So Awake

RIP, Wordsworth

I just found out, via Robert Reich in the New York Times, via Kottke, that one of my favorite bookstores ever closed last fall. I haven't been to Boston in two years now, so I had no idea. It was always packed with customers, and I know a good portion of my money went there for the four years I lived in Massachusetts. I'm kind of shocked, as I always thought that Boston, especially Harvard Square, was somewhere that independent bookstores would thrive forever.

Their children's store, nicknamed the Monkey, is still open. Here's hoping it has many years of success ahead.

Domesticated

Thanks to production delays at my new job, I was blessed with an unexpected four-day weekend this week. It was gray and rainy, which somehow transformed me into a housewife-in-training, cleaning and doing laundry and cooking up a storm. I started with the Egg and Tomato Gratin from Orangette, which was a half-sucess: Afsheen loved it and went back for seconds, but I was thrown off by the texture of boiled egg whites amidst what is essentially spaghetti sauce. I'm going to try again this weekend with scrambled eggs instead of boiled, and more cheese.

By far the most successful project of the weekend were the scones I baked by modifying a recipe from Baking Illustrated. I finally got the chance to try a new flour that Jeff told me about months ago, and it turned out to be fantastic, making the scones just a little bit crumbly and hearty-tasting. I also attempted the dark chocolate cupcakes with buttercream frosting from the most recent issue of Cooks Illustrated. They were tasty, but quite a bit of work. If I'm going to spend two solid hours working in the kitchen, I kind of want more to show for it than cupcakes. They're yummy, and they're cute, but they just aren't that impressive.

I'm working again now, so I imagine it's only a matter of time before I'm back to eating frozen vegetarian buffalo wings and peanut butter toast for most of my meals. It was fun while it lasted, though.

Good links for when you're feeling inclined towards the domestic arts:
Chocolate and Zucchini
Cooking For Engineers
Craftster (my latest addiction)
Hannah Cooks
Not Martha

Cream Scones with Blueberries
Adapted from Baking Illustrated

2 c. King Arthur White Whole Wheat Flour
1 T. baking powder
3 T. sugar
1/2 t. salt
5 T. cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/4-inch cubes
1/2 c. dried blueberries
1 c. heavy cream

1. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.

2. Mix the flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt in a food processor with six 1-second pulses (or whisk together in a large bowl).

3. Sprinkle the butter over the flour mixture and cut together with 12 1-second pulses. (Or cut in butter using a pastry cutter or your hands.) Mix in the blueberries with another quick pulse.

4. Stir in the heavy cream with a rubber spatula or fork until the dough begins to form, about 30 seconds.

5. Transfer the dough and all dry flour bits to a countertop and knead by hand until it forms a rough, slightly sticky ball, about 5 to 10 seconds. Form the dough into an 8-inch disc and cut into eight equal wedges.

6. Bake the wedges on an ungreased cookie sheet until the tops are light brown, 12 to 15 minutes. Cool on a wire rack for at least 10 minutes. The scones are best served warm, and can be quickly reheated in a toaster oven.

Why?

I live in a town with two Major League Baseball teams and in a state with five. People move here from every part of the country and from all over the world. So why is that everywhere I go I find myself surrounded by Yankee fans?

Namesake

Y'all, my favorite bag in the whole world now has the same name as me! Go check it out!

I must confess, I was kind of keeping Slaughterhead a secret, because every other time I find a bag I like, it turns out half the people in my office have the same damn bag in a different color. But since no one in my office reads this site aside from Afsheen, I think I'm safe for now.

Happy Conspiracy Day!

You can make your own candy hearts with the Acme Heart Generator. As you can see, they turn out best when you don't have too much to say.

I reign again!

As of yesterday morning, I have reclaimed the Worst Carma title from Sara. I got up at seven to walk Paddington, and noticed that there was a parking space right in front of the house. Since my car was around the corner, which always makes me uneasy, I decided to move it before the hordes of weekend Melrose shoppers descended and stole all the good spaces.

When I got to my car and put the key in the door, it was unlocked. I figured Afsheen had just been tired when he'd parked it Thursday night, and was planning on teasing him when I got back inside. And then I sat down, and realized that my entire dashboard was gone. Yes, once again, my car stereo had been stolen. But this time, it was obviously the work of amateurs. They didn't just take the stereo, they ripped open the entire panel with a crowbar and left my air conditioning controls dangling from a wire. I decided to move the car anyway, so I could keep an eye on it until I could take it in. And that's when I discovered they'd also cut the battery cable.

Fortunately Afsheen is more level-headed than I am in these kinds of situations, and immediately signed us up for AAA so we could get the car towed. Meanwhile I called the Hollywood branch of the LAPD and filed a police report over the phone. The officer taking the call was wholly uninterested in what had happened. I think he may have even yawned.

The tow truck showed up right away, and we dropped the car off, and then we came home so I could cry and plan to move far away from our Horrible Neighborhood of Crime and eat a big bowl of absolutely-not-South-Beach-friendly macaroni and cheese. And then I calmed down a bit and realized that, unless we suddenly win several lotteries and move to our own compound with sentries and guard dogs and a moat, we live in about the safest area we know of in LA. And considering the recent rash of armed robberies in the area, that's pretty scary.

At least I have this big mean dog to protect me:

Gwentropizzle's new sizearch engine

Via the WOW Report, I bring you Gizoogle.

Why, despite my fortune cookie, I will not be getting married in the next year

Afsheen: We should really get married before I lose all my hair.
Gwen: You mean for the pictures? Because I'll still love you even when you're bald.
Afsheen: Or I could wear a toupee.
Gwen: NO.
Afsheen: Just for the wedding. And then I could have a toupee toss to go with your garter toss.
Gwen: There will be NO garter toss at my wedding.
Afsheen: Okay, then we can toss your underpants.

On puppies and gender roles

The past couple days, it seems like I've been crankier than Afsheen when it comes to Paddington's waking us up whining at 3 am, or constantly going to the bathroom in the middle of the floor, or needing to go out every time we sit down to eat a meal. I'm pretty sure I love the little fluffball just as much as Afsheen does, which leaves me with a couple of theories.

It could be that I'm just more tired. Between a week-long sinus cold and a pillow that's lost its fluff (not to mention the 3 am whining), I definitely haven't felt very rested in the mornings. But I think it's also that while all these experiences are new for both of us, they're eerily reminiscent of everything I've been told about motherhood. I keep thinking about how a baby will take *years* to be housebroken toilet-trained or even learn to walk. I think about how much more work it is to feed a baby, or how I wouldn't be able to just take my kid to work and tie him under my desk. It's like there's this weight of expectation behind every quasi-maternal task I perform. I do wonder if I'd be having these thoughts had I not grown up in a society that trains girls from early childhood to be mothers and homemakers before anything else. Am I a typical American female, or am I just neurotic?

Your questions answered

Many of you have been asking me how it came to be that Afsheen is currently my boss. I can understand your shock, since I am so much smarter and more qualified and have cuter shoes. Here is the deal.

Back in November, when I was working at the Job of Neverending Late Nights and Despair, and stupidly turning down better jobs, I was called by one of my favorite places to work. They wanted to know if I could come work for them in February. I was, of course, thrilled. But since my outdate at Dark Overlord Productions was in December, that left me with about two months of hiatus. And while unemployment pays enough to cover my bills, it doesn't leave much room for frivolity. Which is unfortunate, since when I'm unemployed and have nothing to do all day, I want to go shopping.

Conveniently, Afsheen needed to hire some temporary help over at his job. So many birds were killed with one stone: I can help out my boyfriend and spend all day with a puppy at my feet, I have something to do other than go crazy with boredom, and I don't burn through my unemployment claim early in the year. Also, as workplaces go, this one is pretty fun, though sadly lacking in Diet Coke. But have no fear--this arrangement is short-lived, and I have two great jobs (both with promotions!) lined up for the rest of the spring.

Ominous

In my fortune cookie last night was this message:

You or a close friend will be married within a year.

Here's the thing. None of my close friends are currently engaged, and usually it takes about a year (at least) to plan a wedding. So this leaves two options: Vegas elopement or shotgun marriage. This should be an exciting year.

iPod v. Gates

I have to admit, I'm a little bit obsessed with the Apple-Microsoft rivalry. I not only own a copy of Pirates of Silicon Valley, I've watched it many times. And I definitely became an Apple loyalist over the years, long before I actually bought one. In college, Emily and I used to watch the "She's A Rainbow" iMac commercial over and over--but on our Windows PCs (though still using Quicktime, of course). (And no, I don't think we were always sober while doing so.) So it quite amused me to learn that the iPod is taking over Microsoft:

Wired News: Hide Your IPod, Here Comes Bill