Maine

Apparently, there was an election yesterday and Maine decided to reject same-sex marriage laws.

The reason I bring this up is because of the updates I see circulating around facebook, most notably along the lines of: The majority shouldn't be deciding the lives/rights of minorities!*

The United States is a (representative) democracy. If I understand my political theory correctly, a "democracy" is rule by the majority. It doesn't seem inappropriate for the majority to dictate to the minority, in this case regarding same-sex marriage. Unfair, perhaps, but not theoretically inappropriate.

*I'm arguing the syntax used, not the sentiment.

Unsupervised Baking

It is now a rule: I shall not bake in either A) an unfamiliar kitchen or B) with ingredients that are not my own without proper supervision.

The first time I broke this rule, I made sugar cookies at my parents' house and mistakenly used pancake mix instead of real flour, thus breaking both rules.

The second time I broke this rule, I made an apple crisp. "Oh, apple crisp! How easy and delicious!" you say. It is easy and delicious, but I broke rule B. I don't own flour because I'm a lazy starving college student, so Roomie nicely allowed me to use her flour. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Roomie and Roomie's Chem Friend (RCF) decided to run to the store to pick up pizza fixings, leaving me all alone with a new recipe and ingredients that are not my own. You see where this is going, don't you?

I took a container full of white powder -- obviously flour, right? -- and dutifully dished out the required measurements of the flour and the other ingredients for the topping. I was doing a three-quarter recipe since I didn't have 8 large apples, and actually did the math correctly to get 3/4 of 3/4 Cup measurement. I was cutting the butter into the mixture when Roomie and RCF came home.

After mixing the butter with the dry ingredients, I asked Roomie, the resident baking expert, "Does this look right?" She took a look and wondered if I had measured the flour properly. The mixture I had didn't look like it would properly cover the entire pan of apples. I, being an English major who hasn't taken math in almost 3 years, indignantly responded that I tripled checked the measurements. She, being an expert in this recipe, tasted the gooey mixture and instantly gagged.

Apparently what I had thought was flour was actually powdered sugar.

...Oopsie.

The sugary sweetness was dulled with actual flour, also kept in a clear container, and judicious application of more butter and nutmeg. Aside from being sweeter than usual, the crisp turned out deliciously.

I can say with authority that I won't be living down this episode in Cooking With Lisa anytime soon.

Camnesia strikes: there are no pictures of the apple crisp because locusts descended and ate it all.

Rescued

I went to the Goodwill today in search of a pair of jeans. Surprisingly, I was successful. Even more surprisingly, I was successful within the first five minutes. Yet more surprisingly, I scored a pair of DKNY jeans, in good condition, for $5.99. Success was sweet, even knowing I've probably used up all of my jean-shopping karma for the rest of the month.

My jeans, however, are not why I'm posting today. Here is why:

This scarf was sitting there, all innocent-like, when its purpleyness called to me from across the room. Upon discovering it, my little knitterly heart couldn't bear to allow it to remain stranded at the Goodwill. Someone took the time to knit with two strands held together, one of which is (bless her soul) funfur. It deserves a nice home. (Did I mention it was purple?)

Sugar Cookies

I went to Ikea a couple weeks ago and saw a set of animal cookie cutters. The reason I bought them was, of course, for the moose (and squirrel) forms! They were irresistible. I also had a craving for sugar cookies. Add these two factoids together and you have a recipe for deliciousness.

This is the first time I've made sugar cookies, so it was the typical Cooking With Lisa Adventure. My parents keep yellow jars of sugar and flour on the counter top. When I went to grab the required flour from the bucket, I noticed that Dad had changed the container to a clear one at some point. Not really thinking about it, I made the dough and stuck in the refrigerator to chill.

Three hours later, I pulled the dough out of the refrigerator and rolled the dough out. Or tried to, at least. The dough was moist and kind of sticky. I could roll it out but I couldn't separate the excess dough from the cookie shape. Sugar cookie dough should be firmer than that.

It was at this point that I noticed a yellow jar that looked suspiciously like the flour container. Upon closer investigation, I discovered that the flour I had thought was flour was actually... pancake mix! Oops. Since pancake mix is (apparently) mostly flour with shortening and baking powder, I decided to add in (real) flour to make up for the excess of shortening and baking powder. They actually turned out not-half-bad for being mostly pancakes. :)

Unbelievable

I was at the bus stop today, waiting for the bus to take me home. A black woman and her son, who was old enough to be walking and talking but still young enough to warrant a stroller, was also there.

Unbelievable #1: She was cursing and bitching about God knows what. In front of and to her child. I understand that many parents aren't as strict about policing language in front of their children as mine were, but there is a definite difference between cursing in front of a child and cursing at your child. I glanced askance at her once, which was apparently enough of a guilt trip for her to apologize to the bus stop at large about how awful her day has been, sorry for the swearing, blah blah blah.

Unbelievable #2: About five minutes before the bus was due to arrive, the boy told his mother that he needed to use the restroom. The mother was not happy. If she took him to the restroom, they would definitely miss the bus and would have to wait another half hour before the next bus came. I expected one of two reactions: 1) the mother choosing to miss the bus and take her son to the bathroom or 2) ask if he could wait until they got (assuming home was merely a short bus ride away). I never even imagined choice 3 (the mother's choice), which involves young son peeing, not in the bushes, but behind a garbage can. Granted, the garbage can is out of sight of the bus stop, but completely in view of the campus behind the bus stop. I can only imagine the psychological scarring on the boy.

Unbelievable #3: The boy was playing in the dirt when the bus pulls up. The mother stands up and starts pushing the empty stroller toward the bus, saying, "Hurray up! Walk faster!" Honestly, if you're that worried about missing the bus, take the ten seconds to grab the boy and put him in the stroller.

Wow.

Summer Reading

My laptop power supply died a Big Horrible Death(tm), making my computer an over-glorified brick. Without the siren calls of facebook and Google Reader luring me into wasting my days staring at pixels all day, I have returned to my former favorite past-time: pleasure reading. I have also discovered this mysterious institution known as "the library." It's full of books that you can take home with you, read, and return without paying a dime. It's quite amazing, really.

In the week or two that I've been computerless, I have read many books.

• Talyn and Hawkspar by Holly Lisle

I really liked Talyn. It had a unique take on magic use with an interesting plot twist. Hawkspar, while interesting, was average in comparison to Talyn. The "dream style" foreshadowing she used with great success in Talyn appeared overused and tired in Hawkspar. You don't have to read them in order, as they do stand on their own, Talyn sets up some (fairly major) background concepts for the universe of Korre.

Synopses: Talyn, a military mage, is ultimately the only person who can protect her country from a peace gone wrong, negotiated by deceitful diplomats. 15 years later, Hawkspar continues to set right wrongs committed by those same diplomats.

• The Furies of Caulderon, Academ's Fury, Cursor's Fury, and Captain's Fury by Jim Butcher (Codex Alera series)

I read and loved Jim Butcher's other series, The Dresden Files. When I noticed that he had other books, I immediately pursued them. The Codex Alera series is completely different in writing style and tone than The Dresden Files. I give Butcher props for being that flexible with his writing. One negative about the series, though I ultimately liked it, is that the story doesn't really becoming compelling until book two. Maybe that's just me.

Synopsis: In a world where everyone has a personal elemental to perform magic, Tavi has none. Through cunning and intelligence (and not magic), he helps save the kingdom from ruin, invasion, and rebellion.

• The Shadow Queen by Anne Bishop

As much as I hate to say it, The Shadow Queen is a cookie-cutter Black Jewels universe novel. I loved the original trilogy (Daughter of the Blood, Heir to the Shadows, Queen of Darkness) and the first stand-alone novel (The Invisible Ring), but The Shadow Queen left me unsatisfied. It felt like it would be better suited as a short story. The novel focused on (kind-of-mostly) the main characters, (give me a minute to remember their names...) Cassidy, Gray, and Theran, who are trying to find a Queen who isn't a torturing crazy-person to heal the country from the Torturing crazy-person Queens' abuses. I expected to learn more about the universe and what made this specific country and conflict unique. That whole story arc was mostly surface, combining elements Bishop has used in the universe's other novels. The Shadow Queen also focused on the heroes from the original trilogy: Daemon, whose fragile sanity is threatened when his wife kinda-sorta-not-even-a-little-bit acts like the torturing crazy-person Queens who tortured him for most of his life; Saetan (his father), whose sanity is threatened when he is reminded of when he was denied paternity rights to his son because the mother was a torturing crazy-person Queen; and Lucivar (Daemon's brother), brings them all through it with insubordination and shocking language. (I did not make up those names, I swear.) But this was a story about Cassidy-Gray-Theran, right? Ha. In my opinion, Bishop should have written two separate stories to properly do each one justice. I think each story has merit, but the way they were published was not kind to either of them.

• Covenants and King's Own by Lorna Freeman

I just finished Covenants and am in the process of reading King's Own. I really like the blend of humorous and serious materials within the structure of the typical fantasy save-the-kingdom story. My (apparent) outrage over Bishop's less-than-favorite book has (apparently) taken the wind out of my sails in terms of reviewing Freeman's novels. I like them. They're better than The Shadow Queen by a long shot, but not as good as C.S. Friedman's Coldfire Trilogy.

Synposis: Our intrepid hero, Rabbit the human, is charged with escorting the Ambassador of the magic-using Border country to the magic-abhoring Kingdom of Iversterre. Craziness and double dealing ensues, and we discover interesting things about Our Intrepid Hero.

• He's Just Not That Into You by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo

The book the movie (of the same title) was based on. See it, read it, love it.

Thursdays Are For Cleaning

After living with the Wicked Witch of Apartment 421 (colloquially known as Susie) for 7.5 months (June-mid January), I had had enough. I wanted out.* I still had 4.5 months left on my lease with the Wicked Witch, unfortunately, but that didn't stop me. I worked the details out with my friend Kasey and moved in with her.

March 26, 2009 was the last night I spent at Apartment 421. I spent the next 9 days in the Pacific Northwest on spring break. The last day of spring break, April 5, 2009 was the first night in my new apartment (with my amazing new roommate, but that's a given). Fresh from my adventures, I had all the essentials for a barebones bedroom: bed and bedding, computer, cellphone, and computer.

Fast forward 2.5 months. I am completely and utterly free of all obligation to Apartment 421. (Alas, that is not so of the Wicked Witch who lived there. I still have see her one more time to deal with the security deposit reimbursement.) I have been living in Apartment 95 since the beginning of April. When I say "living," I do mean living. I'm not one of those people who naturally keeps my dwelling spotlessly clean (unless I'm living under duress of the Wicked Witch).

I spread myself comfortably around the apartment. Papers, books, computers, cups, plates, magazines, yarn, and homework cover every horizontal space and multiply like tribbles. I leave DVDs and video games piled around the TV area. Pillows, thrown from their chairs, puddle on the floor in random heaps. I could never own white carpets or a white couch because they would end up hopelessly stained. The only reason I do a sweep of my paper trail every day or so is because of the fact that I live with another human being, and we share the public rooms. My bedroom, however, is another matter entirely.

I don't share my bedroom. My bedroom is outrageously large. (Remind me to upload photos of my previous bedroom at home for comparison. My current room is outrageously large.) It can absorb a ridiculous amount of debris before it begins to feel messy. Add in the fact that I have been living with my cluttered ways for 20 years, and I can withstand a messy room for months. And I do.

I have decided that Thursdays are for cleaning. Usually I clean the bathroom. Or the kitchen counters. If I'm feeling truly adventurous, I'll clean the floors. (I hate cleaning floors with a blinding passion.) Maybe I'll take out the trash or recycling. But I never touched my room. I allowed it to wallow in its cesspool of filth. At some undefined point, however, the filth reaches the boiling point and I clean it, with a vengeance. And so Thursdays Are For Cleaning has finally, after nearly three months, reached my bedroom.

*Chronicles of the Wicked Witch of Apartment 421 will be forthcoming, hopefully, at some point.

This post is brought to you by Marley & Me on audiobook.