Hints and Guesses

You’ve been dying to know more about the products that fill (and fulfill) my life. To meet the demand, I’ve created The Be Like Ducky Store (also seen in the sidebar). Yes, you too can be like Ducky! You’ll (eventually) find it to be a handy guide to what to get yourself for your birthday (especially) or Christmas (when necessary). All proceeds go straight to the Ducky Plastic Surgery Fund.

We’ve had a great time already in the day and a half I’ve been here in Arizona. Yesterday there was some juggling and balloon-animal making (I am clearly better at making balloon swords) and two episodes of Series 1 of Doctor Who. Today, a holiday, there was more Doctor Who, The Princess Bride (new for both The Girl and The Boy, and it was a hit), and later a late afternoon visit to the Desert Botanical Garden, where the sun set and the moon rose before we left the owls and jackrabbits behind.

However, as exciting and fun as all of this was, nothing can top something The Boy casually tossed off. Farts are funny, you know, to children, and after The Girl let one off in the car, I (for no good reason) suggested that they learn how to say “fart” in several other languages.

“How do you say “fart” in Spanish?” I asked her. She began to tell me how she didn’t know, but then a small voice piped up from the back seat.

“Fartita,” The Boy said, thereby creating an instant classic.

For a more uplifting take on the day’s events, visit Thursday Drive, where she is too hoity-toity to talk about fartitas.

This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body…

While I can’t recommend it to others, the Gall Bladder Diet seems to be working well for me.

The Gall Bladder Diet requires one to consider the potential for future pain from every bite of food one eats. Does it contain fat? If yes, think long and hard before eating it; in fact, the default response should be “What? Are you crazy?”. If no, still think about it, as one might still be wrong.

I’m taking some pants in to my tailor next week.

By 11 o’clock this morning, this Starbucks chai was the nicest thing anyone had done for me all day:

Then came a picture from a young friend (annotations mine):

Until this:

Then I made my own chai:

My house is not a haven of peace and order. “Whose is?” you ask, and I nod my head in agreement. But I’d still like one. At every turn, there’s some reason why I can’t move forward with my plans.

The piano stands in for a number of obstacles. When we bought this house, the previous owners left their piano behind (the house was previously owned by the mother of my stepchildren). At the time, the boys were still taking piano lessons, and she got another piano for their new house. So wherever they were, they could always practice.

Well, no one’s taken piano lessons for the last three years, and it’s only been played a handful of times in that time period. The more time passes, the more I want to get it out of the house. It dawned on me this year that I own bookcases that could occupy the piano space, and since I still have books in boxes, I really wanted to set up those bookcases.

Have you ever moved a piano? It’s not such an easy thing if the piano is up half a flight of stairs in a split-level house. We’ve had numerous conversations about moving it. We even have someone who wants the piano. Unfortunately, no one is as motivated to move this piano as I am. I told my husband that I wanted it out of the house by the end of September. I don’t think he believed me, until yesterday.

Yesterday I rolled the piano out of the way, vacuumed the floor, set up the bookcases, and unpacked fifteen more feet of books. Then Stepson #2 rolled it back to sit right in front of the bookcases. My husband came home, took a look, and then tested the weight of the piano. “That’s about half as heavy as I expected it to be,” he said. “I think I could move this down the stairs with one other person.” I rolled my eyes.

Now that the bookcases are out of our bedroom, I can put a dresser in there that we’ve had sitting in the garage for the last couple of years. It’s mostly refinished, but I can assure you that the longer it sits out there, the less likely it will be to ever get finished. It’s going in this weekend.

This leads to further reassessment of our bedroom. I don’t know whose idea it was to put in the pink carpet, but it was not a good one. We’re not going to be able to replace it anytime soon, so I will continue to pretend that it’s not there when I make decorating decisions. We’ve got a nice Heywood Wakefield headboard, along with the aforementioned coordinating dresser. That, and the custom Elfa closet configuration are the best things about our bedroom. The carpet has to be replaced, I want to put in new window dressings, and we’ve got to replace the ugly ceiling fan. And then I might paint and try some wall decals.

In my twenties, I latched onto a fantasy that one day I would confront Sue on Oprah.

I imagined telling my story in front of the whole country. Who could fail to sympathize? And Sue would never be able to show her face in public again. This time, everyone would know exactly what kind of person she was, and she’d never be able to hurt anyone else.

I held onto this fantasy for a few years, until the day I asked her “Why? Why would you do that to your children?” At that moment I realized that there was nothing—nothing—she could say that would ever make any of it better. And inexplicably a big chunk of the burden I carried melted away. Just like that. I haven’t seen that part since.

At 8:15 this evening Dr. S called to put me out of my misery. The training thing didn’t work out anyway, she said, and in the end they went with the candidate with academic experience, which I don’t have. However, the assistant dean of the college of arts and sciences is actively looking for a new assistant and she’s passed my resume on to him (at his request). She was complimentary about our entire experience together (which began last week when I went over to introduce myself since she didn’t know me from Eve and then spent an hour in conversation).

So tomorrow morning I’m getting up bright and early to go over and do my networking thing again. All is not lost, and this might even be a better position for me.

On the corner of our lot sits a large beech tree. Since we’ve owned this house, we’ve had four incidents in which large branches broke off the tree. The first was during a storm (two large branches came down that time), the second was a calm, sunny day (I happened to see that one fall), the third was in light wind conditions, and the fourth was during a big storm. The fourth incident took out a power line, and our neighborhood was without power for several hours. It also almost hit a passing minivan and would have hit the firstborn’s car if his brother hadn’t ditched it in order to take shelter in the house (he parked around the corner instead of the driveway, and that saved him).

I like trees, but I have never liked this tree. It leaned over the street in front of the house and I had visions of it crashing on top of a car or two. Taking it out, however, was out of our budget, and so branches continued to fall, miraculously never hitting either a person or a vehicle. Still, I called it the Death Tree.

Until the power company decided to take it out, after the last incident. They’ve been on a tear around town lately, taking out way more trees than I thought necessary. Today they finally got to ours.

Here’s a before sequence, starting from the base (note the power lines in the first photo, and note the lean, which is worse than it looks in this photo):

Here’s what’s left of the top:

And this is what’s left of a once-mighty tree:

Negotiations are under way for how we’ll design that area of the yard.

Curiously, in yesterday’s job interview I was not once asked why I left my last job. This is the first time the interviewer has not asked that question (one interviewer in another interview asked why I left every single job I’ve had since college. Even the skating rink job. If you didn’t know I’d worked at a skating rink since college, we are more out of touch than you thought. And that is probably not your fault.)

Given the nature of the location of this position (currently identified as the university in my backyard), it is not surprising to imagine that they know, in fact, that I left my job because I got fired. That’s the nature of the church grapevine. Still, I was there for almost two hours (partly because I had a number of questions, and partly because of an add-on conversation at the copier). They’re making a decision quickly—today, in fact. I just wrote and sent two completely different thank-you notes, one for each interviewer, showcasing my personable writing personality and reminding them that in fact, I am the best person for this job. Pleasepleaseplease (except that I didn’t actually say that).

Should I get this job, I will start tomorrow, because the person I’d be replacing is leaving at noon on Friday, for good. I would like this job, which is probably not going to pay enough but will have fantastic benefits for parents of children in private school. Which we are, and we do not currently have these benefits. Should I get a job at this institution, the firstborn has promised to take his shoes off at the door every single time instead of sporadically, and he will always turn the lights out when he leaves a room. I am not sure that is enough for thousands of dollars less in student loans, but it may be all I get.

For the rest of what may be my last day of freedom, I am going to watch a movie and then maybe play croquet. It sounds good, doesn’t it?

Coming up: The end of the Death Tree, with pictures.

While between jobs I have been reminded that, when not under pressure to perform and produce results, I actually like cooking. Remind me of this a few months from now when I’ve had time to forget it.

Today’s kitchen output is Ratatouille With Goat’s Cheese and Herby Crumble. This is the second time I have made this recipe, which I share here in a modified form:

To freeze follow the recipe to end of step 4. Double wrap in its dish in cling film and freeze for up to 2 months. To serve, put the frozen crumble into the fridge to thaw for at least 8 hours. Continue with step 5.

INGREDIENTS:
2 eggplants
3 zucchinis
2 red peppers
1 green pepper
6 tablespoons olive oil
2 medium onions, coarsely chopped
2 garlic cloves, crushed
400 g chopped Italian tomatoes
¼ cup fresh basil, chopped
350 g goat’s cheese, with a rind

FOR THE CRUMBLE
350 g sliced white bread, crusts removed
1 tablespoon green pesto sauce
1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley
1 tablespoon basil
1 tablespoon chives

DIRECTIONS:
1. Preheat the oven to 375F°.
2. Cut the eggplants and zucchinis into thick slices, no thinner than ¾”, then cut all the slices across in half. Set aside. Cut the peppers in half, remove and discard the seeds, then cut the peppers into bite-sized chunks. Set aside.
3. Heat 5 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large pan, add the onions and garlic and gently fry for 8-10 minutes. Add the eggplants, zucchini and peppers and fry for a further 10 minutes. Tip in the chopped tomatoes, season well, cover and cook for 20 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat, stir in the chopped basil and leave aside to cool.
4. Meanwhile, for the crumble, put the bread into a food processor and blend to fine crumbs. Add the pesto, herbs, the remaining olive oil and plenty of seasoning, then blend again.
5. Cut the goat’s cheese into large bitesized pieces and fold through the ratatouille. Spoon into an 8-cup ovenproof dish. Sprinkle the herby crumb mixture over the top of the ratatouille.
6. Bake the crumble for 25 minutes until golden.

The recipe says that this serves four, but at 874 calories per serving, only if those four are lumberjacks. Not to mention that you will need giant pans in which to cook this. The first time I made it, I used my 4.5 quart Dutch oven, which was barely large enough to contain all those vegetables. This time I used our 13.5-inch cast iron skillet, and I was unable to ever cover the vegetables for the last 20 minutes. And there is no way that an 8-cup dish is adequate. This time I used (I made myself pick the odd-size dishes on purpose to counteract my natural anal tendencies, but next time I’ll go for 8x8-inch dishes for experimental purposes):

• A 2.8 liter baking dish
• A 1.8 liter baking dish
• And an adorable little 7.5” x 5.5” casserole dish

One of those we’ll eat for lunch tomorrow, and the other two are going in the freezer. One of my goals during this gift of free time is to get as much in the freezer as I reasonably can, and I like that this recipe came with clear, direct instructions on how to prepare, freeze, and then use it, something I find lacking in most OAMC and freezer recipes.

I had leftover basil and chives when I was finished with this dish. The chives are now in the freezer for future use, and the basil is on its way.

While I love having the extras in the freezer, the next time I make this I’m going to cut the recipe in half and perhaps also suggest using ricotta or cottage cheese instead of the goat cheese. The goat cheese is good, but the other might be cheaper and just as tasty. Cheesiness makes the vegetables go down!

Congratulations! You scored above average on 1 of the 4 elements of the adult fitness test.  Your score was average or below average for your age on 3 of the 4 tests. You may wish to talk with a fitness or exercise professional about activities you can do to improve your performance on these tests.  Keep up the good work! Remember to be active every day and work to maintain a healthy weight.

Does scoring above average on 1 of the 4 elements of the adult fitness test merit a “Congratulations!”? Does an overall score of 28%ile deserve applause? “Keep up the good work!”? Is that code for “that chair suits you”? Because this last week, it did, every day.

It’s been an uneven week. Having a big crowd of people over, while enjoyable, takes a lot out of me, and I’ve done little around the house. I haven’t exercised at all, and my last shower was Tuesday morning. Both Tuesday (after the job interview) and Wednesday I left the house only to drop off a Netflix DVD in the mailbox and pick up some Taco Bell.

I did have a job interview Tuesday morning, which was apparently another good practice interview. Some Saturdays are involved, so that seemed to be the dealbreaker for her.

I’ve done some reading, and some Torchwood and Sliders (thank goodness the Sliders days are over!), and completely overhauled a web site that’s been giving me fits for ages. It’s got only one fit left in it and hopefully that will be cleared up by the end of the day.

The first wife is annoying me these days, and I’ve tried hard not to be annoyed. She is a nice person and a good mother, but she’s in a crazy mood.

We’re out of granola, and there are banana muffins to be made.