havregrynskugler

Sep. 23rd, 2017 04:33 pm
lamentables: (Default)
[personal profile] lamentables
I am definitely feeling better, like I no longer have to keep pushing a massive boulder uphill. Hurrah!

Inside the birch: secret space #oftheday

This morning we went into town to do errands, slowly because the tendons are still recovering from the new boots, but we walked over 2km. Our visit coincided with Daventry's very first Food Festival and, somewhat to our surprise, it wasn't a bad event. There were at least four stalls offering locally brewed craft beers and ciders, so we came home with half a dozen different ciders. We would have bought some samosas and onion bhajis, but we were a little too early. The leaflet we were given for the (relatively new) health food store, has convinced me I've been missing out on something good, so I shall visit that next week.

I deposited the majority of my collection of fabulous shoes at one of the charity shops. It was a sad moment, but I'm hoping I'll stop missing them now they are no longer sitting forlornly on a shelf being all unwearable at me. On the upside, I found that with a 3/4 orthotic, rather than a full length one, I can wear more of the old shoes than anticipated (though, inevitably, the more boring part of the collection).

Our lunch was all planned around the giant, homegrown potatoes J gave me on Thursday. They are big enough that we only needed one between two, and we decided that baking would be the best way to enjoy its unadulterated potatoey deliciousness. We had a couple of different salads too and, oh yes, we might have opened one of those ciders to go with it. Omnomnom.

Never mind the hygge, get a load of these havregrynskugler I just made 😋

This afternoon I made havregrynskugler as recommended on twitter by Sofie Hagen. The recipe is dead simple - essentially it's chocolate buttercream with oats. I'm not a fan of buttercream, but the oats (and the Amaretto di Saronno I added) make these satisfyingly chewy balls of chocolatey goodness.

Review: A Crime to Remember

Sep. 23rd, 2017 08:46 am
truepenny: artist's rendering of Sidneyia inexpectans (Default)
[personal profile] truepenny
Not about books, but definitely a review.

Hulu has episodes from 3 seasons of A Crime to Remember, which is an Investigation Discovery show. In my ongoing love/hate relationship with true crime media, ID stands out for their high production values and for about as unexploitative an attitude as you can have. (I wonder, perhaps unworthily, if part of what makes ACtR seem thoughtful rather than vulture-like is that the executive producer and a bunch of the writers & directors are women.) I have also been very fond of Homicide Hunter, partly because the show does not try to sugarcoat Lt. Joe Kenda at all. He's very good at his job, and he is a ruthless avenging angel, but he is not a nice man. I kind of adore him. (I'm pretty sure he'd hate me, but that's okay.)
But ACtR. All the episodes are period pieces. (I joked to my therapist that they must have come up with the idea because they wanted everyone to be able to smoke on camera.) I'm not super fond of the gimmick, in which every episode has a narrator who is a minor fictional character in the real crime being portrayed, but most of the time it works okay. (It works extremely well--give credit where it's due--in "The 28th Floor" (2.4).) The actors--"character" actors all--are excellent, and most of the time they even get the accents matched up to the region. (There are exceptions.) And the producers have interview clips with true crime writers who have written about the cases; with people who investigated the cases (when those people are still alive); with Mary Ellen O'Toole and other experts in various fields; with friends and family of murderers and victims alike. They frequently featured Michelle MacNamara before her death in April 2016--pretty obviously because she was very good at conveying information clearly but without sounding scripted. And, again, because they seem to look for women. They also have gotten Catherine Pelonero more than once. (I actually haven't been able to bring myself to watch the episode about Kitty Genovese, but Pelonero does a great job in the other episodes I have watched her in.)
My true, serious beef with ACtR is its insistent trope of the loss of American innocence. Almost every case is framed as something that destroyed a piece of American innocence, and this is infuriating to me for several reasons:
1. America has never been innocent.
2. The idea of the Golden Age, the before time just out of reach in which everything was perfect, is a very, very old fallacy. (The Romans were all over it.) I think it is pernicious, because it validates reactionary attempts to return to "the good old days," which are "good" (in 20th century America) only if you are white, middle-class or above, and it helps if you're male. ACtR does deal with racism, sexism, and classism, but it doesn't seem to recognize the contradictory position it puts itself in thereby.
3. Casting these crimes as destroyers of American innocence erases crimes that went before. I can give one very specific example: "Baby Come Home" (2.8) about the 1953 kidnapping and murder of Bobby Greenlease, who was murdered before his kidnappers ever tried to extort ransom from his parents. Now I am not at all denying that what happened to Bobby Greenlease is vile and horrible and an expression of the worst part of human nature, but claiming that Carl Austin Hall and Bonnie Heady somehow invented kidnapping children for ransom--or even just the worst and most cruel of bad faith negotiations after the child was already dead--erases what happened to, for one example, Charles Lindbergh, Jr. Or, for another example, Charley Ross. If there was any innocence to be lost in this particular genre of crime, it was lost in 1874, 79 years before Bobby Greenlease's death.
So, yeah. That's the one thing that I really think they get wrong. Otherwise, they do a lovely job, and they have taught me about murders I'd never heard of but I think should not be forgotten: the terrible deaths of Judge Curtis Chillingworth and his wife Marjorie in West Palm Beach in 1955; Charles Whitman's sniper assault on the students, faculty, and staff of the University of Texas in 1966 (which I knew about, but knew kind of wrongly); the bizarre murder of Betty Williams in Odessa, Texas, in 1961; the murder of Veronica Gedeon in New York in 1937, and how the case was largely solved by the editors of the true crime magazines she was a cover model for; the murder of Roseann Quinn in New York in 1973, which was the inspiration for Looking for Mr. Goodbar, and I deeply appreciate the way ACtR questions the LfMG myth and suggests that Theresa Dunn is a cruel travesty of the real Roseann Quinn and the reality of her death. If you are interested in criminology or American history (because nothing tells you more about a culture than its cause celebre murders), I commend this series to your attention.

The World of Robin Hood at Age Eleven

Sep. 23rd, 2017 05:27 am
sartorias: (Default)
[personal profile] sartorias
Sometimes I really need to escape from the news, which seems more horrific every day. And my escape needs a dose of blithe fun.

So I trundle out photocopies of student papers, missing chapters from Robin Hood, as gleefully penned by eleven year olds.

So......Siena

Sep. 23rd, 2017 12:24 pm
cmcmck: (Default)
[personal profile] cmcmck
 We went back to the hotel we have used to many times before- the Arcobaleno (rainbow).

We were on the other side of the 'L' this time so got a view of the rather nice 19th century yellow villa across the road:





More pics! )

Remembering The Cuban Missile Crisis

Sep. 23rd, 2017 11:30 am
poliphilo: (Default)
[personal profile] poliphilo
The difference is we took Kennedy and Khrushchev seriously. I'm not sure they were really any wiser or more imposing than Trump and Kim but the world viewed them as statesmen and not as over-tired toddlers. Politics may not have changed in the intervening half century but I think the world has. We're less frightened, less respectful of power, less willing to put up with high level silliness.
sovay: (Viktor & Mordecai)
[personal profile] sovay
I was taking pictures of the cats.

Autolycus had opinions about the camera.



[personal profile] spatch says, "This is what I see every morning at seven-thirty!"

Randall Jarrell

Sep. 23rd, 2017 12:00 am
[syndicated profile] quoteoftheday_feed
"I think that one possible definition of our modern culture is that it is one in which nine-tenths of our intellectuals can't read any poetry."

Abba Eban

Sep. 23rd, 2017 12:00 am
[syndicated profile] quoteoftheday_feed
"History teaches us that men and nations behave wisely once they have exhausted all other alternatives."
sovay: (Otachi: Pacific Rim)
[personal profile] sovay
In about an hour, I am going to see Howard the Duck (1986) on 70 mm at the Somerville Theatre. It's part of their second annual 70 mm & Widescreen Festival, which started this Wednesday and runs through the rest of the month; last year it offered me such superlative viewing experiences as Lord Jim (1965), Spartacus (1960), Sleeping Beauty (1959) and Tron (1982), and this year I am starting with a duck from another planet. We're meeting my parents for it. My father unironically loves Howard the Duck. He ranks it with '80's cult classics like The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension (1984) and has always felt it deserved a sequel. I have not seen it since high school at the latest and have peculiarly fragmentary memories of the plot. The opening sequence is picture-clear: Howard on his home planet greeting a Playduck centerfold with "My little airbrushed beauty!" before being sucked through space and time into Cleveland, Ohio where he rescues a new wave chick from some lowlifes with the ancient martial art of "Quack Fu." She has a band. I want to say he ends up managing it. After that things start to break up. I remember that an eldritch thing possesses Jeffrey Jones—and that it happens for the decently Lovecraftian reason that it is never a bright idea to open a door at random into the deep reaches of space when you don't know what might be on the other side—but I don't remember the mechanism or the immediate consequences, except that I have the vague sense of a road trip. I remember that Chip Zien voices Howard, when I know him much better for his work in musical theater. IMDb tells me that this movie was also the first place I saw Lea Thompson and Tim Robbins. I'm really looking forward. Other films I am planning to catch on 70 mm include Wonder Woman (2017) and Cleopatra (1963), which should really be something on a big screen, as should an IB Technicolor VistaVision print of North by Northwest (1959). I am a little sorry to have missed The Dark Crystal (1982) earlier this evening, but it has been a long and stressful day. There's always the matinée repeat on Sunday if I really feel like it. In the meantime, there's a space duck.

[edit] Yeah, sorry, haters. Howard the Duck remains a really delightful sci-fi comedy. Lea Thompson makes a surprisingly credible new wave/punk frontwoman. Tim Robbins is so young and so gangly. Jeffrey Jones is no Emilio Lizardo, but he chews good scenery as the possessed scientist. There are practical effects. There is stop-motion. (There are too many fight scenes and things blowing up, but I feel this way about most movies with any action quotient.) And there is a road trip, with a pit stop at a nuclear power plant. The script is sweet and full of consciously comic-book dialogue and it plays its interspecies romance straight; the only joke that really pulled me up short was a tossed-off sex-change line which mercifully goes by fast. I can't imagine swapping out any of the actors, especially Zien. I had completely forgotten about Richard Kiley as the introductory narrator, B-movie style. I don't even think it's an enjoyably bad movie: I just like it. And I have seen perhaps the last remaining 70 mm print in the world. No regrets.

Sienese posters

Sep. 22nd, 2017 02:34 pm
cmcmck: (Default)
[personal profile] cmcmck
 I have a liking for posters wherever I go in the world and on our first day in Siena as we walked into town, I knew of a place where there would be some nice ones.

I wasn't disappointed!

One for a transport show:




And one for a donkey palio (yes, really :o) Such a beautifully captured image of one of my favourite creatures:



And general posterage:



That's all I have time for as we're now in the process of getting the new attic room as we want it, but there'll be more later, I promise! I took two hundred odd shots!










the art of perception

Sep. 22nd, 2017 02:01 pm
lamentables: (Default)
[personal profile] lamentables
I had a lovely day yesterday. It was grey and gloomy, and intermittently torrential, but I drove over to meet my dyeclass friend and then go to Compton Verney to their - about to end if you're in the area and are interested - exhibition, Seurat to Riley: The Art of Perception. It was perfect viewing for us, providing inspiration and insight for our printing and J's weaving.
We took our time there, because of my tendons and J's damaged foot, and had tea before we started and lunch after looking round. And then more tea. And we took advantage of the free bus service from the gallery back to the car park. We also talked and talked and talked some more.
It was a bit of a risk going out for the day because it was the first day of my new medication, so I was still suffering from the fatigue that is presumed to be an effect of the old medication, while the impact of the new drug is an unknown quantity. J is, fortunately, well-informed and thoughtful, so between us we managed my tiredness and made sure no plummeting blood sugar levels occurred. And I was still safe to drive home at the end of the day.

Swans #oftheday

Lazy photo of the day - zoomed from the car, without stopping and getting out.

Today has been rather lovely too. For a start it's beautifully sunny, so I have the doors open and washing drying outside.
Son of Boilerman turned up as promised around 8:30am and fixed my boiler whilst being chatty and delightful. While he did that, I pottered around gently and did things that needed doing, but without any frantic plan, which was rather nice.
And then I spotted the chap across the road who had been recommended to me as a potential gardener. So we looked around my jungle, agreed an hourly rate, and I now have a gardener. It seems like a perfect arrangement, as he lives a couple of doors away, is self-employed, and can just pop round when convenient for him. He's quite excited about clearing things back and then formulating a plan, and seems open to encouraging me to get involved.
Then the veg man arrived and once more, as his last delivery, I got to accept lots of free leftovers. It's not as epic as The Week of 18 Avocados, but I've got quite a lot of extra salad stuff, and a small mint mountain (a mint foothill). He turned up just as I was eating blue cheese on toast and thinking that it needed something fresh to complement it - pears and figs will do nicely, thank you.
I was supposed to let Percy out for a wander in his back garden around noon, but I failed at opening the back door. (Inadequate training.) So we went for a short stroll instead. On the way we met Ida, the tiny, super-enthusiatic dog who considers Percy to be her boyfriend. Much licking occurred. Everyone seemed very satisfied by this. On the way back I helped a delivery guy to find the right house and he was enthusiastically appreciative. (No licking occurred.)

In drug news, the new medication is definitely reducing my blood sugar. It's lower today than it has been for about a year. (It might be too effective, but we'll see.) I read up on the side effects of the old drug, pioglitazone, and it looks as though it may well be responsible for my peripheral oedema and weight gain as well as extreme fatigue. I wondered why I was getting oedema when the weather is cool, and obviously I blamed myself for the weight thing.
I don't usually read the side effects info. I used to, but concluded that the lists of possibilities are too all-encompassing to be useful and vague enough to make me paranoid. Now I wonder if that was a mistake, so I've read all the possible side effects of the new drug, alogliptin, which is basically all the same things as the old drug, plus a few more. Hopefully I won't experience any of them this time.
None of the side effects mentioned tendinopathy, but the timing fits...and one of the known side effects is an increase in broken bones, so that might not be wild speculation?

And now I have a whole sunny afternoon to myself with absolutely nothing on the Should Do list and many delightful ideas on the Could Do list.

Sunflower

Sep. 22nd, 2017 11:31 am
poliphilo: (Default)
[personal profile] poliphilo



Ah, Sun-flower, weary of time
Who countest the steps of the Sun,
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done;

Where the youth pined away with desire
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow
Arise from their graves and aspire
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go

William Blake

Chariot Of Fire

Sep. 22nd, 2017 10:24 am
poliphilo: (Default)
[personal profile] poliphilo
I'm told the human aura has a circumference of 26 feet. That's big. I paced it out and it's over halfway down the garden path. Unless you're living in a cavern in the Peak District your aura will constantly be overlapping other people's. Consider the implications. Imagine the radiant soup in a busy shopping street...

The Hebrew word for it is Merkabah which is the word used in tradition for the celestial chariot in which Elijah went back to heaven. I've been singing "Jerusalem" all my life and now I think I'm finally getting a handle on what Blake was talking about. "Bring me my chariot of fire" means something like "let me realise my full potential"- only "chariot of fire" sounds better.

We think our consciousness is trapped in our physical bodies but really we're travelling around in an invisible vehicle that would blaze out like the sun if we let it.

James Thurber

Sep. 22nd, 2017 12:00 am
[syndicated profile] quoteoftheday_feed
"The wit makes fun of other persons; the satirist makes fun of the world; the humorist makes fun of himself."

Robert Pante

Sep. 22nd, 2017 12:00 am
sovay: (Sovay: David Owen)
[personal profile] sovay
Even if the rest of the film were forgettable, Howard Hawks' Red River (1948) would be worth it for the climactic fight scene where Montgomery Clift and John Wayne are tragically and brutally and patriarchally beating one another's brains out and just as the audience, consisting in this case of me and [personal profile] rushthatspeaks, decides it cannot take another second of this senseless macho bullshit, Joanne Dru can't either and not only says as much, she holds both combatants at gunpoint until they cut the machismo and admit they love one another. It was a thing of beauty. ("You'd better marry that girl, Matt.") Factor in the gun-comparing scene between Clift and John Ireland and other not infrequent moments of no heterosexual explanation and the whole thing was a nice break from today's otherwise relentless grind of work, even if we weren't totally sure at the outset. It is not easy to watch a movie in the company of an active and presently tired and cranky eleven-month-old, but we managed. In other news, Fox these days is freestanding, fast-moving, can hang upside down by the knees if an adult holds them, and appears to be taking against the entire concept of pants. They like honeycake, though.

Autolycus is being heartbreakingly plaintive right now. He has a vet appointment early in the morning and it requires fasting, which is an impossible concept to explain to a cat. I let him graze all day and gave him a proper dinner at the absolute last moment, but he is attempting to convince me that, actually, in point of fact, he starved since then. We should find him some kind of special treat after the appointment, for being so brave and honest. Last night he and his sister shared in the Rosh Hashanah chicken. All cats are lunisolar.

In honor of the High Holidays, here is a post on Jewish superheroes and here is a brilliant riposte to the rather short-sighted question "How can you be Black and Jewish?"

Back to the relentless grind. At least it is almost autumn.

September 2017

S M T W T F S
     12
345678 9
1011 1213 141516
17181920212223
24252627282930

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 23rd, 2017 11:29 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios