inasmuch as it concerns Field Notes:
Composting. Sowing seeds. Harvesting bounty. Getting my hands dirty... You realize these are all metaphors for writing, right?
salad days are here
Speaking of annual events that have been affected by the pandemic, today was the first veggie pick-up of 63rd St. Farm's 2020 CSA season. I was both excited about it and dreading it. Excited because, obviously, yay! farm-fresh produce! Also extra variety in greens for the bunnies. But I was kinda dreading submitting myself to yet another errand that had been made more arduous by contagion-suppression processes.
There were three processes each member could choose from, but only one gave me the option to be picky about my veggies and therefore probably not take home an unwanted bunch of cilantro. There are very few things I will not eat, and cilantro isn't precisely one of them--it's omnipresent in Colorado and in many of the cultural cuisines I enjoy, so I've worked up a tolerance more or less out of self-defense--but it's certainly something I will choose not to eat it if I get that choice without causing others too much inconvenience. Although, John points out, if I did wind up with a bunch of cilantro, the bunnies would most certainly eat it for us. But I'd still have to handle it, get the smell all over my hands, and, well, if at all possible, no thanks. (No, it's not that I think cilantro tastes like soap. I think marjoram tastes like soap. I think cilantro tastes like cilantro. And I don't like the taste of cilantro. It is a preference that reasonable people can have, as it happens.) So although I was wistfully tempted by the convenience of the two options involving prepackaged shares, I opted to come on out and select my veggies myself under the farm's strict sanitation and separation rules.
Pick-up hours were from 3:00 to 7:00. I arrived right at 3. And the line of cars was already well out the entrance driveway and damn near sticking out into 63rd street. There was just room for me to squeeze in at the end of the line without blocking traffic. And that was with every driver conscientiously inching up to compress the line just as much as they possibly could. Then the line moved slowly, slowly, slowly along the driveway (I'd brought a book to read, it was cool) toward the check-in station, where the farmers would check off that you'd arrived, give you your instructions, and, if you wanted to buy something extra, like honey or eggs or herbal products, sell you something extra. (I bought a dozen eggs).
After the check-in station, everything smoothed out. I hung a right into their Brand! New! Parking lot! (it wasn't technically much bigger than the old one, but it had a better traffic flow, and that made it feel HUGE) and got myself parked. My next stop was the hand-washing station, which was equipped with liquid soap and running water and paper towels and also a sign reminding you to wash your hands for at least 20 seconds. Then I took a plastic bag from the box of Brand! New! Plastic bags! (we were asked not to bring any from home, and also to save these for use in future, less complicated times) and headed over to the veggie cart.
"Cart" feels like an understatement; the word makes me think of shopping carts and bike trailers and, at most, small horse-drawn conveyances. This was more like a large horse-drawn conveyance, maybe 20 feet long by 6 feet wide, with vegetables arranged along its circumference on a shelf like a grocery store's produce display. Four people were allowed to be at the cart at once; more than that and you waited in line with 10-foot separation. Vegetables were pre-bagged in amounts labeled according to share size (I have a half-share, which is less than a full but more than a small). All you had to do was grab the bags that corresponded with your share size, make that tough choice between chard or kale or collard greens (I've got okra and mirliton at home, of course I chose collards), and maybe sometimes ask for supplies of this or that to be replenished. Which they would be from the prepackaging station where a number of farm staff were very busy not only keeping the cart supplied but also putting together the drive-up shares for those who chose Option #2.
So it all went very smoothly. Everyone, members and farm staff alike, was cheerful and polite and wore their face masks like responsible and caring community members do. The whole experience was much more pleasant than I'd anticipated. And as I left, I saw that the line of cars had now entirely outgrown the driveway and extended for several hundred feet along the shoulder of north-bound 63rd Street, so clearly I'd done well to get there right at 3. In fact, I might try for 2:45 next week. Maybe also budget time to order some pizza to take home. The smells coming from the brick oven were hugely tempting.
Anyway, I got home with fresh veg, made up a plate for the bunnies, and then made up a salad for myself. All in all, it was a successful outing.
after two weeks this is the blog post you get
- 4,600 words (if poetry, lines) long
Hello the blog! It's been a while. Er. Sorry? But I'm back, at least for now.
There were a lot of factors that, multiplied together, produced a couple of pretty pathetic weeks around here. The big one was roller derby. Are you suprised? Nobody is surprised. Well, I'm a little surprised. I mean, yes, two back-to-back tournament weekends, sure, but what about the weekdays in between them? Where the hell did they go?
I've also been caught up in the tedious and terribly familiar down-the-drain roundabout that happens when I get behind on my work. You know this song, right? The first verse is where you know you're late and you hate yourself for being late and if you had any worth as a person and a writer you wouldn't be late. In the second verse, all the bad feelings built up in the first verse form a Humongous Wall of Avoidance between you and catching up on all the late stuff, and by the end of that verse you're later still. During the bridge you lament all the other writing tasks you're not getting to because you have to give the late stuff priority. The third verse is just the second verse over again, louder, and it repeats until fade-out (studio version) or until the audience gets sick of it and goes home without requesting an encore (live version).
I am not going to say anything as decisive as "But I'm all done with that now!" Whenever I do that, then the next day I tend to crumple under the weight of expectation. But I will say, without making any predictions that might emotionally or mentally jeopardize my tomorrow, that I had a damn good today.
Friday Fictionettes: To make Mt. Overdue easier to climb, I decreed that release dates in June 2017 would be the 2nd through 5th Fridays (there is a fifth Friday). Then I proceeded to miss the June 9/2nd Friday deadline. It's all good, though; I've posted it this morning. Then I went on to knock a typewritten page off the top of the overdue Fictionette Artifact stack and also to log the first session towards this Friday's release. So everything is either A) caught up, or B) hopeful.
Short Stories: "Caroline's Wake" came home yesterday with a form rejection. I processed that today in the usual type-a manner then sent the story out to the next market on my wish list that was open to submissions.
Daily Freewriting: I did it. So there.
Household crap: Paid bills. Dealt with dishes both clean and dirty. Cleaned up the produce drawer in the fridge according to good sanitation and food rotation protocols. Ate a big ol' pot of lentils with mixed greens because they are full of magnesium and protein and iron and stuff and also I have a lot of them--CSA is back in session! And I rode my bike to pick up this week's share because the weather was beautiful and exercise is good.
Roller derby: Travel team practice. In consideration of their hard work at the tournament this past weekend, most of the All Stars (A-team) took the night off. So tonight was primarily the Bombshells (B-team) preparing for our June 24th bout. I got something like two and a half solid hours working closely with the other blockers in my "pod" and we all practiced both playing offense on an opposing wall and resisting offense played on our wall.
I've also started coming in an hour early for extra individual skills work. It started out with just Papa Whiskey fine-tuning my plow-stops and blocking form last week, then another skater joined us this week, and a third skater expressed interest in joining us next week. I've taken to calling it "pre-practice study group."
So. That comes to four hours on Tuesdays. But I feel awesome. I'm on skates, I'm part of a team, I'm rostered for the upcoming bout, and I have a home on a pod within that roster. Skating is life. Life is good.
Not gonna lie, I was disappointed not to get rostered with the All Stars for these two tournaments. But, surprisingly, the not-getting-rostered blues wasn't the big deal. I mean, yeah, I had to process my disappointment, sure, take some time to myself to grieve the version of tomorrow I wasn't gonna get. But then I had to put that aside and prepare for the tomorrow I was getting, the one where I got to assist the coaching staff and cheer on my team and participate in all the team stuff surrounding the games.
No, I'll tell you what the big deal was. THE big deal was not skating at the tournaments and not skating at weekend practice, either, because I was at the tournaments I wasn't skating in. It's not just that roller derby skaters need to skate, and not putting on skates for a week at a time hearts their hearts. It's that, on the one hand, you're not "good enough" to be on the main roster, but on the other hand, you're also not getting a chance to improve, because you had to miss practice to be an alternate in the tournament you're not on the main roster for! Arrrrgh.
Now, us two alternates, we did end up getting rostered once. It was for the Saturday morning game at Mayday Mayhem, which two of the regular skaters got called away from because of work. A couple blockers had to jam, so a couple more blockers were needed to take their place in their lines. I think I wound up playing in two, maybe three jams. I don't know. Not the point. Point was, I got to be a skating member of the team for one game. I participated in the team's on-skates warm-up, which made up a little for not having a Sunday practice that weekend. I got to put on skates! For the first time that whole weekend! It felt so damn good.
So that's why a four-hour Tuesday practice is awesome, and why I'm contemplating attending the optional Wednesday practice too. Because skating is life, and skating better makes life better.
And also there won't be practice on Father's Day, so I'm making up for lost time in both directions.
Anyway, that's where I'm at.
Oh, good grief, is it nearly 1 AM already? *sigh* Why only 24 hours in a day? Why haven't they patched that bug yet?
when you get to the ends of things you might look back
Would you look at the size of those carrots? This is the last week of veggie shares from my CSA, and those are finale-sized carrots. I dug up the potatoes I'd planted this year in hopes of matching those carrots in a soup, but all I seem to have grown are potatoes the size of kidney beans. Large kidney beans, like you'd make red beans & rice with, but still. Even smaller than the potatoes you might see sold as "pee wees." Will nothing match those carrots for grandiosity? Perhaps I should go buy some parsnips. And a huuuuuuuge daikon radish.
Speaking of retrospectives (I kind of was, if you squint a little), I've reached the point in The Artist's Way where Julia Cameron tells you to reread your Morning Pages. I've been doing so, but slowly, because even only going back to the beginning of the year, even given that I've only been doing them on weekdays, that's a lot of pages and there are other things I'd like to do with my waking time after all. I'm taking along for the ride a brand new blank notebook that I bought in New Orleans at the Tremé Fall Festival in which I'm jotting down any insights which arise.
it's interesting, and sometimes disheartening, to see what problems remain an unchanged part of my life, and most of them my own doing, too, like "Mustn't get distracted and try to multitask other activities during Morning Pages" or "Mustn't let the day leak away through the cracks in the hours." It's refreshing to see, from what I wrote in anticipation of my very first All Stars practice as a just-made-it A/B crossover skater, that I no longer have the insecurities and self-esteem issues I had back then. (I still have insecurities in that area, but they're different insecurities.) It's surprising to see turns of phrase striking the page like sudden lightning with no indication I thought twice about them at the time I wrote them. ("Pin the blame on the donkey"--ouch. "Morning Pages as a devotional practice"--really? Wow, yes, really.) There's a dream back in early January that I don't think I paid much attention to the morning I jotted it down, even though I'd just come back from a family visit, undoubtedly because I was dealing with more dramatic emotional upheaval fresh from Christmas afternoon, still too blindsided by that to notice the chronic low-level background unease that the dream was pointing out. ("I have brand new arrows. Dad borrows them. He says he has to prep the arrows for use. He does this by breaking them about 6 inches behind the arrowhead. He doesn't understand why I'm angry, nor will he promise to stop doing it, so I have to hide the remaining unbroken arrows in the attic behind a loose board in the wall." SHIT THAT'S UNCOMFORTABLY REAL.)
I'm taking notes and hoping to learn from them. And flinching sometimes. *flinch* It's cool. It's just the contents of my head from ten months ago. No big deal. The contents of my head are often thorny.
In other news, "It's For You" came back last week with a rejection letter and went back out again today with fresh reserves of hope. This is its twelfth time out in the slush mines. I know very well that, in this business, twelve isn't that high of a number, nowhere near high enough to mean I should give up on a story, but it's sometimes hard to remember that. I just keep telling myself, "Remember how that other editor loved it and passed it on to the second round? This is a good story! Someone will buy it!" But what would really make me feel better is having a brand new story to send out to meet the nice people. Only one way to make that happen, though. *cracks knuckles, surveys revision queue*
blogging for people who ought to be editing
- 101 words (if poetry, lines) long
I was wrong--today was not a day with no appointments. Thankfully I remembered before it was too late. Tuesday! Tuesdays mean farm share! So I went and picked that up around 1:00 PM. There were sweet bell peppers and hot poblano peppers and another little half pound baggie of tomatillos and a lovely bunch of carrots and some tasty green chard. Dinner was peppers stuffed with a mixture of sausage, rice, and kale. The leftover stuffing mixture will get rolled up in those chard leaves. The fridge is full of tasty veg and life is good.
I was moving unaccountably slow today and also trying to do all the chores along with my writing, so I didn't quite get to everything I wanted to accomplish. But the daily gotta-dos got done, and "It's For You" went back out on submission. It joins the one I sent out last week (a drabble newly retitled "A Few Words Before We Begin") in the field. I'm sending stories out, y'all! That's what a writer does! (Also the laundry and the dishes are clean, and tomorrow I might just vacuum. RUN AWAY.)
I bought an ebook copy of Rachel Aaron's 2k to 10k: Writing Faster, Writing Better, and Writing More of What You Love and have been reading it this afternoon. I wasn't sure at first whether it would hit the spot with me; my problem isn't lack of word count when I'm generating draft, but rather lack of progress when I'm revising. Still, I'm finding many things she says apply. Or might apply, anyway.
I'm thinking very hard about her theory of not-writing, which is to say, writing avoidance--put simply, she says it's because you don't like what you're writing. That can be either because the story is boring, or you're off on the wrong track, or the scene you're working on doesn't actually belong in the book, or you've got the wrong main character; something, in any case, is wrong. Once you put it right, she says, the writing will be enjoyable again and you won't avoid it anymore because you'll want to do it.
Like I said, I'm thinking very hard about it. It makes sense in terms of the short story I'm having such a hard time revising, but its applicability is less obvious as regards my difficulty starting the work day in the first place. Maybe the answer is "You're bored with the routine of doing morning pages and then freewriting and then a half hour on the week's fictionette." Maybe I need to shake up the daily task list, reorder it, put in the number one slot whatever seems the most fun. Maybe the daily freewriting would be more fun if... something. If I changed it up somehow. I mean, it's supposed to be fun. It's supposed to be playtime. Maybe I'm just bored with the current crop of writing prompts and I need something more silly and playful.
Anyway, Part II has a chapter called "Editing for People Who Hate Editing," which sounds like it just might be something I need to read. I'm looking forward to it, anyway.
life is what obliges you, when you're planning to be virtuous, to be virtuous in some other way
Ever had one of those mornings where you wake up ready to do all the things, and then life gets in the way? Right. Like that. I even got up early for an 8:00 a.m. dental cleaning, came home around 9:00, and didn't go back to bed. I was awake all of the hours, but life kept wedging its way into every one of them. Appointments! Errands! Cleaning! Importunate hummingbirds!
Thankfully, I was able to convince myself with a clean conscience that some bits of life counted as writing. "Business copy-writing, pro-bono." Sound good? Right. Well, that bit of business copy-writing pretty much filled up my afternoon shift and brought me to four-hour mark; this blog post will bring me to the coveted five-hour mark.
And if it doesn't... well, I have ever so many other writing tasks need doing. And for once I'm not suffering a total enervated poop-out after derby. (I had derby tonight. Yes, my team's still on break, but heck if I'm going to miss a RollerCon debriefing practice. That's where they teach us all the things!) So. Hi.
Here's a bit of life that is tasty: the weekly CSA pick-up. The bread's a walnut sourdough this time because the regular wasn't available sliced at the moment and I was feeling adventurous. John seems to like it too; he's been munching on it while taking notes on the bout footage our team's going to be studying tomorrow evening. Collards, kale, and chard are all making an appearance. So are tomatoes, cucumber, and squash. Peppers are back--turns out they really are just bell peppers, despite that last week's did have more of a hot edge than I expect in a bell. Must have been all that hot and dry weather (where did it go, by the way? Woke up this morning and it was overcast and drizzly. Are you telling me fall is finally here?). And, making its exciting debut (at least in this venue), corn! These ears were grown at a farm in Longmont which appears to have set up a trade with the Diaz Farm for mutual fresh yumminess.
Today was a good day for eating farm fresh goodness. Breakfast was one of those hashbrown/omelet/fritter concoctions featuring kohlrabi leaves still kicking around in the crisper drawer. Also garlic, because by now I've got oodles. Lunch was Annie's Mac & Cheese, var. "Peace Parmesan," featuring kale and yellow squash from the Diaz Farm and ground Italian-style sausage from Spring Tree Farms. That would be the show pigs farm in Longmont CO, not the wedding location in Tennessee--although Baconator has hosted a few weddings on her farm, to be sure, and they were lovely affairs. But mainly she's about the pigs--hence the skate name--and she always gives her roller derby league advance notice when she's about to process a critter into sausage. We buy it up like woah, because it is delicious.
Cooking experiments inspired by Patricia McKillip's The Book of Atrix Wolfe also continue, sometimes almost by accident. Last week Wednesday I left my chiropractic appointment and wandered up the road to Skeye Brewing. Skeye has beer, and not much else. But Skeye wants you to drink more of the yummy beer, and if that involves helping you pick a tasty nearby food joint to order delivery from, then by all means. I ordered the crispy duck from one of the Chinese options (I honestly don't remember which; it's the one with a minimum delivery order of $12 instead of $15. I'll pay better attention next time). I brought home the bones and what shreds of meat I wasn't able to devour all in one sitting, and I wound up over the weekend simmering it with bay and cloves for soup, remembering the bit where the fictional head cook decrees a similar fate for the bones of a ham that went uneaten because of Plot Crisis. When it had simmered for a few hours, I drained the broth, put it back into a pot, added what meat was left along with the leftover fried rice, and had a fine light-yet-hearty soup for dinner. It was a lot like dirty rice, only soupier.
So with a certain amount of life out of the way, I go now to enjoy the bits of life that involve doing absolutely nothing productive until bedtime. Huzzah!
literary kitchen experiments in the near future
It's always exciting when the weekly CSA share has a new vegetable in it. This week featured the first green peppers of the season. I think I will put mine in my Pseudo-Medieval Chicken Experiment tomorrow, about which more in a moment. The rest of the share was: Salad greens, zucchini and/or yellow squash, cucumber, kale, collards, tomatoes, and the weekly loaf of bread. And little bitty peaches as a sort of lagniappe; a friend of the farm had given them a ton of 'em, so they were passing the yummy along to their members. I'd consider putting the peaches into the Pseudo-Medieval Chicken Experiment too, only I've already eaten them all.
OK. So. Chicken experiment. Here's the thing: I just reread Patricia McKillip's The Book of Atrix Wolfe. One of the main characters scrubs pots all day in the castle kitchens, so the reader gets to hear a lot of kitchen talk. And a lot of the kitchen talk is the head cook telling everyone what to cook. And they're cooking for the king, so you better believe they're cooking some amazing things. In quantity.
Supper was a prolonged drama of great pies of hare and venison with hunting scenes baked in dough on their crusts, vegetables sculpted into gardens, huge platters layered with roast geese, woodcocks and pigeons, and crowned with tiny hummingbirds made of egg white and sugar.
...as they drizzled a latticework of chocolate sauce on a stewed pear, and placed walnut halves on small tarts of egg and cheese and finely chopped mushrooms.
"I grated the barest fleck of nutmeg into the raspberry sauce," the sauce cook said....
I want to try it all. But there are no recipes, only these descriptions. I am astounded to be unable to find such a thing as a Cookbook of Atrix Wolfe out there in the wide Googlable world (though in my searches I did come across this article by McKillip herself retelling her most memorable kitchen disasters). I'm just going to have to improvise and research and experiment.
Some things described herein are a little beyond me...
"So I boiled the boar's head in a stock of onions and pepper and rosemary; salt I added later, and garlic," a stew-cook said to another.... "I debated raisins and cranberries, but decided on garlic instead, and tiny onions and tiny red potatoes. The brains and tongue are simmering with leeks and cloves."
...mostly because I'm not sure where I'd find a boar's head, nor a pot big enough to boil it in, nor enough people willing to try the results of the experiment with me. Most people I know draw the line at brains. If I'm cooking something uncertain, I cook in small quantities and for myself alone; the experiment may not succeed, but its audience is guaranteed to eat it regardless.
Other descriptions sound a lot more like something I could do without a lot of prep or complication:
"Sauce. Orange and honey for the duck, pear and onion for the pheasant."
So I did a little searching and found a recipe involving a sauce of pear and caramelized onion, and when I went to the grocery today I made sure to pick up a pear and a couple chicken breasts (they did not have duck or pheasant that I could see). Tomorrow or maybe Thursday I'm going to see what I can do with it.
on the last late fictionette and the near future of skating
- 1,143 words (if poetry, lines) long
All right! Here is last Friday's fictionette, the one for August 26: "How the Drought Was Ended" (...and at what price). There's a touch of political satire in there, if you're looking for it. It's not a big thing. It was just, given the premise, how could I resist a little poke? Anyway, you can read the teaser excerpt via the link above (here it is again!). For subscribers, there is the ebook (pdf and epub) and the audio (mp3). The latter is useful if you want to know how I pronounce the name of the Royal Hero. (You, of course, may pronounce it any way you like.)
I suspect I'll wait until Friday to release the Fictionette Freebie for August 2016. Yes, that means waiting until September 2, but it also means I can roll that announcement out with that of the first Friday Fictionette of September. Presuming I upload the thing on time. I darn well intend to. I am tired of this always-being-late nonsense!
In the meantime, I get to breathe a little. I am officially off from All Stars practice until September 20th. It's nice to have a few weeks during which I'm not working my butt off three nights a week. And, weird though it is to see my arms utterly bare of bruises, it's very nice to have a few weeks during which I'm not getting voluntarily beat up for the love of roller derby--this, in fact, is the stated purpose of having a month off; we're supposed to take this time to heal. But I miss being on skates!
Today I did a little something about that, going for a bit of an evening trail skate with my good friend and ex-next-door-neighbor Seven of Grind. (Not ex-neighbor. A five-minute walk means we remain neighbors. But before we moved, it was a 5-second walk barefoot and, if necessary, in a bathrobe.) I think we were on skates for the better part of an hour, and there were uphills and downhills and bumpy bits to toe-stop-walk over. A bit more agility and cardio than going to the Wagon Wheel would have required (we were planning on going, but not enough people RSVP'd to justify holding the adult skate session this time around), but also a bit less endurance over time, so it evens out.
Then there was yummy food and tasty beverages at the Rayback Collective, Boulder's newest... well, I don't know what to call it. Food truck park and microbrew oasis? Community space? Permanent street party? It's very Boulder, is what it is. I've had a good time hanging out there in the past for some quality playtime on my laptop. Its location right on Elmer's Two Mile Creek Greenway makes it a great place to meet friends, gear up, and start skating, which is essentially what we did.
I could see myself doing this, or something like this, once a week during my "roller derby vacation." Possibly more. Taking the time to heal is good, but there's no call to let the skating muscles get entirely out of condition.
Oh! Almost forgot: Attached please find the weekly Still Life With CSA Vegetables photo. It features:
- The weekly loaf of sourdough bread,
- tomatoes (including a Green Zebra - yes, it's ripe),
- collard greens,
- and a bag of young salad greens.
Here is what I've been doing with the collard greens: I have been shredding some four or so leaves into a mixture of grated potato, grated turnip, and minced garlic, all bound up with a couple beaten eggs and seasoned with garlic salt and both black and red pepper, the resulting hash/fritter/omelet/pancake fried in canola oil until thoroughly cooked and crispy on both sides. Spread apple sauce on top, and breakfast is a time of great joy.
a short story for when i can't manage a longer one
OK. So. D2 Wichita. That... was a thing that happened.
It is much easier to talk about vegetables.
Yesterday I managed to drag myself up to Longmont for chiro and then back down to Boulder to drop off the rental car. Then I managed to walk home from the Hertz establishment (via the Parkway Cafe for brunch and the bank for check deposits). Today I managed to get out of the house like a regular human being and bike up to the farm for CSA pick-up. I keep saying "managed" because it feels like an accomplishment.
Quite a few of my teammates--and my coach, too--had to go back to work on Monday. I am not sure how they managed it.
While I was at the Parkway Cafe, one of the waitstaff looked at me and said, "So who's been beating on you? Roller derby, right?" I said, "Yeah, about four teams worth. It was playoffs." When she brought me my check she told me to "go home and heal up." I have come home from derby looking bruised before, but this time around, I looked like a plague victim. It was ridiculous. And I had a swollen, tender lymph node on the right because apparently sufficient blunt force trauma can trigger an immune system reaction. Turns out that four games against D2-level teams can do that to a body.
Nevertheless, like I said, I did manage to bring home the veggies today. What we have here is the weekly loaf of bread plus kale, collards, kohlrabi, tomatoes, cucumber, garlic, and radishes. I immediately broke into that bounty to use up most of the rest of my stuffed chard leaf stuffing from Thursday: breakfast sausage, wild rice, garlic, chives, parsley, salt, pepper, red pepper, and an egg. This time I blanched all the kohlrabi leaves from this and previous weeks, and some of last week's kale, to wrap it up in, overlapping leaves where a single leaf was too small. That, plus some cucumber-and-tomato salad, was dinner.
The stuffed chard leaves worked out quite well, by the way. I munched half of them on the ride over to Wichita and the other half on Friday between games.
Do I sound a little scattered? I'm still a little scattered. Getting better. Managed to get some writing done and also some league admin stuff--mostly the bout production and forum admin stuff that was waiting for me. Spent most of the evening pruning spam registrations out of the database, as that takes mercifully little brain.
The weekend used up all of my brain. Well, most of it. What little mind it didn't use up it simply blew. Lots of minds were blown. Because out of our four games, we won three. We came in as the #8 seed but walked away with 5th Place. We came within 15 points of beating the #1 seed, and we did beat the #2 seed, making WFTDA history thereby. Then we drove home, essentially going "That game. OMG that game" to each other pretty much all 550 miles of the way.
OMG that game. Those games. OMG this weekend.
That's the short story.
I may manage the longer version tomorrow.
tomatoes, wftda watch passes, and the dangers of 12-hour pseudoephedrine
So, pro-tip about those 12-hour Sudafed tablets. Turns out, it's not such a good idea to take one at 5:00 PM, not if they're the Non-Drowsy Maximum Strength variety. I did not actually get to sleep until... well, almost 5:00 AM, about 12 hours after I took the dratted thing. I really should have also bought a box of the 4-hour tablets, just for scheduling flexibility. Well. I'll know for next time.
Anyway, there's no way I can make it through a work day on only three hours sleep, especially if there's roller derby practice at the end of it. The last roller derby practice before playoffs, in fact. Kind of important. So once I was able to sleep I tried to stay that way for as long as I could. Which meant I wasn't out of bed until after one in the afternoon. Which meant not a lot of things got done other than the absolutely necessary.
One of those absolutely necessary things, of course, was biking up to The Diaz Farm for my CSA share. Yay, pretty pictures of delicious veg! Those two Early Girl tomatoes were the high point of this week's pick-up--the first fresh, ripe tomatoes of the season. I immediately ate one with about half a cucumber, sliced up and dressed with a creamy balsamic vinaigrette. I've been fortunate to have been getting a few small tomatoes here and there from my back porch plants--Sungold cherries, elongated San Marzanos, and little round Brillantes, all of them more orange than red (expected behavior for the Sungolds, not quite so much for the others) and probably a little stunted from their growing conditions. But these plump two tomatoes coming home from the farm today were quite a treat.
I've been thinking about ways to convert some of this bounty into road trip snacks. The carrots are obvious--just bring them like they are. Maybe chop the largest ones into sticks. Zucchini is also tasty raw. I still haven't made those carrot-and-kohlrabi fritters; those would probably transport well. My latest genius idea is sausage-stuffed chard leaves--blanche the chard until tender, put a dollop of ground sausage cooked with onions and garlic into each, then just roll the leaves up into little bundles. Kind of like dolmades, but with chard instead of grape leaves. (Baking may be involved. I forget. I need to check my recipes.) Then stick them in a plastic bag, shove 'em in the ice chest, and eat 'em cold in the car whenever hungry.
Speaking of D2 Playoffs, I've had a request to post ALL THE LINKS here. The link above features our tournament bracket (there's that link again!), showing who plays whom at what time. You can see that we start out in Game 2 against the Chicago Outfit at
10 AM Central (9 AM Mountain) Noon Central (11 AM Mountain) on Friday, August 19. After that, our schedule depends on wins and losses.
Edit: I keep saying our first game is scheduled for 10 AM because for a hot minute it was. But then they changed the schedule, giving us the noon game, and we all breathed a sigh of relief because a lot of us aren't getting into town until midnight that morning. Still, I seem unable to wrap my brain around it for the purposes of telling people when to watch us.
If you want to watch it live--and why wouldn't you? Three days of non-stop derby derby derby featuring some of the best teams internationally!--you can get set up to do just that over at WFTDA.tv. You can buy a watch pass just for this weekend, or you can buy the big ol' humongous package that covers your live derby viewing pleasure for both D2 weekends, all four D1 weekends, and Championships too:
- D2 Playoffs: Wichita, Aug 19 – 21 – BUY WATCH PASS ($12.99)
- BUY PLAYOFFS + CHAMPIONSHIPS BUNDLE (U.S. ONLY) ($75)
- BUY PLAYOFFS + CHAMPIONSHIPS BUNDLE (NON-U.S. ONLY) ($75)
- View all available watch passes for the 2016 International Playoffs & Championships
Links will take you to the page on which you'd watch the stream, where you'll be prompted to log in. If you haven't yet bought your "virtual ticket," you'll click the green button with the price tag on it. That will pop up a window in which you'll log onto Cleeng.com, which is the outfit that WFTDA uses to manage the sale of watch passes.
I'm guessing that the bundle is divided into a U.S. and a Non-U.S. version because it includes Championships, which is being carried by sports channel ESPN3 for the second year running. When major cable TV gets involved, national borders become a Thing. The pass just for this weekend does not specific U.S. or Non, and the broadcast is just your regular WFTDA.tv livestream, which is essentially an HD Youtube video--it ought to be viewable from anywhere in the world. But I have had one friend in Canada (a flagmate on Puzzle Pirates, of course!) tell me that it wouldn't even let him log on because "it hates Canadians!" I have not yet confirmed that the link above is the link he tried, though, so I'm really not 100% certain about this. I double-checked Cleeng's FAQ, and it had a lot to say about watching from within the EU and so forth; besides, Cleeng is what they're using to sell the Non-U.S. watch pass bundle. (Maybe you should log onto Cleeng via the Non-U.S. bundle, but then back out before actually buying it, and then see if you can buy the watch pass via the D2 Wichita link now that you're successfully logged in?)
Anyway, if you're outside the U.S. and want to watch us skate this weekend, let me know whether the single weekend D2 pass works for you. Inquiring minds etc.
If you don't want to, or aren't able to, watch us live, then keep your eyes on the archives, as all D2 Wichita games will probably show up there early next week. Archived footage at WFTDA.tv is always free to watch.
That's it for me tonight--I'm going to be very good and do my at-home traction, but after that I'm down for the count. I took a 12-hour Sudafed just about 12 hours ago, so with any luck I'll actually get to sleep tonight. Good luck me.
close only counts in horseshoes and i am declaring this a game of horseshoes
Another Tuesday, another pile of gorgeous edibles coming home with me from the farm. We have cucumber, zucchini, garlic, kohlrabi, rainbow chard, rainbow carrots, mixed salad greens, and bread. I'm thinking tomorrow I'm finally going to try the kohlrabi carrot fritters recipe I came across the other day.
Heavy duty cooking was out of the question today. Today I had to use my lunch break to package the Asus X540 and bring it to FedEx for shipping. That was fun. And by "fun," I mean unnecessarily worrying. I was filling out the checklist, writing up a description of the problem, and I thought, "Hey, let's just double-check that it's still happening." AND IT WASN'T. I had the laptop unplugged and sitting next to the box I was going to put it in, and just for fun I pressed the power button, AND THE DAMN THING STARTED RIGHT UP. Stayed on, too, until I shut it down some forty-five minutes later. Didn't matter what I did--opened and closed the lid, picked it up and swung it around, tilted it this end up or that end up, carried it around the house--the dratted thing acted like it had never had a battery problem in its life. Like it had never refused to turn on while I was at lunch with no AC power. Like it had never crashed and died upon my unplugging it for travel, then cheerfully reported a 98% charge when I next plugged it in and turned it on.
I wrote up an addendum. "Problem is sporadic. Please investigate battery stability regardless of whether problem replicates." Also, "Problem may be with battery incorrectly reporting a full charge. After notebook had been plugged in for several days, I was unable to recreate the problem."
Then I biked the package to FedEx and sent it on its way. Then I spent an hour or so illustrating Fictionette Artifacts over pho and spring rolls. Almost done, y'all!
I still haven't submitted the story I've been meaning to submit, which feels kind of stupid. I should do it tonight, except I'm a little worried about my ability to assemble a respectable submission in Standard Manuscript Format with post-derby brain. Maybe I should just keep typing up and illustrating that last Artifact. Only, again, there's the post-derby brain problem. Typos! And there's only so much you can do with correction ribbon, especially when you've been back and forth over that ribbon about four times. (I really should order a new typewriter ribbon.)
Things are mostly on track. It hasn't exactly been the Tuesday I was planning on, but, y'know, close enough for horseshoes and rock 'n roll.