summertime...and the marmot is TGIF'in!!

I thought after yesterday, my motivation to do work, at work, could sink no lower. I assumed I would get more done today, because I couldn’t possibly be even lazier and more distracted and staring-off-into-space than I was yesterday.

I was wrong.

I popped up delightedly when I realized it’s payday and I have to pass out paystubs, taking me away from my desk and the possibility of working on the long, boring, not complex task which I could bang out in three hours but which I will instead drag out over four days. I then spent twenty minutes upstairs shooting the sh** with a coworker about the Norwalk virus and basal cell skin cancer. Then when I got back to my desk, my boss (who sits directly behind my desk and can see my monitor) left to work at home for a few hours.

Even lower.

Here’s what I would *like* to do today:

Grocery shopping
Cook
Clean my house
Take a walk in the sunshine
Take a nap (can’t sleep well when it’s hot! I’m exhausted!)
Go running
Take a yoga class

I’m telling you, I could get SO much done if I didn’t work full-time!

Now, it’s no secret that the Marmot is 27 and a half and her biological clock is ticking. Louder. And louder. I was thinking in the shower today that if I were a full-time mom, I could spend the day at the zoo with my kid(s.) We could look at the animals, have an ice cream cone, enjoy the sun. It would be nice. Now, you may well be thinking: “Yeah, but Marmot, you’d also have to potentially: change nasty poopy diapers, deal with crying hissy fits when you don’t buy your kid the gorilla toy, clean up spilled food, wipe ice cream off your bosoms smeared there by your kid, keep the kid from eating stuff on the ground…” I know all this. But I’m pretty sure it would be worth it. Especially if the kid has my sense of humor and MSH’s eyelashes.

Now, other days I think I’d really like to work, at least part-time, when we have kids. And the financial situation may dictate that to a certain extent. But fellow mammals? This is not one of those days. I guess I’m just not over the whole “summer vacation” tip. I definitely enjoy the “no homework” tip that comes with being part of the Working World. But summer? Yeah. I was thinking yesterday that because I have French descendants, some sort of alarm is going off deep in my being. Right now, the whole nation of France is at the beach. As you may know, the French (in general, if they’re not self-employed—but usually even if they are!) take six weeks of paid vacation every year, by law. And the majority of people there take it from mid-July through the end of August. (They don’t need to use any of it the rest of the year, because there are holidays ALL the time. For example, when I was going to school there in May, there were more holidays that month (no school and for many, no work) than there were work days. Seriously.) Sounds nice. Think about it. Six. Frigging. Weeks. Can you imagine how relaxed you’d be? I think most Americans are scared to be that relaxed. I know my boss is. I’ll tell you right now, I haven’t been that relaxed since I was a child and had SUMMER VACATION!!

I actually did a bunch of cooking last night. Made a DELICIOUS soup, from one of my fave cookbooks. I am wondering about the intellectual property implications of putting it on my blog so YOU TOO can enjoy a tasty chilled soup perfect for a light lunch or a refreshing first course. So if you have an opinion on that legal matter, citizens, please let me know. In the meantime, email me if yer interested. Cuz this is one damn fine soup. (I would really like to put some in dry ice and send to my friends in New York City. It’s really hot and disgusting there right now. Mink, I’m sending you virtual chilled soup!)

But I also made some ice cream in my ice cream maker. I have a cookbook called “Forever Summer” by Nigella Lawson (a Brit) with lots of ice cream recipes. I’ve made one recipe, raspberry ripple, a few times, and I’ve gotten pretty good at it, with a tasty custard base you cook first. But I wanted to try making strawberry, MSH’s favorite. This same book has a recipe specifically for strawberry and it’s totally unlike raspberry ripple recipe. It’s way more complicated (buy a vanilla bean, and let it INFUSE into the custard, rather than using vanilla extract,) and uses heavy cream instead of “light cream,” which I interpret into American as half and half, and TEN egg yolks instead of six. Now, the custard you make for the raspberry ripple is pretty freakin’ rich. I don’t think you need four more egg yolks (besides, that’s more expensive!) and I don’t need the extra complications, so I went ahead and made the raspberry ripple custard base and poured it into the ice cream maker. But then after it was almost frozen and I was processing the strawberries, I realized you’re supposed to put the strawberry puree into the custard BEFORE you put it in the ice cream maker. Oops. Undaunted! I layered the finished batch of custard ice cream* into a Tupperware with swizzles of chocolate syrup and put it into the freezer to freeze fully. Chocolate Ripple Custard. Ta da! Then I made another custard and put the vanilla in this time and put it in the fridge, as I did the strawberry puree, so tonight (once the ice cream maker's freezer bowl is again at its frozen peak) I can make the strawberry stuff. And will it taste delicious? Odds are, yes it will. And you can just puree the strawberries, while with raspberries, you have to push the puree through a sieve or cheesecloth to get out the seeds.

I like Nigella Lawson, but what is she trying to pull? Maybe you’re just supposed to try out several recipes for the ice cream base and then use your favorite as a base for other recipes. She also tends to be rather blasé about cooking temperatures and things like that. “Heat” that and “cook til a velvety custard” and she never tells you high heat, medium heat, whatever, and she doesn’t tell you how to know when it’s a custard! I called my grandma the first time and she looked up something about it clinging to a metal spoon, so that’s what I go by.

By the way, you can also make ice cream by just mixing together milk/cream, sugar, and flavoring and running it in the ice cream maker but I made a batch that way at the same time as raspberry ripple and brought it to a barbecue and put them on ice, and the raspberry ripple stayed pretty much ice cream, and the other stuff turned into soup. So I think the custard method gives it more structure somehow.

One more thing: this chica in the office downstairs was in Peru for three weeks, and asked me to bring in her mail while she was gone, and I did. To say thank you, she brought me a big bar of Bolivian chocolate. (She popped into Bolivia at Lake Titicaca.) I have not eaten any yet, because I don't want to have a sugar crash, but I can't wait til lunch. I broke off a piece for my boss so now I can smell it. Smelly good. I've been sniffing my oh-so-ripe peach as well. Mmmm.

I’ll bet you’re tired of reading, and glad my boss is usually around to keep my entries short!* Have yourself a heppy Friday and a heppy HEPPY weekEnd!

*I’d also forgotten the vanilla extract. But you know what? It still tastes like heaven! MSH had a wee bowl with strawberries on top.

**Imagine, one friend, when I told her I had a blog, couldn't imagine what I write about. Hmm.

Good Morning.

I could think of no better way to summarize the foregoing topics. (If you can do better, please comment!)

I am kind of skeeved out because I revealed to my boss and another coworker the existence of this blog. My boss had asked me if I'd used the photo tool Picasa, and I said, "yes, just to post photos to my blog." I think I even said it was on Blogger. Stupid. I don't think they'd be able to find it, but who knows. I need to find the time and go back and erase anything even vaguely unpleasant I've said about anyone here. Dammit. Not posting doesn't lessen the likelihood of discovery, but anyway. I don't think anyone here truly comprehends what marmots mean to me, so I may be safe. If you know how I can see how many hits I'm getting, please let me know.

I watched "Dig!," a rockumentary by Ondi Timoner about two bands, the Dandy Warhols and the Brian Jonestown Massacre. It was very good, and got me all hot and bothered about the Dandys. I need to get their album "Thirteen Tales from Urban Bohemia." Which I bought in college and later sold. Kids, it ain't takin' up that much room. Don't sell that CD. Almost every CD I've sold, I've later regretted. So anyway, in “Dig!” they make it out like there was and still is a rivalry between the bands, but some 'net research would indicate it’s not as bitter as the filmmaker made it out to be, or perhaps there’s been some sort of rapprochement. On the Dandy Warhols’ website, there’s a notice about one of the band members “spinning records” (as the kids say) with Anton from the Brian Jonestown Massacre. On a particular date. Despite a short essay by Anton on the Brian Jonestown Massacre website denouncing the documentary film, on which Courtney Taylor, lead singer of the Dandys, did sardonically delivered voiceover. Whether the points Anton makes truly have merit or not, it's interesting to read it and think about the motives and narrative power of a documentary filmmaker with seven years of footage at her disposal. Which was not something I pondered while watching the film.

In other news, you may have heard that a court here in Seattle sentenced Ahmed Ressam, who was, per the New York Times "convicted of conspiring to detonate the explosives at Los Angeles International Airport during the 2000 New Year's travel season, among other charges." In his sentencing statement (or whatever they call that,) the judge made a point with which I find myself in heated agreement.

Lastnight I watched Monday's Daily Show, recorded on our DVR. On this show, due to machinations not revealed to the viewer, appeared Senator Rick Santorum (R-Penn.) As you may know, Senator Santorum is very conservative (ie, stridently anti-gay) and the Daily Show and Jon Stewart, well--my dad would say they (and I) are "so pink they glow in the dark." So, it was with great interest that I settled down in front of this episode with my steaming bowl of Annie's Organic Peace Pasta & Parmesan. Several things surprised me. I was expecting fireworks--I half expected the set to burst into flames when Santorum walked on, or maybe a whoopee cushion to go off under his bum. Also, Santorum was surprisingly handsome. Grinning. Freshly scrubbed. Hair looking a little like a Ken-doll, but still. Stupid, I guess, expecting him to look unpleasant just because his views are unpleasant to me. Having seen Jon take it to other conservative guests, recently Bernard Goldberg, author of 100 People Who Are Screwing Up America : (and Al Franken Is #37,) I was expecting he would really take Santorum to the mat. (Jon even hinted as such at the end of Thursday's show.) But actually, both Stewart and Santorum were on their best behavior. I take it Jon has been criticized on the internet for bringing weak sauce to this interview. (On the Tuesday episode, which I watched directly after, he said opinion on the interview was divided between "it sucked" and "it sUUUUUUCKED!") But I liked his approach. He didn't even make too many jokes at Santorum's expense (just the right amount.) Instead, Santorum put forward his view, and Stewart calmly, respectfully, and methodically argued with him. It made me realize that the left demonizes the right just as much as the right demonizes the left, and Mr. Santorum is just a human being who wants to do good and thinks differently than I do. So, I'm glad Jon did things the way he did. I still disagree with Senator Santorum's position on a great many things, and with his voting record.

dream

I had the greatest dream the other night. Usually my dreams race along, very plot-driven, no time to stop and smell the flowers. But last night, possibly influenced by the pleasant little company barbecue we’d attended, I had a very leisurely, wonderful dream. It was around sunset and I was in a very beautiful place, having dinner outside at candlelit table with friends and family in the courtyard of an adobe building—arches around the edge. At some point I became lucid (realized I was dreaming) and decided to just be aware of everything this dream had to offer. The sky was beautiful, darkening and streaked with pink and yellow, the wind was rustling in the trees (some were eucalyptus, I think,) and I was with people I loved. I focused on the sounds, and the individual beauty of the leaves in the trees. This was a bit overwhelming, as mindfulness can be, but of course, worth it. Can’t wait to ask my dharma teacher if one can be mindful in a dream! That’s kind of a brain-twister for me. After dinner, I decided to go flying. At first I just scrunched up my eyes and thought about shooting into the air, but it didn’t work. But when I gently flapped my arms up and down, I rose into the air. That feeling of flapping and rising, the air pushing up on my arms--like when you stand in a doorway with the backs of your hands on the jamb and push out for a few minutes and then step out of the doorway and your arms rise by themselves--that was the most vivid sensation of the dream. After rising straight up, I started soaring and swooping in big circles over the building and the land around. It was euphoric. Just as much fun as you would imagine flying to be. I was accompanied by the song “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” from “Mary Poppins.” When the song came to an end, so did my flight and my dream. :)

recommendation: film

If it is playing in your area, make time to go see "Me & You & Everyone We Know." I won't muck it up with adjectives.

this is the riveting action you've been missing

Lastnight, I was cooking (enchiladas) and cleaning up preparatory to whipping a batch of homemade ice cream, when I could no longer ignore the fact that my left wrist was itching and burning and felt like someone was sticking a needle into the middle of it. Beesting, right? Except no bee and I hadn't been outside. In an hour. I had put my hands in the oven mitts to remove the enchiladas. The oven mitts had been left outside after a recent evening of grilling. I smashed all over the oven mitts, just in case. Mike went down to Bartell's to get an antihistamine and I spent some quality time on the couch with Harry Potter 6 and a bag of frozen vegetables. (But did I stay up all night reading it? No, I did not and now I am on page 234. I was reading at lunch.)

Further investigation this morning revealed that there was an empty egg sack just inside one oven mitt. So a spider bit me. I haven't figured out what sort of a spider would have such a nasty bite but not, you know, rot my flesh, like a brown recluse or similar. Whatever they are, I hope they're not a permanent fixture in my kitchen. I actually had a similar bite last summer! I put the mitts directly in the wash.

This morning, I brought a peach to work, which I peeled and ate. It was stupendously delicious. Wouldn't a peach pie be nice?

This last weekend saw the Marmot taking in some of Washington's many agricultural delights in the company of good friends! Such fun. We went to Vashon Island's Lavender Festival on Saturday. This is smaller and less well-known than Sequim's Lavender Festival, but possessed these features:
1. Lavender!
2. Ample parking!
3. Tasty treats!
4. Gorgeous gardens!
5. Friendly people/vendors!
6. Location v. close to Seattle!

And lacked these:
1. Hordes of people
2. Long ferry waits
3. Traffic jams
4. Gigantoid fields of lavender (I suppose; I've never been to big mama lav fest)

It was a sunny day, and there was shopping, and cheese, and fleurs, and brunch in addition to lavender. Huzzah!

Next day we picked raspberries and blueberry in the Carnation-Duvall area. Again: sun and a feast for the senses. And a healthy respect for the skills of those who pick our berries when we do not have the leisure to pick them ourselves. I'm not very good at it.

Tonight I am determined to make some raspberry ice cream from the raspberries I personally picked, and made into syrup with the help of my close personal friend, Mr. Kitchen-Aid food processor. I might make some chocolate toffee chip, too. All for the company barbecue, y'see. Gives me the opportunity to experiment and not eat entire batches.

a mixed bag

Pro

I have a fresh swanky dank new haircut, creating a cocoon of stylish calm.
I ate sushi for lunch. Sushi POWER!!!

Con

Coworker saw tampon on my front passenger seat.
Boss can only make every third word understood via cell phone and doesn’t seem inclined to hunt down a landline.
Boss’ email is broken.
Tom Cruise.
Boss has not completed review of documents for meeting binder.
Boss has a Mac which effs up formatting of all documents he reviews.
Ten years after Srebrenica, the masterminds are still free.
Boss will not arrive via plane until 40 minutes prior to his 8:30 meeting tomorrow morning, when binder will be distributed.
Really bad gas.

you know it's time to leave work when...

...your butt hurts from sitting in the chair. I've worked there two years; this is the first time I've gotten a case of numb butt.

Big mucky mucks coming for big meeting on Wednesday. If I arrive at work tomorrow and my boss has not sent me several--SEVERAL documents for the report binder, I am going to freak out. I'm not freaking out yet, I'm just forecasting a possible freakout if this poor document completion front moves in overnight. I also have to submit payroll tomorrow, and then proofread, format, and print these documents before lovingly encasing them in heavy-duty vinyl top-loading sheet protectors. Do I want to start this process at 5:00 PM? No. But I don't really want my boss to stay up until 2:00 AM tonight finishing everything. On the other hand, he's a horrible sleeper anyway, and he's come this far, so maybe a little insomnia isn't the end of the world.

I had to try really hard not to freak out today. I like control. I think my boss does, too, or he would have delegated more of these documents, or at least some of the review process for them.

But for now, I shall contemplate the sauteeing of onions, to be placed on a vegetarian "burger" along with some garlic cheddar. Mmm.

dur.

Soapbox alert!

So I was reading this article, and I'm stuck on this paragraph. I've read it like six times:

Wade Horn, assistant secretary for children and families at the Department of Health and Human Services, said counseling only abstinence, preferably until marriage, is the best approach because it sends a clear, consistent message. Teenagers who are sexually active should have access to contraception, but making birth control available to teens who aren't sends a contradictory message, he said.

(emphasis added by Marmot)

Um. Mr. Horn? There is CROSSOVER between these two "groups!" Does he imagine that the sexually active teens give it a lot of thought (not that they shouldn't) and then go out and get a "Ragin' Slut" tattoo across their asses? When a Teen Who Aren't gets horny, should he or she go down to the school nurse and have them move their Sex Card into the Teens Who Are file box?

Puh. Leeze.

In other news, this man had a very unpleasant Fourth of July. What I want to know is whether he actually got to see the fireworks.

4th of July

I am at work, stockpiling this paid day of vacation for another time.

Saturday at Green Lake I ran past a woman with a posh British accent who was saying: "...Cheetsee, this gigantic being from whom he derives pleasure and sustenance..."

Remember that light fixture I painted over two nights? Honey can't get it to reattach to the ceiling, so he is going to buy another light fixture. Impermanence--embrace it.

Happy Independence Day!

the o.my god

Ryan Atwood likes Journey.

I don't know if I can overcome this. Someone send me a 5x7 glossy of Benjamin McKenzie, STAT, with the blue in his eyes turned way, WAY up. And good hair! His hair must be good. More on the blond side, please.