Month: November 2007

  • 11 Last night’s show was fun. Perhaps the most unusual moment was when we were making candy.

    We were in a conference room. “Since you don’t have a freezer–” I began.

    They corrected me. They have a liquid nitrogen freezer that goes down to temperatures I associate with outer space.

    We discussed the possibilities. Someone suggested that we would need a control. I agreed. “Then when I’m doing this recipe at someone’s house, I can tell them how it would work with liquid nitrogen.”

    We did not end up using the special freezer. We just imagined that we had done so.

    Afterwards, the hostess took me through the labyrinthine back passages of this impressive building. “We’ll take the 11servants’ entrance,” she said, but actually we passed radioactive rooms and operating rooms and  places you couldn’t enter without a password.

    It was interesting.

    She told me that she rarely sees any live chickens.

    We served a chicken dish, and it didn’t seem to bother anyone.

    TGIF, eh? I am working tomorrow, though. Still, I intend to put some beef stew in the crockpot before I head up to the store today, and take the evening off.

  • I got through most of my to-do list yesterday. I have a new one for today, of course, including a party in the Poultry Science building. I have written before about their sculpture, and I am told that they have added to their collection, so I am naturally looking forward to that.

    We had a good choir rehearsal last night, with twenty or so present, including a new person. I mention this first because Bell Choir took a turn for the worse.

    I am supposed to play the bells in public on the 18th. This is an error. I cannot tell what measure I am on half the time, let alone what note I am supposed to be playing. My highest goal as a member of the bell choir is to play the right note at the right time, a feat which I consider to be the merest starting point when I am singing.

    Unfortunately, when you play bells, you are the only person playing that note. It is not like a choir. There is a much higher level of responsibility. If I do not play the high E, E flat, and F at the correct moments, the entire piece will — so far as those three notes are concerned — be ruined.

    I can’t believe I am being expected to do this.

    I have suggested that we get somone with cue cards to hold them up as each measure is played so that I will not lose my place so frequently, but the suggestion was vetoed.

    You understand, I am probably the worst bell player the world has ever known.

    I am going to head over to the gym now, to distract myself from this grave misfortune that has fallen upon me. And of course upon anyone who has to listen to me attempting to play my three notes.

  • I am stumbling around half-asleep this morning, trying to figure out how to fit the day’s to-do list into the day. Once I wake up, it will doubtless seem more manageable.

    I spent yesterday doing clerical tasks, mostly. The Empress and I decided on keywords to work with, having seen results from my experimental ones quite quickly. The SEOmoz blog had an article about Ron Paul. Ron Paul is a candidate for President. I do not know his party affiliation or what he stands for, though I have been irritated by a bike rider wearing an enormous RON PAUL sign that for some reason made it harder for me to judge when I could go around her. The thing the blog was saying was that Ron Paul is all over the internet. Does this mean, they were asking, that there is a great deal of popular interest in Mr. Paul, that his followers are good practitioners of the Dark Art of SEO, or that he has hired people to Black Hat every possible forum? You can’t tell any more.

    My keyword experiments showed that I, with my limited skills in the Dark Art, could see small results in a week on words that wouldn’t have been predicted. The point was to determine whether my strategy would work before actually trying it, and it does. The store is on the front page for something we would not naturally show on at all. Since the things we actually want to use are not odd terms that no one would associate with us or things for which there is little competition, our movement on the real keywords is not going to be so quick. We have, for example, gone only from #90 to #68 on Google for “classroom supplies” in a week. That means we could be visible to shoppers any month now. That is going to be the pattern for the real chosen keywords, not the leap from #5,000 to #4.

    For the store, it is simply a matter of helping people find us. They want what we have, but they don’t know it because we are small and obscure. I was able to make it easy for people in our region to find us, and now we are reaching out to a broader demographic. I see nothing wrong with this. The items I experimented with are harmless enough — they can actually be bought from us, so there is nothing wrong with my experimenting with them. If we didn’t sell 22,000 items, I could do that with every single one, and there would be nothing wrong with it.

    But with the political candidate, are we looking at someone small and obscure who would be a good president if only people knew about him? Or are we looking at artificial manipulation of the internet system to fake a groundswell of interest in someone, for the purpose of hauling people onto the bandwagon?

    In politics, does it matter?  It might just mean that we are looking at a guy with modern skills, which might not be a bad thing.

    I got out last night in the dark and picked the peppers before the freeze. I think the herbs will be okay, and if they aren’t, it’s too late now. But I will have to think of something to do with all those peppers to preserve them for future use. That is not on my to-do list for today. Now that I have drunk my tea and dumped some excess thoughts, I can see that I have a few errands to run, the gym, and a bunch of computer work which will not all be finished today, and can be continued tomorrow. Then I have a class, bells, and choir. It is a long list, but not an impossible one.

    Onward! Excalibur!

  • 11  I am feeling slightly overwhelmed. It’s the lack of empty spaces on my calendar.

    Yesterday I was feeling a bit stuck on the current state history book, and I went out for a walk.

    I should have been to the gym before that, but I have such a lot of work to do right now that I hadn’t gotten around to it.

    The walk was a better choice. We have a bit of color starting.

    I got back to my computer with A Plan for the subunit I was working on.

    11 It was scuffling through the leaves that did it.

    Having done that, I actually quit after a mere 10 hours of work and made my family a proper dinner.

    Then we had the first rehearsal for Messiah.  We’ve sung through bits of it before while working on the November concert pieces, but now, with the November concert behind us, we are settling in.

    One of the tenors told me that people said, “With all that you’re doing, you’re singing too?” The response: “If I weren’t singing, I couldn’t do all the other things.” That’s probably true.

    11 It was a good rehearsal, in any case. The director started with, “Well, we did it!”, referring of course to last Friday’s concert.

    He gave us the final rehearsal schedule for Messiah, which I have now transferred to my calendar, where it overlaps with some other things, leaving a grand total of four days in this month without an evening commitment. Exactly one day actually at home without work or any appointments of any kind, and I am of course planning to schedule a show there if I can.

    Maybe not.

    Anyway, that calendar excess scarcely had time to sink in before we got started with the music.11

    Are you familiar with Handel’s Messiah?

    There are lots of notes in it.

    Our director is having us do it in the more modern, which is to say, the older style. He kept showing us what a violin would do in a Baroque piece, and explaining how that should affect our production of the music.

    He explained to us how new research (and he is saying “new” meaning over the past decade) has clarified and changed our ideas of how to sing this piece.

    Messiah-autograph-4Fortunately, the last time I sang this, it was in the new old-fashioned way.

    I remember on that occasion there were people who had sung the whole thing in double forte all their lives, with legato phrasing, who just couldn’t give that up.

     I understand that, but I like it better as we sing it nowadays.

    I am not doing any arias — we are bringing in paid soloists for that — but just the choruses, so it should be pure fun. Not that I have every single chorus completely memorized, and not that HallelujahChorus it is actually easy to fit all those notes into the time available, but that is a comfortable challenge, and we are all in it together.

    Following the rehearsal, I came home and worked a bit more. I talked with my kids and my husband, who has gotten a couple of bottle of Amazing Microwater and is waiting to be miraculously healed of all his ills.

    I suggested filling my car’s radiator with it, but he didn’t think that was funny. I did.

    Now I am going to work some more.

    I will be up at the store today, and then I have class tonight. I am determined to get to the gym today.

    I am expecting 14 for Thanksgiving dinner, so there will have to be housework fitted in somewhere. I had better put it on my calendar.

  • We all really enjoyed the Anonymous Four concert. They are an a capella group specializing in American gospel tunes. I wondered a little how it was for them, as New Yorkers and Bay Area folks, to perform their music in a place where everyone knew all the songs they were singing, and in fact had probably sung them in church within the past month.

    They did it very well, though. Zimbabwe Griddle was reminded by their close harmonies of Chanticleer, though they had a couple of instrumentalists from The Republic of Strings. The Chemist and I were impressed by their unison sections, since a good unison with few voices is very difficult. Actually, The Chemist was impressed by how they stayed on pitch, but I think of that as a minimal level of skill for musicians. I’m just reporting it.

    Then several of us, The Librarian, The Chemist, Zimbabwe Griddle, and I, headed over to the old train depot for coffee and sorbet.

    “Which of these is fat free?” asked the Librarian.
    “These are sugar free,” offered the Barrista.
    “I can have sugar. I can have lots of sugar. I just can’t have fat and cholesterol.”
    “Well,” said the Barrista, “I can have fat and cholesterol, but not sugar.”

    It was another example of how topics, once they have arisen, continue to come up.

    And, speaking of that tendency, I had to come back and edit this because I have had several comments, here and in the physical world, about the nutritional value of sugar. Check out this image of the nutrition label on sugar to see the simple truth about sugar’s nutrients: there aren’t any. Other, more natural varieties of sugar may have superior taste or something, but they don’t have more nutrients, because sugar cane doesn’t have any. The only point of free sugar (that is, sugar separated out from sugar cane or beets) is to make things sweeter, to make your baked goods a prettier color, chemical stuff like that. It has no food value at all. Check out blackstrap molasses to see that it contains some minerals, but bear in mind that the values shown are for a full cup, a quantity that would make you about 8 dozen cookies, so don’t get too excited. You are still way better off with spinach, raisins, whole wheat — foods, in other words. I should have shown this before — sorry.

    For example, I have heard, three times in the past seven days, comments about how “Where do you go to church?” is a common greeting in these parts, akin to “Where do you work?”, while it is an extremely personal question in most places. I don’t really have anything to say about that, but I think I have gone for years without having that topic arise, and now it is everywhere. And I am not the one bringing it up.

    Before the concert, I watched Evan Almighty with my boys. An enjoyable light family movie, good for watching while knitting.

    11 Here’s Ivy. This is not at all a good picture, especially with the collar squished onto a sleeve needle. I am not sure why I did that, except that it was handy. The thing you can clearly see, however, is the size of the remaining ball of yarn: tiny, and not nearly enough to finish the collar.

    I am still hoping that I might have another skein of this stuff tucked away somewhere. If not, then I am faced with a dilemma.

    The yarn is Knitpicks Essentials. This yarn cannot be bought at the local yarn shop, but must be ordered from the Knitpicks website. So do I order one more skein of this yarn and pay as much in shipping as the cost of the yarn, though the total cost of the order will still be about $6, or do I go ahead and order up to the $45 that it takes to avoid paying shipping? It seems reasonable to figure that I should just buy the one skein, even though it becomes expensive when you add the shipping, rather than spending much more. However, that is only if you don’t realize how much I resent paying shipping. And of course, yarn is always useful. #2 son, in face, wants a red sweater, and the yarn for that would get me pretty near the required amount to avoid the shipping.

    I didn’t say that it was an interesting dilemma, did I?

    I will allow the question to percolate in the back of my mind while I am working today. It is a work at home on the computer day for me today. I have filing, both virtual and physical, to do, and I need to step it up on the second grade book, and links management is also high on the list. We are anticipating gorgeous weather, which I can enjoy through the windows as I work, and I shall be as happy as a couple of clams.

  • Yesterday’s fair was productive and also fun, though 7:00 seemed unnecessarily early. There were no actual customers for the first hour, but I had the opportunity to chat with the woman at the next booth.

    She had recently arrived from Austin, she told me, and we had quite an interesting talk about regional differences and urban versus rural life and child-rearing. In the course of conversation, we also discovered that she is the wife of the pastor at The Poster Queen’s church, a circumstance that automatically makes us old friends. She was selling cool bags made of interesting combinations of fabrics and vintage buttons, so I told her about Etsy, not that I know much about it, but so many of our number have Etsy shops that I figure it must be a good venue.

    Janalisa came along after a bit and added even more topics to the conversation, since both of them have connections to broadcasting, and then we discovered that all of us sing in choirs. It may be that the widespread human fascination with coincidences is not so much about a failure to understand statistics (as so many of my favorite writers on the subject suggest) as it is about the way conversations go. As soon as you discover something in common, you are allowed to claim it as a bond and talk about it. The resultant community-building seems obviously adaptive. Feel free to argue with me on that, of course. I am willing to provide support for my claim if it doesn’t seem obvious to you.

    Then came #2 son’s gymnastics class and the grocery, where we ran into #1 daughter’s in-laws and #2 son snuck sugary cereal into the cart. There was a connection between the two events, because it wasn’t until we stopped to chat with Son-in-law’s parents that I noticed the box of Cocoa Pebbles in the cart.

    It wasn’t quite like being caught buying pornography, but close.

    Following all this excitement, I spent the remainder of the afternoon lolling about. I also slept for an extra hour this morning, what with the time change and all.

    Even so, I am tired. So I may, after church, have another afternoon of lolling about. I am attending another concert tonight, this one featuring Anonymous Four. If you click on their name, you will see them in nice sweaters (knitters will appreciate that bit), and then if you explore a bit you will be able to listen to them, too.

    Among the topics that arose yesterday, even before the Cocoa Pebbles, was sugar.

    Janalisa is following a new eating plan called “Sugar Busters.” Now, you know that I am not supposed to eat sugar, and you have seen enough pictures of cakes and pastries here to know that I do. Sugar Busters also classes all refined grains (that is, white flour, white rice, etc.) as sugar, and I think they’re right there. All those things are simple carbohydrates, and I believe that they are nutritionally empty. I don’t eat them casually — that is, I don’t put sugar in my tea or have processed foods made mostly of simple carbohydrates and unhealthy fats. If I am going to do something I think I shouldn’t do, it has to be worth it. Brownies, apple pie, things like that are worth it, at least occasionally, but I am not about to eat sugars in the form of Mini Corn Dogs or crackers.

    But there is not complete agreement that sugar is unhealthy. In fact, with the amazing rise of high-fructose corn syrup, many people are arguing that cane sugar is a healthier choice, and looking for it on labels.

    When I was in school, a million years ago, we studied this question in Biochemical Anthropology class.  An examination of the evidence at the time suggested that simple carbohydrates were nutritionally empty and led to tooth decay, but that they did not cause diabetes or hyperactivity in children, and I don’t see that there is a whole lot of new evidence on the subject.

    However, there is an enormous industry supporting sugar.

    Here is a recap of an old sugar industry propaganda campaign, “Sugar’s Got What it Takes,” which warns moms that “Exhaustion may be dangerous” and assures us that sugar “offsets exhaustion.” Don’t think this is old news — the sugar sack in my kitchen right now says that “Crystal Sugar has been a flavorful part of a healthy diet and active lifestyle since 1899.”

    Does it make it more difficult to find the truth about a substance when it has a propaganda mill behind it? Not really. The World Health Organization, an outift for which I have a lot of respect, made clear recommendations about sugar, among other things. Free sugars, they said, should provide no more than 10% of daily calorie intake. That’s about 20 calories worth for most adults, or 5 grams of sugar. In realistic terms, that is a weekly dessert and no random sugar intake — in other words, no processed foods.  Here, for fairness’s sake, is the sugar industry’s response, in a long PDF file.

    That file provides the average amount of sugar eaten per person per day in America: 80 grams. The USDA’s food guidelines recommend 20 grams as the upper limit. We know that the USDA guidelines are adjusted to reflect what they feel is a realistic expectation for Americans. That is, they are suggesting a daily dessert, or average consumption of processed foods and no sweets. I usually fall between the WHO and the USDA recommendations, myself.

    Basically, human beings’ source of carbohydrates ought to be fruits, vegetables, and whole grains. We don’t need anything else.

    We just want pastry. Or Cocoa Pebbles.

  • Yesterday was not perfect. I had minor rushes and fusses, and in the afternoon I was told that I had a Policy Violation. After going through the typical stages — horror and embarrassment, affronted self-rightousness (“I didn’t do what that person did; how can they object to mine and not to hers?”), rationalization — in the last hours of the workday, I raced home to rectify the Violation before last night’s concert. The kitchen had not been cleaned and no grocery fairy had deposited anything in the refrigerator, so I had #2 son call around to find a pizza place that could have our meal ready in the available time. It could be done, one said, if we would go pick it up.  I agreed. #1 son, I thought, could dash out and get it while I fixed my Violation and got dressed and made a salad, and I would still be ready for the performance in time.

    #1 son refused. He was the same person who had failed to clean the kitchen, so I should not have been surprised.

    I fixed things as fast as I could, dashed off to fetch the pizza, and zoomed back up to the door at 6:38. Ten minutes to eat, five minutes to leap into my concert black, five minutes to do something to make my face and hair presentable, and I would be at the door with two minutes to spare.

    Let me explain about concert blacks. Female musicians have to wear black head to toe at concerts. I used to wear black a lot when I was young. When I hit forty, though, and had gray hair, Jensing told me to cut it out. She held up a black scarf to my face and said, “Severe!” She put up a blue scarf and said — well, I don’t remember. Something complimentary, I think. I don’t remember the compliments as well as the criticisms, I am afraid. The black scarf went back up. “Severe!”

    She was doing a Beauticontrol color analysis at the time. Not just randomly attacking me with scarves.

    It stuck in my mind. I quit wearing black. Except for concerts. Now, the last few concerts I have done have been in robes or Renaissance get-ups, so I haven’t worn my concert black for a year or more, but a musician always has her blacks somewhere. I assumed they were in the closet.

    It was not until I raced into my bedroom to put them on and rifled through the closet that I remember that when I wore them a year or more ago, I realized that they were too big and that I looked schlumpy in them. I had thrown them into the Goodwill box and planned on replacing them with something more chic.

    Well, I didn’t get around to it, did I?

    I pulled them out of the Goodwill box, which took all the time I had set aside for making myself look presentableUAMasterChoraleConcertPoster, and pulled them on. I was of course wrinkled and festooned with cat hair. I had also tossed my black shoes. I went and borrowed a pair from #1 daughter. She has only heels.

    I skidded out the door just as La Bella drove up.

    She was wearing a beautifully tailored pantsuit, reminiscent of a tuxedo, with a dark bronze necklace that toned charmingly with her hair. We looked like a “Dos” and “Don’ts” illustration walking into the hall.

    My feet hurt from the high heels before the brass finished tuning up. I was still smarting from the Policy Violation  dressing down, and cross with my rotten lazy son, and tired as well, not to mention the continued awareness that I was wearing shlumpy, ill-fitting clothes that had been in a cardboard box for a year.

    Here’s the thing about music: none of that mattered. It was wonderful.

    Today I have to be at a fair booth at 7:00 a.m. and I have computer work for the store to finish before that. Xanga is confused about my time zone, so it is going to be claiming that it is later than it is, but it is 5:26, so I had still better hurry up.

  • I completely forgot to wear the black T-shirt with pink rhinestones last night. This may be just as well. As I drove past signs saying “Beware of the dog,” “KEEP OUT,” and “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted,” I might have felt more vulnerable in rhinestones.

    The site of last night’s party had a passel of dogs and cats for a welcoming committee, and a small fleet of 18-wheelers in the yard. In spunky girl heroine books, the heroine arrives at these places in her rhinestone T-shirt and is beset by all sorts of problems, generally including some handsome but irritating guy whom she will marry in the end.

    Fortunately, I was not in rhinestones, am already married, and haven’t been a spunky girl for some time now. Everything went swimmingly, and I got past the stab of panic that hit me as I was about to drive home on unfamiliar roads alone in the dark, and got home just fine. (See the “agoraphobia” tag if you you need clarification of that sentence.)

    Yesterday was the eye doctor, the book club, and the show. Today is the store and a concert. Tomorrow is  a fair booth. Sunday there’s church and I am also attending a concert. Next weekend looks very much like this one on my calendar.

    There was a time when having three events in one week was more than I could tolerate (see the tag if you need clarification), and now I’m fine with two and three events a day. “You’re going to be tired,” said #2 son last night as he helped me lug my gear in from the car.

    That may be so, but so far it’s okay.

  • 10 When you read a modern cookbook, you might just read it from cover to cover, like a novel. There is apparently a lot of fantasy cooking going on, in fact, where people read cookbooks and buy kitchen gear but don’t actually cook. I have no quarrels with that. It’s not so different from reading travel books instead of traveling.

    You can also look things up because you’re going to cook them, and then cook them.

    But an old cookbook must be approached differently. I have here the Better Homes and Gardens Meat Cook Book from 1965. It will serve as a good example of the best method.

    First, you have to admire the period photos or illustrations. This particular book is part of the era of sickening meat photography and is an all-meat cookbook, so it is not appetizing, but you can still appreciate it.

    The lamb chop in lacy panties is a marvel. And the charts showing all the different cuts of meat a person might choose. They ate so many parts of animals in those days, and so many different animals. The charts are dizzying. They also apparently put decorations on their meats, where nowadays we might only decorate desserts. Little caps of fruit with toothpicks and aspic cutouts and things abound. Vegetables were used decoratively, as you can see in the excessively carnivorous picture here, and things were made in the shape of rings and then filled with something. I do not know a single soul who does this nowadays, but perhaps we should.

    Then you want to look for the exotic uses of language.

    10 This book, for example, includes “pork treats to bring compliments.” I don’t think any modern cookbook could use the phrase “pork treats.” If such a phrase were used at all, I think it would have to be about pet food.

    The section headed “When he brings home game, cook it right” is another period piece. It is however followed by a picture of a man in a housewifely striped apron, captioned, “While guests watch, Dad carves meat…” I guess the sight of a man preparing food, even to the extent of carving up meat that a woman has cooked, would be thrilling enough to entertain guests.

    The names of the foods are evocative, too. I want to serve “Filets Buckaroo,” don’t you? Except that they are beef wrapped around a candied pickle, so of course I don’t really. But “Lazy Friday Casserole” with fourteen ingredients sounds appealing if not lazy, and I’d like to invite someone in for Pepperpot Soup.

    These books sometimes also have quaint housekeeping advice. The old Betty Crocker Cookbook from the 1950s advises the housewife to lie down on the kitchen floor for a few minutes when she is tired from her labors. We rarely do enough housework nowadays to get tired, which may explain why the idea of lying down on the kitchen floor sounds so … dirty. At least in my kitchen.

    The meat cookbook has little advice of this kind, though it does assure us that “every cut and kind of meat contains the same high-quality protein.” It goes on to show us some cuts of meat that are undoubtedly high enough in saturated fat that protein is irrelevant to their nutritional profile, but they didn’t worry about those things in the 1960s. People probably didn’t even have lipid profiles in those days.

    Once you have steeped yourself in the history, then you can look for intriguing and unusual recipes.

    Frankly, it was all pretty unusual for me. I eat the following cuts of meat: chicken or turkey breast, lean ham, lean beef steak, ground turkey or lean ground beef, and fish. That’s it.

    This cookbook offers chops and shoulder and tongue and kidney and  riblets and loin and all sorts of things which sound, as one of the girls at last night’s party put it, “anatomical.”10

    Intriguing? Hmm. Here’s one:

     ”Squaw Corn

    “Cube one 12-oz can luncheon meat; brown the cubes in a little hot fat.

    “Combine three slightly beaten eggs, one 1-pound can golden cream-style corn, 1/4 teaspoon salt and dash pepper; add to meat. Cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, just till the eggs are set. Serve immediately, sprinkled with chopped chives.”

    I’m guessing that we are talking about Spam here.

    When I was a child, “squaw” was a racist term for a Native American woman, and it is not a word that I would ever say. I figure it is now so entirely meaningless that it no longer matters if we use it, but I apologize on behalf of the book if not.

    Or perhaps this one:

    “Pigs in Blankets

    “Pat out refrigerated biscuits lengthwise. Roll each around a canned Vienna sausage; fasten with toothpick… Bake at 425 degrees about 12 to 15 minutes. Spoon creamed peas over and serve as main course.”

    There are normal things: roast turkey, pot roast, grilled steak. But I really liked the Cotto Tree, a bouquet of olives wrapped into flower buds of salami, arranged in a topiary form with lettuce. Somewhat scary, actually.

    Last night we went to a very nice party at Janalisa’s. We cooked Hebrew National hot dogs, which were quite good, over a bonfire, and had pleasant conversations while the kids and dogs rampaged around.

    The women made a plan to give up sugar. I am never supposed to eat sugar, but I have been, so I am joining in. If you do not get strict about now, it’s easy to have a mad feast season straight through from Hallowe’en till Lent.

    Here, courtesy of Dexter, is a list of reasons that you might want to give up sugar, as soon as you polish off the Hallowe’en candy. It may remind you of the list of ailments cured by Amazing Microwater. The other ladies are reading a book called SugarBusters but I already know what not to eat. I just have to do it.

    The other event at our house yesterday was some miscreant’s throwing a pumpkin through the back window of #1 son’s car. It makes me feel sick to think of having yet another automotive issue to deal with. #1 son was also troubled by it, of course, not only by having a car full of broken glass and the cost of fixing it looming over him, but by the whole idea of responsibilities. He has so many now, he told me sadly.

    Since he has, for the past month or so, done nothing visible but play World of Warcraft, watch old episodes of The Office, hang out with his friends, and attend the occasional class, I was not sure how to comfort him for having so many responsibilities. I suggested that, instead of worrying about these things, he should get a part-time job so he can pay for a new car window and study harder. This, I told him, would leave him less time to brood.

    Today we have a marathon of optometrist’s appointments, and then I have book club, and a show tonight. There will be computer work in there somewhere.

    If you decide to make Squaw Corn, let me know how it turns out.