Sunday afternoon

20 09 2015

Do not put on icy hot just after getting out of the shower.

Lotion out of the shower makes sense: you’re naked, and your pores are wide open and ready to soak in that moisturing goodness.

Pores wide open and ready for mentholated cream? Not so good.

Lesson learned.

~~~

“Planned Parenthood is profiting from [women’s] pain and that’s what we’re standing up to,” said Lila Rose, who founded Live Action when she was just a teenager and has been working to discredit Planned Parenthood for years, said at the rally last Thursday.

Extending that logic:

  • Oncologists are profiting from [cancer patients’] pain. . . .
  • Pain specialists are profiting from [pained peoples’] pain. . . .
  • Rehabilitation centers are profiting from [injured peoples’] pain. . . .
  • Hospices are profiting from [dying peoples’] pain. . ..

I’m sure you can come up with your own.

h/t Wonkette

~~~

I haven’t read Timothy Snyder’s Bloodlands (it’s on the list!), tho’ I understand it’s been generally, although not universally, well-received, and have read only a few reviews of his lated book, Black Earth.

Thus caveated: While I have no beef with the contention that Stalin was as great a criminal-against-humanity as was Hitler, and that it is useful to compare the Nazi and pre-Khrushchev Soviet regimes, I am skeptical that the great crimes of Hitler, et. al. are the same as those of Stalin, et. al.

I am even more skeptical that the Bolsheviks, bad as they were, were somehow also responsible for Nazi crimes.

~~~

Funny how back pain can migrate into leg pain.

I don’t know what happened—is a pinched nerve even a thing?—but my minor back problems flared up earlier this week, then decided to migrate down my right leg for the weekend.

Oddly, however, while sitting or standing upright is painful, walking isn’t that much of a problem, and running is completely fine.

The bike, however? Fuggedaboutit.

Anyway, I had to take my food scraps to the Greenmarket in Grand Army Plaza yesterday (and yes, I really did have to, as my little bin was full-up), so decided to hoof it instead of either biking or taking the train. It was not a comfortable walk (made worse by blisters—honestly!), but it was completely worth it, for not only did I unload my food scraps, I was able to score my most favorite fruit of the fall:

The cortland apples are back!

So even tho’ I looked bad enough waiting for the 2 train home that a woman stopped and tried to convince me to sit down (“Thank you, but really, no it feels better to lean against the wall than sit”), the five pounds of apples I scored was totally worth it.

I just hope next week I’m well enough to bike for my apples.





Eating fresh fruit when it’s in season

8 09 2013

Ahhh, cortland apples are now popping up at the Greenmarkets.

My most favoritest fruit.

Last year it seemed as if it wasn’t available until late September, and then the apples were small and given to softness. They were still around in the markets into November, I think, but by late season they were all soft.

Which is too bad, because while the taste is pleasing, it is the sweet-tart in combination with the dense crispness that makes the cortland so delicious. That first bite explodes the apple, as if its juice were under pressure beneath the taut skin, snapping you to the fact that this is not a meal to be eaten mindlessly: attention must be paid.

I expect to pay attention daily for the next six weeks or so.

~~~

“Brand loyalty is for suckers”—that’s my thing.

However. I should also point out when something is well done, well, that matters.

Years ago, when I had more than two dimes to rub together, I bought some really nice pots, pans, and knives through various open source sales at Dayton’s. I was in the midst of trying to convince myself that I would enjoy cooking and thought that good stuff would aid in that endeavor.

It didn’t: I don’t really like cooking. Still, the good stuff is good, and to the extent that I do cook, it helps.

Anyway, one of the pots I bought was a Calphalon, and it was that lid which shattered a few weeks ago. Given that Calphalon is a fairly high-end product, I thought I’d check if the lid were covered by warranty. It was an old lid—over ten years old—and there was something on the site that mentioned certain old pots & pans weren’t covered.

But nothin’ about lids, so I thought I’d send an e-mail, inquiring. And I heard back, and after a few back-and-forths (requests for further information, a jpeg of the lid in question), the very nice customer service rep, Tony, said he’d said me a new lid.

Which completely surprised me: I really thought he’d send an apologetic “it’s too old. . .” email and include a link for where to purchase a new lid.

So I got it, and while it’s not as good as the old lid—the brim is wider (I think because it’s meant to fit on multiple pots/pans) and the glass isn’t as rounded—it’s still a mighty fine lid, and I am very glad to have it.

For free.

I stand by Brand loyalty is for suckers, but just because I think it’s silly to decide a purchase solely on brand, it’s also silly to ignore the good experience one has had with a product. It’s not that from here on out, I’ll only buy Calphalon (assuming need and finances, of course), but they’ll at least get first look.

~~~

Oh, and that whole don’t-like-cooking thing? This pretty much extends to everything food-preparation.

I mean, I kinda—kinda—like baking, and I’ll happily help someone else in the kitchen, but if you were to ask me, Absurdbeats, how do you like to relax/entertain/enjoy yourself? cooking ain’t appearing anywhere in my response.

Actually, I find this whole DIY-trend to basic living mildly alarming. I have no desire to grow my own cotton, weave my own cloth, sew my own clothes, make my own pasta, or churn my own ice cream. Yes, I’ll occasionally whip up a batch of cookies, and I do make the best caramel corn in the world, but I do these things because I like to eat them, not because I like to make them.

Okay, yes, I wouldn’t mind a garage in which I could put some basic woodworking tools—table, miter, and band saws, drill press, sander (and I’d take a class on how truly to work this stuff, rather than half-assing it as I currently do)—and I did kind of dig throwing pottery. And yes, if I had a yard, I’d probably give a garden a go—tho’ if I didn’t enjoy it, I’d plow that sucker under and put in some berry bushes.

But on the food-and-clothing front, I am more than happy to have someone else do the work. I do some sewing repairs because I’m a cheap bastard who hates waste, and I cook some stuff because I’m a cheap bastard who finds it easier to make the basic shit myself rather than overpay for it.

It’s just not that hard to make a plate of pasta.

Anyway, on the not-overpaying front, I did make 3-ish batches of pesto today. My basil was still growing, but the plants were getting so little light that it was past time to pull ’em up. I’d have had more basil had I not clipped a bunch recently, but I think I got enough to get me into next summer.

I could have supplemented with some Greenmarket basil, but I thought I’d see how far my own stuff would take me. If it’s not enough, I’ll adjust next year.

One point in my favor this year: I figured out ahead of time how to assemble the mixer such that I don’t spill the contents when I remove the container from the motor. It’s really not that complicated, I know, but last year I put some part outside of the jar  that should have gone inside of it, and when I lifted that sucker up. . . pesto everywhere.

And you wonder why I don’t enjoy kitchen life.