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Glitter Rant December 16, 2017

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This is a postponed rant. I was going to let it go. But someone else’s rant got me going again.

Sunday night was my small office holiday party. There were eight of us. We went out to dinner and ate in a private dining room. Excellent food and drink, plus Secret Santa gifts. I had gifted the new executive director with a gavel and block. I received a wonderful cotton wrap (I’d call it a pashmina, as people seem to be doing that generically lately, but it’s not goat’s wool) purchased in and hand-carried back from Japan. I hadn’t counted on the restaurant being so cold and had worn short sleeves—a terrible mistake—so it turned out not only to be a fantastic gift but one that I could use immediately!

The ribbon to the box was, apparently, covered in glitter.

When I got home, I discovered that there was glitter all over my dress, some of which had already migrated to my duvet cover. (In fact, I noticed glitter on the bed first and thought, How did that get there? before I saw it on the dress.) I ran a lint roller over the dress, but it barely made a dent in removal. I was exhausted, so I threw the dress over the banister to deal with later.

Monday morning I saw the dress and thought about how much I hate glitter.

Except, it turns out, in nail polish. I had a pedicure scheduled, and I almost always go for the shimmery stuff. So I guess I don’t hate contained glitter.

But I hate glitter on bows and cards and anywhere that it can get somewhere else easily. (Like I need one more thing to be grumpy about re: holidays.)

I feel free-range glitter (or that with decent chance of escape) should be illegal. The way chewing gum is in Singapore.

Yesterday I ran the roller over the dress twice. There’s still glitter on it.

Meanwhile, my friend Joyce posted, “Neil just announced a ban on holiday cards with glitter.” Neil is her husband. I’ve met him once or twice. We both love bourbon, so we connect. Now it turns out we both hate glitter. I really like Neil.

People have opinions about glitter, and discussion ensued beneath Joyce’s post. Eventually Joyce wrote, “Quote from Aaron [her son] when he was in high school: Glitter is the herpes of the craft world. Once you get it, you can never get rid of it.”

I haven’t met Aaron, but I already like him too.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things (6) December 15, 2017

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  • Birding with Tim
  • Cross-country skiing with Tim
  • Happy hour with Tim

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things (5) December 14, 2017

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  • Loons calling
  • Diving birds hovering
  • Coyotes yipping

Happy Santa Lucia! December 13, 2017

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As I’ve often said, if I could be anywhere for Santa Lucia, I’d be in Verona. With Sergio. Cheers!

1705/2017 December 12, 2017

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I’m still trying to get rid of 2017 things in 2017, but I’m not doing well. It’s only by counting more than 400 individual things in 5 bags (instead of just the 5 bags) that I’ve made it to 1705. At the 5.5-items-per-day rate I mentioned in March, I am 198 items behind as of today (despite apparently having been ahead at the end of May) and—unless something happens within a few hours—will be more than 200 items behind by tomorrow. I have 312 to go. Help!

Backlimericks 5 December 11, 2017

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The dogs absolutely lose their shit when Dan uses the cocktail shaker. He often warns guests, especially those who might be unfamiliar with this fact, that it is about to happen.

As afternoon stretches toward dark
and you call in Shayne, Maggie, and Stark,
you prepare those around
for full voice of the hound:
the five o’clock cocktail-shake bark.

Namaste December 10, 2017

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May all beings be free from fear and harm.
May we all be at peace with whatever comes.
May we all have the courage to be who we truly are.
And may we all learn to walk more gently in the softness of our own hearts.

Strike Update December 9, 2017

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When I announced my cooking strike on December 1, Mali commented, “Good luck on continuing the no-cooking strike, though personally I think the dumpling/shitake/spinach in a wok combo was skating on thin ice!” She’s right. In my regular world, I would likely still count that as cooking, even though it’s one of our easy go-tos and includes processed food.

I had thought things were going to get trickier the next day, Sunday, when we invited friends for dinner and I would at least have to sous chef, but they talked us into going out for Thai food and watching the lighted tractor parade through the window.

Monday we pulled leftover pizza out of the freezer. It had been prepared by my sister-in-law over Thanksgiving. We garnished it with leeks and previously cooked mushrooms. Tim chopped the leeks, so I was still OK.

Tuesday Tim had a music gig at a high school. I went to hear the first performance. When I got home, starving, I pulled another one of those thin-ice moves. I dumped a can of black bean soup in a pot, added some frozen spinach, then added some already-roasted-by-Tim root vegetables to it. Topped it with feta. It was incredibly delicious.

Wednesday we pulled a bacon spinach quiche out of the freezer. It was prepared by a part-time chef friend. I had picked up a couple of her quiches to have on hand over Thanksgiving, just in case we needed something quick. But there was so much other food that we didn’t.

Thursday I chopped something. Cabbage. And ginger. And I cooked rice. So even though I also used up the rest of the previously cooked mushrooms and thawed some already-tamari-baked tofu, this breaks through that thin ice a bit, for sure.

Friday—last night—I heated up some frozen veg from Thanksgiving. Tim made the cod en persillade from Thomas Keller’s Ad Hoc at Home. So again, I didn’t cook. But I’m taking serious advantage of my husband.

It is unclear what we’ll scarf down tonight before a house concert we’re attending, or where. Tomorrow night is my staff’s holiday dinner at a restaurant. And word on the street is that I may be spending more time in Portland before Christmas. My (gluttonous?) food sloth is getting fed.

Which, in a way, is good, because in the rest of my life, I feel there’s barely space enough to breathe.

Max and Lennon Revisited: 2/36/21 December 8, 2017

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Because I’m thinking about him.

Max and Lennon December 8, 2016

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Today is the anniversary of Max’s death, who died on the thirty-fifth anniversary of Lennon’s death, which is the twentieth anniversary of that party I went to at the Dakota, when it was the fifteenth anniversary of Lennon’s death but the hosts didn’t realize that when they planned the party and all the guests had get past the candlelight vigil and be on the list to get through the extra security at the front door, and who knows what will happen today that next year it will be the anniversary of or what other things it’s the anniversary of that I am not even thinking about or aware of but I can tell you that I was in my college dorm room when I heard about Lennon’s death and I was sitting right here in my office when I heard about Max’s death and I still can’t imagine that Max is gone.

Backlimericks 4 December 7, 2017

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A friend of mine turned forty in July. He’s a psychologist (working for the Department of Veterans Affairs) and a metal detectorist. Do you know anyone who is both those things? I thought not.

A dashing explorer called Ken
discovers debris masked by men.
He lives to unsettle:
detects bullshit and metal,
tries to piece things together again.