lolaraincoat: (tomato)
Me: Hey, [profile] fishwhistle! Look at this! The Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis is back in fashion again!

Fishwhistle, skeptically: ...

Me: No, look! It's right here in the Times! Man, you wait long enough, any old idea comes around again.

Fishwhistle, speedily: The flat earth theory?

Me, after an awkward pause: Just wait. I bet sooner or later some bit of string theory or fancy programing language will require a flat-earth frame of reference.

Fishwhistle, grumpily: ...


In other news, today is Getting Ready for Grape-Juice-Making-Day Day, and sheep poop was involved. Tomorrow is the Great Day of Grape Juice itself, and if you can get here in the next week or so - because the juice only lasts about three weeks - we would be delighted to give you some. It's usually pretty good and we always have way more than we can drink. And this year, because we have hired ourselves a Hired Hand, we will have more than usual - in previous years we've gotten too tired to go on before we've juiced even half the ridiculously large amount of otherwise-inedible grapes from the back yard.

It's been a good year for the grapes, too. Also beets (last week I made myself quite ill by eating a couple of pounds of beet tzatziki and pretty much nothing else over the course of 36 hours or so, but it was so good! Not quite as good as the beet tzatziki that [personal profile] idlerat makes, but pretty close) and onions, most herbs except cilantro, garlic, cape gooseberries, chard, raspberries, arugala, rhubarb and chiles. Not so good for tomatoes, lettuce, and apricots, but no summer is perfect, right? And since I was too crippled to do much besides stick everything in the ground and hope for the best, it's amazing we got anything at all.


In other other news, my ex-girlfriend (some people referred to her at the time as the Spawn of Satan, which was possibly a slander on some of Satan's other children, but never mind that now) has been for some time the chief drama critic for a high-circulation tabloid newspaper in a Major Metropolitan Area, which is kind of hilarious as long as you have no connection to whatever it is she's reviewing. But now, sources tell me, she is also contributing criticism to NPR. I've been listening and listening - even going so far as to Google - but so far nothing. I will keep you posted.


And finally, a little further away, a way-too-brief visit to the New York Area reminded me that the best thing about New York is not the art or the walking around or the shopping or the brilliant acupuncture (check out People's Acupuncture of Brooklyn, the beauty and helpfulness of which I cannot even describe in words) or the fabulous music of many descriptions, much of it made by friends, or even the astonishing food (and there was some truly astonishing food, the best of which came from the gardens and/or kitchens of friends) but the chance to just hang out with the people I love. I miss you all already! Thank you so much for the wonderful acupuncture treatment and music and food and letting me stay in your apartments and most of all your company!


And now to rinse off the sheep poop and boil some more jars. Hey look! I posted!

lolaraincoat: (tomato)
So here is a conversation that [ profile] fishwhistle and I actually had while halfway through the dread annual chore of picking the grapes off the trellis:

me: Augh! I got grape juice in my eyebrows!

Fishwhistle: ...

me: It's not funny!

Fishwhistle: well, but it -

me: You know, if we were migrant farm workers we could blame The Man for our sufferings.

Fishwhistle: ...

me: It would be the system keeping us down by forcing us to pick grapes all day long.

Fishwhistle: ...

me: And we could dream that someday Cesar Chavez would come and liberate us from all this.

Fishwhistle: Isn't he -

me: Okay, well, the ghost of Cesar Chavez, all right? Anyway my point is, who is it who forces us to spend hours and hours picking grapes?

Fishwhistle: We do?

me: Exactly! We coerce our own selves!

Fishwhistle, dubiously: So you're saying we're working for Domain Foucault?

me, bitterly: Yes! This is the terroir of Bourdieu!

Fishwhistle: ...

me: Man! It sucks being middle class!


in other garden news )


And I need some cooking advice:

So, I have here a small basket of peaches (grown locally but not by me) and some backyard raspberries. And soon I will have a metric buttload of grape juice, once I go through the tedious process of making it. I was thinking that I could boil up the peaches and raspberries in the grape juice and it might turn into a nice jam? Do you think that would work?

lolaraincoat: (insane troll logic)
grim-faced neurologist: I'm just checking your reflexes here ...

*whacks right knee with hammer*

grim-faced neurologist: Hmmmm.

*whacks left knee with hammer, harder*

me: ow?

grim-faced neurologist: Hmmm.

*gives right knee, then left knee, a really good thwacking*

me: Hey! Ow!

grim-faced neurologist: You don't seem to have any reflexes.

me: And yet I'm not dead.

grim-faced neurologist, agreeably: Funny that.


*[ profile] fishwhistle, distraught, enters kitchen, clutching scrap paper and mechanical pencil*

Me: Is something wrong?

[ profile] fishwhistle: You have to help me!

Me, suspiciously: Um ...

[ profile] fishwhistle: I know I have to do the shopping, but --

Me: Yes?

[ profile] fishwhistle: It's the list! I can't -- it's too -- I have shopping list writer's block!


lolaraincoat: (Default)

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