Just checked the weather for Moscow. It is hovering around 0C (-2C right now).

eeeeeeeeeeeeee!

I cannot hardly wait. Better get that suitcase shut.

A.M. Dellamonica's book, which is awesome. This is me at World Fantasy, with my very own copy.



Indigo Springs

san francisco.

i forgot to tell you but
in the rain at montgomery street
warm bakery steam wet newspaper pavement
smelled for a moment
just like Aarhus.
det regne, she said
det regne meget.

--

seattle.

sheets of rain and clear breaks
the streets reflect grey sky and water
the sound of drops pck-pock pck-pock
taut on the leaf green umbrella
dark speckled leather coat
espresso in a red cup for breakfast
reading The Stranger at the cafe window
a girl with a grey cap and dark messy curls
the prettiest brown boots
market smells of mussels and seawater
uphill on cobbles to the #26
steamed windows on the bus and
a tall wet bridge.

it's pretty at night and in the fog all the lights twinkle.
it feels like fall here. the air smells cold and wet.
my hotel bar has a little japanese sake heater, and they serve hot sake and tiny pretentious japanese themed small plates, which are surprisingly cheap and can be ordered at midnight when you finally get in from your flight. blessed blessed small plates at midnight.

and now i am going to fall into bed. tomorrow: work. and later exploring.

if you have tips for exploring, please to share. especially you, phidiana, and the part about the shoes.

the grey weather lately makes me want to listen to this on infinite loop...

The girl woke me this morning from a dream where...

I was saving President Hilary Clinton from attack by a trio of Sith lords. What kind of attack? A radio talk show. Complete with old-school 1940s microphones.

They were obviously Sith lords, you see, because they had the hoods and the scary makeup.

O no President Hilary!

--
Between the work onsite conference in MTV and other stuff, I've been a little underslept this week. I have high hopes for the weekend, though.

i mowed the lawn tonight with my little push mower. having found the oil, i can tell you that it IS somewhat quieter, although it does still startle the neighbours (but oddly, not their cat, who likes to sit and watch).

the lawn is kind of tragic looking. benign neglect and the california dry summer have not done well by it. fortunately, a picket fence on a raised bank hides a lot of sins.

besides which, says i to the boy, i like to think that an ill-kept and dying lawn says 'i care more about the drought than i do about having a perfect lawn'.

actually, the boy says, you forget: we have sprinklers. they go on and off. they water the lawn.

they're not, says i. they're actually sort of pointed at the sidewalk. they scare the ants.

oh. says the boy. well. so much for the drought.

in my defense, it is at least on a timer.

one more for the list...

I took myself to see World's Greatest Dad tonight. It is the kind of visceral black comedy that makes you heartsick, and makes you laugh over top of the ache. It made me uncomfortable and it made me laugh out loud. If you like that kind of thing, go see this movie, and see it if you can without seeing any trailers or spoilery reviews.

Loved this movie. Robin Williams is just incredible in it.

Stinabat -- in case you need an antidote to your Tarantino. You might like this. :)

I am making a beef stew for late dinner tonight. Stew is the cruelest thing -- you smell the beef browning and you *want* it, but you cannot have it for 2-3 hours. The boy wanders through the kitchen looking hungry and you have to shoo him away from the dutch oven. The look he gives me!

I am not making it up! I say, it won't be tasty for an hour in a half.

That's just how stew is.

But oh it's going to be excellent. I biked home with this beef from the market on Saturday and it has such a good smell already.

The cottage cheese cake that I made with the accidental full-fat cottage cheese purchase. It's sort of a celebration of the fact that both the stand mixer and the food processor can both sit on my counter at the same time. ( recipe follows, in the usual ad hoc manner )

I stole my mother's copy of Marcella Hazan's Classic Italian Cookbook on one of my trips home this past year, because it has a recipe in it for orecchiette made by hand, and a pasta sauce that is made with chicken livers.

I haven't actually got around to either of those, but today I wanted real tomato sauce, something bright and tasting of the kind of hot summer that they get somewhere there isn't so much fog. This is exactly the kind of sauce that the boy does not like, because he likes the life cooked out of his tomatoes. So anyhow, I made it for me, (and for k and c), and I'll mix a little in with some canned tomato sauce for the boy. ( in which we cook )

I made coq au vin today, with the rest of the wine L and I didn't finish, and a whole chicken from the little grocery up the street. I'm going to take some over to koshkalet and c later today, which is pleasing. ( If you're a vegetarian, you can skip this next bit. )

You know, it's a little strange I never went to Chicago. I actually actively avoided it. Maybe it's a Toronto thing or a Hamilton thing. You live through the summer in one Great Lakes weather system and you think, why would anyone do this by choice?

I drove through Chicago, while tired and wretched, once. We kept thinking "are we through yet?" but there just seemed to be more Chicago and more Chicago, and then suddenly massive great downtown buildings looming up out of the rainy cloudy night like ghosts. Neil Gaiman wrote "Chicago began slowly, like a migraine." And I thought, exactly so. Why would you ever visit?

Oh, but.

Chicago has an elevated rail line that loops the downtown. It is the hub of the 1930s railway heyday -- it is a city that the railroad built and raised (literally) from the muck. It is old and new and it has more space than New York and its suburbs do rather go on forever, but as long as you are in the heart of it it is fantastic and it is full of TRAINS and STEEL GIRDER BRIDGES and PUBLIC ART and if you like that kind of thing it's pretty awesome. ( yes, I ramble )

On the anniversary of the moon landing,
we are listening to your heartbeat
on the monitors it beats fast, inexorable
like the wheels on a far off train
it sounds like you are on re-entry from orbit
and we are resting, waiting, listening.
long-awaited space traveller
little girl we can hardly wait to meet you.

The nurse says: push her to the sky, star-child,
child of the stars, push her up, up
And your hard-working momma is laughing with joy
A big goddess laugh from the heart of her
as she pushes, up, up.
And here you are so swift the doctor is not even here yet
So quickly after such a long wait
And we are so happy to meet you, little girl
Born into love
On the anniversary of the moon landing.

[july 20. 3:14am. 8lbs 5 oz 20 inches]

i fell in love with the house, but i hated the shower.
it's a tiny little tiled stall shower, built-in, prone to mildew, circa 1940.
you cannot shower with someone you really like in it.
there is barely anywhere to put your shampoo bottles.

even before moving in, we started plotting its demolition.
visions of sledgehammers.
i got books on bathroom design.
bathroom design, by the way, is expensive. and you need more space than we have.

we looked at the bank book. it did not say 'remodel the bathroom now'
i got a squeegee, and some bleach spray.
there is nothing like bleach for discouraging mildew. i love the clean smell of it.
we put in a good ceiling fan.
and if you squeegee it out, and you leave the enclosure door open, just so,
it's not that bad. but you still have to shower alone.

i was showering alone this morning
like i do, well, every morning since the move. alas.
and i might have had a song in my head.
and i might have sung it.

and you know what? i have a good voice, but this shower?
in this tiny little tiled shower?
i sing like the queen of the night.
it is amazing.
i stayed in the shower after i was clean
squeegee in hand
singing
i sang The Diamond and The Margaret Evans
and Lady Franklin's Lament
and about three songs from the Chieftains that usually have more voices
and Barbry Allen
and a bunch of other ones
i didn't want to get out of the tiny shower

which only goes to show
leave your heart open for the unexpected
even the humblest shower has its good side

- We have a washer and a dryer (thanks to Liz and exokam, and a surprise assist from M!) We girls and a truck moved a washer dryer set. I guess all that deadlifting is kind of useful. They don't work because the roofer got the vent wrong, but the roofer is coming back tomorrow to fix that. I have a whole bunch of ducting and shiny tape to put it all together with and it irks me greatly that I can't just make it go.

- There are curtains in the front picture window. The neighbours are very relieved, I suspect.

- We have a showerhead that I don't hate.

- The boy said "No, you can't just nip into the bathroom before my shower. Use the OTHER BATHROOM."

The TV is still not connected, and KALW is taunting me by playing a programme consisting entirely of orchestral arrangements of movie scores. (Current listening: what seems to be the Bond Theme from Dr. No.) On the other hand: I can now get NPR!

Liz came over with her new bike for a ride and we went to Point Richmond and back. We had dinner at Raj's (which has the best kheer) and had a little quien es mas macho showdown over how spicy to order. (Raj won.) But my tummy is all warm and happy now. That was the spiciest butter chicken I've had in a long time. Mmmmmm.

And earlier, there was brunch with friends, some of whom I have not seen in ages.

Can't wait to be done with the unpacking stage. Still too many boxes.

i cooked real dinner.

boneless, skinless chicken thighs in pesto, grilled (in the grill pan! on the stove!) and then chopped and thrown into a casserole dish with sautéed crimini and porcini (fresh porcini!) mushrooms, a handful of diced fresh tomatoes, basmati rice, and chicken broth. baked until the rice cooked and split a little.

served with a big green leafy salad with cucumbers, tomatoes, and avocadoes. and feta and radishes for me. and negra modelo for the boy.

i love the grill pan and the vent over the stove. some tasty things you can only do with high heat.

this is nearly as exciting as the first time i moved to a place that had a real fridge with a freezer you could keep ice cream in. stove with vent!

I just mowed the lawn.

It's kind of funny looking, and my push-mower leaves the tall grass sticking up like little flags to the shame of how long I left it. Also, the edges are bushy. Must find a hand tool for the edges.

But it smells good. I've always loved the smell of a freshly-cut lawn.

Which is good, because freshly-cut lawn is one of those things to which the boy is allergic. He won't be fighting me for the lawn mower anytime soon. No sirree.

In other news, I met the next-door neighbour. (It's hard to miss the sound of my push-mower. I really must find the oil for its blade. It is in a box somewhere, along with everything else.) We had a Norman Rockwell moment chatting over the picket fence. He's a very nice geographer.

Yes, there's a picket fence. The boy thinks we should paint it black.