Before I go

About to leave the hotel room and the internets with it. Before I do that, I wanted to ask you all what do you figure it says about Monkey's upbringing that at one point at breakfast this morning she declared her baby dolly hungry, then promptly pulled down the top of her dress and stuck the dolly's face to her nipple? And then sat, holding the dolly in place with one hand, operating the fork with the other, and chatting non-stop for the next several minutes? What?

Updated: It's not the nursing that was noteworthy-- I've seen that many a time. It was the apparently nonchalant "nursing in public" complete with impressive multitasking that was cracking me up.

Good Housekeeping

We are in a hotel tonight. Getting on a cruise ship tomorrow afternoon, for a quick three day jaunt. Because of this, Thanksgiving was a lunch affair, potluck with my sister, involving a limited number of dishes, since, you know, we had to leave for the airport. We did well, by which I mean that the food was good, we stuffed ourselves as I believe is required by both state and federal law, and yet, except for the bird, there weren't that many leftovers. What was left is my sister's problem, since we, as I believe I mentioned, left.

Also, if you would like to take a plane trip, and have no preference as far as the date of said trip is concerned, may I suggest the fourth Thursday in November? This, this is what travel should be. The airport was a breathe, so much so that I got a 15 minute chair massage at Brookstone that I didn't have to wait for and nobody except Monkey bugged me while I was enjoying it. Monkey, excited as she was by the prospect of the next four! days! of! fun!, thought it was unfair that I got to sit in the chair and is it her turn yet? Although in fairness she was really good for most of the day today while we packed and cooked and did some last minute things.

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So I did pretty well with this unofficial NaBloPoMo deal. I was too chicken to sign up, but up until today did in fact post every day, even if some days I had valiantly fight sleep to accomplish this important goal. The next three days I can't be sure of my connections to the civilized world (read: internets), so I can't be sure I will get to keep up with this. Here's my solution-- since I am not officially signed up, I get to bend the rules. My newly bent rules, then, allow me to write the posts for the next three days off line and to post the whole bunch when I get back. Whatdayathink?

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JD's repeat test was Monday, and we got the results yesterday. They are somewhat improved, although not enough to avoid serious interventions. Some of this might be random fluctuation, and some may be the supplements he started taking after I spent some hours in heart-to-heart conversations with my dear friend PubMed. Hope, that bitch, showed up the moment I started reading the report, and she is still hanging around, whispering all about how we might just get away with IVF only, sans ICSI. We'll see. He has to go give the lab vampires some blood after we get back, and he has an appointment with the urologist after, and then I get my ultrasound and we both see the RE. I am going to try to not think about any of this on the cruise. Although I am not really expecting to succeed with this.

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And finally, I started updating my blog roll and setting up my google reader last night. Got a good way through, but am not nearly finished. I was bummed, though, by the number of blogs I can't get a feed for. On my blog roll I marked them with a *. I certainly understand if you did that on purpose-- there are certainly enough reasons to. And I promise I will still click through. But um... if it wasn't intentional, would you mind setting your feed free? Pretty please?

Oh, and if you don't see your blog on the roll, it is probably because I am not done updating it yet. But feel free to leave a comment to tell me you can't believe yours wasn't the first blog I added on. I can't believe it either. I was actually planning on staying up to add a bunch more tonight, but I am falling asleep, and I think that at this point it would be wise to give in. So the rest of the updates will have to wait till next week. In the meantime I am going to read for a couple of pages and kill the lights.

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Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Blog book tour: The Daring Book for Girls

My very first official review. With a reviewer copy of the book and everything. Woo-hoo! And the fact that I was one of about one hundred did not dampen my spirits one bit.

First, I have to admit to having had great big hopes for The Daring Book for Girls. And not just because it was promoted as "our" answer to the much praised and much criticized The Dangerous Book for Boys (criticized for, you know, the "for boys" part). I mean how could you not anticipate a book that pairs "daring" with "girls"? Written by Mother Talk's Andi Buchanan and Miriam Peskowitz it promised to be a nice ride.

And mostly, it is. A book that tells girls to use power tools to build a flower press and a scooter, teaches them to tie proper knots, tells them to try something 200 times (assuring them that they will get it by then), and doesn't just instruct them on how to make a paper construction that flies but also explains what makes one of those fly will always have a soft spot in my heart. I also appreciated the many cultural mainstays that I do not have in my repertoire in their English-language versions on account of not growing up in this country-- jump rope and hand clap rhymes, for example, and slumber party games (although what is up with an independent chapter on palmistry, especially one so prominently placed at the beginning of the book, on page 8, I will never know). Add to that cartwheels and back walkovers, and you have my daughter's undivided attention too. She can do those things owning to her gymnastics training, but seeing the instructions, complete with diagrams, right there on the page made her think it is a very cool book.

Speaking of said daughter. When the book first arrived, she wanted to know what it was, so I read the title to her. Her reaction? "Why is it only for girls? Boys may like things in there too." Yes, kiddo, yes they would. It appears my constant assault on gender stereotypes is working (insert evil laugh and creepy hand rubbing here).

All of that said, however, this book was put together, from concept to sale, in a matter of months, and, unfortunately, it shows. While some chapters are written in flowing prose replete with witty turns of phrase, others are choppy and awkward. They feel like they missed their appointment with an editor. In some places fact checkers dropped the ball. I mean, seriously, sulfur is so not a component of DNA, let alone a main component. Phosphorus is not a main component either, but at least it is a key component.

The educator in me is cringes at slights of hand, even for brevity. Those math tricks, for example, are for sure useful, but I would've appreciated that section a lot more if it included explanations of why they work or, at least, a challenge to the readers to figure it out.

In a somewhat related thought, I much appreciated the chapters on the queens of the ancient world, but was greatly disappointed by the coverage of the women scientists, engineers, doctors, etc. Aside from the highly US-centered nature of that coverage (and some other--although definitely not all-- aspects of the book) the tiny little paragraphs devoted to individual women in this category were woefully inadequate. Their accomplishments are only that much more remarkable for the obstacles they overcame, and there is not much room for the obstacles in the tiny paragraphs. I realize that space is a consideration in a book like this. Perhaps a companion volume then? The Book of Daring Girls has a nice ring to it. Or is it women?

Finally, I can't tell you how much I appreciated (read: loved) the entirely unsubtle and repeated mocking of the Disney pink princess image. Very well done. But, and I realize this might be taken as a nitpick, except I don't believe that it is given the subject matter being discussed, I did not at all appreciate sweeping uncomfortable subjects under the rug. Such as saying, in the section on real princesses, that Sheikha Maitha bint Muhammed al-Maktum was born, in 1980, to Sheik Muhammed bin Rashid Al Maktum. That's right, just to the sheik. Impressive, I thought-- the first man to self-fertilize and to carry a pregnancy to term. However, a quick google search told me that Maitha does have a mother, the second wife to the sheik, although nobody seems to know what her name is. A fact, I believe, worth acknowledging, as long as we are talking about royal life. Similarly, the authors used a different form of royal salutation to draw attention away from the fact that the princess featured right above Maitha, princess Haya of Jordan, became the third wife of Maitha's father. And the rug-sweeping is not limited to the Middle Eastern affairs-- other tough subjects are handled with a similar slight of hand.

So would I recommend the book for a girl in your life? I think so, but with guidance. Lots more guidance than I was hoping would be needed with a book like that. Still, I have high hopes for the second edition-- there will be more time, and unhurried care can be taken to address these many issues.

Seasons

Oh gloomy season! Of the eyes enchantment!
Your beauty pleases me as farewell it bids. (A.S. Pushkin)

It occurred to me a while ago as I was commenting on someone's blog that this could be the reason I like fall-- you can see the passage of time in the changes of the leaves, their fall, and eventual (if we are lucky) arrival of frost.

Spring, too, visibly marks the passage of time, but it is not exactly my cup of tea. Too cheerful perhaps? Don't get me wrong-- early spring, when the change is in the air, new hope, new leaves, I plug in and pay attention. I look forward to... To what, exactly? To sandals, ice cream outside, end of another academic year-- promises of things still months away. But as the greenery comes in, lush and loud, spring becomes almost too obnoxious for me, too sure of itself. In the Old Country there also were blooming chestnut trees to look forward to, and lilacs, both marking, perfectly on cue, the end of school year.

Nowadays, summer brings the sense of relief that, with exams written and graded, the calendar of academia has again released me to the wilds of unscheduled weeks, and I am freeeeeeeeee. It never lasts, the giddy sensation. In its place-- disorienting sameness of the bright summer days. Only the evenings, by the very act of their differentiated arrival times, give clues. But by then it's too late. In the Old Country we had seasonal fruit. Berries, too. June meant going to the woods to pick wild strawberries. I suppose I just betrayed my essential city-ness, my complete lack of green thumb, or even green eye, so to speak. I am sure to a gardener summer marks the passage of time no less clearly than if a solar-powered atomic clock was installed in a place of honor among the greenery, surrounded perhaps by one of those multi-toned grass designs. To me, however, summer is a static season.

I like winter, despite it being the ultimate static season, because it usually brings snow and skiing. And a multitude of excuses for getting together with friends. And snow. Did I mention I like snow? I am sure the fact that I very rarely get cold, but do easily get hot has something to do with this. And yes, that's another knock for the summer.

The fall then. The season when even the most inept nature watcher can follow the passage of time. The leaves-- the color, the fraction still attached. Air temperature, although the wild fluctuations have made this indicator a bit unreliable as of late. But they brought, earlier in the season, these crisp sunny days, my ideal fall days. This fall in particular has been especially bright around these parts. On my way to Monkey's school there is a little side street that still looks almost entirely yellowish-orange, and it makes me smile every time I drive by.

But this fall has been difficult, a downer. That it should it be this way, surrounded by so much beauty, is a little ironic. I imagine, I know in fact, that there are people who took this fall's brilliance as one more good thing about their great big good fortune in recent months. And I know there isn't much I can talk to these happy people about.

A loss, a child's death, it changes things. I knew it even that first night. Intellectually,I knew it then. I knew it enough to usually not fight the emotions when they came, sometimes extremely predictable and other times strange, triggered by the usual suspects and by the weirdest things. But I can still be surprised. This fall has been tough for reasons I couldn't quite place. Until looking at the first tiny, prickly snowflakes yesterday reminded me that time passes only for the living. And that there isn't a part of me that can't be touched by this thing.

Recipe post

I am such a copycat. If you like garlic and cheese, though, I am your kind of copycat.

The Garlic Thing

1lb mozzarella or similar cheese
9 hardboiled eggs
[ Note: if you are comfortable with the metric system, it's 2 eggs per 100g of cheese. Just in case you ever wanted to make less than is needed to feed an army, I mean.]
garlic to taste (might need up to a bulb)
mayo to taste

Grate mozzarella and eggs on the smaller, but no the smallest side of a grater. You can also use a food processor set to a setting that would allow you to get similar results. Although to tell the truth, I sometimes go for the ease and convenience, and grate into bigger bits.

Use garlic press to crush garlic and add it to the cheese and eggs. (I use about a bulb of garlic for a pound of cheese, but I like my garlic to come through. And through, and through.) Mix.

Add mayo to taste. I like the whole thing to become smooth and just short of creamy.

Let sit in a fridge, covered, for a couple of hours or overnight to allow the flavor to permeate.

Enjoy!

Leftovers

There's a whole lot of leftovers. And a distinct feeling that the visit was way too short.

There are pleasures in life you don't realize you've been missing until you experience them again. It's been years since I've heard two guitars play together, amplifying, shading, enriching each other's sound, adding at once depth and intimacy. Next time we might be able to make it three. For many-many reasons, next time really can't come soon enough.

What's for dinner?

I was driving today, wondering, just a little, whether what I am planning to cook for tomorrow's dinner in honor of the nice out-of-towners really is too much, when Ira Glass came on the radio to start this week's This American Life. Actually, it was a pre-recorded program, about seven years old, but that minor detail didn't stop Ira from answering my question.

Certain days have symbolic meaning, whether we want them to or not. That's why it's important, I think, to overcompensate, to go big, throw a huge party, surround yourself with people, make a lot of noise.

Point taken, Mr.Glass. And thank you.

So currently, in various stages of done, I have
-National soup of the Old Country;
-Two trademark salads of the Old Country;
-Two trademark deserts of the Old Country; and
-Two of my favorite appetizers, also originating from the Old Country.

Still remaining to start and finish are two salads, one appetizer, two main courses, and two side dishes, one of them involving several pounds of mushrooms.

Why yes, I am showing off. Why do you ask?