Tangents

While I'm keeping "zirconium" at Twitter for the foreseeable future, I've set up http://mastodon.sdf.org/@zirconium (AKA "zirconium@mastodon.sdf.org") to get familiar with the landscape in case #ScienceTwitter and other key circles head on over. As with this blog, updates will be irregular and I don't -- can't -- read every item in my feeds, but establishing and keeping open lines of access is part of the battle.



I actually spent the bulk of my morning on handwritten correspondence, including this season's first holiday card, which is going to a Scandosotan friend I was reminded of when another friend (based in Stockholm) recommended Sallyswag, describing them as "the queer folk soul brass dancehall hip hop band":



(Yes, it's rather early to be sending December holiday cards, but this one is an Advent calendar, and given reports from other friends about letters taking scenic routes to, say, North Carolina, I am not sanguine about this one even arriving before Trinity term. Now that I've said it, watch it arrive before the GOTV postcards I put in yesterday's mail to Georgia...)

In the Department of Plus Ça Change, still feeling crummy but functional. Full-blown respiratory woe has sidelined me from work gatherings and choral commitments (and heavy-duty cough syrups now give me splitting headaches, great). But my sunroom remains a gorgeous sanctuary, I have lamb and Taiwanese spinach stew on my stove, Aaron Tveit is covering "Take Me Home Tonight" on the YouTube jukebox, and being home means other things get tended to, including the sorting of tomatoes (this year's harvest was entirely from volunteer plants, descended from seedlings Miel gave out last year). I'm planning on making green tomato-cheddar hand pies later today or tomorrow.

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/182908.html.

This won't be news to most readers, but in my corner of the world, one can simultaneously rejoice in how well the roses are doing whilst slogging through a slough of despond and frustration over one's mistakes, the malice of others, etc.

Perspective helps. A few years ago, I picked up a battered copy of Loren Eiseley's The Star Thrower at a library bag sale. The chap was a much-honored anthropologist and writer in his day, with an endowed chair at Penn. Auden wrote the intro to this book. There are more than two dozen honorary degrees listed in an appendix . . .

. . . and I skimmed the book here and there, and decided it was not for me, and not even to put in the mail to another friend. Into one of the neighborhood's Little Free Library boxes it will go. A couple of lines just caught my eye -- "the thin blue bones / Of a hare picked clean by ants. A man can attach / Meanings enough to the wind when his luck is out" -- but the full poem ("Winter Sign") isn't tight enough for my taste (even though I agree with the overall sentiment), and that sums up the book as a whole for me: there are so many more poems and essays waiting for me that will hit me harder, closer, thrilling-er, and life is so damned short as it is.

And full (although going to bed before 1 a.m. instead of trying to power through an assignment was definitely the right call). The weekend includes paddleboarding and a wedding and a birthday dinner, along with a story to beta and music to practice and clutter to dispel, etc. Onward!


The kids are all right: this show of irises at a local Methodist church included handmade signs in support of LGBTQ rights. This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/181420.html.

Some KJ Charles fans were chatting on Discord about Cat Sebastian's Hither, Page, which is set right before Christmas and proved to be what I wanted for a cozy reread at 5 a.m. for Reasons. I really have got to get around to reading Middlemarch some day, because it keeps turning up -- in this book, in Marissa's recs, in a beautiful English country dance by Orly Krasner:



(This is a dance I've myself taught. The local group is proceeding with plans to resume hosting Playfords this spring . . .)

---

Today's mail brought the latest issue of my college alumni magazine, which is how I learned about the death of Michael Murrin, who was my BA thesis advisor. He was ruthless with me, and I earned honors.

Coincidentally, last month I happened to reread some of my notes from the Arthurian Romance seminar he had led during my third year at U of C. (The reread was admittedly prompted in large part by a sudden deep dive back into The Dark Is Rising fandom.) They were more entertaining than I'd expected -- Murrin was hella smart, and funny as hell -- and now I want to curl up with his books. Someday . . .

Bronchitis is once again kicking my ass, but I am dogged and inventive, and the things that must get addressed are getting addressed. One of the more successful recent concoctions: pecan-apricot macarons. Onward! This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/179837.html.

Karla Kuskin (words) and David Frampton (illo), 1987

==

There is already an inflated pouffy arch bedecked with Halloweeny bats on the next block. My immediate reaction on first seeing it was "For the love of pumpkin spice, Too. Freaking. Soon."

And right on the heels of that, "F__k me, it has been a scary year, y'all do you." This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/178242.html.

We have reached the stretch of summer where I ask myself daily, "Is this really red enough? Is this the right saturation of golden orangey yellow?" because there are tomatoes ripe enough to harvest every morning and evening, and the urge to leave them on the vine to become even sweeter is checked by the insolence and rapaciousness of the local squirrels. In a month or so I will be asking the same question about the Christmas peppers, although the rodents tend to leave those alone.

I planted two knobs of ginger yesterday, and transplanted some sweet cherry pepper seedlings this evening.

At the start of April, a meme floated into my Twitter feed . . .

FIND YOUR WW2 OPERATION NAME!

1) Take your mental or emotional state
2) Add the last food you enjoyed

I'm in charge of Operation Muted Bacon

— John Bull (@garius) April 2, 2021

. . . and the reaction to my result was pretty much, "You don't say":

Operation Tenacious Prosecco is wholly on brand, I daresay. https://t.co/4pJfy7yxTC

— Peg Duthie (she/her/hers) (@Zirconium) April 2, 2021

A recurring Thing this past week has been working through misbehaving connections. On Saturday, it took me a while to realize my board wasn't inflating quickly enough because a tube was loose. I finally got water to come out of a garden hose by shifting the dial at the tip, after flipping other levers and twisting various joins. (It's still leaking more than I would like, but I'll sort that out some other week.) There's been coaxing various devices to working in tandem, including my ancient inkjet printer with my barely-out-of-the box portátil for work. There are acres of bureaucracy on multiple fronts. Fortunately, there being dozens of irons to tend to, one can heave a sigh and bustle on to the next fire.

... and, Flickr is for some reason timing out on the images from JERUSALEM, SHINING STILL I'd planned to share with you. So that will be something for a later time as well. This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/176956.html.

Some things I miss:

dancing, including waltzing and being dipped

locking in tight harmonies with other singers

trying new-to-me bars and eavesdropping on / chatting with whomever at them

spur-of-the-moment visits to Cheekwood

hell, unplanned all-the-things

printing proofs without having to assess whether putting my personal printer through it is worth the expense/time/wear-and-tear

swimming

striding around downtown in tailored dresses and heels

Asheville, Philadelphia, and the Triangle

buying just enough meat and produce for a few days

ocean kayaking being a near prospect

same with the show I was cast in more than a year ago

Some things I have been enjoying:

working through the winter in pj bottoms and sheep slippers instead of tights and boots

making cards to send to voters and others

nattering with the BYM about horse categorization, Trixie Belden, and other nonsense

getting a better handle on passé composé (and becoming legendary in the process, ha!)

trying new-to-me recipes, including Fannie Farmer's Swedish bread

needing less than one tank of gas per month

the Vagabond Tabby's Mother of Crows soap

the Christmas cacti and cyclamen, which are still producing blooms

shiny Innovation stamps

Some recent poems, at the 30/30 project:

"Tilting at Mushrooms," about Lowell labor organizer (and later Philadelphian) Sarah Bagley

"Clear," about languages I don't even remotely have a grip on

"Bounce," in memory of a choreographer and a theatre techie

"Tug," because I'm in Asheville and/or Princeton/Philadelphia most Februaries

"Twenty Seconds," prompted by a German pig-farming regulation

"Lightening Up," because Shrove Tuesday was nigh

"The Ides of February," because it was more interesting reading about Romans than trying to come up with something related to historical or festive events tied to the 15th

"As Cowards Remain, So Dumb and Grayer Gray," because I wanted to write something metrical, and Emily Dickinson's valentines are demented

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/172413.html.

After dedicating 60+ hours to the museum this week, compounded by 3 days of missed workouts, I did not try to persuade brain or body into executing any should-dos today, other than a few maintenance rounds of Duolingo (Day 169) and dealing with food on the edge of going bad. So, for breakfast, a bruised and nicked Envy apple got paired with Kunik cheese (from a box received last month). Lunch included the last of the chocolate pudding I made ten days ago.

Late in the afternoon, I split the package of ten chicken drumsticks from last week's K&S run into two batches: one is marinating in the spice paste from Jody Adams's recipe for Roasted Rock Cornish Game Hens with North African Flavors (in In the Hands of a Chef), and the other I cooked tonight in a variation of Adams's Ginger-Turmeric Chicken with Lime Yogurt and Coconut Rice. We have only green onions on hand, so I used the white bits for tonight's dinner and put the green bits into my jar of shrimp stock. I did not bother with chicken stock or cilantro, but a limp crown of broccoli had reproached me all week from its shelf, so it got added to the roasting pan. The result looked and tasted fine (though I gather from the BYM that the coconut rice is the real keeper):



Discovering that Jody and Ken had revived their blog (their last pre-pandemic post had been in 2015) was a pleasant surprise. I've also been vegging with a slew of Grub Street Diet entries, which I came across while looking up discussions of Jody's Soupe de Poisson. I really like Margalit Cutler's illustrations, and the people interviewed say relatable things like "I am always doing something, it’s just rarely the thing I most need to be doing" (Julia Turshen) and "cut fruit is Asian parents’ love language" (Priya Krishna). [The day/week-in-the-life genre is a species of Pegnip, I guess, even when I think the metrics are nonsensical (cf. Philly's Sweat Diaries, where the accounting of money spend rarely factors in food already on hand).]

Also from the "Back after a long break" Department: David Handler took like 20 years off between Book 8 and Book 9 of his Stewart Hoag series, and has since produced 3 novels and a short story I didn't know about until recently. So those are part of the escapism party pack, along with dance videos, such as this performance by the Still River Sword troupe.

Speaking of performing, I appeared in a balcony scene Thursday night (it starts at around 59:30, with at least two cats and some verrrrry Southern accents in the mix). This week's mayhem also included pitcherfuls of wintermelon-rum-campari slushies and sober-yet-daft conversations about chive reproduction (occasioned by the below salad). Dull doesn't stand a chance around here.



This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/163890.html.

Via kirbyfest, kass, antisoppist, and others...

1. Are you an Essential Worker?

No.

2. How many drinks have you had since the quarantine started?

1 bottle of chardonnay
5/6 bottle of Bordeaux
2 beers
1/3 bottle of Louisa's Liqueur ("Louisa Nelson was a woman of remarkable strength and character. . . .")

3. If you have kids... Are they driving you nuts? n/a

4. What new hobby have you taken up during this?

There still aren't enough hours in the day.

5. How many grocery runs have you done?

5? If counting from around the Ides of March. We are down to one scant cup of soy sauce and no mirin, and I ate the last apple this morning, so I cannot put off donning the face mask much longer.

6. What are you spending your stimulus check on?

It will be split between part of a mortgage payment and the fee charged by our new estate lawyer to get our wills and directives updated. (See #15.)

7. Do you have any special occasions that you will miss during this quarantine?

The plans canceled so far through July would fill a whole entry.

My birthday is next month, and I hadn't planned to host a party anyhow (because of rehearsals for Grand Magnolia), but I'm still thinking of ordering an almond cake from Sweet 16th, even though I might end up freezing 3/4 of it.

8. Are you keeping your housework done?

I'm able to tackle more of it because I'm home all day (and because I'm less okay with all the dust and grime now that I am), but done? Cue fit of derisive laughter.

9a. What movie have you watched during this quarantine?

Saw You Gave Me a Song: The Life and Music of Alice Gerrard Monday night, courtesy of the Southern Circuit Film Festival.

9b. What are you reading right now?

Good Omens and The Graham Kerr [aka the Galloping Gourmet] Cookbook

9c. What video game are you playing?

I consider Duolingo a video game. Diamond League, my dudes!

10. What are you streaming with?

YouTube/DailyMotion/Vevo, Spotify, and Hoopla (thank you, Nashville Public Library)

11. 9 months from now is there any chance of you having a baby? Oh hell no.

12. What's your go-to quarantine meal?

Fried rice, with ketchup and a scrambled egg added to whatever odd tasty bits can be scrounged from the fridge and the yard.

13. Is this whole situation making you paranoid?

It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you.

14. Has your internet gone out on you during this time?

It's periodically flaky, especially when I'm juggling both home and work connections.

15. What month do you predict this all ends?

"All" being the pandemic, or broad "safer at home" measures? Being deeply cynical, I suspect social restrictions here in the South might ease up by summer solstice or even earlier -- resulting in the curve roaring up three or four or even more times before people truly finally register (if indeed they ever do) that it's not going to end until enough of us cooperate with scientific realities and enough policymakers get their heads out of their asses for an effective vaccine not only to be developed but manufactured and distributed in sufficient quantity to inoculate the general population regardless of socioeconomic means. Which I'm guessing will be more than 18 months out, and given how such things often take far longer than hoped for, it would not surprise me if it takes 36.

All that said, I'm still mulling over whether to continue my membership at the Y. I'm leaning towards no, because I imagine that I will feel for a long time like I'm unnecessarily tempting fate every time I use the pool or sauna or shared equipment, and it's going to feel less safe walking alone across downtown given how many more people are now in dire straits. But I am so much better about pushing myself when I'm a regular at their classes. I am also admittedly reluctant to cancel since I would have to pay a new joining fee if I ever wanted to return, and I wouldn't get the discounted rate I have now, and who knows what their offerings will be once things get back to some pretense of normal. But that is bad math on my part -- the new fee would likely not exceed two months of what I pay now, and the full rate not exceed the total otherwise wasted on two or three years of minimal use. And moreover, pressuring myself to resume going to the Y before I truly feel safe there because it's paid for is the sort of daft thing my brain doesn't need to be doing to me.

(So, yay meme for nudging me into spelling all this out instead of the half-baked dithering I'd applied to the situation thus far.)

16. First thing you're gonna do when you get off quarantine?

Get a haircut and a massage. (Yes, there are people I miss, but it's not like I saw them every week or every month pre-pandemic, and I'm not a hug-my-colleagues gal.)

17. Where do you wish you were right now?

I was supposed to be sea-kayaking near Charleston right around now. (Though I'm also side-eyeing the hotel's email, sent last week: "We thought you would have rebooked by now...")

18. What free-from-quarantine activity are you missing the most?

Swimming laps and English country dancing and waltzing. And right now I don't know if I will return to any of those after the pandemic ends, although in English maybe it will become okay to wear gloves outside of formals.

(I mean, I probably will. I can be as stupid as many people when it comes to disregarding risk because the prospect of missing out becomes too much to bear. But I also don't lack for other diversions -- or, for that matter, obligations. And there's also working to help save the republic . . . )

(Not incidentally, my stats as of Monday: More than 1300 postcards sent since mid-2017, including 123 for Jill Karofsky (Wisconsin Supreme Court). Plus additional cards sent in response to recommendations from Americans of Conscience, plus some self-initiated messages and calls in reaction to other feeds and sources.)


19. Have you run out of toilet paper and hand sanitizer?

No, although the current stash of TP is on the scratchier side than what we usually keep on hand.

20. Do you have enough food to last a month?

No. I like fresh produce and meat (and general variety) too much (just ask my friends in Detroit who had to put up with me craving salad when we were hitting dive bars). Although I also have trouble resisting sales, which is ironically why we have a good supply of paper towels and wipes (both purchased pre-lockdowns), along with three boxes of Hamburger Helper, a huge bag of tulsi leaves, and other testaments to past bouts of impulsiveness and ridiculousness.

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/163223.html.

It's rarely a good sign when I'm quoting Wordsworth, since I do not care for him or his verse, and that's all I'm going to say here about world affairs.

I am exasperated about many things and at many individuals, including myself. Among other things, I had managed to coax a rose seed into sprouting after stratifying it from November through January -- but then forgotten to water it for a week or two, what with deadlines and drama occupying too much of my brain. It's a tiny failure amid the many things I succeeded in pushing across finish lines this month, but dammit.

On an upside, there's a new late bloom on one of the Christmas cacti, and some shoots are peeking out of the indoor daffodil bulbs. I danced for 3.5 hours yesterday and 2.5 today, the latter at a Zumbathon that raised $600+ for a Puerto Rican family. I'd planned on going to classes in the morning as well, but the need both for extra sleep and extra hours at the office prevailed.

I am wearing slippers and pajama bottoms with sheep motifs, and this popped up on my Duolingo screen not too long ago:



It's not always bad to feel seen.. ;)

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/160136.html.

https://www.ebay.com/itm/THE-LORD-PETER-WIMSEY-COMPANION-revised-and-expanded-2nd-ed-association-copy/323998318377

As described. :)

I miss you lot and hope to be more in touch in 2020.

In other fandom news, I wrote comment-fic in response to reactions to one of Superstition_Hockey's Kinktober vignettes, and ended up batching it as A-game over on A03. (Not gonna lie, I'm inordinately pleased with the line "like retelling a Russian novel with pivot tables" to describe tax prep for a complex family.)

I still harbor hopes of coaxing two old projects across the finish line within the next decade, but of course the Workflowy lengthens exponentially by year, even as I nest more and more things under "next year," "beyond next year," "after we save the republic," "probably not in this lifetime but I can't bear to delete these notes just yet," etc. And at the moment most of my days currently take this shape:

work, often straight through lunch

gym and errands

late dinner + housework + paperwork

rehearse music if service or performance is imminent

get some dopamine hits via Duolingo (Emerald League is within reach...)

fall asleep in hot bath

haul self to bed after water cools and continue sleeping there

There is so much more on the list, of course, and people to whom I want to take moon cakes and meet up with for happy hour and dance "Zither Belles" with and spend companionable hours weeding/snipping/paddling/folding/etceteraing are not getting any younger or less busy themselves. It is, I recognize, a grand problem to have, and that my horribly lonely childhood so-sorry-for-my-self would be utterly thrilled to be so occupied. There will always be yearning, even when the right choices are made. I get that now.

This entry was originally posted at https://bronze-ribbons.dreamwidth.org/418751.html. I see comments at DW, IJ, and LJ (when notifications are working, anyway), but not on feeds.