iRock!

I pretty much fail in all areas mechanical or technical. There's nothing I hate more than fiddling around with tiny, hidden away, easily lost parts. And yet today I managed, with the snarky but able assistance of The Dark Lord, to save myself a couple hundred bucks by reviving my dying iPod.

I never intended to become a Pod person but my spiffy green mini was a freebie a couple of years ago when we were flush (remember the real estate boom?) and I bought the boys a brand new iBook for animation. While I loved having hundreds of songs with me in the car, the iPod became more valuable once I started my regular walking routine. Nothing gets me going like an uptempo playlist and I enjoyed working on the timing so the peppiest songs would get me up the big hill halfway through my regular walk. I then discovered how very handy an iPod could be in learning Torah readings. I can download mp3 files and practice to my heart's content at home, at work (before class), in the car and even out of town. And when I'm up late at night, working on some new project or knitting to meet a deadline, I love to pop on the headphones for a good podcast to keep my brain going without waking up my family. It didn't take long for me to fall in love with my little mini.

A few months ago some friends were talking about the notoriously short life of iPod batteries. In total denial, I insisted they must be wrong. Maybe other iPods had trouble but mine was working perfectly. And it was....until a few weeks ago when it started flashing weird messages at me and running out of juice only a few blocks into my walk. Not only am I not in a financial position to replace my little green companion, I really cringe at the thought of replacing something that shouldn't have to be replaced, spending money needed for other things, and tossing my sweet mini in the landfill. I began Googling solutions and quickly came across these guys who promised an affordable and painless battery replacement. What could I lose? The darned thing didn't work anyway, so I placed my order.

My new battery came promptly, but the instructions were daunting. Tearing into my iPod with their special "iOpener" was no easy feat and the case does look a little worse for wear. I called on The Dark Lord for moral support and a bit of teen bravado to crack the case but we did get it open, only to discover a surprising amount of cat hair inside. How in the world does cat hair get inside the iPod? I hadn't realized just how much stuff was in that little case and it was quite fascinating to peek inside.Once the guts were exposed it really was a fairly simple matter to disconnect the old battery, hook up the new one, and slide it all back together.

There was a lot of non-technical wiggling that went on in order to reassemble everything but all in all it was maybe a 20 minute operation. And miraculously nothing was damaged. The scroll wheel still works, the backlight comes on, and all the music is till there. For a $30 investment, I ought to get many more months of service from my free iPod. Yippee! This bodes well for my next planned techie adventure--updating the memory in my laptop. Luckily my Dear Old Dad is going to help me through that!

Last Meal?

I was recently listening to KCRW's Good Food podcast whose focus mostly on Thanksgiving cooking, but there was a brief and touching segment in which callers described, in their own voices, their chosen last meal. I found it very poignant as well as quite thought provoking.

My last meal? Hard to say. I might let the good folks at Nuestra Cocina cook anything they wanted for me. I might ask for dosas from Chennai Masala. Or maybe my grandmother's beef brisket with baked potatoes and her tooth achingly sweet fruit salad.

If it were the last meal I ever cooked, well that's easy. I'd have my friend Laura join me once again to make buttery fresh corn tamales.

And what about you?

Mosaic Monday

If you click on the mosaic, it should open full size in another browser window. I encourage you to look closely--there are some real gems here.

A Date with MonkeyBoy

MonkeyBoy and I love Bollywood movies and have gone through everything our library has as well as many of the titles available on Netflix. We've seen a lot of movies, a few more than once, but what we've never managed to do was see one of these films in a theater.

It recently came to my attention that if I was willing to make a long drive and spend and exorbitant amount of money on tickets, we could see the latest Bollywood blockbuster on the big screen. The boy and I had a date and saw Om Shanti Om which was absolutely delightful. Apart from a Latino family, we were the only non-Indians in the theater. We had a moment of panic when the film started and the narration began without subtitles but it wasn't long before the English kicked in and we were able to follow the story just fine.

What I loved was that this movie brilliantly made fun of everything that I love about the genre: the self conscious actors, the dream sequences, the silly songs, copious costume changes, and convoluted and highly improbable plot lines. We got many of the jokes and references thanks to having watched so many of these films recently. While things began to plod after the intermission, the first half was very funny. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time.

This is a second run theater--tickets normally cost $3.75 but they charge $12 for the Hindi films which seems a little bit over the top. We won't be running out there often, but this was a wonderful treat for the two of us and I'm glad I can count on Monkey Boy's company for such jaunts.

Thanksgiving Leftovers

Things just didn't go that well for me on the biggest cooking holiday of the year here in the US. My apple crostata slumped and sagged while the shell for my maple cream pie was powdery above the filling and soggy underneath. I used slightly different dough recipes for each and both were off, so I'm blaming the flour rather than the recipes or the cook. Neither were inedible--we decided the crostata was too ugly for the Thanksgiving table and polished it off midday and the maple cream pie was silky and delicious despite its subpar crust. I thought there was too much nutmeg in the recipe and will cut way back next time because I want my maple cream pie to taste more like maple and not so much like eggnog but it was still quite delicious.

See how I started off talking about dessert? That's just like me.

The dinner itself was fine. I made a kosher turkey with cornbread stuffing, sweet potato kugel, mashed potatoes, roasted cauliflower, challah rolls, and fruit salad. I'm not much of a meat eater so the whole process of cooking a giant bird makes me a bit queasy and I end up eating one slice of breast meat and moving on to the other dishes. The reality is I like cooking meat even less than I like eating it and I'd be perfectly happy with a vegetarian Thanksgiving.

We had lots of leftovers. I put the turkey carcass in my huge stockpot with onions, celery, and carrots to make turkey stock which I put to good use last night. Our Shabbat dinner included lots of Thanksgiving leftovers along with a Greek style egg-lemon soup using some of that rich turkey stock. The Picky Ones declared it "weird" and focused on the potatoes, but everyone was up for dessert, an old favorite from Please to the Table: The Russian Cookbook by Anya von Bremzen. This cookbook is a delightful tour of the cuisines of the former Soviet Union. I have used many of the recipes over the years and it's also great reading.
The apple charlotte is very simple and thus only as good as the apples you use. The spouse brought home some beauties the other day and they shone in this recipe in which piles and piles of chopped apple are bound together in a light, eggy batter scented with vanilla, and cinnamon. This isn't a fancy dish--no one will be impressed at its appearance. But it has a rustic sort of no-fail charm about it which felt comforting after my recent dessert disasters. And, I happen to know, leftover apple charlotte makes a fine breakfast. The recipe is here.

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving Day was delightful around here, for the most part. Sure, there was the usual kvetching about tidying up and who always unloads the dishwasher (and who never unloads the dishwasher) but for the most part it was a calm, enjoyable day. I felt a little guilty about having called the relatives and rescinding my offer to host the big meal after my recent stay in the hospital. But really I'm fine. I cooked on and off all day with lots of pauses to knit, draw with the family, and eat one of the desserts which we decided was too ugly for the Thanksgiving table.

Before the meal we had the required conversation about gratitude. but it really was lovely to hear my kids speak on the subject, each in a distinct voice. A five year old and a fourteen year old see things quite differently --no surprise there. But each had something interesting and heartfelt to say and I so enjoyed listening. They really are wonderful people.

I read the following poem from Ritual Well and I confess to getting a bit choked up.

A Thanksgiving Prayer

By Rabbi Naomi Levy

For the laughter of the children,

For my own life breath,

For the abundance of food on this table,

For the ones who prepared this sumptuous feast,

For the roof over our heads,

The clothes on our backs,

For our health,

And our wealth of blessings,

For this opportunity to celebrate with family and friends,

For the freedom to pray these words

Without fear,

In any language,

In any faith,

In this great country,

Whose landscape is as vast and beautiful as her inhabitants.

Thank You, God, for giving us all these. Amen.

It was a good day full of laughter and warmth. I hope all those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving also had the same.

Something New

I've written here any number of times about Laura, one of the most wonderful friends I've ever had. When she moved away in August it was as if some of the color drained out of my world and I knew I would miss her terribly. One of the ways we decided to stay connected is through a collaborative photo blog, Strawhead and Magpie. I know, I know, another blog? But this is just images--no commentary from us (though of course we'd love feedback).

3191 was a huge inspiration and we embarked on our project with Stephanie's blessings.

I'll be sticking with photos and Laura will be including photos and images of her work. We're just getting started so it's clearly going to be evolving for quite a while. Stop by for a visit and let us know what you think!

Something a Bit Different

I had so been looking forward to cooking a huge meal this week to serve on the turkey plates. However, given recent events I thought it might be wise to call off the extended family and have a simpler Thanksgiving with just the five of us.

The turkey has been ordered and the leftovers will surely be used. I won't make nearly the number of dishes I usually do and I can skip gravy altogether because none of us actually like it. Mashed potatoes, a sweet potato kugel, green salad and some fruit should round out the meal. We'll eat early and then, much later, dessert, allowing me to work around the whole meat/dairy separation thing. I've never found a good dairy-free pie crust and dessert just needs butter as far as I'm concerned. Luckily we won't be joined by Orthodox Jews who would rightfully shriek in horror at this extremely loose interpretation of kashrut but it works for us. I'm hoping to give this a try along with a tasty apple crostata a friend recently introduced me to.

A recipe recently caught my eye in Julie Sahni's Savoring India, a giant glossy coffee table book I found at our library. Apparently there is a South Indian fruit which is enough like a cranberry that immigrants to the US have happily made the substitution. I gave it a try today and didn't even feel like I was cheating on orders to rest. The cranberry chutney couldn't be easier--a bag of cranberries and few spices. I'm looking forward to perking up my Thanksgiving table with this, enjoying a little something spicy and fresh alongside my turkey. The recipe is here.

Cranberry Chutney Update: the chutney might not make it to my Thanksgiving table as it turns out (unsurprisingly) to be a splendid topper for uppma and I've been "sampling" enough that there's not much left!

I Want to go to Cuba!

Savor, if you will, the brilliant irony of yesterday's Netflix arrival. I hadn't managed to see Sicko in the theaters so what better time than the night I return from the hospital with countless thousands of dollars in bills? I am in no way comforted by the fact that I will have insurance coverage in January. Will I have to fight for everything? I really don't want to give a penny to Blue Cross, that's for sure.

I still can't understand why we don't have universal health care in this country. So many other nations have managed it but I think we got sidetracked by greed and...I don't know...stuff. There's still that fear that the average American will drown under high taxes. But you don't hear about the French losing their homes due to medical bankruptcy, do you? Do Americans really need stuff more than they need affordable health care for everyone?

Shabbat at Portland Adventist

It could have been worse. In any other local hospital, I doubt anyone would have mentioned Shabbat. I did get a red rose on my breakfast tray "in honor of the Sabbath" I was told.

The closest emergency room happens to be in a Seventh Day Adventist hospital. Instead of baking challah or schlepping kids as on a typical Friday, I spent the morning alternately trying to reach my doctor and trying to breathe. When I finally got through to her she was unwilling to see me--she wanted me to head straight to the hospital.

I arrived with a heart rate over 130 beats per minute and extreme shortness of breath. They extracted gallons of blood, performed various tests and X-rays, and pumped lots of stuff in to me. They kept me overnight, finally got my heart settled down, and found a cause for all the drama and it wasn't my thyroid after all. That nasty Halloween head cold seems to have left me with an infection in the lining around my heart which caused the super-high heart rate and the breathing difficulty. Beta-blockers slowed everything down, Advil took care of the chest pain, and I was happily escorted home by family this afternoon.

I can't describe how awful it was to not be able to get enough air. I felt so panicky and was, of course, completely unable to take deep breaths to calm down. It's a terrible thing to take breathing for granted.

So I'm OK now. And home, which never felt so good. But a tiny bit worried. After years with my current employer I'll finally be getting insurance but it won't kick in until January 1 so I'm paying for this little adventure all on my own. I'm just waiting for the bill. No doubt when it arrives my heart will start racing all over again.

Temporarily Out of Commission

Mr. Graves has come for a visit and I am not in great shape. I started feeling light-headed a few days ago and am now having heart palpitations and breathing trouble. I went to the doctor this morning, sure it was pneumonia, but my lungs are clear. The Doc is pretty sure my thyroid is going wacko again and will adjust meds once the lab results are in. Meanwhile, I have a new herbal tincture to support my heart. I'm to rest until my breathing returns to normal. Normally this would be hard for me but since I get all wheezy even talking, walking around much is pretty much out for a while.

At least my hair isn't falling out. Yet. And I am lucky to have a most wonderful husband who will take good care of all of us.

Mosaic Monday (late version)

Drug of Choice

After a long hiatus over the summer and until the end of Ramadan, I am back working with the women at Kateri Park. The first session was a bit of a bust and I had to beg off due to illness last week. But today we had a full house! A few of last year's Somali women have returned along with two delightful Burmese women and an American woman as well.

We were a mostly jolly bunch this morning as I attempted to get everyone off and running with their knitting. The women helped each other and laughed over dropped stitches and seemed to enjoy themselves. Unlike the others, the American woman was quiet and intensely focused on her knitting. She told me she had learned to knit as a child and then forgotten over the ensuing years. Clearly her hands remembered how to form the stitches as she was rapidly adding length to her garter stitch scarf.

Before she left she asked if I would cast on an additional identical scarf for her which struck me as odd and I asked for more information on what she was trying to do. In a quiet, haunted voice she explained that her 16 year old son had left home last night and she was having a hard time. She was afraid that she might go out and get drunk or take drugs to numb the pain but she'd decided that what she really wanted to do was knit through this intense time. She didn't want to be left with nothing to work on if she messed up the first project and a backup, ready-to-go if needed, would make her feel more at ease.

I had no idea what to say to her. Of course I quickly cast on a second scarf, made sure all her yarn was rolled into tidy balls, and I encouraged her to come back next week. Shortly after she left, my phone rang. The Dark Lord, home today for the latest school-free day, was calling for the second time already to check in. My casual chatting with my son belied the depth of my feelings for him this morning and my gratitude that he still checks in.

I was reminded of some of the hard, hard things I've gotten through with yarn and needles in my hands. Three years ago I knitted a beautiful lacy scarf for a friend dying of cancer, each stitch a prayer. Once the shock of my brother's suicide wore off, I knew that if I could pick up the needles and make something I'd be OK. Finishing another friend's prayer shawl this summer helped me through a deep sadness.

When I was asked to help start this knitting group we talked about building community and pride among the residents of the low income apartment complex. We thought the residents would enjoy getting to know one another over yarn and needles. But today I felt that I'd been given an opportunity to offer a far more precious gift to my new student. What an honor.

petals

The Princess asked me to take this picture and I gave very little thought to it as I snapped. Now every time I look at this photo I like it more: the soft textures of the petals and the gravel contrasting with the stripes, the pinky-red and the green, the grubby nails, and the shockingly perfect framing which was simply how I snapped the picture, no cropping involved. What a happy surprise!

Mosaic Monday--Autumn Edition

I confess that Mosaic Monday has kind of slipped my mind of late. I haven't spent a great deal of time Flickr-gazing, though I always enjoy it when I do. These are some recent additions to my Flickr favorites. All are by other photographers, and each is a gem as far as I'm concerned.

Childish

I wrote earlier in the week about getting my workspace spruced up. At first I was focused on making things cozy and pleasant. Now I'm working on function--getting the lighting right, storing works in progress in a way that allows me to pick up where I left off . I'm so thrilled that I can run downstairs and get to work rather than having to move things, dig things out, and remove kid debris but I'm feeling very possessive of my space, perhaps too much so.

I had a minor tantrum tonight when The Princess moved in and began spreading glitter all over while working on a collage. I wasn't very gracious at all. I already had MonkeyBoy on the other end of the room working on a new stop motion movie which meant the lights had to be just so. Too much overhead lighting makes me cranky and after I gave in on that one I noticed the glitter and kind of lost it at my poor daughter who was just trying to enjoy making things with me.

The Dark Lord was, as usual, up in his room. When he has his computer he has little use for the rest of us so we haven't exchanged more than a few words all day. But I had my other kids hanging around with me and I should have been enjoying that, not snapping about how things should have been going my way. Sometimes I wonder why my kids are as nice as they are given they've grown up with me as a role model.

I managed four quilt squares and a little tote bag to hold a gift for the birthday party The Princess is attending tomorrow. For the last few months small fabric bags have been my birthday gift of choice. Once I wrapped my mind around the mystery of lined bags there was no stopping me and I've actually made a dent in my considerable fabric stash. I dug deep today and unearthed some fabulous Kaffe Fassett fabric I'd completely forgotten about, a wild floral print that makes me think of Yellow Submarine, my favorite childhood movie. A little accent fabric, some jaunty yellow rickrack and soon I had a bag that was so fabulous I really didn't want to give it up. But I will. Really. I don't want to be childish.

It's the End of the World as We Know It......

I don't think I ever would have known about this had the good folks at The Jew and the Carrot not pointed it out. Wow. It's not like pancakes are hard to make. "Just point, blast and cook". Oy.

Disappointed

Last night my class had their midterm. I wasn't there to administer the test as I had called in sick earlier in the day. I'm still sick, but I hate to miss more than one day so I came back tonight only to hear from my assistant that there had been a major issue last night. There was a cheating incident. My assistant actually saw one of the students handing a completed exam back to another student.

Their tests are far from identical and I don't think much copying could have happened before the problem was discovered but I wonder why anyone felt it was necessary. One of these students has been with me for a while and finally agreed to individual tutoring this term. He's been making fantastic progress and I can't understand why he felt the need to cheat.

The irony is that none of my exams even carry any weight until the final exam where they demonstrate their readiness for the next level of classes. This is far from "high stakes" testing, but I do like to get them familiar with testing mode. And that does mean doing your own work.

Most of the time I encourage collaboration in my classes. The students have much to teach each other. But testing is different. The boys will be getting a stern talking to in Russian. I'm not sure what else to do--I don't want to humiliate them, but I feel like there's a need to further clarify classroom expectations. Hopefully they'll get the message clearly so there will be no trouble come final exam time.

Cold-Fighting Chickpea Curry

Most sick people, it seems, want simple food: broths and juice, nothing too complicated or taxing for a body already fighting invaders. Not me! When I have a head cold all I want is food that's hot and spicy. I can't taste it unless it's highly spiced, but there are good reasons for spicing up the sickroom food: onions, garlic, and chiles are all great for the immune system.

Spicy chickpeas with tomato over rice is a perfect cold-fighting dish. The tomatoes provide lots of vitamin C, the onions and garlic have antiviral properties, and cumin, coriander, and turmeric boost the immune system. All that spice clears the head quite effectively, too!

I got the recipe from a friend who copied it out of her favorite Indian cookbook for me. I had to adjust to what I had on hand (no more fresh chiles, alas). While it hasn't cured my cold yet, it was a delicious dinner and an even better breakfast reheated.

I think the only reason I got this darned cold is because I've failed to brew up a fresh batch of The Tonic yet. Clearly that needs to happen before we get much further into cold season.