Yanno, I feel cheap and dirty every time I use gratuitous exclamation points or emoticons in an e-mail for work. I do it anyway, though. And, as whoring goes, I guess it could be worse.

( Cut for photos and blather )

I was in a mood. Others may judge whether I was on form or not.

( Cut for strong language, trenchant personal remarks, and general ire. May only be safe for fans of alt.peeves )

Victory is mine, and I am mighty.

Armed only with a hemostat, hobby tweezers, and my considerable native cunning, I have managed to un-jam the office shredder from one of the most heroic jams I've ever seen. Oh, I was also armed with my bare hands. Did I mention those? I should have, because said bare hands are now decorated with an assortment of small cuts, bruises, and contusions. I am bleeding a bit, thank you very much. Also, I have a crick in my back, and machine oil in my hair.

There is a special circle of hell reserved for those who never check the shredder bin to see if the shredder is too full, who never change the bin bag when it is full, and who run far too many sheets at a time through the machine and then walk away from a disabled shredder they just jammed without a backward glance, and without telling anyone that it's jammed. I curse you deadly, anonymous shredder jammer.

German Pancakes with Warm Nectarine Compote

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. Place a knob of butter in a large cast iron skillet and set in the oven to melt while the oven heats.

In a mixing bowl whisk together 3 large eggs with 3/4 cup of milk. Slowly sift in 3/4 cup of flour while continuing to whisk. Let the egg mixture rest. When the oven is hot, pull out your pre-heated cast iron pan, swirl the butter around the bottom to distribute evenly, then pour in your egg batter and place the lot back in the oven for 15 minutes (or until the edges get golden brown).

Into a small saucepan put 5 or 6 smallish nectarines, pitted and cut into chunks. Add just enough water to cover the bottom of the pan. Sprinkle fruit with sugar and the juice of one small lime. Place over medium-low heat and warm, stirring occasionally, until the fruit begins to get soft and break down around the edges. Take 1Tbsp of potato starch (or the thickener of your choice -- I use what I know) and stir into 1/4 cup COLD water, until dissolved. Pour immediately into the warm fruit and quickly mix in thoroughly -- the compote will gel directly as the starch contacts it.

When the pancake is done, transfer it to a plate, pour the compote into the flatter middle part of the pancake, spread evenly, sprinkle with powdered sugar if that's your thing, and consume.

If you're me, one of these is enough for two people. Pretty tasty, too. Next time, we try rhubarb.

I had Steely Dan's "My Old School" running through my head (for no damn' reason I can name -- not something I've heard recently), and it caused me to wonder if there were some obvious common denominator among the songs I fiercely disliked back in Jr. High or so. So, as an experiment I tried setting up a new Pandora station based on that song, plus "Black Water" by the Doobies, with a bit of Steve Miller Band added as an afterthought, and sure enough, it works. In fact, it's eerie. I've never had a station based on a song or group I liked bingo with such dogged regularity.

So, I still don't know what the common denominator is about the songs I didn't (and mostly still don't) like, but if I want, Pandora will play them for me:

Black Water Radio

"Hold on Loosely" - 38 Special
"Gimme Three Steps" - Lynyrd Skynyrd
"Fly Like and Eagle" - Steve Miller Band
"Victim of Love" - The Eagles

and come up with songs I didn't even know I disliked:

"Don't Ask Me No Questions" - Lynyrd Skynyrd
"Can't You See" - Marshall Tucker Band

Possibly what it gets down to is I don't really like Southern Rock of the '70s, but even that isn't universally true and doesn't account for Steely Dan anyway, but so far it's only taken two thumbs down (for songs I actually like pretty well) for Pandora to home in on the wretched stuff.

If only I could use this power for good.

California Guitar Trio will be at the Triple Door on July 27. Also, Tinsley Ellis in early August. And the Bobs in mid-August.

So, those of you who do not live in the Pacific Northwest, does the phrase "bikini espresso" call to mind several local establishments, some, or none? Does the phrase "bikini espresso" even signify anything to you, or is it on par with "surfboard sandwich" or "wetsuit salad"?

Okay, other shoe: In these parts the landscape is fairly littered with drive-thru espresso shacks whose primary gimmick (to distinguish themselves from all the other drive-thru espresso shacks) seems to be baristas clad in bikinis. These are not in any way related to each other, except by having decided to go for the same gimmick. In fact, they're enough of a thing that for a while (perhaps still) there was a problem with one or more patrons exposing themselves to the staff. (This seems readily fixable with web cams and phone cameras, but that's a training matter, and might force the shack owners to pony up hazard pay...)

Does your neighborhood have any espresso shacks with bikini-clad baristas?

So much stuff to do, so little progress. Even now I wouldn't claim to be 100% recovered from the stupid flu. So between sudden collapsizes due to lurgi, Bloody Damned Heat, neck- and eye-strain problems, a temporary addiction to Bejeweled Blitz, and catching up with everything that didn't get done while I was prostrate with the lurgi, it feels like I haven't accomplished anything at all for weeks and weeks. As often happens, this feeling is more feeling than reality. As the pictures document, I have done stuff. Just not very fast.

Actually, goldfinches, plural. A mated pair, I presume, of American goldfinches. Certainly they were in mating colors -- the female is pretty enough, but the male is spectacular in that bright yellow.

I spotted the female first, sitting on the power line that runs past the picture window to the side of the house. Then the male flitted in and started hovering around the panes of the living room windows -- not sure if he saw himself and was trying to scare off a rival, or saw me and ditto. Either way, was very impressed to see him come so close. Definitely the first goldfinches I've spotted in the yard. Hope they have brains enough to stay away from Tinka.

It seems I have managed not to be quite entirely too late to order me some lily-of-the-valley, if I get right on that. I rilly, rilly want some for the side yard, and maybe under the big apple tree, too. I adore lily-of-the-valley, and if I could get around to planting it, chances are it would bloom for my birthday, and everything.

But I'm not confident that I can find it at a local nursery, so I am thinking I would order it online. I have never ordered from a nursery before, but I believe I've seen some horror stories go by. Anybody have one to recommend? Or, locals, know of anyplace I could just lay hands on the rhizomes or, better yet, actual plants?

Had a birthday over the weekend, which in the main I celebrated by having the flu. Not an approach I hope to repeat. Thanks for all the birthday wishes, though. It's nice to be remembered. And being down with the lurgi did mean no work time in the garden, so I guess it's not all bad. The garden punishes me by running r-i-o-t.

Oh well, at least the weeds are pretty...



Say, anyone know what the above is? There's white ones and purple ones and they're in the iris bed, until and unless I yank them out.

You know what sucks? Being up at half past two with a sore throat that you just know is going to blossom into some nasty viral thing, and therefore knowing that what you really need is to get some bloody sleep, and yet being Wide Fucking Awake no matter what. I guess I'll shuffle off for my third tot of bourbon and a hot cup of tea with honey. But this bites, I tell you. It's not even as if I've taken antihistamines, which would keep me this awake, and yet I can't take hot milk because if I do, I will have a Head Full of Snot [tm] in the morning.

This sucks, I tell you.

I've just had a realization. Basically, I feel about feminism much as I do about chiropractic: the practice is all well and good, and I'm for it, but much of the alleged theory behind it is complete and utter wank, and rather embarrassing to have to sit still for.

I've had to take whatwasthatbook off my reading list. Seems its one of the featured communities on the LJ home page, and is suddenly flooded with newbie posts. It's like the advent of AOL hitting usenet, only moreso. I'm seeing 5-10 posts for from them for every one of my regular friends' posts. I cannot take the volume. Pity, because I like following it, but right now the volume is insane.

Color by COLOURlovers

Recently re-discovered COLOURlovers. Now I can't stop inventing palettes and patterns. Totally adictive.

Just found out about The 3/50 Project via good old Apartment Therapy. Now, we do try to do this with local restaurants, but I reckon we ought to make more of an effort with local retail as well. I know this swell little international market...

One: Our internets have been blowing goats again. Seriously. On those rare occasions when I see our internets slouching by, with its hoodie pulled up, trying to look inconspicuous, it has goat on its breath and doesn't want to talk about it. It may be time to boot this insolent internets of ours and find one that doesn't have such a penchant for goat blowing. Or at least knows how to use mouthwash. Meanwhile e-mail, LJ, and flickr posting may be spotty and infrequent.

Two: Lilacs! Not ours, mind you, which still isn't quite blooming, but practically everywhere else in the neighborhood, so the whole block smells of them. I have some from the next-door's bushes in a vase on the mantel, and they look wonderfully old-fashioned and droopy there, and the perfume fills the whole house. Pity any poor souls with pollen allergies.

Three: Decluttering. Managed to make a run up to Two Big Blondes to drop of some clothes and shoes to consign. Also resisted the fringed black suede jacket that fit just right and would have cost something like $22.50. I don't actually need a fringed suede jacket, and the whole point is clear stuff out of the coat closet. I barely even felt a pang, actually.

Four: Watching the Swedish-language miniseries, Tre kärlekar. I really wish this were available with English subtitles or dubbing. It's such a fetchingly different take on ordinary life during WWII that it would make a lovely book-end for Foyle's War, if only it were the least bit accessible to Anglophone audiences. And I love, love, love the way they have painstakingly replicated the look of Sweden in the 1940s -- this is roughly when my grandparents would first have been married, and so it's almost like a window into the kinds of lives they would have led.

Five: Pie! Mixed berry, with a lazy lattice crust. Hope it sets up okay. Smells pretty good, tho.

Having given up cable, we are back to being rather regular users of our Netflix account. On the whole, this is not such a bad thing, although I do vaguely miss being able to flip on DIY or HGTV of a Saturday morning to watch fix-it TV with my breakfast cereal. And Alton Brown. I do miss Alton Brown. On the other hand, I do not miss losing all the hours that got sucked away painlessly but forever while I was chewing the lotus.

And, as technology marches on, Netflix is getting to be more like having On Demand cable, anyhow. With the spiffy little Roku box Hal got, we can now watch the streaming video feed from Netflix (or Amazon, for that matter) right there on the teevee box. Gloryosky, Marge. The video quality isn't always sterling, but since I seem to spend most of my video "watching" time knitting anyway, it hardly ever makes a difference to me, anyhow. ( Read no further if you fear very mild spoilers for Veronica Mars, or House, MD. )

Yes, I have set up an account. (Thanks, Steve!) Yep, I am using "akirlu" there too -- I didn't even check to see if I could get ulrika. Silly me. I guess my tiny mind is beset by the hobgoblins of foolish consistency, but perhaps if I add a bit more flour, it will turn out all right in the end. Anything is, as they say, possible.

Meanwhile, I'll see if I can't be a bit more verbal around these parts. Not sure why, but I seem to be in one of those unwriterly phases of my life when the words all fall out of my head and I don't have anything to say.