Laura Anne Gilman's Blog, page 48
December 22, 2014
A New Accomplishment!
Because nobody else would cop to knowing how to carve a turkey tonight, I stepped up and did the honors.
Okay, it wasn't particularly honorable, but the job got done and people got their turkey, no blood was shed and the relative parts were recognizable. I call that a win.
And next Thanksgiving, I'm going to deny any/all knowledge of same.
Okay, it wasn't particularly honorable, but the job got done and people got their turkey, no blood was shed and the relative parts were recognizable. I call that a win.
And next Thanksgiving, I'm going to deny any/all knowledge of same.
December 21, 2014
Applesauce
Since it's been a hit the two latke parties I've brought it to, I figure I might as well post the recipe - such as it is - here for others to adopt.
6 apples (I use granny smith, but adjust for the level of sweet/tart you prefer)
2 pears (Bosc are my preferences but any will work)
1 c. water
juice of 1 lemon
2 t. cinnamon
1/3 c brown sugar
Wash, core, and slice the fruit (don't bother peeling them). Toss them into a stockpot or large pan, cover with the 1 cup of water. Add the brown sugar, the lemon juice, and 1 t. of cinnamon, toss until all the slices are covered, and then simmer over medium heat for 20-25 minutes.
When the fruit's sufficiently softened, run it through a food processor or mill (or use a potato masher) to your desired consistency, then set it aside in a bowl.
In the stockpot there should be liquid remaining. Add the other 1 t. of cinnamon to it, stir, and let simmer until it thickens, then add the applesauce back and stir over a simmer. Serve warm, or store in the fridge.
Makes enough to serve 6 as sides, with seconds. Or to replace the butter in a LOT of baking.
I have no idea how this freezes - it's never lasted long enough to find out!
6 apples (I use granny smith, but adjust for the level of sweet/tart you prefer)
2 pears (Bosc are my preferences but any will work)
1 c. water
juice of 1 lemon
2 t. cinnamon
1/3 c brown sugar
Wash, core, and slice the fruit (don't bother peeling them). Toss them into a stockpot or large pan, cover with the 1 cup of water. Add the brown sugar, the lemon juice, and 1 t. of cinnamon, toss until all the slices are covered, and then simmer over medium heat for 20-25 minutes.
When the fruit's sufficiently softened, run it through a food processor or mill (or use a potato masher) to your desired consistency, then set it aside in a bowl.
In the stockpot there should be liquid remaining. Add the other 1 t. of cinnamon to it, stir, and let simmer until it thickens, then add the applesauce back and stir over a simmer. Serve warm, or store in the fridge.
Makes enough to serve 6 as sides, with seconds. Or to replace the butter in a LOT of baking.
I have no idea how this freezes - it's never lasted long enough to find out!
December 20, 2014
dream a little dream of arrrrgh
Had a dream last night that I'd met up with an old former-friend in an open-air bar somewhere (a city I was living in, but not one I recognized) and our bags were ransacked/stolen. I lost my wallet, my phone, my laptop, my keys... and my companion blamed me for it. And when I went back to my apartment I had no way to contact the cops, so had to find one on the street.
They were, as you can imagine, less than helpful/sympathetic, though they took my report word for word.
Then I woke up, reassured myself that it was only a dream, went back to sleep, and had a dream where my laptop at least hadn't been stolen, but the hinge was broken and the screen was cracked enough to interfere with my actually working on it.
First thing I did when I finally woke up for good was check to make sure all my backups have been processing properly. I'm not sure if this is a general work-anxiety dream, or an awareness that my laptop's coming up on four years old now (which is closer to six or seven in writer-use years) and I can't afford to replace it...
either way, it was kind of terrifying.
brrrr.
They were, as you can imagine, less than helpful/sympathetic, though they took my report word for word.
Then I woke up, reassured myself that it was only a dream, went back to sleep, and had a dream where my laptop at least hadn't been stolen, but the hinge was broken and the screen was cracked enough to interfere with my actually working on it.
First thing I did when I finally woke up for good was check to make sure all my backups have been processing properly. I'm not sure if this is a general work-anxiety dream, or an awareness that my laptop's coming up on four years old now (which is closer to six or seven in writer-use years) and I can't afford to replace it...
either way, it was kind of terrifying.
brrrr.
December 18, 2014
multi-cultural leadership: you're doing it so very fucking wrong.
Springfield (MA) city councilor Bud Williams announced that “Jesus is the reason for the season” in the middle of a menorah lighting ceremony.
And then proceeded to goysplain Jewish history to justify his statement.
Protip: don’t do that.
And then proceeded to goysplain Jewish history to justify his statement.
Protip: don’t do that.
On Adulting, like it or not (not).
I am - for 99.98% of what counts - a functional adult. I have adulting down to such a skill that nobody thinks of me as anything other than a competent (if occasionally goofy) adult.
And that’s how I like it. Because owning my own shit, the good and the bad, is important. Took me a few years of therapy to get there, but I got there.
But some days? Some days, I really want to hand life - all the adulting shit - over to someone else and say “you take care of this, I can’t deal.”
*looks around*
Yeah. Doesn’t work that way for most of us, no. Dealing’s what’s required.
But for the rest of today? I’m gonna be in the pillow fort. With a book, a teddy bear, and a bottle of wine.
If anyone needs to join me, the password’s SULK.
And that’s how I like it. Because owning my own shit, the good and the bad, is important. Took me a few years of therapy to get there, but I got there.
But some days? Some days, I really want to hand life - all the adulting shit - over to someone else and say “you take care of this, I can’t deal.”
*looks around*
Yeah. Doesn’t work that way for most of us, no. Dealing’s what’s required.
But for the rest of today? I’m gonna be in the pillow fort. With a book, a teddy bear, and a bottle of wine.
If anyone needs to join me, the password’s SULK.
December 17, 2014
Live in the EU? Like e-reading?
A reminder for everyone in the EU - if you've been thinking about buying an ebook that's already out, you might want to do it NOW, before the new VAT regulations force the prices to go up.
Because prices WILL go up (we've already gotten emails confirming this from Amazon, et al that they're passing the increase directly along to the consumers. So thank your governments for that).
So, if you want to pick up copies of MILES TO GO and PROMISES TO KEEP, or FROM WHENCE YOU CAME, one of our anthologies, or even Practical Meerkat's 52 Bits of Useful Advice.... now would be the time to hie over to Book View Cafe and buy them....
December 16, 2014
Things that should not be so funny but are, part the next (feline division)
Things I had forgotten:
for all their lives, the Kitten of Thursday and Boomer have been apartment cats. To them, the washer and dryer are things that live Elsewhere.
Not so, here.
Things I learned:
While the washer sounds a lot like the dishwasher, and so is mildly interesting but not terribly disturbing, the dryer is.... well.
Stage One: WHATTHEFUCKMOMWHATTHEFUCKISTHAT? starting nervously and hiding behind my legs.
Stage Two: ....cautious, crouched staring from a safe distance.
Stage Three: we have not been eaten, therefore we are ignoring it utterly.
Stage Four, when the buzzer goes off: HOLYSHITWHATTHEHELLASTHATMOMDIDYOUHEARTHATMOMPROTECTUS!
for all their lives, the Kitten of Thursday and Boomer have been apartment cats. To them, the washer and dryer are things that live Elsewhere.
Not so, here.
Things I learned:
While the washer sounds a lot like the dishwasher, and so is mildly interesting but not terribly disturbing, the dryer is.... well.
Stage One: WHATTHEFUCKMOMWHATTHEFUCKISTHAT? starting nervously and hiding behind my legs.
Stage Two: ....cautious, crouched staring from a safe distance.
Stage Three: we have not been eaten, therefore we are ignoring it utterly.
Stage Four, when the buzzer goes off: HOLYSHITWHATTHEHELLASTHATMOMDIDYOUHEARTHATMOMPROTECTUS!
December 15, 2014
Something on a Monday...
So, among the things that have happened in the past week or so, of which there have been many, there's one that stood out for me.
I - WE - got a thank-you letter from a reader who depends on food banks, for #willwrite2feedothers.
I'm not crying, you're...ok, yeah, I teared up. Because I knew we were doing something that affected people's lives, even a little. But I never expected a direct acknowledgement of that fact, and it kind of floored me.
*is still kind of puddled*
and if you contributed, if you volunteered, if you helped spread the word - that thank you letter is for you, too.
I - WE - got a thank-you letter from a reader who depends on food banks, for #willwrite2feedothers.
I'm not crying, you're...ok, yeah, I teared up. Because I knew we were doing something that affected people's lives, even a little. But I never expected a direct acknowledgement of that fact, and it kind of floored me.
*is still kind of puddled*
and if you contributed, if you volunteered, if you helped spread the word - that thank you letter is for you, too.
December 14, 2014
the protocol of the early morning ooops.
3am, the phone rings - an unknown NYC number. Of COURSE I answer it, heart pounding, and hear....nothing.
Hello?"
A wet cough, then silence. Then the silence that indicates someone has hung up (I miss dial tones sometimes).
Reverse Call Search indicates this was a landline belonging to an older gentleman in Brooklyn. I had a moment of hesitation - that cough hadn't sounded good at all, he hadn't spoken, should I call 911? - before deciding that it had probably been an old man cough, that's all, and he'd meant to early-morning call his sister in Jersey, not panic someone whose own family still lives in NYC....
Folks, if you ever wrong-call someone? Say "whoops, sorry." I know you're embarrassed, but it can't hurt, will probably help.
Hello?"
A wet cough, then silence. Then the silence that indicates someone has hung up (I miss dial tones sometimes).
Reverse Call Search indicates this was a landline belonging to an older gentleman in Brooklyn. I had a moment of hesitation - that cough hadn't sounded good at all, he hadn't spoken, should I call 911? - before deciding that it had probably been an old man cough, that's all, and he'd meant to early-morning call his sister in Jersey, not panic someone whose own family still lives in NYC....
Folks, if you ever wrong-call someone? Say "whoops, sorry." I know you're embarrassed, but it can't hurt, will probably help.
