Category Archives: Play

Annapurna

In which nobody will find this interesting, but I’ma write it anyway because I feel like it!

One thing I thought, at first, was really cool about the whole MIU campus experience was the vegetarian (!!!) dining hall. Vegetarian! All of it! I’d gone vegetarian within, I think, half a year of moving out on my own, and like everything at that age, it felt new and right and fresh and moral and wonderful.

Every single meal offered at Annapurna, the MIU campus dining hall, contained rice & dal. So you might go in for a meal and find deeps on the hot bar containing rice, dal, and then mixed vegetables, and maybe veggie burger patties or tofu slabs or beans or whatever the regular menu was. Always rice and dal, every single day without fail. There was always a salad bar and a milk dispenser. Pretty sure there was fresh bread, too? At least there was always bread and toasters. There was always hot milk with ghee at dinner, so you could take some in a thermos back to your dorm to drink before bed (because apparently Ayurveda said boiled milk with ghee balanced Vata or something. It was supposed to help you sleep, at any rate, and there was a big pseudo-scientific explanation about denatured protein strands or something that probably wouldn’t hold up if I could remember it clearly enough to research it, but with a little sugar and a pinch of turmeric it was really tasty).

Breakfast always had milk and cereal, plus something hot, like toast and eggs and/or tofu scramble, but I basically never went to breakfast unless I’d been up all night. There were herbal teas available all the time, but I don’t think there was coffee, I think you had to make your own in your room.

Anyway, most of the food was incredibly bland and unappealing to me then, even the exotic stuff. The dal was always Jain-style (because the place apparently couldn’t discern between “students” and “monks”?) so no onions or garlic, just asafetida, which is super boring. The vegetables were always overcooked. Even Mexican night was inexplicably bland, especially for a place with a spice rack literally the size of a barn door.

I remember that, when I finally understood, after I’d been working first in the kitchen and then on the cook’s aisle for awhile, that the two people who ran the place were both, like, trained professionals, basically experts, who cared about the food and the quality and the taste, I was surprised. Because the food was not good and did not seem, to me, to be the result of caring or expertise? The place literally served “dal pizza” on pizza night, which was made of nothing but dough, leftover dal with cinnamon added (??!), and fucking raisins. Sure, maybe a couple of the self-hating guys on Purusha (a group for dudes who were really on the program: celibate, restrictive diet, extra-long meditations, etc., the fraternity of Mother Divine, which was the same but for women) ate it, but it was absolutely devoid of joy, let alone tastiness or even nutrition.

It turned out they were extremely limited in what they could do because of all the Ayurvedic and other strictures handed them by admin. At the time, the opinion was that Ayurveda said onions and garlic were too stimulating for anybody meditating twice a day, and furthermore required all the fiber boiled out of vegetables. Made for bland feed, especially for college kids, but I guess that’s what admin, faculty and staff, and very “on the program” people wanted, so that’s what they got, even though the paying customers (aka students) wanted tastier food.

Most of us survived on milk, rice with butter and soy sauce, toast, and cereal, and waited for our favorite meal to rotate by again. (Mine was what they served for Thanksgiving: tofu slabs, broccoli, and mashed potatoes with a really awesome vegetarian gravy I still make to this day.)

Anyway, that place was my introduction to Indian food, and I don’t think there was ever roti or chapati served at Annapurna, only rice. So I never learned to eat dal and flatbread back then, even though that’s probably how nearly all of India does it.

But now, thirty years later, I have, and I LOVE ROTI AND DAL!!! It’s so good! Especially for breakfast! It’s just completely delicious and filling and satisfying. And fast, if you make the dal and the dough in advance, then all that’s needed is to nuke some dal, heat up a pan and roll out a ball of dough.

I’ve also recently (recently? uh, within the past half decade or so?) learned how easy roti is. It’s so easy. It’s literally just flour, water, and a little technique.

ROTI

Combine whole wheat flour and water, enough to bind. Work into a ball, place in a bowl and cover. Let rest half an hour.

Heat a pan or griddle to medium high.

Take some dough, roll into a ball smaller than a ping pong ball. Dip in all purpose flour, then roll into a thin disc using as much flour as it takes to keep it from sticking to the counter.

Cook on the hot pan, undisturbed, for maybe 30 seconds, then flip. Press down repeatedly with a rolled-up dish cloth until the roti fills with steam and puffs up. Flip another time or three as needed to complete cooking.

Remove the roti to a flatbread warmer (or another towel), brush with ghee, and cover.

Continue until you have all the roti you want or are out of dough, and enjoy!

Bitter

In which I can’t fucking cook AT ALL anymore?!

Yesterday, I hurt my back walking across my kitchen. Just walking. (After doing several other things, chores, window cleaning, and dropping something and startling so hard I somehow actually caught it: that was probably when the twinge really began. But we’ll say I was walking. Because I was.)

It was fine by bedtime, but sleeping fucked it up. Getting out of bed hurt, a lot, and would have looked ridiculous had anyone been present to see it. Sitting on my chair through CCP exam prep hurt like hell, so halfway through I texted work and asked if anybody could come pick me up (because I doubted I could get on my bike, and didn’t want to have to walk).

They told me they didn’t need me and to just take the day off, since I have to work Sunday anyway. So I did!

Lying down hurt, I nearly died trying to get up to pee, and sitting hurt too. But standing was okay, comparatively, so I decided to make tamales. Tamales! Yay!

I’ve had the ingredients for literally a year, because I just kept not making tamales. The cotija was nicely aged and really delicious. I put it in the mini-chopper because fuck grating by hand when you’ve got electricity.

I doubt it was the same can of artichoke hearts; pretty sure I made some dip and replaced those once or even twice, but the masa is definitely a year or two old—I had to sift it to get the clumps out.

Soaked the very dry corn husks in hot tap water for two hours, but they probably could have used three. I don’t really know, because I’ve never used corn husks before (this is maybe my third attempt at tamales, and the other times I just used parchment paper).

I made sauce from scratch from dried chiles and garlic! Because I’m cool like that! And I know how!

Except I very nearly reduced it all the way down to ash, but luckily walked back into the kitchen just in time to take it off the heat and add a little water to bring it back. Thank God.

Get you a friend who gives you an entire set of Pyrex bowls that once belonged to her grandmother because she “doesn’t use them, and you will” like I did, and then you too will have an entire set of kick ass retro Pyrex bowls! Look at that shit! Nesting bowls! Pyrex! Retro! Free!

It’s been two and a half hours, but I’m all ready now! Inexpertly assembled my artichoke and cotija tamales with masa that I suspect, from my extensive watching-Mexican-chicks-on-YouTube tamale training, was just slightly too runny. But still viable! Husk, masa, cotija, and diced artichokes. Yum! Gonna be so good! Got them all more-or-less upright on a mat of additional corn husks, on a trivet, inside the Instant Pot, over two cups of water. Yes.

They spent 40 minutes in the pressure cooker, and when I let the pressure off so I could open the Instant Pot, it didn’t smell deliciously corny and savory with cheese and artichokes. It smelled ever-so-slightly of… Playdoh.

So here’s the thing. We all have bad habits, right?

Well, one of mine is occasionally using oil out of the fryer. Do I know this is stupid? Yes I do. Do I do it anyway? Yes I do. Has it ever come back to bite me in the ass? No it has not.

Not until today.

My masa recipe calls for six tablespoons of vegetable oil, and since I keep my vegetable oil in the back of a floor-level cupboard, and my back is fucked, and I didn’t know if I could get down onto and up off of the floor without crying, I opted to just use the oil in the fryer instead.

It’s relatively new because I recently replaced it, the oil, that is, and the color was fine, so I genuinely didn’t think twice about it. I do this shit all the time! All I ever use the fryer for is falafel anyway, so the oil might actually add some subtle flavoring to my boring, lard-free vegetarian masa recipe. Win-win, right?

Wrong.

Turns out the oil is rancid. All my work (and not-entirely-unrelated pain!) was basically wasted. Well, not really, I mean, they’re edible. I ate two. But only just barely.

If that oil were an hour older, these things’d cause cancer from all the free radicals.

So, now I have a dozen tamales, which normally I’d freeze with pride for future fast and super delicious dinners, that took hours to make, and to which I was looking so very forward because it’s taken me over a year to get around to making them, and I got an unexpected day off and needed to stand up anyway, that taste pretty bitter and bad.

Oh, and Monday I made dal makhani, but for some reason added nearly an entire teaspoon of methi powder, so even with a Hail Mary addition of sugar and extra cream it’s still bitter overall and fairly disappointing. Why the fuck did I do that?!

Conclusion: I can’t cook anymore.

I used to be able to, but now I can’t. I will now be forced to survive on salad and freeze-dried Indian food from Cumin Club.


UPDATE: It’s the next day and it wasn’t the oil. It was the masa itself. I tried to eat another tamale, it was gross, and the bag of masa flour was sitting right there, so I opened it and stuck my hand in and smelled it AND IT’S THE FLOUR, THE FLOUR IS RANCID. So I tossed it. And all my tamales. So sad.

Sandwich

In which I’ve gotten up from a nap hungry.

Apropos of nothing, I have a sudden and intense desire for a fish sandwich from McD’s?!

What the hell! They’re terrible! Every time I eat one (this happens once or twice a decade, on average) I regret it.


Update: For the record, I settled for an open-faced tuna salad and tomato on toasted Ezekiel bread. It was delicious.

Time isn’t working correctly?

In which I decided to blog. So here’s a blog post! Enjoy! It will not be interesting.

My contact lenses showed up a few days ago, so I’ve just sat down to fill out the rebate. (The only reason I ordered this new brand of contacts was that the optometrist’s office told me they’d be cheaper — $280 for a full year of lenses versus $312 — but I’d have to complete a rebate. But it’s easy now, because it’s online!)

The rebate form is, in essence, a data scraper: you have to upload your purchase receipt, the barcode off the product itself, and your doctor’s invoice showing the date of your last exam. I mean, I realize Google knows far more about me than Alcon now does, but honestly the receipt itself should be ample proof that you both got an exam and bought lenses?!

ANYWAY, the point of all this is that my exam, which I swear I just had, was actually on 22 November?!? Three months ago already?

WTF, time?


I’ve decided that I made a mistake painting the kitchen flat pale yellow, and now I think I’m going to re-paint it gloss white.

And maybe do a subway tile backsplash. Because I like subway tile, for some reason?

The rest of the house is really colorful anyway, perhaps too much so if I’m honest, so I think a white and wood kitchen would be just fine. And most of my stuff is blue and white anyway, and the appliances are white, and the countertops are white. So why not.

Also I’m starting to hate all the mismatched ceiling lights in my kitchen. They were amusing for a year, but now? Maybe living in the lighting section of a Lowe’s isn’t as funny as I’d originally thought? Over the sink is a ‘modern’ brushed nickel triple halogen light, the 90’s behemoth in the middle of the ceiling is gold and white with ash fan blades, and the dining table one is floral and brushed bronze from the 80’s! None of the fucking things have anything in common beyond all being ceiling lights!

I am probably too cheap to replace two perfectly functional ceiling lights just because I don’t like the way they look. But it’s my house, and I can bitch about it all I like! They look fucking terrible!


I’m on a diet.

Logging everything you eat is a fucking pain in the ass (unless all you’re eating is pre-prepared stuff with barcodes you can scan). I just ate a meal the way I normally do, and it took nearly as long to log it as it took to eat it: homemade man’ouche, labneh, a few red grapes, a few smokehouse almonds, a radish. A cup of tea with cream.

A fuckton of data entry for 359 calories.

Dieting is bullshit and I hate it, but I’m old now and the weight won’t stop piling on so I’m going to starve myself for a few months, WHAT FUCKING FUN, even though dieting doesn’t work and the results are never permanent.

Mostly what’s happening is that I sleep a lot, because you’re not thinking about food (or going out for empty calories in the form of cocktails) when you’re asleep. And I watched so much video during the Covid years that zoning out in front of the TV doesn’t really work the way it used to, sadly.


We still have leftover Christmas money (my aunt is insanely generous with cash gifts), so I splurged on something decadent that I’ve always wanted: a genuine Pendleton blanket!

Should be here next week. I love wool! It was on sale at about 60% off, somehow, so I also got a set of plaid mugs (what. we only have four mugs, or maybe six? MUGS ARE USEFUL, OK) and a scarf that were also in the online version of the discount bin. Very excited to own a Pendleton.


Are modern glasses more prone to dirt, or did I just always walk around with filthy lenses in the past?

My last couple pairs of glasses are forever greasy and smudged and impossible to see through; I’m cleaning them at least once per day, usually more.

Is it the coating? Or that they’re plastic now? Or both?

Thanks, I hate it!


I need to prune the rose bushes.

I have the right kind of shears, and I know to sanitize them. I’ve read several articles and watched a few YouTube videos. I feel that I could prune them with relative competence. Should have done the one out front today, but I was enjoying puttering around inside in the warm and wasn’t feeling motivated enough to put on more clothes and go outside.

Still utterly overwhelmed by the enormous size of the backyard and all the time, labor, and money it will take to turn it into something pleasant. I’m not a yard work person. I just want it to be 50% anything-other-than-lawn and be pretty without having to spend four thousand hours and twice as many dollars out there.

What feels weird is being a 50-something woman who says things like “I need to prune the rose bushes,” let alone “I’m starting to hate all the mismatched ceiling lights in my kitchen.” How the fuck did I turn into this person?

I’m old enough to be somebody’s g’ma. What a riot.

Trains

In which I’ve been considering the size of Oregon lately.

I have recently learned that Oregon is about the size of the United Kingdom.

The entire United Kingdom, which is, like, three countries. Oregon’s actually got a few square miles more space than that.

What the hell. How are all those people and towns and countries in an area smaller than Oregon?! I’ve been in the habit of watching Escape to the Country in the evenings and there seem to be endless numbers of houses for sale in the UK. If a similar show were taped in Oregon, would it last fifteen seasons?

Actually, the population density in Oregon is about 17 people per square mile. In the UK it’s 281. We have a lot of empty space.


The closest Amtrak station to my house is in Pasco, WA, which is 51 miles away.

There is no Amtrak service from Pasco to Seattle; you either go via Spokane or Portland. This boggles my mind.

If I wanted to get from my house to, say, Astoria, I’d have to take a municipal bus from Saager’s Shoe Store (half a mile from my house) to the Amtrak transit center in Walla Walla, then take an Amtrak bus to Pasco, then transfer to a train to Portland, and then transfer to another bus to Astoria. It would take almost two days to go 327 miles.

Meanwhile, there’s some British guy who makes videos that are all “how far can you get from London by public transpo in a single day?” and the answer is: VERY. In fact, YOU CAN GO BASICALLY ANYWHERE IN GODDAMNED EUROPE, because those guys have useful, interconnecting public transport infrastructure and Oregon… doesn’t.

I mean. Buy a stupid, expensive, ugly, climate-destroying personal vehicle, you hippie. Or walk. Because fuck you.


Our country’s utter lack of will to put in efficient, useful public transportation drives me nuts. If you could just walk to the corner and step onto a bus, YOU WOULD. Because driving fucking sucks.

Owning a car sucks. Parking sucks, insurance and maintenance suck. It all sucks. People think it’s convenient and freeing because they’re totally ignorant of any other way, but I guarantee you that any time you hear someone gushing about a charming vacation spot they love, they love it because IT’S WALKABLE.

People love Disneyland’s Main Street USA because it’s walkable, they love Boston because it’s walkable. They love New York because it’s walkable, same for Seaside and most of Europe: IT’S WALKABLE. People loved college because it was walkable.

Cars make you miserable. They stink. They’re stupid. Car infrastructure makes towns and cities ugly as fuck. Buildings surrounded by parking lots are hideous, and you know in your bones that most of America is distressingly unbeautiful which ultimately makes you depressed. Looking at ugly shit all the time is not what you signed up for.


As an aside, if you try to book a Pasco, WA (PSC) to Vancouver, BC (VAC) trip on the Amtrak site, it crashes. You have to do PSC to PDX, and then PDX to VAC, and then it can’t figure out how to offer round trip options so you have to do them all manually.

I don’t know if I want to go to Vancouver BC, but as the Yeti changed jobs recently he probably can’t get time off next month for us to vacation together. So I’m considering a solo train ride!


I imagine a light rail through Milton-Freewater. It would go to Walla Walla and Pendleton, and at each end there’d be transfer to other trains so people could get to work. If there were frequent train service to both towns, households on my street wouldn’t have to have between two and seven fucking cars.

Imagine if each household only needed one car, and that they could, if they wanted, hardly ever use it. If it was easy to get to Walmart and back, why would you ever drive? Or if the train ran in such a way that you could get to and from your Walla Walla job easily? How fucking great would that be?

Ugh. I hate fucking cars, and I hate not being able to get anywhere without one. If there was a light rail to Walla Walla, I could take my bike to the mechanic tomorrow and wouldn’t be limping along on bike tires that won’t hold air for more than an hour.


Yes, I drive sometimes. Yes, I’ve even driven to work and back, which is barely half a mile. It’s fun to have access to a car. What I’m bitching about is needing one in order to be able to function in your own goddamned society because there’s no even vaguely reasonable alternative.

Example: there is a bus from here to Walla Walla. But it only goes twice a day, it barely gets within a mile of my destination, and there’s no bike rack. So, while I could technically get to the bike shop tomorrow, it’s not reasonable because this one, simple errand would take something like five hours.


Dunno why I’m so furious about car culture today! Probably because my bike’s needed new tires for weeks and I’m feeling sorry for myself because I can’t just drive it over to the shop, because the Yeti’s always got the car when the shop’s open because, well, it’s his car, and he works in the opposite direction.

Anyway. What’s fun in Vancouver BC?

THE ENTRY FOR THE MONTH OF JUNE

in which there’s a post completely free of theme or structure

THE BOYS, a television show on amazon

so these dummies saw homelander literally nursing (as in drinking actual breast milk) in season 1 and thought, ‘yeah, this is a powerful man, power is being able to do whatever you want, this guy is the hero of the show’

the boys subreddit is in chaos right now

homelander lets an entire plane crash, kills multiple times in petulant rages, and is clearly a sociopath/deranged fascist, his girlfriend is literally a nazi — let’s face it, the writing is hardly subtle — and these white boys thought YEAH, THIS IS THE HERO

and this is why cutting humanities from the schools is bad, these fucknuts don’t know that being a lead character isn’t the same as being the hero (which actually does rather require that the character be moral, right, and good)

honestly whole swathes of society have absolutely no hold at all on power actually being self-mastery, they honestly think REAL POWER is being a slave to one’s basest drives, that it’s being an abusive, selfish, horrific little cunt all the time and not getting punished for it

NEWS, in my local paper

the same sorts of woefully underendowed intellectuals are mad there was a drag show in pendleton and the paper covered it like it would cover literally anything else

10 or 15 years ago the average reader would have seen coverage of a drag show and simply determined they didn’t care for or about it; now, due to extreme brain-poisoning from the fox channel’s news entertainment programs and the internet’s danker corners, they’re angry and upset and offended and victimized about it and believe that society, which has LITERALLY ALWAYS HAD DRAG QUEENS, is in sharp decline

drag queens are frequently intimidating to people outside the community, sure, but everybody used to know they weren’t anything to get mad about

listen, if you hate drag queens but think rodeo clowns are totally fine and normal, you seriously need to go work on your personal shit lol

MASTER, in terms of bedrooms

the walls in the master bedroom of this house are painted lavender and i’ve been sorta struggling with it

obviously most normal people would just paint the room but i don’t want to because fuck painting, total pain in the arse

so i got a lavender blanket last week and made the bed with that and some chocolate brown sheets and a quilt from my mom and a throw, and dang! i think i’ve got a color scheme now!

dark brown and lavender look very restful and nice together, and the dresser is already dark brown, so really i just need a rug and some art, and maybe some sheers and BANG! it’s a room

but i’m here to tell you: there isn’t a single chocolate & lavender rug IN THE ENTIRE WORLD lol

(i found a great chocolate persian/oriental rug but the contrast color isn’t quite lavender, rather, it’s blue, and it just wouldn’t tie in the way i want, dang it)

anyway if you see any lavender and chocolate rugs please tell me immediately

DAD, the old pater

yesterday was father’s day, apparently, and my dad’s in town and this is quite possibly the first time we’ve been in the same town on father’s day in two decades

and i should have had him over for dinner or something but i didn’t know it was father’s day until today so there’s that opportunity wasted

happy dad’s day anyway

CHEESE CONVENTION, coming up soon

my bosses are taking me to BLAZING THE TRAIL FOR CHEESE, a big-ass cheese industry convention, in portland next month, but get this: they’re also covering transportation and lodging?!?!? they really don’t have to but i’m amazed and pleased

i think paying for entry is a reasonable employer thing to do, but gas and hotel? amazing

I am GOING to a HUGE cheese convention!!! how exciting is THAT!!

Rants is dead, long live Rants

In which I re-installed the board.

I’ve quit most social media except Twitter, which is or isn’t being purchased by Musk, and my timeline is full of people going ‘well this is basically dead now, like LiveJournal’ and ‘how do i mastodon’ and ‘where are we going’ so, what the hell:

HERE’S RANTS AGAIN!

It’s safe to join, nobody can see your email or anything. This will fail but whatever, it only took half an hour.

Vacation to the Oregon Coast!

In which we went somewhere!

Worked Saturday and did, like, an insanely busy twelve-hundred dollar day at the cheese shop.

Sunday we slept in and cuddled, which was fucking lovely, and then cleaned the house, packed out, and drove to Portland.

Arrived around eight o’clock, and crashed at my friend Leila’s house. My other high school friend, Deb, was also visiting, so we played pinochle! I can’t even tell you how long its been since I got to play pinochle. My better half took to it like a duck to water, and yours truly played a perfect hand!

The next day Leila fed us Syrian breakfast, which, I now know, causes Deb to yell “MAC DOOCE!” over and over, because she loves makdous (stuffed pickled eggplant). Both women are currently divorcing their husbands and are in various states of hurt and anger, so that sucks, but it was fantastic to see them after so long.

After eating we drove to Rockaway Beach via the scenic highway, which was absolutely scenic as fuck; love that Tillamook National Forest. Checked in at our hotel, which is right on the beach, with a private ocean-facing balcony and a fireplace, walked along the sand awhile, and then went out to dinner. Halibut fish and chips!

We literally left the sliding glass door cracked all night for the glorious sound of surf. Plus it’s well over 40F so it made for perfect sleeping conditions.

Tuesday we drove up and down the coast, just being tourists. Taco truck, the dollar store for slippers (because my leather shoes were still wet from the beach the day before), Goodwill (because why not; I got a set of Christmas candle holders that were cute), the Blue Heron cheese company, and a stereotypical coast gift shop with salt water taffy and junk jewelry and shells and weird crap. So fun and nostalgic.

Spent the evening just hanging out in the room. Got takeout, watched movies, drank adult beverages, stood on the balcony enjoying the sea. It smells SO GOOD!

Today we visited the Tillamook cheese visitor’s center, which is fucking MASSIVE, ate at a diner, drove around, got rained on, but mostly just lounged in the hotel. Ate leftovers for dinner.

Tomorrow we’ll be driving home, but we still have a few days of vacation left to lounge around in the house doing absolutely nothing, which is glorious, not gonna lie.

Other than Leila and Deb, who are vaccinated, we’ve been masked and distanced, so hopefully we’re not a goddamned disease vector. We haven’t been anywhere since we drove out from Minneapolis over two years ago, so this has been fantastic.

Dinner

In which there’s baking.

Tonight’s dinner:

A freshly baked loaf of bread on the left.

On the right, leftover bucatini with store-bought vodka sauce and tofu “meatballs” I made with basically no regard for the recipe I’d read. Fresh basil from the plant on my kitchen window sill!

Not shown: it cooled down to the 70’s so all the doors and windows are open for the first time in what feels like weeks!

My better half more or less quit eating my cooking a year or two ago (he sometimes eats what I make, but the majority of the time he declines and survives on quantities of red meat sided with shitty grocery store deli items), so I guess I’ll be taking half the pasta dish for lunch tomorrow.

This always happens with the men I live with. In the beginning, they swear they’ve “always wanted to eat more vegetarian food,” but after a few years they just want dead cows and processed garbage—honestly I cannot imagine wanting grocery store potato salad over homemade, but whatever.

I like to think I’m an accomplished cook, but I’m probably not, since nobody who can eat my food ever chooses to for long. Thank God for all the likes on my Instagram, or I’d probably get real sad about it!