From the Peanut Gallery

Since I don't have word verification on the comment section of my blog, every now and then I get some random upstarts trying to link my blog to their websites selling discount shoes, cosmetics, or body-enhancing products. While this can be mildly annoying, I actually kind of enjoy it because instead of just attaching their link, these people feel it necessary to insert some sort of realistic sounding comment. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure English isn't their first language, because their sentences are just too funny. For example, a message from early this morning: It seems my language skills need to be strengthened, because I totally can not read your information, but I think this is a good blog. Um, thanks? Then, there was this one: Good Blog, I think I want to find me, I will tell my other friends, on all! Hey, I'm flattered.

Doctor Time

Luckily I didn't have to work today, so I figured it would give me one more day to recuperate from my influenza. I seriously thought I should be better by now, so I was starting to worry about it over the weekend. For all I know, I could have pneumonia or something, and be on the verge of dying. Then again, it could be just a bad cold. How am I supposed to know? E listened to my chest as I breathed in and out, and said I didn't have a death rattle, but then I started to cough and couldn't stop. And nothing has stopped my sinuses from producing an endless flow of mucus. Sorry! But it's what I've been living with for a week now.

E has had a few sinus infections, so I asked her how I would know if that's what I had. She said that if I just never get better, then that's probably what it is. Also, all the descriptions of sinus infection on the internet seemed to match my symptoms. So, after a week of not getting better, I decided to find a doctor. But I've never seen a doctor here, and even though I have health insurance, the thought of searching through lists of doctors names and calling them all to see who could see me today made my head spin even more than it already was. I mean, who decided that sick people should go find the doctor? I think the doctor should come to me. I'm sick. I don't want to get out of bed, get dressed, get on a crowded bus or subway, trek through the snow on a freezing day to find a doctor, then wait in a waiting room full of germs, then have to go wait in line at a pharmacy for my medicine. I want the doctor to come to my bedside and cure me!

However, the nice thing about New York City is that there are pharmacies on every street corner, and a couple of them happen to have doctors in them. E told me about the Duane Reade Doctor Walk-In, where you just go, first come first serve, and see a doctor about whatever (non-emergency) problem you have. So I decided to go try it out. Luckily, they took my insurance! And although I did have to wait for about an hour, it was really easy. The doctor felt my sinuses, listened to my graphic descriptions of mucus, and prescribed an antibiotic for me. He said I don't have pneumonia, which is great, but my sinuses are no doubt infected, which is why they are performing on overdrive. The drugs were expensive, but at this point I just want to get better, and I have some baby-sitting money that I was saving for just such an emergency, so I'm really coming out even.

As I waited for my prescription to be filled, I stood at the second-floor window of the Duane Reade and watched fat snowflakes falling thickly on the gray city. It was a day to be curled up by a fire or laying on a tropical beach somewhere instead of sniffling in the candy aisle of a drug store. But illness is luck. We can't choose a lot of the things that happen to us, we just have to grin, bear it, and try to make the most of our situations. I'm thankful for my body, and for its general good health. I'm thankful (after listening to Radiolab) that I don't have a botfly in my head, or a terminal illness. I'm thankful for modern drugs and a job that provides me with insurance and money to live on. I'm pretty happy... but I'll be even happier when the mucus finally stops!

Grace United

Happy Sunday. I'm still too sick to go to church. I'm wondering if I have a sinus infection. It's all very disgusting. Sigh... But the most bizarre thing? At night when I'm asleep, all of my sickness symptoms go away. My nasal passages clear, my cough is gone, my head no longer hurts. I awaken refreshed and feeling good. Then, a few minutes later, I become all stuffed up, full of sinus pressure, and start hacking and wheezing. Again, sorry for the details! But I wonder how my body knows it's asleep? Why does it suspend virus-attacking mechanisms, or whatever it is? Is it like war in the olden days when both sides would camp for the night side by side and wait until the next morning to resume killing each other? I don't understand it, but am grateful for the chance to rest. Last night I slept for ten hours, and I'm thinking tonight I should try for twelve. If sleep is the only respite I get, then sleep I shall, for as long as it takes.

Goodbye Andrew Wyeth

I was saddened to learn of Andrew Wyeth's recent death at age 91. He was about as close to being America's "artist laureate" as anyone could have been. While some derided his work as too illustrative, too realistic, or too monotone, anyone could see that his eye was that of a genius following his own inner vision, speaking in a completely unique voice. Now that voice has been silenced. Mr. Wyeth, you will be missed!

The War Within Me

Sorry to be going on and on about my sickness, but its obviously been at the forefront of my mind this past week. I hate being sick! But I am also sort of fascinated by the war going on within my body. I've come to the conclusion that it probably isn't this guy (the robotic cold virus) who has infiltrated my immune system:
Instead, I think I have influenza, (as pictured on the right). That's disgusting, you say? I know. And to think it all could have been prevented by the flu shot, which E got a few months ago. She urged me to get it too, but I laughed it off and took my chances. I gambled, and lost. E remains unscathed by the germs that inflict me, while I suffer the effects of a body under siege by tiny spiky mutant cell-pirates. So, sorry Dad--your zinc lozenges won't help me now. All I can do is drug myself up with Mucinex, Robitussin, water and vitamins, get tons of sleep, and hope for the best.

Look At Her Go

Home sick today, I've been reading the ol' blogs. Check out what my friend Tamara is doing! She's amazing.

Ugh

Still sick.... I accidentally took the night-time Robitussin this morning instead of the day-time. Now I'm definitely a zombie. I think I'm at work, but am not sure...

The Uncommon Cold

I have a cold! Yesterday I knew it was coming--I could just tell that something wasn't right, but I didn't want to admit it. This morning I woke up all stuffed up and scratchy-throated and it was all downhill from there. What a way to start the week. And such a busy week at work, too! There will be no possibility to call out sick--I'm way too responsible. And if I get all my coworkers sick? Who cares--they are probably the ones that got ME sick.

No, actually, I think it was my roommate's subletter. S is gone for a month, so she got a subletter, who is really nice and great, but the moment she moved in she started coughing and sneezing on everything! I did my best to wash my hands all the time and stuff, and it was kind of annoying because she was blaming us for having really dry heat in our place, but we can't control the pipes, and anyway, she was already infected when she got here, so it's not our fault. It's her fault for bringing the germs, and now I have to suffer! No, I'm not really angry--she's a really nice person--but ugh. I hate being sick! I'm not going to be able to smell anything for 2 weeks, and I'm going to be walking around with tissues everywhere. I demand to know why there is not a cure for the common cold!

Sure, just get some Zycam, you say. Well, I was going to do that, but I was so stuffed up in my head that I forgot to put my wallet in my bag, so I ended up downtown with no money. So it's too late for the Zycam. And unfortunately, after years of taking antihistamines for allergies, I think I'm immune to all of them. I've been taking Tylenol cold medicine, but it doesn't really do anything except make me feel like a zombie. The best cold medicine there ever was used to be the Alka-Seltzer tablets that you'd dissolve in water and then drink really fast because it tasted so bad. But something happened and they took out the main ingredient (because people were using it to make meth or something) and now it does nothing for me. That used to be my sure-thing cold remedy. On the radio I heard a lady say that you just have to coat your feet in Vicks Vap-O-Rub, put on some socks, and in the morning you'll be all better because the congestion will be drawn down out of your head. And I took a look at the Vicks at the Rite-Aid tonight when I finally went after work, but I just couldn't bring myself to spend 6.99 on a remedy that sounds kind of crazy. Plus, it's too hot in our house to sleep with socks on. So, I guess I'm just going to have to feel like a zombie for a week or so until my immune system wins the war against the weird cold virus thingys.

E wants to know what the deal is with the cold virus anyway. Apparently scientists argue about whether its actually alive or not. To some people, it seems more like a robot than an organism. It certainly looks like one. It's pretty freaky to think that my body is full of these things right now! What do they want with me? IMy best guess is that its a conspiracy by ABC and Orville Redenbacher to infiltrate me to the point that all I feel like doing is curling up on the couch, watching horrible reality TV and eating microwave popcorn.

But seriously, I think they are transmitting some kind of signal because this morning right after I woke up my mom called me and asked me what was wrong. She had awakened with a feeling that I was experiencing some kind of doom and gloom. I guess I'm not the only psychic one in the family. I don't think I'm depressed, but then again maybe I am now. Ug. Sick!

A Humble Harlem Church

I passed this church on my epic 125-block last Sunday. As I passed, I looked in through the doors and saw a tiny room with a few people on folding chairs. A young woman was singing in the front, holding a microphone that broadcast her song through speakers onto the street. I crossed the street and took a couple of pictures. I was struck by the tiny humble nature of the church, seemingly at odds with its desire to blast its message outside into the world.

Knots

More crochet talk today. I've been thinking about knots, and how they can be good or bad things. I've been organizing my yarn, which I haven't really attempted since moving last July. In the rush of the move, all the skeins, which were covered in plaster dust from the ceiling collapse, were thrown into a big basket, where they became even more jumbled than they were before. They tangled together into one huge knot, which I've almost successfully untied. I've vacuumed the dust out of them, unpicked all the tangles (well, E helped, and so did the scissors!) and rolled each color into a neat ball. I have a lot of yarn! Time to get busy and make some things.

Anyway, while I've been sitting untangling these knots of yarn, listening to the radio and watching fat snowflakes waft outside my window, I've been thinking about how I'm taking apart knots only to create new ones. I mean, crochet and knitting are just ways of tying yarn into a large neat and organized knot. A tangled knot is the result of carelessness, neglect, and chance, but a crocheted or knitted piece requires attention, dedication, and patience. A pattern usually helps, too.

And of course, I've also been thinking about my own life, what is right and wrong with it, and how there are definitely some knots that I need to unpick, smooth out, and weave into a more beautiful and orderly interlace. The process is frustrating, sometimes seems pointless, but I know that it is necessary. Also, its not impossible, and I'm hoping that I will have the patience and control to do it.

Deliciousness

A bowl of hot grits with butter and honey is one type of heaven.

Handicrafts

Today my coworker, who asked to remain anonymous, brought in examples of the point lace that she makes by hand. She learned the technique, which she calls macrame or frivolite (accent on the e), in the 5th grade in Romania. There, she told me, back in the 1950s, she was able to take all kinds of classes in school, including one where she learned to build hammers and dustpans. She told me she took every class she could except machine sewing, because she likes to make things by hand. It's no wonder she's in the watch and jewelry business, because the intricacy of her point lace stitches rival the complications of a Patek Philippe.

My pictures of her work don't do it justice. Using just a small bobbin and her fingers, she makes incredible tablecloths and decorative pieces. Some take several months to complete. Often, she works on a project during her long commute between Manhattan and Long Island. When she does, both women and men come up to her and want to watch and touch the fine lace, the product of 40 years of practice becoming perfection.

She tells me that her daughter has been asking to learn the skill. I want her to teach me, too. Nowadays we have machines to make our lace tablecloths and curtains, which we can buy for a few dollars at the store. We have no need to make things for ourselves, and anyway we have no time. But how boring life would be if people didn't make beautiful things with their hands! I do my small part, crocheting scarves and other random things, like these coasters, but you can see how small my skill is in comparison to my Romanian friend's. I want to do more. If I could just make things with my hands all day, I would be so happy.

Cake

A fun project would be to recreate every cake in Wayne Thiebaud's famous 1963 painting. Maybe I should try it, but one by one, so as not to go completely insane. Well, here's how you can make the chocolate cake in the middle row on the far right:

Chocolate Cake:
1. Cream together 1/2 c. shortening and 1 c. white sugar.
2. Separate 3 eggs and add the yolks to the mixture.
3. Stir in a teaspoon of vanilla.
4. Sift together 1/2 c. cocoa powder, 2 1/2 c. white flour, 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda, 1 teaspoon salt.
5. Alternately add the sifted dry ingredients and 1 1/3 cold water to the mixture, blending well.
6. Stir in another 3/4 c. white sugar, and blend well.
7. Beat the egg whites to soft peaks and fold in.
8. Pour batter into greased pans (I used 2 10-inch pans) and bake at 350 degrees for about 35 minutes, or until toothpick comes out clean.

Tips: Spread the cake around in the pans to help the cake layers bake evenly and flat. The biggest mistake in making cake is to overbake, which makes the cake dry, so keep an eye on the time. Cool the cake in the pans for a while before you try to eject them. The cake is very soft when its hot and it could break in half if you try and take it out the pan too early. Keep the cake covered up as much as possible to retain the moisture. You don't want it to dry out, so let it cool for a while, but then wrap it up loosely in plastic wrap or cover it with a cloth. But don't frost it until its completely cooled off. And even after its frosted, don't refrigerate the cake, because that dries it out too.

Aunt Victoria's Chocolate Frosting:
1. Whip 1 1/2 cubes of butter for five minutes (I did it for about 2 with the electric mixer and it came out fine)
2. Add 4 cups powdered sugar, 1/4 c. milk, 2 teaspoons vanilla, 4 Tablespoons cocoa powder, and 1/2 teaspoon almond extract.
3. Mix well, and frost your cake!
4. Top with sprinkles, coconut, raspberries, or whatever. Just be sure to add sprinkles right away, because the frosting will set after a few minutes, and won't be super sticky anymore.

Thanks to Brooklyn for sharing her mom's frosting recipe. It's awesome, and tastes delicious on the chocolate cake. My mom comes from a great family of bakers. If only I could figure out my grandmother's fruitcake recipe. She used to send us a fruitcake every year before Christmas, and you will laugh at me, but it was SO delicious! However, fruitcake is not in the Thiebaud painting, so we will not worry about that. Which cake should I try to make next?

Call Me Crazy

Today I didn't go to church because I had to work. It was the bi-annual mandatory inventory day, so I had to be there. Oh well. It wasn't a bad day though because I could wear jeans, and we all got a free lunch. Plus we could blast the music. (Sorry Princess for putting up with my current Blitzen Trapper obsession!) And, since two of my coworkers have birthdays this week, I gave into peer pressure and agreed to make a cake. I have a really great chocolate cake recipe, but had never actually tried it, so I figured this was the perfect chance. And a great excuse to wear my cute new Anthropologie apron! I love the kitchen in my apartment because it has a ton of counter space, and by the end of the night every inch of surface was covered in cocoa, powdered sugar, or flour. I'm not a neat baker, but I get the job done right.

Despite the fact that I forgot I had shortening and so used margarine instead, the cake seemed to come out perfectly! And yet, with just two layers it seemed a bit small to me. Call me crazy--I decided to make another batch! So I made two more layers and added one to the first batch, so my cake had three layers. I contemplated four, but realized that the thing was already starting to resemble a certain Pisa landmark, so I kept the fourth layer back and frosted it for me and my roommates.

The cake turned out beautiful, but the next question was how to get it to work! It was on a nice platter, too big for any bag or box that I had, so I settled on covering it with tinfoil and carrying it on the Subway. Luckily it was Sunday so I could sit down on the train. But the D was running on the A track so rather than transfer to the E, I decided to just get out at Columbus Circle and walk the rest of the way, carrying the cake in my arms. Now I know how mothers feel. That thing must have weighed as much as a 2 year old. Writing this post has helped me realize that I tend to do things in extremes. Cake made from scratch and twice as large to boot, volunteering to come back to work on my day off tomorrow because there is still so much inventory work to do, then walking the entire 5 miles home just to see if I could do it... I like to test my limits, which I think is a good thing.

By the end of Inventory, the cake was everyone's reward for coming in to work on a Sunday, and I enjoyed a piece of it myself, although I was stuffed from a pizza lunch. And I guess I could have kept it to two layers, because there was about half of it left over. Then again, the leftover cake will help motivate us all to go to work tomorrow! I left work at 3 and decided that it was such a nice day I would walk along Central Park for a while, and not get on the Subway right away. Call me crazy, but I ended up walking the whole way home!

It was cold, but sunny, and not windy at all, and the walk up 8th Avenue was so pretty. It's amazing to see how the scenery changes from huge mansions, hotels, and apartment complexes to discount stores, empty lots, and churches as you get farther up the West side and into Harlem. My feet would just not stop walking, but it felt so good. I worked that cake off, for sure! I figure it was about 5 miles, give or take, and it took me exactly 1 hour. Now I know.

New Hope 7th Day Adventist Church of Harlem

The most interesting thing about this church is the pointy copper overhang on the front of the roof. It just looks all white and washed out in my photo, but it's actually bright shiny copper, and it really shines in the sun. Also, it's really weird how the windows are spaced--notice how the center windows aren't actually centered, but more to the left? I do like how the metal fence in front echoes the gothic-arches of the windows.

Drool

This is what my dad got for Christmas, and I'm totally jealous! This is it. I'm going to learn how to motorcycle-ride if its the last thing I do. (And hopefully it won't be!) Which brings me to a random thought I've often pondered. We call bicycles "bikes." We call motorcycles "bikes." There should be a different word. The only problem is that the logical abbreviation for motorcycle, following the pattern of bicycle=bike is motorcycle=mike, and that just won't do. That reminds me of something really funny I read in the paper today, which I hope won't offend my parents if they read this. (As a disclaimer, I have nothing against the vice president--I'm sure he's a nice guy) That said, the newspaper article (I think it was the Post, so no surprises here) was talking about the comedian lady on CNN who was broadcasting live with Anderson Cooper and how she got really upset by a heckler in the audience and started spouting profanities. Apparently she made some sort of awful comment and used the D-word (not that one, the other one) on live television. The newspaper article then said that "CNN normally refrains from airing the D-word except in reference to the vice president." It wasn't meant to be a joke, but I burst out laughing so hard, and couldn't stop for a long time. Poor Dick Cheney. Then again, he could go by "Richard" if he really wanted to.

Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yes, motorcycles. (Drool, drool...) There really ought to be a better word than "bike" to describe such a magnificent machine, and to quell confusion in conversation. For now I guess we'll just have to call Dad's new Harley a hawwg.

Happppppy New Year!

Happy New Year! I have a feeling 2009 is going to be a good year for me. I've done my reflecting on the past year, made my resolutions, and decided that there is every reason for me to be happy. To celebrate today, I'm not going to do anything very spectacular. No doubt I'll read In Memoriam, as I like to do every year to remind myself that life is a journey of upward progression and triumph of life over death. Later I might make some Hoppin' John, the traditional Southern dish that is supposed to ensure prosperity in the new year. More mundanely, I'm going to clean the house (an appropriate way to start the new year, I think, is with all things in cleanliness and order) and start some projects. Here's to a fresh start!