Why?

Because.

I really can’t give a better reason, I just want it because I’ve always wanted it. Because.

So, that’s all fine and everything.
I’m feeling remarkably tired these days even though I have far less to do. I think it’s a factor of my slowing down: now I’m actually noticing how tired I am because I’m stopping to smell the roses (or coffee), and stuff. No more onward and upward for me. Time for a nap. Or many.

I’m trying to get back to cooking. It’s something I’ve always enjoyed and I still do (once I manage to overcome my inclination to do absolutely nothing for several months). I also enjoy eating food cooked from scratch; I used to be quite a purist about that sort of thing before frozen organic vegetables packaged in plastic bags became a staple in my household. (sigh)

To that end, tonight I decided to be resourceful and make some rice pudding from leftover cooked brown rice. Yes, brown rice (!). Already a red warning light is going off in your head, I can tell. No one makes rice pudding with brown rice! It won’t be, well, mushy enough! It was slightly overcooked actually and I decided to go for it. I also just hate to waste and since the microwave died it’s not very convenient to reheat anything (that’s a whole other ongoing misadventure in my kitchen life).

Anyway, rice pudding it was going to be. Only one recipe in Joy of Cooking but it seemed alright; the Joy of Cooking is always a good place to start. The recipe seemed to be more of a baked custard recipe than a pudding recipe but that’s ok with me, I like custard too. I substituted freshly squeezed grapefruit juice and grapefruit zest for the lemon juice and zest and skipped lining the pan with cake crumbs, both because I didn’t have any and because I’d never heard of such a thing when it comes to rice pudding. Oh, and I cooked it in a water bath because that’s what you do with baked custards. Other than the aforementioned minor alterations, I followed the recipe exactly. All the proportions were just as specified.

Looks yummy, no?

It is yummy, though a bit more ricey than puddingy. The kids were suspicious.

Not a light dessert.

Actually, eating it reminds me of the raisins and rice my mom used to make for breakfast sometimes: leftover rice heated in a pan with milk, butter, raisins, and maybe honey. Good solid comfort food, and not too bad for you as long as you kept the butter to a relative minimum (hard for me, I love butter).

Tomorrow: banana bread and, here’s hoping, plum jam. Got to get that started before all those luscious plums go bad.

What does cooking have to do with art, you might reasonably ask, now that I’ve racked up so much debt getting my fancy art degree? A fine question.

One could argue that everything is art, but I won’t get into that.

Chop wood carry water, you know…

So, what have I been up to anyway? Well, I finished the spring semester at my school. That was good, only one year left to go before I (finally) get my BFA. Almost 37 (I’m 37, I’m not old!) and I haven’t finished my undergrad yet. That’s right folks, I’m an underachiever (as evinced by my blog upkeep too, I fancy).

What else…hmmm? Oh, that’s right. I just got back from Italy. Uh huh. Underachiever maybe, but at least I leave the country every 18 years or so. (Went to France in 1990/91. Does Canada count? That was more recent: 2003.) It was for the summer session at my school (THANK YOU FINANCIAL AID); the class was “Italy: Art and Contemporary Culture.”

Still processing all of that, to be sure. I learned that all that Catholocism was a teeny bit oppressive and terrifying, but only in certain locations. I also discovered that Venice is not my kind of town, no matter how beautiful and poetic it is (also the 90-degree temps and 98% humidity weren’t my thang), but Rome and Florence abso-frickin-lutely were. Maybe I’ll do my grad studies in Florence?? Maybe I’ll just camp out on the Ponte Vecchio and never leave. Oops, too late.

Swimming in the Adriatic, visiting Etruscan tombs, walking through the Roman Forum and on the Via Appia Antica (that’s a real Roman road where you can walk on the original stones, chariot-wheel ruts and everything). It was…too much to sum up in a blog post. Transformative, almost transcendent at times. Cool.

Alright, now it’s summer and I guess I have no good reason not to keep up my blog. I will do my darndest, I swear (assuming anyone reads this thing anyway). Of course, I’m about to go help a friend deliver a baby tonight/tomorrow. That should make some good blog fodder. No rest for the wicked – uh, I mean weary.

love to all my peeps who actually missed me while I was gone (??!!) (who knew?).

- Jenny

I’m talking about my internet connection. As a highly-evolved (snicker), ordained High Priestess (whoa, that’s weird), I should be able to take this inconsistency in stride. After all, I’m the Priestess of Controlled Chaos! I’ve survived being homeless, raising two Gemini children (well, that’s ongoing), and dancing topless with a knife in my mouth! What’s a little internet irritation compared to that?

Well, funny you should ask, because I’ve been pondering that myself.

Here’s what I think it is (I mean, since you asked and all) -

I think the reason why it drives me so crazy is because it interferes with my addiction (there, I’ve said it!) to my community. Ok, maybe that’s an extreme way to phrase it, but how it plays out is thus: I want to hang out with my peeps. They are busy. I am busy. I am thwarted in my desires. I feel sad. But, wait! Almost everyone has a blog! Those that don’t are pathologically addicted to email like I am! So, connection to the internet = connection to community.

Pathetic? Well, maaaaybe. Still true? Hell yes.

Then there’s the other factor of it (that is, my lack of consistent connectivity) interefering with my homework avoidance strategy.

How can I put off doing my homework if I have nothing to distract me? No emails to reply to or blogs to read? Terrible. I can’t quite justify turning on the TV or watching a movie because that’s too overt an avoidance technique, it’s completely unjustifiable. Email, on the other hand, is pernicious and insidious (two excellent words). It subtly steals my time away in the most enjoyable fashion. But, only when it’s working. Rats!

Alright, I’ve successfully made a blog post about avoiding homework, so that I could avoid doing homework for just a little longer. Now I guess it’s time to hit the books! Maybe I’ll just check my email one more time…

This particular post isn’t really about me anyway, it’s about the world, in all it’s peculiar and wonderful variety.

Have you ever heard of ice hotels? Most are seasonal, I think one up in the Arctic Circle is year-round. They’re one of the coolest things (sorry, that was unintentional) ever (IMHO). Someday, when money is no object, I will stay in one.
Here’s an article (and pictures!) about one where all the guest rooms are done by different designers:
12 Designs From The 2009 IceHotel: Catch Them Before They Melt!

In other mind-blowing news, some teenagers sent a helium balloon into the stratosphere and took pictures of space with a $60 digital camera. No, seriously. For real.
Here’s an article about it in The Daily Telegraph and here’s their Flickr Photostream.
I don’t know what else to say about it but wow. Wow.

In a final totally unrelated news item (from the most wonderful Boing Boing), a growing archive of US Military medical illustrations is available online. Ever wanted to see a beautiful illustration of a skull? I know I have.
There’s some other funky stuff, too. WARNING: page 2 of the overall photostream contains pictures of some weird eye procedure; you may want to skip that page if you find that kind of thing disturbing.
Well, here you go then: otisarchives1′s Photostream. Here’s the post on Boing Boing, too.

I hope you’ve enjoyed our little foray into the realm of the wondrous.

Join me again next week for…well, I’m not really sure. You’ll just have to join me to find out, I guess.

I have fallen off the blog bandwagon, and hard. I don’t know why but I’ve had a positive aversion to posting lately (lately, as in the last three whole months).

Anyway, I was one of the tribe who went to Pantheacon and I’m not sure what I can add to the already wonderful and brilliant descriptions and reflections on the experience. Honestly I think I’m still processing it all.

I’m still having weird and intense (though good) dreams about my covenmates every night and every time I take a nap; they are so intense that it makes me wonder if the people in them are having the same dreams…

I learned that I love my tribe so much it’s kinda indescribable, that it’s actually pretty damn ok to be the Tower, and that I look good in a corset (who doesn’t, really?). I learned that the rituals and performances my group did were some of the best in the entire Con.

The Devil and The Tower

I learned that I’m wiser and more dangerous than I give myself credit for. I’m not sure, but I think those are both good things.

I also learned that those PCon organizers weren’t kidding when they said you should eat at least 2 meals and get at least 6 hours sleep every day (I learned that one the hard way, I got a terrible, miserable cold the week after PCon), but it was fun anyway so who really cares?

And, not least of all, I learned, by missing a week of school because I was so sick, that my coven community is far more important than my school community because my school is full of shit 90% of the time (see, Thora, we totally agree about pretentious artist crap) and that I really don’t care about my degree anymore except that I’m planning on using financial aid to get to Italy this summer and I only have a year to go and I don’t want to be a quitter.

The result of all this epiphany is that I haven’t watched any of my Netflix movies in over a month and have certainly paid several times over to have simply bought them by now.

Ah well.

Two children awoke to the urging of their mother; bleary eyes and messy heads slowly rose from their pillows.

“But I’m still tired,” one whined. “I refuse to believe it’s morning,” the other complained.

The mother insisted that, though the children were tired, morning it was and school would not be denied.

Dressing and the preparation and consumption of breakfast were uneventful. Lunches were made with some creativity born of desperate lack of funds and sheer boredom.

Teeth and hair were brushed, homework was checked, and then a dramatic discovery was made!

One item of homework was yet undone!

Hurriedly the older child ran to the mother’s computer to find a biography of Edgar Allen Poe and a copy of his poem “The Raven”. Once found, they were rapidly printed, and disaster was averted. (The mother had had experience with this sort of mishap before and now was used to allowing time for last-minute homework finishing activities.)

As time was nearing All Hallow’s Eve, a pumpkin was placed lovingly in a tote bag for the older child to take to school. (The younger child would be having an in-class party today, which this family’s funds did not help pay for since the funds were simply not there.)

Another last-minute bit of drama! Utensils were required for the older child to carve her pumpkin at school and none had been readied! A great rushing and rummaging commenced and, the specified items having been cobbled together, disaster was once again averted.

The children and the mother stumbled down the stairs, trying not to trip over kittens. They managed to exit the apartment while preventing the curious kittens from doing likewise. The matriarch of the cat family looked on disdainfully from the sofa.

Children and mother were ensconced in their conveyance, seatbelts were fastened, and driving began, with all necessary items being accounted for.

Casually, the mother inquired as to whether the older child had remembered her keys since the mother would be at school until evening. The older child’s face betrayed a feeling of dread and she angrily admitted she had forgotten them. A great gnashing of teeth (the mother’s) and spewing of venimous rage (the older child’s) filled the vehicle. (The younger child wisely remained quiet and waited for the storm to abate).

The mother remarked that she couldn’t give the older child her own keys, lest she, too, be unable to enter the family domicile. The older child was greatly agrieved. The mother racked her brain for a solution since time would not permit the retrieval of said child’s keys before the school bell should ring.

The mother had an epiphany as a solution was revealed to her: the older child would be dropped off at school (in a decidedly foul mood) and the mother and younger child would rush home. Once there, the mother would quickly fetch the forgotten keys and charge the younger child with their safe-keeping. He would then have them at the ready when the older child picked him up from school and this final disaster of the morning would be circumvented.

The mother, having completed the aforementioned crisis-management, then drove the younger child to school, depositing him at his classroom a mere three or four minutes late.

The mother returned to the car and drove home in an unhurried manner. Once parked under the carport of the apartment building in which she and her family dwelt, she sat for a moment in the car. She took a deep breath and mentally prepared herself for the chores and responsibilities yet to come during the day and nostalgically recalled peaceful summer mornings when alarm clocks and school lunches were unknown to the family.

She reflected that she was grateful the husband and father of the brood used his credit card to restock the household stores of coffee and half & half.

All would be well and life would continue, dramatically and peacefully, lovingly and angrily, dully and creatively, for those were the threads of the tapestry of her life.