Steven Harper's Blog, page 49
December 31, 2019
Final Meal of 2019
For Yule, I roasted a goose--and I saved the fat. I carefully rendered it, strained it, and stored it. So much of it! And now came the reckoning!
Max has to work this evening and since we had a LOT of Christmas and Yuletide celebrations, Darwin and I decided to do a quiet New Year's at home. So I made a big dinner before Max had to head out.
And for that, we had goose fat.
I chopped up and parboiled some potatoes while a roasting pan with a dollop of fat heated in a hot (400d) oven. When the potatoes were not quite done, I drained them, dropped in a little flour, and tossed it all together. By now the fat was sizzling and ready. I dumped the potatoes into the roasting pan (so much sizzling) and spooned the fat over everything. Added some salt and pepper and paprika, and put it all back in the oven.
While all this was going on, I was simultaneously working on a set of ribs. Rubbed them with spices and salt, set them in the Instant Pot, and hit the pressure cooking controls.
And in the middle of =that=, I threw together a batch of caramel popcorn for munching tonight.
When the potatoes should have been done, I checked on them. They were cooked, but not crispy like I wanted, and showed no signs of heading in that directions. I thought a moment and switched the oven from bake to broil. In five minutes, voila! We had lightly-browned potatoes with a crispy crust.
Removed them, slathered the ribs with barbecue sauce, and put them under the broiler for a couple minutes to finish.
It was all deliciously fantastic. My last cooking venture of 2019!
comments
Max has to work this evening and since we had a LOT of Christmas and Yuletide celebrations, Darwin and I decided to do a quiet New Year's at home. So I made a big dinner before Max had to head out.
And for that, we had goose fat.
I chopped up and parboiled some potatoes while a roasting pan with a dollop of fat heated in a hot (400d) oven. When the potatoes were not quite done, I drained them, dropped in a little flour, and tossed it all together. By now the fat was sizzling and ready. I dumped the potatoes into the roasting pan (so much sizzling) and spooned the fat over everything. Added some salt and pepper and paprika, and put it all back in the oven.
While all this was going on, I was simultaneously working on a set of ribs. Rubbed them with spices and salt, set them in the Instant Pot, and hit the pressure cooking controls.
And in the middle of =that=, I threw together a batch of caramel popcorn for munching tonight.
When the potatoes should have been done, I checked on them. They were cooked, but not crispy like I wanted, and showed no signs of heading in that directions. I thought a moment and switched the oven from bake to broil. In five minutes, voila! We had lightly-browned potatoes with a crispy crust.
Removed them, slathered the ribs with barbecue sauce, and put them under the broiler for a couple minutes to finish.
It was all deliciously fantastic. My last cooking venture of 2019!
comments
Future Plans
So with Darwin living part-time in Albion and Max graduating this spring with plans to move out, we realized we needed to deal with The House.
The House, the one Darwin and I bought together just before same-sex marriage became legal, is huge. It has three bedrooms upstairs, a living room, dining room, breakfast nook, huge kitchen, two bathrooms, and a main-floor laundry area. The basement is completely finished, with a kitchenette, a sitting room, a rec room, a bathroom with a whirlpool tub, two bedrooms, and lots of storage. It has a huge back deck and an enormous, shady front porch I use as my summer office and adore.
When we moved in together, there were four of us, and the house was nicely roomy. Now, however, we're down to two-and-a-half people, and one of them is planning to move out in June. This will leave me rattling around in this giant-ass house all by myself five days a week.
I love this house. I love the layout and way it's built to entertain. I love the cool front porch and the way I can basically move out there during the summer to write. But it's ridiculously large for one person and one part-time person to inhabit, and it's silly to pay the mortgage on space we simply don't need.
So we came to the reluctant conclusion it's time to sell.
This spring, we'll put The House on the market and start looking for another, smaller place in this area. Much as I'd like to, I can't relocate to the house in Albion--the drive is simply too far, especially in winter.
But whatever house I find will need to have a shaded porch for summer writing.
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The House, the one Darwin and I bought together just before same-sex marriage became legal, is huge. It has three bedrooms upstairs, a living room, dining room, breakfast nook, huge kitchen, two bathrooms, and a main-floor laundry area. The basement is completely finished, with a kitchenette, a sitting room, a rec room, a bathroom with a whirlpool tub, two bedrooms, and lots of storage. It has a huge back deck and an enormous, shady front porch I use as my summer office and adore.
When we moved in together, there were four of us, and the house was nicely roomy. Now, however, we're down to two-and-a-half people, and one of them is planning to move out in June. This will leave me rattling around in this giant-ass house all by myself five days a week.
I love this house. I love the layout and way it's built to entertain. I love the cool front porch and the way I can basically move out there during the summer to write. But it's ridiculously large for one person and one part-time person to inhabit, and it's silly to pay the mortgage on space we simply don't need.
So we came to the reluctant conclusion it's time to sell.
This spring, we'll put The House on the market and start looking for another, smaller place in this area. Much as I'd like to, I can't relocate to the house in Albion--the drive is simply too far, especially in winter.
But whatever house I find will need to have a shaded porch for summer writing.
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Story Smash
Several months ago, I was invited to submit to an SF anthology. I looked over the guidelines for it, but didn't have any ideas for a story, so I let it slide from memory.
The day after Christmas, I came across the guidelines again while was clearing out old emails and WHOP! An idea came to me. It was intriguing, but only partly-formed, so I did what I always do in these cases--I went out for a long walk to think about it. The idea solidified, and the next morning, I sat down to write. I wrote close to six thousand words in two days. The story did stall partway through when I realized it didn't have an emotional center (it was basically a philosophical conversation between two people, very Asimovian), and I had to restructure it a little to create one, but in the end, I got it done.
The trouble was, the deadline is December 31--today! My usual pattern for shorts is to write a rough draft fairly quickly, do a rewrite almost immediately while the original ideas are fresh in my head, then let the story sit for a few days or a week, like bread dough left to rise. When that time is up, I do another rewrite and send it through the Untitled Writers Group. I do one more rewrite with their feedback in mind, format the final manuscript, and send it off.
But with the deadline coming up so quickly, I'd barely have time for a single rewrite, and I know some basic mistakes would slip through with so little reworking. So I emailed the editor (who had already published my work and knew me) to ask if I could have a day or two past deadline. He agreed. Yay!
Now my writers group is having a look on an emergency basis. I hope this story works out. It's quirky and funny and smack-you-in-the-head-y, and I have hopes for it. We'll see. :)
comments
The day after Christmas, I came across the guidelines again while was clearing out old emails and WHOP! An idea came to me. It was intriguing, but only partly-formed, so I did what I always do in these cases--I went out for a long walk to think about it. The idea solidified, and the next morning, I sat down to write. I wrote close to six thousand words in two days. The story did stall partway through when I realized it didn't have an emotional center (it was basically a philosophical conversation between two people, very Asimovian), and I had to restructure it a little to create one, but in the end, I got it done.
The trouble was, the deadline is December 31--today! My usual pattern for shorts is to write a rough draft fairly quickly, do a rewrite almost immediately while the original ideas are fresh in my head, then let the story sit for a few days or a week, like bread dough left to rise. When that time is up, I do another rewrite and send it through the Untitled Writers Group. I do one more rewrite with their feedback in mind, format the final manuscript, and send it off.
But with the deadline coming up so quickly, I'd barely have time for a single rewrite, and I know some basic mistakes would slip through with so little reworking. So I emailed the editor (who had already published my work and knew me) to ask if I could have a day or two past deadline. He agreed. Yay!
Now my writers group is having a look on an emergency basis. I hope this story works out. It's quirky and funny and smack-you-in-the-head-y, and I have hopes for it. We'll see. :)
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Yule and Christmas, 2019
Both celebrations went off just lover-ly this year. On Yuletide, my family and my ex's family came over. I roasted a goose and a ham, then off-loaded the side dishes to my family. :) I've never made goose before (Darwin requested it), and when I announced its presence, my family was wary. When I was very young, my mother decided to try roast goose for Christmas, but it came out greasy and no one liked it. I did some research, though, and discovered that a goose needs to be pricked all over so the fat can drain out and roasted on a rack so it doesn't sit in the grease. This I did, and the bird came out to perfections. My brother commented that it was a combination of a steak and a pork chop. Delicious!
There was one food kerfuffle. Back at Thanksgiving, I made a super-dark chocolate-and-espresso cake with cocoa and mascarpone cheese frosting, and everyone raved over it. I decided to make it again for Christmas and only after the cake was in the oven did I realize I had grabbed the carton of cream instead of the carton of buttermilk, which meant the cake didn't rise very far and it was soggy in the middle. I started over (hey--making cake is fun anyway) and got the batter right, but when I made the frosting, the cheese somehow curdled and the frosting refused to thicken. I was cursed! Mascarpone cheese is expensive, and I didn't feel good about shelling out a pile of money for more of it. I decided to use the gloopy mess as a filing and frost it with store-brought frosting. Except--and I should have predicted this--the gloop made the layers slip and slide and the stuff oozed out from between them, mixing with the regular frosting and making a big, messy pile o' cake. It was too late to make yet another dessert, so I put the mess into the fridge to firm up a little and called Sloppy Cake. When time time came, my family devoured it wholesale and raved over it again. Cool!
There was a lot of conversation and shouting and laughing and present-unwrapping. My family is huge, and we make a lot of noise when we're together, but we're always kind about it. We've observed several times that when we get together, we just want to make sure everyone has a nice time. It's a nice family.
And then the Big-Ass cleanup. When I was little, we usually had holidays at our house, and my mother usually left the cleaning up to the next day. A huge part of my childhood was getting up before the grownups and chowing on the leftovers from last night's party. But I don't like to leave a big job hanging over my head--I'd rather stay up late and get it done. Darwin feels the same way. And so we got everything cleaned up and put away before we collapsed into bed.
I had the next day off. I did have some party prep to do, but most of it was already taken care of.
On Christmas Eve, we had Darwin's family over. It was a small group that included our grandson Noah. Noah (aged 2) is such a sweetie. I've never heard him cry. He gets a little anxious if his daddy goes out to the car, say, but he doesn't actually cry. He's not talking much, but I have the feeling he'll make up for it once he starts. For this party, I roasted more ham and made a huge dish of gourmet macaroni and cheese. And a correctly-made cake. We played with Noah and we played hearts. I won the game with a long-shot moon shot. It was memorable. :)
Christmas morning was just Darwin, Max, and me. We opened the final presents and loafed for the day with the rest of the holiday break stretching ahead of us.
comments
There was one food kerfuffle. Back at Thanksgiving, I made a super-dark chocolate-and-espresso cake with cocoa and mascarpone cheese frosting, and everyone raved over it. I decided to make it again for Christmas and only after the cake was in the oven did I realize I had grabbed the carton of cream instead of the carton of buttermilk, which meant the cake didn't rise very far and it was soggy in the middle. I started over (hey--making cake is fun anyway) and got the batter right, but when I made the frosting, the cheese somehow curdled and the frosting refused to thicken. I was cursed! Mascarpone cheese is expensive, and I didn't feel good about shelling out a pile of money for more of it. I decided to use the gloopy mess as a filing and frost it with store-brought frosting. Except--and I should have predicted this--the gloop made the layers slip and slide and the stuff oozed out from between them, mixing with the regular frosting and making a big, messy pile o' cake. It was too late to make yet another dessert, so I put the mess into the fridge to firm up a little and called Sloppy Cake. When time time came, my family devoured it wholesale and raved over it again. Cool!
There was a lot of conversation and shouting and laughing and present-unwrapping. My family is huge, and we make a lot of noise when we're together, but we're always kind about it. We've observed several times that when we get together, we just want to make sure everyone has a nice time. It's a nice family.
And then the Big-Ass cleanup. When I was little, we usually had holidays at our house, and my mother usually left the cleaning up to the next day. A huge part of my childhood was getting up before the grownups and chowing on the leftovers from last night's party. But I don't like to leave a big job hanging over my head--I'd rather stay up late and get it done. Darwin feels the same way. And so we got everything cleaned up and put away before we collapsed into bed.
I had the next day off. I did have some party prep to do, but most of it was already taken care of.
On Christmas Eve, we had Darwin's family over. It was a small group that included our grandson Noah. Noah (aged 2) is such a sweetie. I've never heard him cry. He gets a little anxious if his daddy goes out to the car, say, but he doesn't actually cry. He's not talking much, but I have the feeling he'll make up for it once he starts. For this party, I roasted more ham and made a huge dish of gourmet macaroni and cheese. And a correctly-made cake. We played with Noah and we played hearts. I won the game with a long-shot moon shot. It was memorable. :)
Christmas morning was just Darwin, Max, and me. We opened the final presents and loafed for the day with the rest of the holiday break stretching ahead of us.
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December 19, 2019
So Much Cookery
We're having two holiday celebrations at our house this year. My side of the family is coming over the Sunday before Christmas (on Yuletide!) and Darwin's will be here Christmas Eve.
Guess who's doing the cooking? :)
So far, I've made a huge batch of piragi, a mess of cookies, and two cakes of chocolate so dark, they're actually black. I'm also roasting a goose for the first time when my family comes over. We'll see how that turns out!
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Guess who's doing the cooking? :)
So far, I've made a huge batch of piragi, a mess of cookies, and two cakes of chocolate so dark, they're actually black. I'm also roasting a goose for the first time when my family comes over. We'll see how that turns out!
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December 8, 2019
Albion: The Desk from Hell
So, the Desk from Hell:
See, we'd gone to Staples and found a small, inexpensive desk for me to use in the Albion house. I'm getting a desk there because with summers and holiday breaks, I'll probably spend more time in Albion than Darwin spends in Wherever, and I need a desk to write on. The desk in question had a keyboard drawer and some side drawers and it was just the right size. So we ordered.
When the desk arrived in Albion, we discovered two things. First, it was packed in that nasty-ass styrofoam that breaks into fluffy little beads that cling to everything everywhere. Second, it was in literally hundreds and hundreds of pieces. If we'd known it was like this, we wouldn't have ordered it. But here it was. Sighing, we got to work.
It took nearly four fucking frustrating hours. We wrestled with badly-done instructions and poorly-labeled hardware and tried not to get short with each other. And in the end, the keyboard drawer didn't line up quite right and wouldn't close properly. (Has anyone ever assembled a desk on which the keyboard drawer worked?) I finally said, "Screw it," and pulled the keyboard drawer off. Now it's a desk with an open space in the front, and it looks fine.
After that, we went downstairs to tackle the lamps. The house's ceiling lights don't illuminate everything, so I had bought a bunch of basic floor lamps from Ikea. It was the very last thing we needed to do. After the desk debacle, Darwin was wary.
"How hard are these to put together?" he asked.
"Easy," I reassured him. "When you moved and took some of the table lights with you, I bought some of these, and it took me maybe a minute to put each one together."
I reached for the first box on the pile, opened it–
--and found the silverware.
The silverware, along with a couple-three other kitchen things, had been packed in an Ikea lamp box after I'd bought floor lamps for Wherever, and the old box had gotten lumped in with the new lamps. The silverware had been sitting in dining room the entire time!
The lamps were simple, as advertised, and now we had silverware. At last!
So now the Albion house looks nice and is all moved in.
Except for the office. Darwin still hasn't unpacked the office.
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See, we'd gone to Staples and found a small, inexpensive desk for me to use in the Albion house. I'm getting a desk there because with summers and holiday breaks, I'll probably spend more time in Albion than Darwin spends in Wherever, and I need a desk to write on. The desk in question had a keyboard drawer and some side drawers and it was just the right size. So we ordered.
When the desk arrived in Albion, we discovered two things. First, it was packed in that nasty-ass styrofoam that breaks into fluffy little beads that cling to everything everywhere. Second, it was in literally hundreds and hundreds of pieces. If we'd known it was like this, we wouldn't have ordered it. But here it was. Sighing, we got to work.
It took nearly four fucking frustrating hours. We wrestled with badly-done instructions and poorly-labeled hardware and tried not to get short with each other. And in the end, the keyboard drawer didn't line up quite right and wouldn't close properly. (Has anyone ever assembled a desk on which the keyboard drawer worked?) I finally said, "Screw it," and pulled the keyboard drawer off. Now it's a desk with an open space in the front, and it looks fine.
After that, we went downstairs to tackle the lamps. The house's ceiling lights don't illuminate everything, so I had bought a bunch of basic floor lamps from Ikea. It was the very last thing we needed to do. After the desk debacle, Darwin was wary.
"How hard are these to put together?" he asked.
"Easy," I reassured him. "When you moved and took some of the table lights with you, I bought some of these, and it took me maybe a minute to put each one together."
I reached for the first box on the pile, opened it–
--and found the silverware.
The silverware, along with a couple-three other kitchen things, had been packed in an Ikea lamp box after I'd bought floor lamps for Wherever, and the old box had gotten lumped in with the new lamps. The silverware had been sitting in dining room the entire time!
The lamps were simple, as advertised, and now we had silverware. At last!
So now the Albion house looks nice and is all moved in.
Except for the office. Darwin still hasn't unpacked the office.
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Albion: Still No Silverware
So Darwin and I were looking for the silverware and trying to buy curtains at a department store. Department stores don't stock more than two or three examples of any given curtain type, so we had order them, with the help of a Friendly Clerk.
The was a lot of to-ing and fro-ing with the on-line order. The Friendly Clerk couldn't get the computer to give us the colors we wanted. Finally he managed it and set up the order.
"Do you want ruffles for the curtain tops?" he asked.
"We're gay," I said, "but we're not that gay."
The Friendly Clerk couldn't decide whether he was allowed to laugh or not.
But a few days later, when the curtains and rods arrived at Albion, Darwin discovered most of the curtains were the wrong color--a dingy, nasty gray instead of the wine red we'd ordered. And so the following weekend, when Darwin came to Wherever, we trooped back to JCPenney to complain. We dumped a big pile of curtain packages on the counter, and the clerk, a different one, re-did the order. Now we're waiting again.
I went to Albion two weekends in a row in here, and by the second visit, most of the house was put in order. Complicated TV/Roku/Cable system: check. Bedroom: check. Bathrooms: check. Curtains: working on it. Kitchen: check.
The kitchen is, at least to me, an important room that requires a great deal of thought and care. Dishes and food and sundries have to be arranged for the greatest level of convenience. Dish cupboards should be near the dishwasher for ease in putting everything away. Foods need to be arranged so that what you're likely to use most often is close to the work space. Appliances needs to be set up so they're reachable, but not in the way. And so on.
I was flummoxed by the lack of overall storage space in the kitchen. Once the everyday-use stuff was set up, there was no room for lesser-used stuff like the Crock Pot and large casserole dishes. Then I came across a tall, shelf-lined cupboard in the laundry room a few steps away. There we go! The secondary stuff went in there, and we were good. However, I still have a bunch of regular-use appliances in Wherever, and no room in the Albion kitchen for them. There's no countertop space for my bread maker, stand mixer, and Instant Pot.
However, the kitchen has a huge amount of floor space. Freakishly huge, in fact. Darwin and I can't figure out what the architect was thinking by having so much floor space and a relatively small amount of counter- and cupboard space tucked into one corner. But it occurred to me that we could put an island in that space. I found one on-line. It's the perfect size and the decor goes with the kitchen. We'll get it. Eventually.
We also need a kitchen table. The table Darwin took from our Wherever house we put in the new dining room because Darwin didn't want the dining room to look so empty. (He's ignoring the fact that the dining room in "my" house is now a giant empty space, but . . . ) We're going to buy an inexpensive one later.
I made a beef roast for our first meal in the newly-done house. It was delicious, but we were hampered by the lack of silverware. Plasticware doesn't work well with roast beef!
By now, we were both seriously annoyed and mystified. Every box had been unpacked, every storage bin had been checked. No silverware.
Sighing, we went upstairs to assemble the Desk from Hell.
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The was a lot of to-ing and fro-ing with the on-line order. The Friendly Clerk couldn't get the computer to give us the colors we wanted. Finally he managed it and set up the order.
"Do you want ruffles for the curtain tops?" he asked.
"We're gay," I said, "but we're not that gay."
The Friendly Clerk couldn't decide whether he was allowed to laugh or not.
But a few days later, when the curtains and rods arrived at Albion, Darwin discovered most of the curtains were the wrong color--a dingy, nasty gray instead of the wine red we'd ordered. And so the following weekend, when Darwin came to Wherever, we trooped back to JCPenney to complain. We dumped a big pile of curtain packages on the counter, and the clerk, a different one, re-did the order. Now we're waiting again.
I went to Albion two weekends in a row in here, and by the second visit, most of the house was put in order. Complicated TV/Roku/Cable system: check. Bedroom: check. Bathrooms: check. Curtains: working on it. Kitchen: check.
The kitchen is, at least to me, an important room that requires a great deal of thought and care. Dishes and food and sundries have to be arranged for the greatest level of convenience. Dish cupboards should be near the dishwasher for ease in putting everything away. Foods need to be arranged so that what you're likely to use most often is close to the work space. Appliances needs to be set up so they're reachable, but not in the way. And so on.
I was flummoxed by the lack of overall storage space in the kitchen. Once the everyday-use stuff was set up, there was no room for lesser-used stuff like the Crock Pot and large casserole dishes. Then I came across a tall, shelf-lined cupboard in the laundry room a few steps away. There we go! The secondary stuff went in there, and we were good. However, I still have a bunch of regular-use appliances in Wherever, and no room in the Albion kitchen for them. There's no countertop space for my bread maker, stand mixer, and Instant Pot.
However, the kitchen has a huge amount of floor space. Freakishly huge, in fact. Darwin and I can't figure out what the architect was thinking by having so much floor space and a relatively small amount of counter- and cupboard space tucked into one corner. But it occurred to me that we could put an island in that space. I found one on-line. It's the perfect size and the decor goes with the kitchen. We'll get it. Eventually.
We also need a kitchen table. The table Darwin took from our Wherever house we put in the new dining room because Darwin didn't want the dining room to look so empty. (He's ignoring the fact that the dining room in "my" house is now a giant empty space, but . . . ) We're going to buy an inexpensive one later.
I made a beef roast for our first meal in the newly-done house. It was delicious, but we were hampered by the lack of silverware. Plasticware doesn't work well with roast beef!
By now, we were both seriously annoyed and mystified. Every box had been unpacked, every storage bin had been checked. No silverware.
Sighing, we went upstairs to assemble the Desk from Hell.
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Yuletide Shenanigans
Today we put up the Yule tree and decorated the house. Dinah the Cat absolutely loves sitting under the tree and always parks herself there the moment we're finished. But this year . . .
This year, Dora the Meatloaf plunked herself down under the tree before Dinah could get there. Dinah was . . . miffed. She circled the tree, staring and glaring at Dora, who completely ignored her. She was upset, but not willing to drive the interloper away.
I shook the treat box, and Dora burst from under the tree like a blubbery explosion and screeched to a halt in the kitchen. Dinah, who doesn't really care much about treats, slid under the tree and pointedly took her spot.
Dora came back and whiffed in annoyance. But then she stalked behind the tree and took up residence in a different spot. Now the kitties are sharing.
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This year, Dora the Meatloaf plunked herself down under the tree before Dinah could get there. Dinah was . . . miffed. She circled the tree, staring and glaring at Dora, who completely ignored her. She was upset, but not willing to drive the interloper away.
I shook the treat box, and Dora burst from under the tree like a blubbery explosion and screeched to a halt in the kitchen. Dinah, who doesn't really care much about treats, slid under the tree and pointedly took her spot.
Dora came back and whiffed in annoyance. But then she stalked behind the tree and took up residence in a different spot. Now the kitties are sharing.
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December 4, 2019
Super-Powered Stupidity
A trope I never want to see again? The "I have super-powers but I can't tell anyone because they'll think I'm a freak." Seriously, what person would think this way?
And what friends of a super-powered person would say, "You have super-powers? Get away from me, freak!"? Seriously. Every best friend in the world would say, "Holy shit! This is so awesome! I'm so jealous! Can you fly, too?" (See the SHAZAM movie for a proper best friend reaction to super-powers.)
The "I'm a freak with super-powers, poor me" trope is fake conflict, a completely unrealistic reaction to a situation that lazy writers use in order to create a personal story. Supposedly this is the super-powered person's flaw: an inability to accept a situation that can't be changed. (A subset of this trope is the equally stupid "I must find a way to get rid of these powers . . . hey, my powers are gone . . . oh shit, I have the face my enemy without the powers I foolishly threw away.") And when the powered person has faced adversity and grown, the person accepts the powers.
This trope has been done over and over and over and over. It's a cliche among cliches. It also makes no sense whatsoever.
I don't buy it. I wouldn't even sub-lease it for the summer. It needs to stop.
End public service announcement.
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And what friends of a super-powered person would say, "You have super-powers? Get away from me, freak!"? Seriously. Every best friend in the world would say, "Holy shit! This is so awesome! I'm so jealous! Can you fly, too?" (See the SHAZAM movie for a proper best friend reaction to super-powers.)
The "I'm a freak with super-powers, poor me" trope is fake conflict, a completely unrealistic reaction to a situation that lazy writers use in order to create a personal story. Supposedly this is the super-powered person's flaw: an inability to accept a situation that can't be changed. (A subset of this trope is the equally stupid "I must find a way to get rid of these powers . . . hey, my powers are gone . . . oh shit, I have the face my enemy without the powers I foolishly threw away.") And when the powered person has faced adversity and grown, the person accepts the powers.
This trope has been done over and over and over and over. It's a cliche among cliches. It also makes no sense whatsoever.
I don't buy it. I wouldn't even sub-lease it for the summer. It needs to stop.
End public service announcement.
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November 27, 2019
Albion: Searching for Silverware--and Curtains
Our Albion Saga continues:
The silverware was still missing. We searched through all the boxes, all the bins, everywhere. No silverware. It was seriously weird. I remembered dividing it up and packing it, but it was nowhere to be found.
The following weekend, Darwin came to Wherever, and we did more shopping for house stuff, including curtains.
I should note here that, per tradition, the previous homeowners had left their drapes up. However, they were on cheap-ass rods (you know the kind--the easily-bent aluminum POS rods) and the fabric was more of that dull, dingy brown, with white sheers underneath. Yuck! So when the painters took them down, Darwin just tossed them all. But that left the house with no curtains. Fortunately, the way the house and the neighbors are positioned, it's difficult to see into most of the windows after dark. In the bedroom, we took to propping flattened moving boxes against the glass.
We browsed Bed, Bath, and Beyond, but the curtains were hugely expensive, especially considering we were draping an entire house. We looked at Ikea, but (and I can't cherry-coat this) their curtains sucked ass.
At last we ended up at JCPenney's. You can tell Penney is going under, at least at Twelve Oaks Mall. (Sears is already gone.) A large section of the store has been blocked off with no explanation, though it's obvious they're cutting back on inventory and don't want to say so. We sidled into the drapery section and found the right style of curtains, but not the right colors. Regardless, we needed dozens of curtains, and Penney only carried a few of each kind.
We ended up talking to a friendly clerk, who offered to order what we wanted, which would have the additional advantage of shipping--the curtains would go straight to the house in Albion. In about a week.
Meanwhile, I went out to Albion again for a weekend. It's not easy doing the apart thing. Part of my and Darwin's routine is evenings spent in our shared office at our desks. Every so often, we share something we find or bring something up for discussion. Or we laugh over something stupid. Now that's ended. I'm not used to sleeping alone, either. When I was single, I didn't move much when I slept, and when I got up in the morning, I basically just twitched the bedclothes back into place and the bed was made. But when Darwin and I share a bed, we tend to climb all over each other in our sleep, and by morning the bed looks like the results of an explosion in a sheet factory. These days, it's back to twitching.
The house is far emptier. It's just Max and me most of the time, and quite a lot of the time it's just me. It's lonely and unhappy-making. For the first two years we saw each other, Darwin and I looked forward intensely to living together--and, when it became legal, being married. We could eat dinners together and sleep in the same bed every single night instead of just weekends. When we moved in together, the dream was realized. I was happy knowing Darwin was there, and he with me.
Now we're back to living apart and seeing each other on weekends and odd holidays. My life feels as empty and echoey as the house. I'm not writing as much, and I have a tendency to stress eat. I'm sure these areas will improve as I (we) regain my equilibrium, but the thought of spending the next few years like this . . . well, I'm unhappy about it.
In the meantime, I've changed my attitude toward the house in Wherever. I knew we'd have to sell it eventually. It's a huge house, and it's silly to pour so much money into a place with space we aren't going to use. But I liked the house. I like the layout, I like the space, I like the location, I like the trees around it, I like the neighborhood (despite the leaf blower brigade), and I love my big, shady, leafy front porch with its comfortable furniture and perfect writing ambience. I acknowledged that we'd be selling, but secretly I was thinking how nice it would be to put it off for a while.
Now? Darwin's mostly gone, Max is leaving soon, and the thought of being mostly alone in this giant space has overriden my love of the house. Now I'm looking forward to selling it and getting a small, cozier place in the Wherever area. I'll live there until I can retire and rejoin Darwin--or he leaves the Albion job and rejoins me. Whichever.
And we still can't find the silverware.
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The silverware was still missing. We searched through all the boxes, all the bins, everywhere. No silverware. It was seriously weird. I remembered dividing it up and packing it, but it was nowhere to be found.
The following weekend, Darwin came to Wherever, and we did more shopping for house stuff, including curtains.
I should note here that, per tradition, the previous homeowners had left their drapes up. However, they were on cheap-ass rods (you know the kind--the easily-bent aluminum POS rods) and the fabric was more of that dull, dingy brown, with white sheers underneath. Yuck! So when the painters took them down, Darwin just tossed them all. But that left the house with no curtains. Fortunately, the way the house and the neighbors are positioned, it's difficult to see into most of the windows after dark. In the bedroom, we took to propping flattened moving boxes against the glass.
We browsed Bed, Bath, and Beyond, but the curtains were hugely expensive, especially considering we were draping an entire house. We looked at Ikea, but (and I can't cherry-coat this) their curtains sucked ass.
At last we ended up at JCPenney's. You can tell Penney is going under, at least at Twelve Oaks Mall. (Sears is already gone.) A large section of the store has been blocked off with no explanation, though it's obvious they're cutting back on inventory and don't want to say so. We sidled into the drapery section and found the right style of curtains, but not the right colors. Regardless, we needed dozens of curtains, and Penney only carried a few of each kind.
We ended up talking to a friendly clerk, who offered to order what we wanted, which would have the additional advantage of shipping--the curtains would go straight to the house in Albion. In about a week.
Meanwhile, I went out to Albion again for a weekend. It's not easy doing the apart thing. Part of my and Darwin's routine is evenings spent in our shared office at our desks. Every so often, we share something we find or bring something up for discussion. Or we laugh over something stupid. Now that's ended. I'm not used to sleeping alone, either. When I was single, I didn't move much when I slept, and when I got up in the morning, I basically just twitched the bedclothes back into place and the bed was made. But when Darwin and I share a bed, we tend to climb all over each other in our sleep, and by morning the bed looks like the results of an explosion in a sheet factory. These days, it's back to twitching.
The house is far emptier. It's just Max and me most of the time, and quite a lot of the time it's just me. It's lonely and unhappy-making. For the first two years we saw each other, Darwin and I looked forward intensely to living together--and, when it became legal, being married. We could eat dinners together and sleep in the same bed every single night instead of just weekends. When we moved in together, the dream was realized. I was happy knowing Darwin was there, and he with me.
Now we're back to living apart and seeing each other on weekends and odd holidays. My life feels as empty and echoey as the house. I'm not writing as much, and I have a tendency to stress eat. I'm sure these areas will improve as I (we) regain my equilibrium, but the thought of spending the next few years like this . . . well, I'm unhappy about it.
In the meantime, I've changed my attitude toward the house in Wherever. I knew we'd have to sell it eventually. It's a huge house, and it's silly to pour so much money into a place with space we aren't going to use. But I liked the house. I like the layout, I like the space, I like the location, I like the trees around it, I like the neighborhood (despite the leaf blower brigade), and I love my big, shady, leafy front porch with its comfortable furniture and perfect writing ambience. I acknowledged that we'd be selling, but secretly I was thinking how nice it would be to put it off for a while.
Now? Darwin's mostly gone, Max is leaving soon, and the thought of being mostly alone in this giant space has overriden my love of the house. Now I'm looking forward to selling it and getting a small, cozier place in the Wherever area. I'll live there until I can retire and rejoin Darwin--or he leaves the Albion job and rejoins me. Whichever.
And we still can't find the silverware.
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