their human servants.  Just don't touch their toes.

~w

Windows 98se

Last night and this morning just go to show me how frustration gets me absolutely nowhere. Not that I'll never experience it again, mind you, BUT... here's my newest list of things I've done with VMs.

Goals:
- Install software for my Handspring Visor Edge and successfully synchronize it.
- Install and use Ejay Techno 2 successfully.

Subgoals that arose out of the above:
- Install audio drivers for Windows 98se
- Install Windows XP into a VM

Things that have happened since I spent part of last night and the first half hour of wakefulness this morning on the above goals:
- I now have an XP VM, which I sort of wanted anyway.
- Soran (my Edge) has successfully synchronized to Talon (macbook pro) for the first time last night. It's living in Windows XP!!
- Ejay Techno 2 is working successfully in Windows 98se.
- I researched and found audio drivers for Windows 98se.
- While looking to fix the audio issue in 98, I also found drivers for mass usb devices (SCORE!!).
- Ditto the above, I also found some information on the last real "unknown" device, a PCI System Peripheral. Haven't tried that yet, because I don't care at the moment what it is, but eventually I'll figure that out, too.

Below are my really really happy screenshots. :D :D :D

Now if I could just figure out where to get the proper drivers for my foot, I'd be all set. I wish the human body were this easy...

TEA PARTYYYYYY!!!!!

TODAY!! Can't wait can't wait can't wait can't wait

Cold or not out there, I just wrote up the tea menu for today's little event and I think the words alone which I have written may indeed just have me smitten!! WHEEEEE!!!!!!!!! I should put on some water, now, I want tea and the official Tea is not for HOURS. :: gripe ::

~w

Edit hosts file on mac

http://decoding.wordpress.com/2009/04/06/how-to-edit-the-hosts-file-in-mac-os-x-leopard/

Step 1 – Open the Terminal.app

Either by start typing Terminal on the Spotlight, or by going into Applications -> Utilities -> Terminal.

Step 2 – Open the hosts file

Open the hosts by typing on the Terminal that you have just opened:

1	$ sudo nano /private/etc/hosts

Type your user password when prompted.

Step 3 – Edit the hosts file

The hosts file contains some comments (lines starting with the # symbol), as well as some default hostname mappings (e.g. 127.0.0.1 – localhost).
Simply append your new mappings underneath the default ones. Or edit one of the default values if you know what you are doing!
You can navigate the file using the arrow keys.

Step 4 – Save the hosts file

When done editing the hosts file, press control-o to save the file.
Press enter on the filename prompt, and control-x to exit the editor.

Step 5 – Flush the DNS cache

On Leopard you can issue a simple Terminal command to flush the DNS cache, and have your host file changes to take immediate effect:

1	$ dscacheutil -flushcache

You can now test your new mapping on the browser!