serinde

So, Ranger has been off his game since I moved, which isn't surprising of course; cats hate that shit. The problem is, with a very old cat, you can't always tell which parts are Goddammit Get Off My Lawn and which are signifiers of something actually wrong. On the one hand, after a few days, he was following me around (a little) and sitting next to me on the armchair and so on; on the other, he seemed a little bit wobbly when he first stood up and his fur is starting to get more of that staring old-cat look. And I figured that he was probably due a check-up when I got back from yon business trip.

Things took a more immediate turn on Tuesday evening, when I got home from work to find his right cheek markedly swollen. I took him in first thing Wednesday--fortunately there is a well-reputed clinic right up Broadway--and they ascertained that, why yes, he has an infection. (O RLY?) They did not drain the abscess, which in retrospect I thought odd, but gave me antibiotics for 10 days and recommended a warm compress (which I understand in theory but have you ever tried holding a warm damp cloth to a cat's face for five to ten minutes?), and said that once the infection was under control then we'd have a look to see if there's a particular cause for the infection--e.g., a rotting tooth. (Which, if it's that, I was warned that the usual treatment is to put them under general anesthetic to yank the tooth, which is a perilous undertaking on an old cat.)

They also took blood, which they didn't figure would say much about his current issue, but since he is so old it would be good to see what else might be up, which I fully agreed with.

So we are two days of antibiotics in and his face isn't noticeably less swollen. It's hard to say if his appetite is down, because he's such a minimal eater to begin with; at least there is some product in the catbox (and when we got back from the vet he headed straight for the kibble, which was a little reassuring). The vet apparently left voicemail whilst I was in the subway today, asking me to call back, but when I did there was no answer. -_- She said that his white blood cell count was up, because duh infection; but also that he has some evidence of kidney disease. Wonderful. (And I am in goddamn meetings all goddamn day tomorrow so I don't even know when I'll be able to talk to the vet.)

I am clinging to the fact that Ranger is still tolerably interested and interactive, even if not moving a huge amount. Because I am very not ready to say goodbye to my fluffeh kitteh.

Because everything happens at the same time, I also was called for jury duty this week. (In sober reflection I should have taken my postponement, but I was thinking that a) whatever other time they called me for would undoubtedly be even less convenient and then I wouldn't be able to postpone again, and b) I believed everyone around me who had had to show up maybe one day and then that was it.)

Now, it must be understood that I do not have a problem with this; indeed, if this week/month weren't so full of the ualeauleauleaue, I would be really excited to serve on a jury. I truly do believe it is part of what makes society go 'round, and I truly do hope that if it's ever my turn in the legal barrel that intelligent, well-rounded, competent people will not try to do whatever they can to avoid it, and I truly do feel it to be an honorable and worthy thing to be doing. (The last and only other time I got called, when living in Jersey City, I got as far as juror selection and they bounced me--to my dying day I will believe it was because, when they asked "What's your favorite TV show?", I said "Buffy".) But also, this is trial jury not grand jury, so I expected the most that would be asked of us was one week--which I could spare, with difficulty it's true, but if I worked like a dog at night it could be okay. Whether or no, it's still important to show up, and now they tell us that there is wifi in the juror waiting room and all, so I figured worst-case I'd be sitting around for a day or two but I'd still be able to get a lot of work done.

( Life In 60 Centre St )

And I told the truth and the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but I feel crappy about it. I had two powerful duties, and they conflicted, and I had to choose one; and I think I chose the right one, but that still means I failed on the other.

Currently I am off on an artistic pilgrimage, which is including a trip to a renowned museum with a lauded textiles collection and round-robin discussions on manie diuerse & erudite topics. It has, however, taken a turn for the anguish. As we were gathered in the hotel bar (which has some decent cocktails, and half price for happy hour), raising glasses in good cheer and joy, We Got A Call; in which it was learned that our dear friend and fellow artist, Shaun, had taken his own life today.

Let me tell you about Shaun. Here is a man who by day is a sysadmin (and of the body to the point that his personal address is "bofh@[his-domain]"), who likes the sci-fi and the jokes and all the geekly delights; and who in the SCA takes anything that comes to hand, however random, and becomes a master at it, even if it was an art he had absolutely no angle on beforehand. There was an ancient & venerable tartan pattern that his clan used, but the original textile was long since used up and no one could find more of it. What did he do? Teach himself to weave and make more of it. He learned pewter casting, carving models into all kinds of exquisite shapes, whatever was needed for the current project, and then casting a couple hundred of 'em--on Beth's porch, on one memorable occasion. Not enough good beer and not enough shade at events? He built a rolling wooden widget to hold an iced keg (with spigot)...with a folding porch umbrella fit into the side. (And was then, at the Pennsic I was sitting and roasting in the sun all afternoon for the gorram Arts & Sciences display, the kind of thoughtful person who would to trundle it up all the way from camp so I could have a spot of shade and some refreshing cold beverage for the rest of the afternoon.) For every friend inducted into the Order of the Laurel, he'd make a metal wreath with tiny clips for holding actual laurel leaves so that the honoree could have an actual wreath of laurel, rather than whatever frob their other friends could come up with. Recently, he had been working on recreating the Aldrevandini beaker, though with his own spin on it (like, his own arms in the center). And his works were exquisite--as beautiful as the originals.

And beyond that he was brilliant and funny and level-headed and practical and amazing great fun to hang out with. I would go to events just because I knew that Shaun and Cas were going. I didn't get to hang a fraction as much as I would have liked, but I had a little thought deep inside that some day I'd be living in the 'burbs again, and then I would get to chum with them all the time, and how awesome that would be.

He had a loving wife and many, many loving friends--for real, I mean, and he knew it, there was no question there. No one seems to know anything about depression, no hints were given, nothing to tell. Yet, somehow, he thought that the world and his loved ones would be better without him. I am completely incapable of understanding how he could have reached that conclusion. Whatever trouble he may have had, any of us would have given from the heart to take care of it...a thousand thousand times more if the alternative was to not have him with us ever again.

A co-op application, even for a weenie subletter, is a serious thing with lots of info. They want everything to do a credit check, so it has information like your SSN, your bank account number, your last N residences, etc. Oh yes, and a check.

Wanting to be careful about this sort of information, I thought it wise to send it via certified mail, which has delivery confirmation and requires a signature. Because it's going to an office, right? Someone should be there, right?

HA HA HA

I looked at the tracking number. Delivery was attempted last Tuesday, no one was there[*], and so a notice was left to come pick it up at the post office. (It seems they do not attempt redelivery.)

Which no one has, from that day to this. And at this point I don't expect they will. So in fifteen days (!!) it gets sent back to me, and I can try mailing it again. And then they have to actually read it, and process it, and interview me, and pass judgment, and etc. By which point I will be worn to a breaking point wondering if I have someplace to live or not.

[*] I s'pose it's possible that the mail carrier was playing silly buggers and didn't actually ring, as occasionally happens.

Cabbage Potato Soup
Potato (1), Leek (1), Cabbage (1), Salt Pile (1)
Redaction totally made up.

1. Start some bacon fat rendering in the pan. (This may not be defensible. I note that there are no visible pork products in Skyrim. But, they undoubtedly smoke and brine fatty meats, so.)
2. Chop a smallish onion, throw it in.
3. Core and shred your Cabbage (or half of one, leftover from the last adventure). Add in to wilt.
4. Take the white and pale-green parts of your Leek, slice them, add to pot.
5. Extract the bacon parts that are wholly rendered, and break them up for cat yums. Spinach Cat is much appreciative.
6. OH HEY GUESS WHO FORGOT TO START THE SOUP IN THE SOUP POT HERP DERP
7. Grumble, move everything out of skillet to pot, clean skillet.
8. Chop your Potato, about 1 lb worth. Add to pot.
9. Add 2 c. of water because it's starting to get a bit scorchy in there.
10. Add the Salt Pile.
11. Cover, let simmer while you fix a cocktail.
12. Spend an inordinate amount of time to find the cocktail that required fresh rosemary. Give up and make a Newark instead (apple brandy, sweet vermouth, Fernet Branca, Maraschino), because you can.
13. Realize it's smelling awfully...cabbagey. Sniff, ponder, add more Salt Pile and some caraway seeds.
14. Continue to let simmer while on the phone with a boy. ^_^
15. Figure it shouldn't be immersion-blended, so serve it forth.

Wow, this is pretty good. The caraway was absolutely the right note to tone down the cabbageosity.

My farm share last week included, among other things, a cabbage and four apples. As I unpacked it, my thoughts immediately shot to "Apple Cabbage Stew. Restore 10 points Health. Restore 15 points Stamina". Because I am just that dorky as to see Skyrim everywhere. (Though to be honest, I don't see how this is really that different from audiovile's urges to run through the CVS punching people in the back of the head after playing too much GTA:Vice City.)

Ground rules:
* All ingredients listed must be used, but proportions can be played with a bit. (One tomato, one head of garlic, and one leek would make a damn peculiar soup.)
* Ingredients can be added, but only if they don't exist in-game. (Broadly. Don't add Cheddar to your Grilled Chicken Breast and claim it's okay because it's not goat or Eidar cheese.)
* ...And they should be appropriate for a northern, semi-medievalish land. (Yes yes they have tomatoes and potatoes. They also have dragons. STFU.)
* When we get to it, suitable replacements for non-existent ingredients will be selected and defended.

And so, without further ado:
Apple Cabbage Stew
Cabbage (1), Red Apple (1), Salt Pile (1)
Redaction based on an Epicurious recipe

1. Take half a Cabbage, core it, and shred (4 c.)
2. Take a smallish onion, dice, start frying in 1.5 tsp butter.
3. Throw in the cabbage, let it wilt.
4. Add thyme, Salt, pepper; toss.
5. Add 3 c. water or, if you're rich enough to have bought a house, broth (I used mushroom bouillon).
5. Let simmer for a little while.
6. Core and chop your Red Apple (I used one and a half). In another pan, fry it up in a bit more butter.
7. Before the apple gets mushy, put into the soup.
8. Let it cook down however much you like.

My result looked less contiguous than the picture, so I immersion-blended it a bit. (Because that's the labor-saving equivalent of "pushing the food through a sieve over and over until it's pureed", which is period appropriate.)

Tastes pretty good, actually--and I tend to loathe cabbage. The apples make it a little too sweet, though. In my curried pumpkin-apple soup the curry comes over top and evens that out; I'm not sure what the defensible choice would be here.

As the Gentle Reader knows, I have this past year been over my current domicile. Though the owners are taking steps to address some physical issues (the insect invasion, some building repairs, etc.), and some of the problems have gone away (the shrieking Russian chicks, Drunky McBuzzerPresser), the vibe has gone stone cold. Having come to this decision, and having the lease renewal I do not intend to sign staring me in the face, I am of course wigging out and second-guessing myself. Though I don't intend to start serious searching until after the New Year, it seems well to organize my thoughts now, both to have them organized (duh) and because burping them all out is likely to reduce the white noise in my brain.

( Location, location, location )

( Define your beast. )

( The silent screaming of the mind. )

I will create another spreadsheet to track the places I look at, as that worked well last time, and blort out my impressions here for reference. After the holidays, I will be severely curtailing my social activities and concentrating on blitzing this. If I don't have something lined up by March 1, I will dump everything in storage and crash somewhere until success is obtained.

I still have some of last week's soup yet, and three winter squashes staring accusingly at me, so it seemed that the traditional way to deal with this was to put some in pickle. Therefore:

1. Peel, eviscerate, and cube 1 butternut squash.
2. Peel, eviscerate, and cube 1/2 acorn squash. Peeling raw acorn squash really, really sucks.
3. You now have about 8 c., or a little under 3 lbs, of orange vegetable. Put it in a bowl.
4. Put in a saucepan 3 c. cider vinegar, 2 c. water, 2 c. sugar, 20 peppercorns, 15 cloves, 15 allspice berries, and some cinnamon bark. Heat gently while stirring 'til the sugar is dissolved.
5. Let it come to the boil. This will take a bit.
6. Look around for something to put the end result in. There's a 1L mason jar, but what to do with the rest?
7. Start turning out cupboards and fridge and what-not. Put the remaining maraschino cherries in a pyrex bowl, and wash out the 3/4L jar they were in.
8. Take the two empty jars and put them in boiling water to sanitize.
9. Oh, the brine is starting to boil. Let it boil for a few minutes, then turn down to simmer.
10. Find a 3/4L jar that is mostly full of lavender simple syrup. Look around for something else to put that in.
11. Pour out the last bit of Benedictine, from a bottle that you don't even know where it came from but it was at least since you lived in Jersey City. There's only a half-ounce anyways. Wash the bottle.
12. The brine's done. Pour it over the bowl of pumpkin, which makes it more full than the measuring bowl. Oops.
13. Wipe that up.
14. Strain the lavender syrup into the Benedictine bottle. Wash the jar that the syrup had been in.
15. Extract the now-sterilized jars from the pot and put the syrup jar in it instead.
16. Fill up the sterilized jars with pumpkin and brine, and chuck them in the fridge.
17. Drink the Benedictine Shot of Victory.
18. Time passes. I think. I am not sure how long one waits before eating some.

Recipes differ as to whether one cooks the squash before or not. I am trying not, since I don't want mushy things.

I thought pumpkin would last awhile, like the other squashes. Not this one. So, it was needful to deal with it. In addition, I have a terrifying amount of apples from apple-picking yesterday. There is an obvious solution to these issues.

1. Take thy pumpkin. Halve it, de-seed and de-pulp it, brush with oil and a little salt and pepper, and roast til done (I think I gave it about half an hour at 400 degrees).
2. Extract roasted pumpkin flesh, which was about 2 c. worth.
3. Peel, core, and chunk 1.5 large Jonagold apples, also about 2 c. worth.
4. Dice about, eh, 2/3 c. onion and a clove of garlic.
5. Take a 1" piece of ginger and grate it.
6. Fry those three items gently in some butter til they're all nice.
7. Add 2 c. of broth (I used mushroom bouillon), the pumpkin, and the apples. Stir up good.
8. Add salt, garam masala, thyme.
9. There's the tail end of some hot madras curry powder. What the hell, throw that in too.
10. Stir in maybe 2/3 of a can of coconut milk (I used lite, it works fine).
11. Let simmer 30 minutes or so.
12. Immersion blend to a nice soupy glorp, without splattering boiling liquid all over oneself for a change.

It is very nice indeed, the more so with a dollop of yogurt on top. I wish I had had real broth to use (whether chicken or vegetable)--the bouillonosity was coming through the other flavors, which is not preferable. Also, I may have gone a curry too far. Choose one, not both.

First pickup of the farm share was today. Included was a bundle of leafy green called "dinosaur kale". I had no idea what to do with it, so went to the intarwubs. The result is rather loosely based on the Portuguese calo verde; I didn't have chorizo, for instance.

1. Chop up about 1/4 - 1/3 cup of onion. Start sauteeing it in garlic-infused olive oil.
2. No chorizo but there is one remaining strip of slab bacon in the freezer. Pull it out, dice it, throw it in the skillet.
3. There are also spuds in the farm share. Take 3/4 lb. of them, scrub, chop into 1/2" dice. By this time the bacon is reducing nicely, so go ahead and throw the taters in.
4. One might add broth now, but one has no broth. Pour in 1/3 cup of rioja to get on with.
5. Put the kettle on quick and produce 1 1/3 c. of mushroom bouillon. Add to pan.
6. Hey idiot, this is soup. Maybe you should use the POT, not the SKILLET. Rectify the error.
7. Let cook ~15 min. until the potatoes are cooked through. Meantime, cut the kale (3 oz of it) into fine julienne. Kale HATES to be cut, by the way. Particularly the stems.
8. When the potatoes are done, bring out the immersion blender and start blending.
9. Rinse spatters of boiling liquid off self, tools, counter, stovetop, and cat.
10. Perhaps the potatoes, though soft, are too much. There is possibly a tool for this. Apply potato masher.
11. Round 2: Go! Immersion blender still not entirely doing its thing; perhaps insufficient liquid. Eventually bodge it into a stewlike state.
12. Input kale, stir around. Stare in astonishment as it inhales all the liquid. Keep stirring for a few minutes as the kale wilts a bit.
13. Add salt and a bit of fresh ground red pepper flakes because why not? Serve it forth.

The result is a thick porridge rather than a soup. But it is really, really tasty, and exactly what I needed after a rotten commute and a burgeoning cold and wah. The kale stems are a little over-crunchy, but it provides tactile interest, kinda like having nuts or something in. A+++ would cook again.