Rachael Herron's Blog, page 53

Venice-bound Again

"In Venice you may occasionally see a man thrown forcibly from a bar, all arms and muddled protests, just like in the films; and rollicking are the songs the Venetian students sing, when they have some wine inside them. I once heard a pair of inebriates passing my window at four o'clock on a May morning, and looking out into the Rio San Trovaso I saw them riding by in a gondola. They were sitting on the floor of the boat, drumming on its floor-boards, banging its seats, singing and shouting incoherently at the tops of their thickened voices: but on the poop of the gondola, rowing with an easy, dry, worldly stroke, an elderly grey-haired gondolier propelled them aloofly toward the dawn." 

This kind of writing (from The World of Venice) is why I love Jan Morris (she has a Tumblr! I am exceedingly excited and fan-girly about this). I saw her speak once at Berkeley years ago, and she was lovely, intensely interesting, and smart as hell. On her recommendation, I'm going to (probably) explore my way through Croatia to Trieste for a day or two while I'm in Venice. Of course, I might not, also. 

The last time I was there, I was very blonde.

This is what I will do in Venice: 

Read. Walk. Sleep. Eat. Ride boats, lots of them. Drink coffee until it is time to drink wine. Take photographs. (Oh, and write. But do you see how that's rather low on the list? This will be a real vacation. I swear.)

I leave tomorrow. Expect either radio silence or tons of pictures if the wifi actually works. I almost hope it doesn't. It would be nice to be disconnected, I think. 

* Travel writer Jan Morris has a fascinating backstory -- he was born James Morris, and he married his wife in 1949, had five children, and then transitioned to female in 1964, when it was a very big deal to do so. Doctors in Britain refused to do the surgery unless he divorced his wife (!), so he went to Morocco for the surgery. Later, they did in fact divorce but remained together, and get this: in 2008, they were legally partnered again when it became legal to do so in a civil partnership. Awwww. She's 85 now, and she's one of my heroes. 

Vision

So I've been having trouble looking at computers and reading lately -- just vague, annoying eye strain, but my computer glasses with their four-year old prescription weren't helping, so I went back to the eye doctor. 

Am I the only one who thinks the whole getting-glasses thing is really woo-woo? I have to tell the doc which image is clearer? Doesn't she know? I can NEVER tell (and I tell her that). Based on me saying, "Um...maybe the first one? Or maybe the second?") she writes me a prescription? 

Anyway. I suppose I can accept that. What's harder to accept is that now I have to wear them all the time I'm in front of a computer or reading. This is, of course, ALL the time. So I need some cute frames. 

Luckily, we live in the future. I got my prescription in my hot little hand, measured my own pupillary distance (because I'm a knitter and I'm good at using a tape measure to measure difficult distances), and ordered a couple of glasses from EyeBuyDirect, hitting a BOGO offer, scoring two pair for $50. Total. Dude, that's $25 each, including prescription lenses. I love the internet. I ordered some kind of funky ones (I think -- I barely remember) because you know what? They were $25. I'll show you those when they come. 

I also ordered 5 pairs of Warby Parker glasses to try on at home (free trial!). These are more expensive, at $99 each, so I need help choosing. I think I know which pair I want but I want to hear from you, please, in case I'm really off the mark.

Poll below. 

#1: 

#2: 

3: 

4: 

5: 

Online Surveys - Zoomerang.com

For Fear the Hearts of Men Are Failing

or as I like to call it, the longest band name in the world (says she whose book is title How to Knit a Heart Back Home). 

Lala's on this album! And in this video! They're funding their new album (titled The Wonderful Clatter, which is so great I wish I had thought of it) on Kickstarter. They're quirky and a little (a lot) weird and I love their sound. And I think this video is kind of adorable, especially Lala's last line. 

 

Recent Good Reads

I went through kind of a dry spell there. I was reading a stack'o'books for a contest and couldn't blog about them (which is fair, since I'm scoring them). But that was a month of reading that I couldn't write about. And while there were some good books in the pile, sadly, there was nothing astonishing that I felt like I had to break the rules to tell you about, so I was eager to get back to my planned reading.

And I'm back! Honestly, I'm loving being back on the Kindle--real books felt so heavy in my hands. Isn't that wussy? And the formatting kept distracting me. I love that on the Kindle all books read the same, formatting-wise (or should), so there's nothing to keep you from plunging into the story.

Horizon, by Sophie Littlefield 

This is the third book in Sophie's Aftertime series. Disclaimer: Sophie is one of my favorite people. She's who you call when you want to be good, and she's who you call when you want to be very bad. And when things go wrong? She's the first to call you. I'm honored to call her a friend. 

And it's a good thing she's a friend, because if she weren't, I'd have to hate her for her talent. She is the MASTER of emotion. She can wring so much out of a seemingly simple sentence that you just kind of sit there, stunned, asking "Where did that come from?" 

I'd say this: read the first one, Aftertime. It's scary and post-apocalyptic (not my usual fare but I gobbled it up) and wonderful. I won't tell you much more, but know this: you'll be hooked. I loved the second book, Rebirth, also. But Horizon blew me out of the water. It's an absolutely stunning conclusion. 

 

A Bad Idea I'm About To Do: True Tales of Seriously Poor Judgment and Stunningly Awkward Adventure, Chris Gethard

This one was a fluke. I can't remember where I read about it, but it was one of those sample chapters I threw at my Kindle while running by, and I loved it. It's a brief, painful, humorous memoir (the best kind) of a seriously funny manic-depressive. From chapters on his intestinal woes to pro-wrestling, he moved through a landscape that was so solidly male that if asked, I would have guessed it wouldn't have been a book for me. Too male, I would have thought. Too something. But his humility and capacity to relentlessly poke at himself made each chapter lovely, and I roared through it in a day in bed sick with the flu. 

 

 

Falling For Me: How I Hung Curtains, Learned to Cook, Traveled to Seville, and Fell in Love, Anna David

Confession: If a memoir is about a privileged 30-something woman learning to do something we all think we should be able to do (but sometimes can't) on a journey of self-discovery framed by a device, no matter how clumsy said device might be, I'm IN* (see My Year With Eleanor, a book this one is reminding me of). Really, I'm in. Anna David finds Helen Gurley Brown's 60s classic Sex and the Single Girl and decided to try living her life by its tenets in order to see if she can figure herself out a little more (and maybe catch a man along the way. Okay, no, she establishes firmly that this is NOT what the experiment is about. But she's candid enough to share that the idea keeps rearing its head).

I'm not done with this one yet and I'm guessing by its subtle title that perhaps a man does come along, but I'm enjoying it enough that I'm sharing it now. 

*Oh, I just realized I'm so in, I wrote one of those myself. Hmmm. 

Now, since I'm in the light-hearted secretly-kind-of-deep memoir mood, Sophie's novel notwithstanding, anything you recommend? 

Nothing in The House Spicy Cabbage Soup

I just made the best soup, and as is my wont, I'm jotting it down here, because I guarantee if I don't, I'll never remember this. 

I'm still sick--this flu has beaten me to a sweaty, gibbering pulp (seriously, some people throw up every time they get the flu? I cry. I'm a crier. The more I cry, the more feverish I know I am, and the more pathetic I know I am. Luckily, I rarely get sick because no one wants to see me sitting in the bed WAILING over the fact that I'm out of Kleenex). 

Lala's out tonight and I could have had the chicken she made, but I wanted something garlicky to burn away my sore throat. And we have practically zero in the cupboards. But I pulled this together (almost magically!), and it is DELICIOUS. Seriously. Cabbage is rather a new thing to me--I thought it was stinky and bad. But it's not stinky, cooked like this: it's delectable, sweet and delicate. Mmmmm. 

Nothing in the House Spicy Cabbage Soup (to Cure What Ails You)

Heat 3tbs olive oil in a pot good for soup. Chop half an onion or a shallot and 3-6 cloves of garlic (I used the shallot and 6 cloves), cook and stir until the garlic starts to darken. Add 4 cups of water (or stock! I had none), a teaspon or so of salt, red chili flakes to taste, and pepper. Bring to boil. Add two handsful of chopped cabbage (I had the prechopped bag from TJ's), bring back to boil. Cook ten minutes at simmer. Add 1 tbs+ tomato paste and whatever else you like (I added a can of sweet peas which turned out to be a stunning addition), cook fifteen more minutes or so, till it tastes delicious. Serve with a dollop of plain yogurt or sour cream. 

Okay, now I'm exhausted from working so hard and rather than overdo it, I'm going to sit on the couch and maybe eat a little more of this stuff. Enjoy. 

Mutant

Just a brief hello to whinge. I'm sick, people. Just run-of-the-mill flu sick, but I haven't had a cold or flu in so long I'd forgotten how crappy it feels to feel this crappy. 

Deep, innit? 

But THIS JUST IN: I just found a flashlight and took it in the bathroom and looked at my throat. I swear to god there are little prehensile* tonsils back there. 

Do you know how I jumped backward? Now, it's probably just that I'm sick and my throat is SUPER swollen. But I know from tonsils. I had mine out in 2002. And then again in 2007 after I had month-long bouts with tonsillitis for that went untouched by antibiotics. Yep, the regrowth can happen. Okay, I've only ever heard of it happening to my dad and my uncle, so apparently it can happen to Herrons, but tonsils regrowing twice? (Edited to add: I just googled it and there are quite a lot of people on the interwebs saying What the hell? Mine came back, too! Sneaky buggers!)

Anyway. I'm taking to bed as soon as I can (can't go there quite yet, but soon). And I'm going to think very clear, non-tonsily thoughts. 

* Lala reminds me that: You know that prehensile means they can be adapted for grasping or holding, right? Cause that's super creepy and probably means you're the host for some invading extraterrestrial species. Just sayin'. To her I say, My tonsils are much like Digit's extra toes. They both get stuck in the bedspread and make us grumpy. 

Officially a Fanatic

So I've tumbled head over heels into the world of fiber preparation. 

I wasn't really ready. I just wanted a Cormo fleece because I'm so in love with the fiber itself lately. And I knew Brooke could get me one, a local one, a fleece from a sheep with a name, and then Kira kindly brought it to my sister's place, which is how I ended up with this much awesome in my house. 

This is from Karo (like the syrup! Five pounds of sweetness!): 

Look at that crimp! Could you die? That's what it looked like when I peeked into the bag. 

I did a bit of rudimentary research online (thanks, Ravelry!) and decided to go for the quick-and-dirty top-loader method of washing. I got the water in the washer as hot as I could (by turning off the cold tap entirely), added some liquid dish soap, and threw some fiber in to soak. (This isn't actually that much; I wasn't going to risk much of it, I swear. But it looks like a lot.) 

Oh, GOD, was it disgusting-looking in there. It got worse the wetter it got: 

That's poop, people. Poop and oil and vegetable matter. Lemme ask you this: the fleece was skirted, but do I want to re-skirt it before I wash more? I do plan on getting lingerie bags and using them instead of letting the fleece roam free in the washer. I didn't agitate it (of course), I just spun the water out for all five (FIVE!) soaks, but I was completely convinced I'd felted the whole thing, because you know what? When you pull wet fleece out of a washer, it's flat and thin and looks irreparably felted. I asked Twitter, which told me it was normal to think that and to stop panicking. 

And it WASN'T felted, as you can see here on my uber-classy drying rack. 

Uncarded, just dried Cormo. Almost clean. Ish. 

So: there's still a little dirt on some of the tips. Is this normal? Should I have clipped ALL the darker bits out before washing? 

And for something like this, how do you prepare it? I bought two dog combs, figuring worst-case scenario we'd have better-groomed dogs, and I've decided that making rolags is what I like best at this point:

 

I think the way I washed it caused me to lose too much of the lock definition to flick it, so carding it what I should do, right? (Ignore the little neps you see. I think that's because I over-carded that bit. As in, I carded it about forty times instead of five. I'm getting better at the motion.) 

And here's the first bit, spun up: 

I'm thinking three-ply. Oh, yeah. 

(For those of you who warned me against starting with Cormo, bless you. Yep, I see what you mean. But you know me, I like to jump in with both feet until I'm underwater and fighting my way back up to the surface. It makes breaking into daylight and fresh air that much sweeter.) 

Rain and Writing

Mmm. It's pouring outside. We have the window open, and the occasional shuuush of late-night drivers going by punctuates the tapping of the rain. I love it. What is it about rain and writing? 

It reminds me of something I learned not all that long ago. I was walking one early evening with Lala in Rockridge. It was that magic moment when lights come on inside houses but the curtains are still open, when you can see fathers coming home, kids racing around living rooms, mothers putting fresh-baked bread on tables (yes, because this is the way I was raised, my brain still sees the world this way although it decidedly is NOT in most cases). I love that moment, spying on that snapshot of families being together. 

And every once in a while when you're walking at that time of night, you'll notice a light shining, high above in a third story window. You can see the ceiling, and maybe the top of a painting, but from that angle you can't quite make out what else or who's in the room. 

In my head, there is always a writer at that window. I think there's always been a writer at that window for me, ever since I was a child, and I mentioned it that night to Lala. 

"You know," she said, "not everyone thinks there's a writer up there." 

"Really? No, of course they do." 

"Nope."

She's an artist, so I asked, "Do you think there's an artist there?" 

"Sometimes. Sometimes I don't think about it." 

This was something I had never considered. That window was a beacon to me. That was the dream. Someday I'd have a garret window, and I'd sit at it, writing late into the night. 

But I realized I did have that garret window once. When I was about ten, we moved into a farm house on an old, overgrown Christmas tree farm in a small, coastal town. We had a barn, and a horse, and chickens (oh, I hated those chickens). I had the attic bedroom, a tiny cramped space with sloped walls and rafters that even at ten, I had to duck to avoid. It was tight and compact, and I loved it. The back of the chimney formed the back wall of my closet so on cold winter mornings, my clothes were pre-heated for me.

Even at that age, I sat at that window and stared out at the canyon late at night, and I felt what I should write. I even attempted it, over and over again. "Once upon a time..." I'd get two or three pages in and I would fail to convey what I'd meant to, and I'd give up and get back in bed with a book, a real one, one that told the story to me the right way. 

But I tried again, over and over again. In a way, I'm still sitting there, even though I usually write in the cafe now, or in my car, or on my breaks at work. No garret window necessary. The writing gets done anyway. But I still long for that, to sit at a window overlooking over a rainy street filled with pedestrian traffic. And maybe the people below would be wondering if behind the glass there was a writer, or an artist, or a photographer, or a . . .

IndieBound

Okay, this is awesome. I just found the IndieBound app! I put the app on my iPhone (it will work on other smartphones, too, as well as the tablets, iPad, etc.), then I went to the website for my favorite local bookstore (which at this point is Books Inc. but I have so many awesome local bookstores that it's hard to choose) and ordered a Google ebook (Journal of Best Practices, a memoir about marriage and Aspergers's). 

Then, on my phone (while on Books Inc's website), I downloaded the book, and it opened automatically in the IndieBound app. 

I don't read a lot on my iPhone, but many times I use it to read what I'm reading on my Kindle. Now that's over. I'm hereby vowing to read more on my iPhone when out and about, and I'm only going to read books I've downloaded from local stores. 

Confession: I still love my Kindle (and its intuitiveness -- I had to fight my way through the first purchase I just made, above, but it will be easier now that I know how to do it). But I can make a little, tiny difference this way. And we know this: tiny things add up to big things over time: words add up to a book, stitches add up to sweaters. Buy local more often than you do now, and create change in YOUR world. 

Thus endeth my soapbox. On tap today: writing (natch), and some accordion playing, I think! I'm gonna be playing around with Garage Band with my friend Camilla, who can be seen here singing with Female Trouble, Lala's band (Camilla is the piano player, La's on the far left). 

"I'm running out of tissues and you're boring me to tears." (Worth watching past the minute mark, when they start ROCKIN'. As they are wont to do.)

Some Things I'm Loving

First: the winner of Extra Yarn is Samantha E. Woot! Congratulations!

Now I want to list a few things that I've been loving lately that you might like too. Some are free, some aren't, and all are things I think are worth it, whatever the cost is.

1. Sanebox.

Casey of Ravelry first turned me on to this. It's a program that works on any email platform, and it makes your inbox sane. And seriously, that's exactly what it does.

This is what my inbox looks like right now. It's hard to see, but I have nothing in my inbox, 1 in SaneLater and 1 in SaneNews. (Often I have 50+ in each, it just so happens I just cleared both.)

See that? It creates labels (for Gmail -- I think it does other things appropriate for other clients) ALL ON ITS OWN. I don't know how it knows that it should stuff all my Twitter and Flickr and yarn store sales into SaneLater, but it does know that. All my newsletters go automagically into the SaneNews label. And all the good stuff? The important stuff? From friends, family, readers, editors, my agent, and my bank (oh-so-important)? They go into my inbox, where I can see them without looking around the clutter.

If it messes up, you can train it easily: just drag and drop the email into the right folder, and it won't make the same mistake twice. You don't have to learn the system -- it's intuitive, which is somthing they tout, and something that I've found to be true.

So I easily keep on top of my inbox, and once every other day or so, I flip through my Later and my News labels to make sure I haven't missed anything (usually I delete everything in there, but I want to look at them, at least briefly).

Bonus: Best thing? You can defer email, send it away, giving it a time to land BACK in your email inbox (Tuesday at 1pm, say) and get it OUT of your inbox. You don't have to remember to do whatever it is you have to do -- it just lands. We have dinner reservations tonight, and instead of leaving the email sitting in my box all day, I set it to re-land at 6pm tonight so at that point I can look up driving directions and delete it.

Cost: 4.95/month, FREE trial for 30 days. I just bought two years' worth -- that's how much I never want to be without this thing. (I think this is what Gmail was going for with its Priority sorting thing that I thought was such a ugly mess.) Sanebox = Highly Recommended.

 

2. Shoeboxed.

I've filed my taxes last week, they're all done and I can relax. However, pulling together all my receipts from last year was HORRIBLE. Every year, I vow I'll stay on top of them, and every year in January, I pull out my box of receipts that look like this:

Did you know that New York taxi cab receipts are almost unreadable after only a few months of being stored in this manner? I know! I was surprised, too!

With Shoeboxed, you can email yourself all those receipts you get in email (for example, I just send the receipt for my purchase of Sanebox to them), and they file a pdf image of it for you while stripping and logging the information. It already knew that I'd place that charge in my Computer/Internet category, it knows how I paid, and on what date.

If I get a paper receipt, I use the app on my iPhone to take a picture of it and it does the same thing, almost instantly. So, theoretically, by the time I get home from a business trip, I could have all my receipts logged already. I LOVE THIS.

It's not cheap, at 9.99/month, but for me, Shoeboxed is going to be worth it.

(Oh, and to celebrate the fact that we didn't owe money, I bought a pair of Fluevogs: Zazas)

Love.

 

3. Remember the Milk

I love this reminder app because I can have it loaded in my email, on my home screen or on my phone. I put everything into it, even things like Trash Out every Sunday. Every day it emails you with what you need to do that day, and it's so SATISFYING to cross things off.

Cost: I think they have a free version? But I got the Pro account, $25/year.

 

4. IAlertU

I just installed this, but I love the idea of it. It's a car alarm for your computer. I'm SO often at the cafe, and I stay there for long periods of time, and I drink a lot of coffee. Naturally, I gotta pee. Usually I ask someone to watch my computer for me (and I know most of the people sitting around me, at least by sight). Even though I do it, it still makes me nervous and I'm always relieved when it's still there when I come out.

IAlertU makes a squealing sound if your computer is moved or unplugged. You can set it so that it doesn't turn off even if the computer is closed. Oh, and it snaps a picture of the person who moved the computer and emails it to your phone!

I see the problem here, of course. I'll be in the bathroom and some kid will hit the table, setting it off, and then I'll be that jackass with the too-sensitive car alarm. But oh, well. (And I know a thief will grab and run and won't care that much, but at least people will notice. And hell, some thieves do that while you're sitting at the table with it, so you can't worry all the time, right?)

Cost: Free!

 

5. Prey Project

If the thief DOES get away with my computer, I'll get HIM. Using it, you can find where your computer is, see who's using it (and take pictures of them using the camera!), lock your info, take screenshots of their sessions (computers have been retrieved when the thieves log into their Facebook or email accounts). The recovery stories are fun on their site, and this story is fun, too.  Nosepicking thieves!

Cost: Free to install, $5/month if you need to activate it to find your computer.

 

So there you have it. My five favorite new computer finds. But really? My two all-time favorites remain Write Or Die ("putting the prod in productivity") and Mac Freedom (which removes me from the internet entirely for any length of time), without which I would get no writing done, ever. Lately I've been going in for 15 minute sessions, much shorter than I normally do, with a goal of 250 words. This is so easy I always blow past 250, get to 350 or so and realize it's not far to 500. Do this four times, 2000 words. It's like magic. I love tricks like this. (Both free.)

Anything else I need to have?