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Putting one foot after another
I am not dead. My brain has been accumulating a list of narranda, which I consistently fall asleep before posting: the ongoing renovation of the kitchen, including the complete relocation of all dishes, utensils, spices, foodstuffs, and refrigerator to far-flung parts of the house (not to mention the plumbing), Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003), all of Thursday, La strada (1954), and lavender. Divers books. Rain. Cooking. My cousin Tristen has been here since Friday, so we walked around the Arlington Res to the tune of Pele and her jealous sea-sister and a rain-god captured by the Queen of Stone and Steel; he was very helpful yesterday in making a hot peach syrup to be eaten over the traditional homemade strawberry ice cream, and today we spent the entire afternoon at the Museum of Fine Arts. He had never been to an art museum before. He recognized the statue of Orpheus with Cerberus charmed to sleep as soon as we walked through the Huntington entrance. I know him! His wife died from a snake and he went into the underworld to get her back, but he looked back when he'd promised not to and he had to leave her there. So you may understand it was a success: we spent most of our time with the Egyptian, Greek, and Roman collections, with a substantial detour into South Asia after he told me he wanted to visit Ganesha and I figured out that the god whose name he couldn't remember—You know, the one who sits like this—as he assumed the lotus position in the middle of the hallway—was in fact the Buddha. He was twice mistaken for my child and seemed neither wishful nor offended. The Sargent murals blew him away. We spent about fifteen minutes sitting underneath the rotunda and the stairwells, him pointing to each group of figures and either identifying them for me or asking me to tell him their stories; these included Herakles with the Hydra, Orestes pursued by the Furies, and Phaethon falling from the zodiac in fire, but I don't think any of it freaked him out. He really, really wanted a poster of Sargent's Pegasus, but the store did not sell them; he settled for a small model pegasus and I got him a large children's book of Egyptology, with hieroglyphs. He had already correctly identified the logogram for "water." He wants to go to the aquarium tomorrow morning. We'll see if I'm functional. He is wonderful.
I have my schedule for Readercon; I will post it tomorrow.
I have my schedule for Readercon; I will post it tomorrow.
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How old is Tristen?
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Peel and slice three peaches. Whisk together a quarter-cup of sugar, two teaspoons of cornstarch, a quarter-teaspoon of nutmeg and a quarter-teaspoon of cinnamon (or less or more to taste), then stir all of the above dry ingredients into a third-cup of water and—peach brandy is recommended, but in its absence I substituted two tablespoons of kirsch and a splash of squeezed orange; I imagine one could experiment with other fruit-based spirits—and bring to a boil in a reasonably sized saucepan, stirring constantly; then reduce heat and simmer for one minute. Add peaches and simmer until soft, by which point the liquid should have thickened into a syrup and the kitchen smells fragrantly like summer. Remove from heat and ladle over ice cream. Repeat as needed.
How old is Tristen?
Six years old. He doesn't yet read, but he's highly narrative. He hasn't shown much interest in science so far, but this visit he was asking about volcanoes and he liked the sound of "pyroclastic flow," so I am hopeful.
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I'll have to give you the one I have for lavender shortbread, as you seem also to have lavender.
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I have been given a bar of lavender chocolate, a jar of lavender honey, and three tins of lavender to cook with. (I palmed the lavender soap off on my brother's fiancée, who does not have an allergy to perfume.) Please—I'm taking suggestions!
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Your panels (next entry) look excellent--I'm bumming that one I'd like to see is opposite my dad's panel. Still better to be spoiled for choice than not have anything one's interested in...
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Your young cousin sounds like a real treat. My big thrill today was when I discovered Cal can now walk up a spiral slide the wrong way without needing my help at all. Of course, that now would seem to have made one of his few learned phrases ("I need a hand") obsolete, but...maybe just in its original context.
Then again, he did modify "Please let me go" to "Please let IT go", when he wanted something I was sitting on. So that's progress.
Otherwise, I need to compose a whole post about the innate creepiness of Mary Poppins, which I've recently been forced to watch large sections of, repeatedly. Next up: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
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Yes; it's changed hotels and towns over the years, but I don't think it's ever been held outside the state.
Your young cousin sounds like a real treat.
I am very fond of him. I'm waiting for him to learn how to read, so I can send him letters.
Then again, he did modify "Please let me go" to "Please let IT go", when he wanted something I was sitting on. So that's progress.
Intrinsic vs. extrinsic. Cool!
Otherwise, I need to compose a whole post about the innate creepiness of Mary Poppins, which I've recently been forced to watch large sections of, repeatedly.
Please do. I haven't seen that movie since elementary or middle school and mostly what I remember is Dick Van Dyke's accent, which may have been the greatest setback to British-American relations since the Boston Tea Party.
Next up: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
. . . I actually want to watch that one again. I had read the book by Ian Fleming, and then I saw the first ten or fifteen minutes of the film at summer camp and was seriously nonplussed; I think I wandered off behind the bookshelves and The Three Investigators: The Mystery of the Dancing Devil. (I don't know if that was intellectually an improvement, but at least it had Mongols and not surreally cheery songs.) Now I know that if I'd stuck it out, I would have gotten to see Robert Helpmann as the Child Catcher. I discovered him through The Red Shoes (1948) and Tales of Hoffmann (1951) and he's awesome.
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Well, obviously the fact that you're not dead is wonderful in and of itself, but I'm glad your cousin's there and that you've been having such a fine time with him. He sounds a charming, charming child.
I hope you're functional the morrow. Enjoy!
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I think he is!
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I'd noticed that. ;-)
It's cool that you have kin in the appropriate age range and get to see them and all of that. I wish I had more of a chance to get to know my smaller cousins and such.
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http://www.amazon.com/Sargents-Murals-Carol-Troyen/dp/0878464751/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1246899901&sr=8-1
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You are extremely awesome! Thank you.
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I approve of both options . . .
Listen, though, if you ever make a trip to the UK with Tristen in tow...
Absolutely!
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