"If I could call one last truce, we've given it all we've got. If we've got nothing left, this could be worth remembering with a smile upon my face." -- Brandi Carlile
Today was a rainy, snowy, rainy, snowy day in New York City. I love the rain and I love the snow, but the slippery sidewalks and unpredictable precipitation meant that two of my pet peeves monopolized the streets and eliminated any opportunity to enjoy the weather.
One of the annoyances -- slow-moving pedestrians who occupy most of the sidewalk and force me to break my stride -- has been discussed at length here. The other, luckily, only appears a few times a year: people who use umbrellas during a snowstorm. ('Snow' implies the solid form of water, people; suck it up and brush it off before it melts.)
It was snowing as I walked to the subway this morning -- and we're talking gorgeous, serene snow here, with big fat flakes that caught prettily in my hair as I walked. Of course, though, I was blessed with a double-whammy two blocks from the station: a large slow-moving man with an even larger umbrella. I couldn't pass him because the sidewalk was too narrow and too poorly shoveled, I couldn't even see beyond him because of the vastness of his umbrella, and I couldn't yell at him to move because our shared path was too icy to warrant it. Thus, I shuffled along behind him, growing increasingly more frustrated with every stunted step.
We reached the steps up to the subway platform and he closed his umbrella. However, instead of carrying it in front of him like a civilized person, he held it parallel to the ground with the sharp pointed end facing me. He then decided to swing his arms wildly as he climbed the stairs, and said umbrella point stabbed me squarely in the left thigh.
"Excuse me!" I yelled. He turned his head a fraction, pretended not to hear me, swung his arm again, missed me by inches. "EXCUSE ME!" I yelled again, and he turned and glared at me. "Watch the umbrella!"
He rolled his eyes and continued to mount the stairs even more slowly than before. He then "accidentally" misplaced his Metrocard as I waited to swipe through the turnstile after him, miraculously located it when I switched to a different turnstile, half-sprinted to ensure that he was in front of me as I climbed the second set of stairs to the platform, and stole the corner seat I was eyeing practically out from under me.
By the time I exited the subway near my office, the snow had turned to rain.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Keep Out
"There's a fine, fine line between love and a waste of your time." -- from Avenue Q
I'm sure there are a ton of ordinary little miracles happening around me lately that I can write about. I know that tons of stuff has happened to me that you'd love to hear and I've made lots of little observations you'd appreciate me sharing. But you know what? Lately, nothing -- absolutely nothing -- in my life has struck me as quirky and exciting enough to warrant a blog entry. Coincidentally, the weather around here has plummeted and is currently hovering around 0F, which reminds me of Dante's assertion that hell gets colder as you descend farther into it.
I owe this blog something, though, so I'm stealing other people's words to replace my own. I stumbled across 8tracks.com recently, a site which allows you to upload mp3s, create a playlist, and embed it on your website. So if you're sitting around at home this weekend trying desperately to keep warm, give this one a play. The track list is below the applet.
1. Into the Sun -- Locksley
2. Creep (Radiohead cover) -- Brandi Carlile
3. I Melt With You -- Saves The Day
4. Your Ex-Lover Is Dead -- Stars
5. Wonderwall -- Paul Anka
6. Burn -- Ray LaMontagne
7. You Belong With Me -- Taylor Swift
8. Hallelujah -- Gavin DeGraw
I'm sure there are a ton of ordinary little miracles happening around me lately that I can write about. I know that tons of stuff has happened to me that you'd love to hear and I've made lots of little observations you'd appreciate me sharing. But you know what? Lately, nothing -- absolutely nothing -- in my life has struck me as quirky and exciting enough to warrant a blog entry. Coincidentally, the weather around here has plummeted and is currently hovering around 0F, which reminds me of Dante's assertion that hell gets colder as you descend farther into it.
I owe this blog something, though, so I'm stealing other people's words to replace my own. I stumbled across 8tracks.com recently, a site which allows you to upload mp3s, create a playlist, and embed it on your website. So if you're sitting around at home this weekend trying desperately to keep warm, give this one a play. The track list is below the applet.
1. Into the Sun -- Locksley
2. Creep (Radiohead cover) -- Brandi Carlile
3. I Melt With You -- Saves The Day
4. Your Ex-Lover Is Dead -- Stars
5. Wonderwall -- Paul Anka
6. Burn -- Ray LaMontagne
7. You Belong With Me -- Taylor Swift
8. Hallelujah -- Gavin DeGraw
Monday, January 12, 2009
Eruption
"And suddenly, the whole world exploded." -- from Jersey Boys
Sorry about my absence; it's been a busy, fretful fortnight. I spent many long nights performing data abstraction, but I met a seemingly impossible deadline and have two new credentials to show for it. I was ill for two days last week, which I'm blaming on dehydration. I'm also rereading Jane Eyre and have written several drafts of a blog post in an effort to isolate my feelings about it, but it's still a work in progress.
In the meantime, here's a recipe for miniature cheesecakes that I invented tonight. The quantities and methodology don't differ too much from my Polish grandma's old recipe (save for lots of ingredient swaps and the wholly Italian use of ricotta), but for some odd inexplicable reason, these babies puffed up like muffins in the oven! It was all for the best, though -- I chilled the tray after I pulled it out, which caused the puffs to collapse upon themselves in superdense black holes of deliciousness. I either didn't beat the filling long enough or overfilled the trays, but for the first time in a long time, I have no intention of trying to rectify the culinary mistake.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Food-process Oreos and butter until a crumbly paste forms, then press into the bottoms of two lined miniature muffin trays. (One regular muffin tray or half a dozen small ramekins will probably work as well -- just add ten minutes to the baking time.) Mix filling ingredients until smooth, then spoon filling into trays within 1/4 inch of the top. Bake for fifteen minutes or until the filling starts to brown. Chill before serving. They'll look hideous but they'll taste delicious.
Sorry about my absence; it's been a busy, fretful fortnight. I spent many long nights performing data abstraction, but I met a seemingly impossible deadline and have two new credentials to show for it. I was ill for two days last week, which I'm blaming on dehydration. I'm also rereading Jane Eyre and have written several drafts of a blog post in an effort to isolate my feelings about it, but it's still a work in progress.
In the meantime, here's a recipe for miniature cheesecakes that I invented tonight. The quantities and methodology don't differ too much from my Polish grandma's old recipe (save for lots of ingredient swaps and the wholly Italian use of ricotta), but for some odd inexplicable reason, these babies puffed up like muffins in the oven! It was all for the best, though -- I chilled the tray after I pulled it out, which caused the puffs to collapse upon themselves in superdense black holes of deliciousness. I either didn't beat the filling long enough or overfilled the trays, but for the first time in a long time, I have no intention of trying to rectify the culinary mistake.
Miniature Cheesecakes
Crust:
3/4 cup crushed Oreos
2 tbsp melted butter
Filling:
½ cup cream cheese
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 egg
½ cup ricotta cheese
½ cup sugar
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Food-process Oreos and butter until a crumbly paste forms, then press into the bottoms of two lined miniature muffin trays. (One regular muffin tray or half a dozen small ramekins will probably work as well -- just add ten minutes to the baking time.) Mix filling ingredients until smooth, then spoon filling into trays within 1/4 inch of the top. Bake for fifteen minutes or until the filling starts to brown. Chill before serving. They'll look hideous but they'll taste delicious.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Four on the Fourth
"I wander lost in yesterday, wanting to fly but scared to try. But... if someone like you found someone like me, then suddenly nothing would ever be the same." -- from Jekyll & Hyde
Back in the day, I wrote three blog entries likening the game of chess to the game of love and explained how my playing styles in both games are shockingly similar. In the last of my three posts, I pinpointed the endgame as one of the weaker parts of my chessplay and likened my inability to achieve checkmate to my astonishing inability to seal a romantic deal. Anyway, after umpteen more failed exchanges with a favored opponent, I realized that the sense of frustration I was enduring felt EXACTLY like trying to win a rook-and-pawn endgame under time pressure with the fifty-move mark looming.
"If I see her standing there alone at the train station three stops from her home, I have half a mind to say what I'm thinking. Anyway, I don't know. I don't know." -- Sufjan Stevens
In accordance with the MTA's ridiculous new plans for beating their deficit, the W train is slowly being phased out of service and the Q line is being extended. Thus, I rode a Q into Queens today. It was an odd, odd feeling.
"'Would you like me to do it now?' asked Snape, his voice heavy with irony. 'Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?'" -- J.K. Rowling
I received The Tales of Beedle the Bard, J.K. Rowling's collection of fables "from the world of Harry Potter," as a gift and read it through in twenty minutes. Yeah, it was interesting and yeah, I love the fact that the title page states that the book was "translated from the ancient runes by Hermione Granger with extensive commentary by Albus Dumbledore," but I wasn't overly enthusiastic about the complete product. J.K. Rowling killed my favorite character in a really crappy way in the seventh book and nothing has really mattered too much since. Could it be that I'm finally starting to outgrow the Potterverse?
"He don't eat no meat? What you mean he DON'T EAT NO MEAT?! Oh, that's okay. That's okay. I make lamb. Come." -- Aunt Voula, from My Big Fat Greek Wedding
For a quick, easy, and delicious lamb marinade, whisk together 1/4 cup lemon juice, 1/8 cup extra-virgin olive oil (or, for an extra kick, an infused olive oil from O&Co), six sliced-up cloves of garlic, half a chopped-up large white onion, 1 tsp dried or 2 tbsp fresh parsley, 1 tsp dried oregano or rosemary, pinch of salt, pinch of pepper. Throw all the ingredients into a large Ziplock bag, shake it up, then throw in 4-8 eight lamb chops, shake it up again, and place the bag flat in the fridge for at least four hours. Grill the chops without brushing off the seasonings. Alternatively, bake the contents of the bag (minus the bag itself, of course) for 30 minutes (which will yield medium-well chops) at 400 degrees. Let chops rest for ten minutes before serving.
Back in the day, I wrote three blog entries likening the game of chess to the game of love and explained how my playing styles in both games are shockingly similar. In the last of my three posts, I pinpointed the endgame as one of the weaker parts of my chessplay and likened my inability to achieve checkmate to my astonishing inability to seal a romantic deal. Anyway, after umpteen more failed exchanges with a favored opponent, I realized that the sense of frustration I was enduring felt EXACTLY like trying to win a rook-and-pawn endgame under time pressure with the fifty-move mark looming.
"If I see her standing there alone at the train station three stops from her home, I have half a mind to say what I'm thinking. Anyway, I don't know. I don't know." -- Sufjan Stevens
In accordance with the MTA's ridiculous new plans for beating their deficit, the W train is slowly being phased out of service and the Q line is being extended. Thus, I rode a Q into Queens today. It was an odd, odd feeling.
"'Would you like me to do it now?' asked Snape, his voice heavy with irony. 'Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?'" -- J.K. Rowling
I received The Tales of Beedle the Bard, J.K. Rowling's collection of fables "from the world of Harry Potter," as a gift and read it through in twenty minutes. Yeah, it was interesting and yeah, I love the fact that the title page states that the book was "translated from the ancient runes by Hermione Granger with extensive commentary by Albus Dumbledore," but I wasn't overly enthusiastic about the complete product. J.K. Rowling killed my favorite character in a really crappy way in the seventh book and nothing has really mattered too much since. Could it be that I'm finally starting to outgrow the Potterverse?
"He don't eat no meat? What you mean he DON'T EAT NO MEAT?! Oh, that's okay. That's okay. I make lamb. Come." -- Aunt Voula, from My Big Fat Greek Wedding
For a quick, easy, and delicious lamb marinade, whisk together 1/4 cup lemon juice, 1/8 cup extra-virgin olive oil (or, for an extra kick, an infused olive oil from O&Co), six sliced-up cloves of garlic, half a chopped-up large white onion, 1 tsp dried or 2 tbsp fresh parsley, 1 tsp dried oregano or rosemary, pinch of salt, pinch of pepper. Throw all the ingredients into a large Ziplock bag, shake it up, then throw in 4-8 eight lamb chops, shake it up again, and place the bag flat in the fridge for at least four hours. Grill the chops without brushing off the seasonings. Alternatively, bake the contents of the bag (minus the bag itself, of course) for 30 minutes (which will yield medium-well chops) at 400 degrees. Let chops rest for ten minutes before serving.
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