serinde: (MY CURSE IZ PASTEDE ON YAY!)
I have come down with [livejournal.com profile] nedlnthred's lurgy (with really shit-arse timing, I may add), and crawled home from work at 2pm suffering from total enervation, a tetchy throat, and a head packed with pressure. No actual symptoms elsewise, but still deeply miserable. In the hopes of effecting a swift cure, or at least keeping it from getting much worse, I spawned the following procedure:

0. Set up P&P on your televisionary device.
1. Take ye a smallish chicken. Seethe it with carrots, onion, salt, pepper, and whatever other stockish stuff you have lying around, for about 3 hours.
2. Meantime, roast two heads of garlic in a 350 degree oven for about 45 minutes.
3. Strain the broth, reserving the chicken meat and fending off an importunate cat.
4. Chop up most of an onion and saute in olive oil, adding thyme ynogh.
5. After the onion is well along, throw in an additional handful of raw garlic cloves.
6. Let that fry while you squeeze out all the roasted garlic cloves. Throw those in the pot, with about 3.5 cups of broth.
7. Let that cook together for 15-30 minutes, or until the raw cloves are soft.
8. Immersion blender the snot out of it.
9. Stir in 1/2 cup of whatever combination of cream or half-and-half you have to hand.
10. Add the chicken meat and salt & pepper to taste. Let it cook for about 5-10 minutes, but obviously watch out for curdling dairy.
11. Consume while lolling on the couch watching P&P and feeling terribly sorry for yourself.

It's got a really nice flavor and is most kind to the throat and head. It could actually be more garlicky, I think, though maybe my sinus weasels are deadening my smell/taste somewhat.
serinde: (Delirium)
Things that suck mightily include: finding out that facets of yourself which you depended on implicitly, which you thought were as solid as the rock of time, have in fact been silently undermined by enemy sappers over the past N years while you were off fighting on other fronts; and when you go to build on them again, all sorts of alarming creaky noises start up and the foundation is swaying back and forth and you're left going "seriously what the fucking fuck? and also, this is not me."

Repair crews are onsite, but clearly the rebuilding is gonna take awhile.

(I have been variably moody and moopy about this, but little jets of anger are starting to spark that I let it happen to myself.)
serinde: (food)
Gourmet Garage is wont to have eye round steaks for super-cheap; this is appealing to me, because a) nice lean cut of meat (she said, looking sadly at the scale), and b) they come in single-serving packages, and c) no really I mean cheap. However, the couple of times I have gotten this cut, it's come out very tough and unpleasant, even when using recipes Adapted for the Meanest Understanding To Make It Nice.

This time I decided, for a change, to plan ahead. I was tolerably sure I'd be home for dinner most nights this week (thank heaven, considering the weekend's impending Bataan Death March), so I bought the item...and instead of cooking it when I got home, I had something else I'd picked up and prepared a marinade to ready it for tonight's dinner.

Vide:

1. Take ye a .41 lb. eye round steak.
2. Take ye the last lime (guess what I forgot to pick up more of). Juice it into a bowl.
3. Mince a clove of garlic; add to bowl.
4. Grind up some salt, and add that too.
5. Put in about that much cumin. 1 tsp, maybe?
6. Stir it all up then put in a quart Ziploc.
7. Insert the aforementioned steak.
8. Leave in the fridge until tomorrow's dinner. Turn it before you leave for work in the morning.
9. Heat the skillet on medium, with a little oil.
10. Fry the steak for a couple minutes each side.
11. Serve with a nice rioja.

Oh, it was nice; so very very nice. I look forward to infinite possibilities with this SCIENCE!.
serinde: (job joy)
Department Assistant: "Hi, I'm calling from the XXXX department. We need to order a computer for our lab, and it has to be an HP, how do we do that?"
Your humble correspondent: "Is there a particular reason it has to be an HP? Is there some kind of peripheral or card it has to have? Because the desktop machines are pretty much created equal, and we should be able to get you a much better deal through Dell."
DA: "I don't know but they said it has to be HP because it needs to run this thing...what is it... L - I - N - U - X ?"
YHC: "...Why don't you email me the spec and we'll figure out what you need to order."

(Quoth [livejournal.com profile] elibalin, "Maybe that's why my printer keeps jamming. I'm using Windows ink.")
serinde: (bowtie)
Some several months ago, [livejournal.com profile] nedlnthred were enticed to hitch our wagons to Ships and Dip, the fourth of that name. The concept, if you do not feel like making clicky, is that the Barenaked Ladies and a bunch of bands they like / are friends with get on a Caribbean cruise ship and invite you, yes, YOU along. So it's like a regular cruise, except that awesome music is constantly breaking out all over. And, as Tami (our Pied Piper) put it, wouldn't you rather go on a cruise with a pack of alt-rock fans than with blue-haired old ladies playing shuffleboard?

Yes. Yes I would.

Saturday: Miami )

Sunday: Getting on board, settling in, music! )
serinde: (food)
The challenge: to find something to stuff in a pita, using only the contents of the somewhat-bare cupboards, as we do not choose to stock up on supplies when we will not be eating at home for a week. So what goes in a pita? Protein, because we need it; and what flavors that are somewhat middle eastern, or at least pass a squint test?

1. Heat some toasted sesame oil in the skillet.
2. Add mustard seeds. Heat up until they start popping around, at which point hastily put a lid on top.
3. While that's going, scatter some sea salt on the cutting board. Take two big garlic cloves, slice in half, extract and discard the sprouty bits. Crush the cloves into the salt with your knife blade. Throw in the skillet.
4. Take ye a cup or so of the cooked, chopped-up chicken left over from Twelfth Night, of which you have a gallon Ziploc in the fridge. Dump it into the pan and break it up.
5. Slice a bit of red onion and throw it on in.
6. You are, of course, stirring around now and again during all these steps.
7. When the chicken is a bit warmed up, liberally add cumin, a bit of paprika, and some dried mint that's way past its best but still has a bit of aroma. Thrash until everything's uniformly coated.
8. Put in some pomegranate molasses--probably about a tablespoon, all told, maybe a touch more. Again with the thrashing and the coating and what-not.
9. Let it cook together until the chicken is heated through. Add salt to taste. Serve it forth with your pita and glob some yogurt on top if that's your kink.

Eminently successful! I probably ate too much.
serinde: (ze fiber arts)
So, there was this sewing project (q.v.), and as I kind of guessed I did not, in fact, turn early December to any sort of account; and then the holidays were holidayish, and I chucked it in the corner and failed to meet its eye until suddenly I was staring down the barrel of Twelfth Night. Why is this night different from all other nights? Well, because the Queen will be down here, and I may have a finite chance of getting half an hour to do a fitting and see if this is just completely fucking doomed or what.

Of course, [livejournal.com profile] nedlnthred have committed to serving lunch for the 400 attendees at said event. We are just the tiniest bit busy. However.

As has been the case for years without end amen, I was not able to pick up this project until a deadline (real or self-imposed but vaguely real) was looming, and so tonight I got home and determined to cut out the lining & baste it together. At least I'd have something to work with, yes? Even bearing in mind the already-noted concerns about the cookie-cutter nature of the pattern pieces. And the fact that I'd asked the person who is managing the project for Their Majesties for a sleeve pattern over a month ago, and it still has not appeared. But okay whatever. I iron my favorite tawny linen Lining Stuff, and lay it out, and dig out the pattern pieces, and...

...is this right? That doesn't look right. Oh, it's curved-front. Not something I've tried before. Nuisance-y for cutting, but whatever, and there are them what say it works better. OK. But! Wait! The rich fullness of the skirt isn't from assumed gores, it's all in the pattern! Which means that each of the four pattern pieces is a full quarter circle.

1) this is wrong
2) you could say that it's easier than inserting gores, but it is wrong and moreover it is wasteful of fabric
3) and I don't have enough lining fabric to cut it that way
4) so the logical thing to do is cut it mostly straight, and then cut gores out of the waste fabric

...and here's where it gets fun, because the waist isn't marked on here, and I can make a guess at it, but I don't know; and since it was impressed on me in the strongest possible terms that this pattern is EXACTLY TO THE DESIRED LENGTH, I am entirely un-confident in my ability to wing this. And none of my sewing peeps are online, and and and and.

So I've twitched the evening away accomplishing nearly nothing, except checking in on work email and going into a red rage because of lying fuckhead faculty.
serinde: (food)
Posting this link so I don't space it again: Which it's a Dinner for the Glorious First of June.
serinde: (food)
Since we're all blizzarded today, it seemed like a good day for hearty stew foods. (Also, I had some lentils, and [livejournal.com profile] shechameleon got me an immersion blender for Xmas.)

1. Take 1 link (about, eh, 10"?) of andouille sausage. Chop it, crisp it up in the bottom of the cast iron Dutch oven.
2. Dice half a large red onion, 2 carrots, a yellow pepper, and three garlic cloves that are a little past their best.
3. Remove the sausage to a bowl; put the onions and carrots in the pot and start sauteing. After five minutes, add the peppers and garlic. (Put in some olive oil if it needs.)
4. When the veg is about there, deglaze the pot with a splash of wine (I used a Chilean carmeniere). Take a splash for yourself while you're at it.
5. Add a half cup of lentils, 1 tsp cumin, and 1 tsp paprika. Mix it all up, then put in 2.5 cups of whatever broth you have (I used half chicken broth, half reconstituted mushroom bouillon).
6. Let cook 'til the lentils are done, then use your shiny new immersion blender. Realize the pot is a bit too wide and the stuff too shallow in it for best use, and wipe the scalding broth bits off your flesh. Work with it, and blend about half of the goop into glorp.
7. Add back the andouille (remember the andouille? This recipe is about andouille) and let it heat through.
8. OM NOM NOM
serinde: (Fuck off.)
I tend to view flexible spending accounts as rather like gym memberships: they are viable based on the indolence of the 85% of consumers who pay a lot in advance and then never take real advantage. If you're one of the remaining 15%, and put in the effort, they're sure worth it, but for everyone else the vendor is snickering up its sleeve at you.

Since my glasses start at $500, however, I thought it might be Relevant to my Interests, so I joined when my benefits kicked in on July 1. I didn't think about it until December hit, at which point I was all "oh er better get on that". Fine, no worries. Step 1: find out how much I have accumulated, so I know how many pairs I can buy. Looking through the Folder o' Paperwork, I see that we are through Cigna (even though our health insurance is Oxford; don't ask me, I just work here), so onward to the Cigna web site for online account whee.

The web site wots not of me. A chill runs down my spine.

I phone them yesterday. After navigating the voicemail and waiting in a queue for 20 minutes, I get a recorded message saying "Our facility is temporarily closed right now, please call back later." WELL THAT'S REASSURING

Today, I phone. I am phoning the number listed on the form one uses to get reimbursed for FSA expenses, so I presume it is the right number. I navigate through voicemail, wait in a queue for 15 minutes, get a human. She's never heard of me, and transfers to another who "specializes in FSAs". She's never heard of me, and transfers me to another who "knows more about FSAs". She's never heard of me or of Barnard College.

I phone the Benefits Coordinator in HR. I confirm that we are with Cigna for this service, and I'm enrolled in it.

Your humble correspondent: "But they say they have no record--"
She cuts me off: "You phoned the wrong number."
YHC: "It's the number on--"
She cuts me off: "You phoned the wrong number. You called the medical insurance line, not the FSA line."
YHC: "But the person I talked to--"
She cuts me off: "The number you need to dial is 1-800-XXX-YYYY"
YHC, thoroughly irritated: "THAT IS THE NUMBER I CALLED."
Her: "...Oh. Well. You're definitely enrolled and so you shouldn't have a problem."
YHC: "..."
Her: "..."
YHC: "...So, how do I get Cigna to acknowledge that?"
Her: "I'll call our representative."
YHC: "OK, you'll touch base with me then just so I know what's going on?"
Her: "YES."
YHC: "Great, thanks, bye." *click* @($*!##@!

All I wanted was a pair of glasses. Just one Goddamn pair of glasses.
serinde: (on the short bus)
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: Any progress?
[personal profile] serinde: *hand waggle* Gettin' somewhere.
[personal profile] serinde: I am getting yucks out of Star Wars Name Generators, though.
[personal profile] serinde: "Arwen Taurendil" ? O RLY.
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: Um. Right.
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: The good thing is, nothing sounds wrong.
[personal profile] serinde: "Eckle Arlos" !
[personal profile] serinde: "Fable Su" !
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: My character in KOTOR is "Sledge Harbatkin".
[personal profile] serinde: Hee. Did you make that up or pick the random offering?
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: I made that up.
[personal profile] serinde: See? CAN'T TELL.
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: This is a world in which "Rash Bag Pooop'u" is a perfectly reasonable name.
[personal profile] serinde: We are not allowing Gungans.
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: "No! The dread Sith Darth Wonga Wonga Wonga Wonga Wonga Wonga Wonga Ned."
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: Actually, I kind of like the idea of "Darth Ned".
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: He wears sweater vests!
serinde: (ze fiber arts)
So, their current Majesties of the East need clo'es; and they put the touch on Tasha for this; and she was unable to do honor to their request at this time, so she and [livejournal.com profile] murieldechimay conspired, and thus Kasia and I were offered this mission, should we choose to accept it. Which, of course, we did.

Words words words )
serinde: (today I am eight)
The Gentle Reader may recall my post-Pennsic wrap-up, in which I mentioned a boy who made my week bright. It's the usual mode for these encounters to last no longer than the end of the war, and maybe--maybe--you might have a rencontre in following years, if everyone involved is at liberty; but to have it extend longer is, if not unheard of, at least exceedingly rare, and usually just a flurry of email or calls that slowly taper off.

This is not that. This is us talking nearly every night, and this is me going down to Maryland twice in the past month to see him (and meeting his parents and being his plus-one at a wedding), and this is my heart bubbling over whenever I think of him, and this is amused observers pointing at me and saying "look at her! She's glowing!", and this is him phoning me up and singing ballads to me when I feel blue, and this is me making mix tapes for him (because yes, in fact, my brain is stuck in 1987), and this is his friends telling me how glad they are to finally meet me because "he talks so much about you!", et cetera, et cetera, and so forth.

We fit very, very well. He is a gamer, and a sci-fi geek, and a comics fan, and does theater, and we have a strong musical overlap; our conversations are never dull; we never seem to run out of things to say; and we are entirely compatible in, ahem, other respects as well. And he is outgoing where I am shy, and I am Princess Internet where he is technologically challenged, and I gave him the Brain Surgeons and he gave me Great Big Sea, et cetera, et cetera, and so forth.

Now before everyone gets all happy, let me point out that there are, as they say in management language, "challenges":
1) He lives Far Away. This is amendable, of course, but:
2) His career (music teacher) is just getting going, and he will have to go where he can find a job, at least for the first while.
3) He likes Pearl Jam and Nickelback. D: (I can get through that. At least it's not Radiohead.)
4) oh and by the way he turns 25 in a few weeks. This is, at least so far, proving no impediment on either side, but you can see how it could, potentially, if a commitment were entered into.

So, long story short, I cannot tell if we will ever be more than each other's occasional It's Complicated. I'm remarkably unencumbered about that at the moment; I'm enjoying (and delighting in) what we can share right now, and I am ever in hopes of more, but I'm letting the future take care of itself.
serinde: (blood is pretty.)
[personal profile] jld: My god Cointreau is a great and terrible god.
[personal profile] serinde: What are you laying about his feet?
[personal profile] jld: I have done a terrible thing. I call it the Fake Scotsman.
[personal profile] serinde: Do tell.
[personal profile] jld: Scotch, cranberry juice, Cointreau, and a bit of lime juice.
[personal profile] serinde: (I have scrumble heightened with golden rum.)
[personal profile] serinde: That's....interesting.
[personal profile] serinde: How's it working out for you?
[personal profile] jld: Disturbingly well
serinde: (job joy)
In general, I am happy in my work (and I have a longer post I need to make on that head), but every now and again I get a reminder that perfect serenity is not granted to us this side of the grave. Vide, a cow-orker voicemail I received today:

"Hi, this is XXX, just to let you know, um, $BOSS stopped by and I just, and so everything's on your thing, I got pulled into this by a sideways motion, who knows. But in any case, I set you any information that I was given, and any policies that are already in place, and, um, that's what she told me to do. OK, talk to you later, bye."

If you are laboring under the delusion that I had any degree of prior context for this, you do not know IT departments.
serinde: (dancing zombies!)
Snapped awake this morning from a dream in which I was managing a desktop support team at NBC, and saw a call come in for an issue that I said "oh well I'll take this one", because it was put in by Jensen Ackles[1], who needed some sort of phone or VOIP or something attached to his computer. And I go to his office, which was also his apartment[2], prepared to dazzle with my l33t sk1llz, only to find he is running some wacktastic OS I had never heard of, hight "TCH", which acronym I knew in the dream but can only remember now that it stood for Total Control {Something}. And this OS was as obfuscated in its workings as early MacOS or OS/2, and I was fighting through screens of icons and could not get to anything that would actually let me look at what the damn thing was doing under the hood. And my brain cried out unto the silent spaces, "who the fuck would run this piece of shit, and why?" but my mouth spake only "This may have a compatibility issue, let me research a bit and get back to you".

Also, for some reason, he was splitting his space with Spock. Not Leonard Nimoy, mind you, but Spock.[3]

[1] Is he even on any NBC shows?
[2] I don't think I need Freud to figure that bit out.
[3] And they were IM'ing back and forth. There is little that is more weird than the thought of Spock on IM.
serinde: (MY CURSE IZ PASTEDE ON YAY!)
It's a busy week: the students are moving back into the dorms, the faculty is returning to their offices, everyone's working double tides to make sure everything's right and tight for the start of classes next Tuesday.

Therefore, of course, I've come down sick.

I seem to have fought off most of the symptoms--it's chiefly manifesting as total soul-sucking lassitude and enervation, though with a bit of tetchy throat and sinus headache--but even couch + laptop forces me to set it aside and close my eyes every 40 minutes or so. I OBJECT. STRENUOUSLY.

For once, however, I am being smart and actually staying home instead of trying to power through it; and I'm actually getting some stuff done in my moments of lucidity, which I would not if I had dragged my sorry ass in. The other major goal is to shake it before I have to troop off on a family trip Friday night.
serinde: (ze fiber arts)
So I finished...or enough to wear, anyways...three items for this Pennsic, not counting chemises:
1) A red wool under-kirtle ("restrictive layer", as Tasha phrases it)
2) A checked wool over-gown (which I did wear at Mudthaw, but now the actual closures are on &c)
3) A pair of blue-and-cream cotton "brocade" (by which I mean upholstery fabric) sleeves to wear with the gamurre

Results:

1) I am immensely pleased with the red dress. It fits well, it holds me up, it looks fab. The drape of the skirt is awesome. I did intend it for an underlayer and it will do fine as one, but I successfully wore it alone, too. It does want a touch more work, though:

  • I need to pull off the right sleeve, take a dart out like I did on the left side, and re-attach.
  • It isn't hemmed yet.
  • I have to do the lowest several eyelets.
  • The lining is still pooching out above the neckline a bit. There are a couple of options; I could run another line of stitching around further down, or I could face it with silk or grosgrain ribbon or the like. The latter is probably more correct, though now I have to go get ribbon, grump whine moan.


2) The checked wool dress is far less successful. The main issue there is that, lining notwithstanding, it stretched like nobody's business, so when I put it on it was gapping in all sorts of directions, particularly at the neckline. (Beth opines that some of this probably happened when I was ironing it mightily to get the lining all nice and tidy.) I nearly burst into tears when I put it on for the first time. But, at the base of it is a good dress, so here's what we're going to do:

  • Finish hemming it, for one. The pins came out of the last third or so.
  • Take it in.
  • Face the neckline with something good and sturdy, and try and undo the stretch.
  • I may, while I'm at it, redo the sleeves because I'm not really happy about the untidiness there.


3) The sleeves worked great. I ended up sewing them on when I wore them, because I hadn't gotten around to putting lacing holes in them (and I am also learning that it is a stone bitch to try and put in un-agleted lacing cords on your own sleeves), but that is a perfectly period solution anyways. And they looked good with both gamurre. I just need to attach/bind/hem all the raw edges. Maybe I should line them but I really want them to be as lightweight as possible.
serinde: (on the short bus)
serinde: (determination)
So I am back from Pennsic, and quite a war it was--if not in the sense that most people mean it, because I did not see a single battle, and had absolutely no notion on how the tally was going. The entire first half of the week was chiefly swallowed by last-minute sweatshops to finish up a sideless surcoat for a sewing buddy who was being elevated to the Order of the Laurel at court on Wed. evening, which we accomplished, with just enough time to clean up and change and sneak into the back before the ceremony. (There are several disparate rants which are attached to all of that, but I won't get into it now.) It did look fucking awesome, I'm here to tell you. But it is not what I want to spend my vacation doing, so our mantra for next year is Read My Lips, No New Peerages.

The weather was hot and sticky for just about the whole time, except the first night, which was ass-freezing cold (and due to a certain amount of bed jumping, I ended up with insufficient blanketry). This drained my energy and my will to live considerable-like, especially since with other commitments in play I couldn't spend the nasty hours planted in the swimming hole. I'm stuck facing the fact that my chosen century in conjunction with my natural endowment dooms me to unhappiness in hot weather. (LITTLE ICE AGE, PEOPLE!) I was reasonably comfortable in my lighter gamurra, but, I mean, wah. I also kept stealing Beth's bog dress, and was surprised to learn I could wear it without a bra and not be utterly miserable, at least as long as I was just lounging and walking--trying to perform tasks in it (even just washing the dishes or picking up around camp) led to bQQbie issues.

I did, however, exhibit in the A&S display for the first time. I had been dithering about it but, upon receipt of a double-barrelled blast from Beth and Greta, I was all "aaaaaaaaaaa yes yes please don't hurt me", and bodged together some docco on Friday. The display was two dresses, my older green GFD top layer (which I was wearing) and my new checked wool one (on the table), with comments on the differences and learnings gathered therefrom. Mine did not garner a lot of attention from the punters, because it is not ZOMG SHINY, but I was prepared for that; and almost without exception, the people who did stop to take note of it were the serious cats. And I believe I handled the questions they threw at me in a competent fashion. So, I think that can be considered a win. And at least I finished the eyelets on my other new dress in the six fucking hours I was sitting in the sun.

However, about 3 or 4 people either asked if, or assumed that, I had woven the fabric myself. O_O If that's the level we're dealing with, I am so fucking going back to wench-wear. (A propos of which, Real Clothes are too hard to get into and out of, so for Slutty Party Wear I am going to research period prostitute clothing, if indeed it was much different, and see if I can come up with something entertaining. Oh look, more excuses to watch Dangerous Beauty.)

I got a shiny! I have been awarded the Bronze Tower for service to the Barony of Settmour Swamp, chiefly for my helping-out on Troll shifts for Swamp events, and other instances of being my usual domovoi self. I even have a scroll.

Um. Also. There was this boy.
squee
I feel like me again for the first time in years, and by that I mean "long before the breakup".
To [livejournal.com profile] mangosteen: That "GLAH" business you used to bust my chops about? That.

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