serinde

I'm on a mailing list for discussion of 14th c. costuming. It's generally pretty informative, and all is fine. Except...a continually-recurring question is one that boils down to, "How can I do it wrong and make it look right?" To me the answer is simple: YOU CAN'T. Wearing a sports bra, or wrapping your breasts, or only wearing one gown and putting fake sleeves underneath, or trying to have some of the fit happening in the chemise--none of these will work if you're trying to replicate that particular look. You may come up with something that passes the squint test from someone who has only seen froofy post-period paintings, but don't delude yourself that it's going to be accurate. It will fit differently, it will feel differently, it will hang differently. You Will Not Look Like The Source Material.

Now, you may not have the facilities or resources to have such a garment fitted to you, which is how it would be done correctly. And that's fair. One does what one can, and sometimes trade-offs must be made. But that's not the way, it seems to me, that a lot of people are approaching the problem. I might be misinterpreting what I'm reading, but there seems to be a strong meme of "I don't wanna do it that way!" with concomitant delusions that it can instead be faked. Bah.

(Jesus H. Christ. I just did a Google Image Search on "cotehardie" and one of the images on the first page is something that looks like a nightie with a black leather girdle laced over it. DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE)

I have decided, determined, and resolved that I shall not approach my next vacation as the Allies approached Operation Overlord, which had been my usual wont. For our upcoming trip to the Antipodes, I will not make detailed plans of what points of interest we need to hit on which days for greatest efficiency, complete with scheduled & defined meal locales and other hysterics. I shall instead treat it as a vacation, where I shall wake in leisurely fashion[1] and, over a relaxing intake of (reputedly-excellent) coffee and pastry, discuss with my Beloved Husband what we feel like doing that day.

I make this declaration because a) I'm getting way too much like my mom, particularly when A Plan is deviated from; and b) for the sake of my pooky, who is starting to get a hunted look whenever I nag him for "So what do you want to doooooo when we go?".

[1] As leisurely as I can, anyways. On vacations I tend to be about like a kid on Christmas morning, snapping awake at the crack of dawn and bouncing on the bed to wake everyone else up in my sheer excitement at YAY NEW STUFF YAY. Steve hates this, too.

I have problems walking today. I will keep wearing my Naughty Schoolmarm Shoes (this time to sweh's office Xmas party), even though after a full day they make me wish for death. But they are so very, very hot. "Life IS pain, Highness."

Going out today to test-drive vans, because we just aren't suburban enough. (Need to have a people-mover by Arisia.) It's between the Kia Sedona and the Toyota Sienna. It says something incredibly, incredibly silly about us that the major misfeature of the Sedona is that it cannot support satellite radio.

My work's office party is next Friday. Here is a new dimension of lame: it is a party for all faculty & staff...but there are only 400 "invites". Apparently this is because that's the most number of people the cafeteria can hold. Well, gosh, maybe you should try holding it somewhere else so everyone who wants to attend can do so? (My connections hooked me up, so it's not sour grapes here; I just find the situation moderately offensive.)

Had my first work-related stress dream last night; a minor one. It actually started out as an Arisia stress dream (though it seemed more like the Lunacon hotel, in fact), as I ran around frantically trying to make sure that the room(s) we had were suitable and getting a party set up and blah blah blah. (Note to auntiemisha: Yes, b00jum is crashing with us.) But at the very end, somehow The Boss was coming into inspect the arrangements with some of the student workers in tow and I was freaking out because I had a strong sense of having Done It Wrong. I think what's up with this is either having a tender pink conscience about having bunked off two Fridays running to go to various other events (not that the CUNY IT conference is anyone's idea of a good time; and the Apple presentation yesterday was useful and I learned things), or a vote of No Confidence from my psyche about the next big step, which is standing up to a bunch of people who are older and more experienced and been around longer than me and saying "Shut it, relics, this is how it's going to be from here on in." I have an ego, I know I do; I think it's just been in hibernation from hanging out with geniuses for so long. (I'm very smart, but I'm not a genius.) And there have been a sufficiency of times in my life where I've merrily plunged ahead, sure I was right, and then looked dumb. I really, really hate looking dumb. However, neither do I choose to be frozen in cowardly indecision.

There's talk about going to QXT tonight (but there still seems to be a lot of stomach upset in the house, so I don't know if this is happening). If you think you might be up for it, let me know.

I forgot: Awesome essay by Nathan Fillion, forwarded by dariodevil. Wah I want more Firefly. *sniff* We've decided to re-watch the whole thing over the holidays.

Dear terrestrial radio stations: If you must needs bleep, and I wish to Christ you wouldn't, just do not fucking bother playing Nine Inch Nails. kthxbye.

I have been sitting here playing CoH, as I do. And Ranger came up and meowed for snuggly lap time, as he does. And he started rubbing his face against mine (which makes for *interesting* computer play, as you might guess) as usual.

What is different is that, ten minutes after he jumped down and went about his fuzzy business, I started breaking out in hives all over my cheek and arm, where he had been rubbing. If he was an outdoor cat, this might make some degree of sense; he could have gotten into evergreen sap or yew needles or something...but there is nothing in the house I am allergic to, at all.

My potato bread does, in fact, kick impressive amounts of ass. (I may make it again tomorrow.) The soda bread is a bit ehh and dry, but I was kind of expecting that. Gangs of New York is still a pretty excellent movie that is woefully encumbered by a pointless, gratuitous, generic romantic subplot pastede on yay (and the last ~half hour should be its own extended music video or something).

Our D&D group is in combat, and according to custom, have appropriate movie-soundtrack background music.

DM audiovile: As soon as we get our Big 60" TV, you should all come 'round and watch it.
Emo Wizard's player, to Heretic Cleric's player: Or we could watch it on yours, right? You have a big one now, don't you?
Heretic Cleric's player: Yeah, 56"
Emo Wizard's player: That works for me! Like a good girlfriend, I won't notice the four inches.

Everything appeared on the table a) roughly on-time, b) in the expected form, and c) without losing my shit in any way, shape, form or fashion. Win! This in spite of the oven catching fire at one point (the foil roasting pan I'd got for the 2nd turkey had, it developed, a hole in the bottom, whence escaped some liquid fat. Hilarity ensued). I would also like to seize the opportunity to commend sous-chefs elibalin and jdev, who did lots and lots of chopping and similar tedious, time-consuming chores to help the trains run on time.

I did not stuff either turkey. The one in my normal pan took 2 hours; the other 2:15. (I put them into a 500 deg. oven and turned it down to 350 after ten min.) This brining thing seems to be A Great Goodness, indeed; the turkeys were amazingly juicy and nice. I refrained from salting the skin because blah blah brine blah; but it wasn't actually that salty at all. Oh, and after all my woe and agitas? We didn't even finish the first turkey. Sheesh. Well, LOTS AND LOTS of turkey leftovers makes me happy.

Did the stuffing separately. I still like it better if it's been soaking up turkey yum for hours; I had put some broth in to moisten, but it isn't the same. The TJ's "texas toast" makes a good bread base. Also needed more salt.

I'm happy that gravy is now a familiar and unstressful process for me, at least if I have enough of the correct fat and correct liquids. I'm also relieved that 2c was enough, which I had not thought it would be.

Cranberry sauce: the best I've done yet. Even if I forgot to put it on the table til halfway through the meal.

The mashed potatoes were performed by jdev and were exactly how I like 'em. Much leftovers, which I shall use for Nigella's fishcake recipe today or tomorrow, or possibly make potato pancakes.

Steve ate his ceremonial quarter of the mashed turnip rutabaga and the rest was junked.

The green beans were not a big hit. For full disclosure, they are lightly boiled then tossed with roasted shallots and a dressing consisting of olive oil, vinegar, anchovy, and a fuckoff lot of roasted garlic. I could sense from my result what a wondrous thing it would be in the hands of the actual restaurant, but I didn't really Achieve It. Probably didn't help that I had to do a bunch of the work far earlier than was desirable.

The roasted cauliflower salad supposedly served 8. Yes, maybe if that's all they're eating this week... LOTS of leftovers. It is from a recipe they serve at Steve's work cafeteria, and he was somewhat surprised to see actual salad greens in it. (!) Apparently the samples they give out is just the roast cauliflower tossed with the dressing, some pine nuts, and a wee bit of radicchio. Done according to the actual recipe, the cauliflower & nuts are more of an accent than a focus, and I think I would scale back the greenery in future. (Even if it's good for us.)

Pumpkin pie: old familiar hat, this, but a particularly good one even so.
Dense chocolate cake: also just right.

During movie time was cheese & salami brought by elibalin, and I pushed the apple crisp back to then as well. (Did not make the bar nuts. May do today or tomorrow.) Apple crisp: even older familiar hat, and astoundingly simple to make, so I am not even giving myself a back-pat for it. (In my family this is called "apple pudding", I don't know why; it is like neither American pudding nor British pudding.)

During late-night PS2 time was TJ's dark chocolate pistachio toffee. My complexion will be utterly doomed next week. But oh my Christ is that stuff good.

For some reason, it's harder to sit down and organize my thoughts on the train these days; and I don't have time to do scribblies in the morning, so I keep ending up in a giant tangle of O Noes, What Should I Be Doing When?. Therefore, I am wilfully taking five minutes of work time plus coffee to get my poop in a group as regards Operation: Thanksgiving.

( Menu: )

Last night I bought wine, made the cranberry sauce and the chocolate cake, and realized I was out of baking soda. ... Though I'm not sure I'll need it for anything else, at that.

Tonight I'll be at sweh's, so no prep.

Tomorrow evening I make the pumpkin pie and set out the stuffing bread, and maybe do some advance chopping of celery and onion.

Thursday I go ballistic and make everyone around me cower in terror. Step 3: Profit?