Biscuits and Jam

Tonight I broke my biscuit and jam diet and roasted a cornish hen. For some reason, I just love those little birds. Maybe they are less intimidating than chickens? I seasoned it with Adobo, black pepper, crushed red pepper, a splash of lemon juice and white wine. And of course about 6 pounds of butter.

It turned out quite well I thought. Ninja showed his agreement by licking his chops and dancing around the kitchen on his hind legs with crispy hen skin stuck to his (gigantic) nose.

Tomorrow work is throwing another lunch time Cock Out. This time, the theme is "Take me out to the BALL game". Oh the things I could say.

And now for some fuzzy cuteness.

Makin Biscuits

There was this one time in college where I had like nothing to eat and only a box of bisquick in the house (probably there when I moved in), so I ate biscuits for about 4 days straight.

So, you know, there is a certain amount of nostalgia whenever I make them.
Just now, I slathered on butter and blueberry preserves (made by monks!) on an oven fresh biscuit. As I took the first bite, I dripped butter on my toes. Before reaching for a napkin, I looked to see if Ninja was around anywhere, but he was already lapping melted butter off the floor.

I don't know when, but all of a sudden my little kitty turned into a giant panther. Maybe it is just the contrast between him and 33% of Underfoot (the rest is hair, and is at the groomers), but DAMN, if that cat isn't suddenly huge.

Spent the weekend in North Conway with Rob and Scott. We had almost a mini epic climbing Standard Route at Cathedral. Rob was kind enough to minimize my mental breakdown on pitch 2. Scott was kind enough to remind me of the loose block he could very nearly have knocked onto my head. But you know, we followed it all up with Indian food and all's well that ends with paneer.

Sunday morning, after "stealth camping" in the National Forest, Rob and I work up super early to get going on a climb before it rained. As we were driving back down the Forest Service Road, we came around a slight bend and saw A MOOSE! Luckily, it just mosied on down the road and eventually made its way back into the brush. But DAMN, if those things aren't HUGE.

You know those days when you can't stop eating crab rangoons?

Yeah, me too.

The Thursday 13 That Doesn't Stop

13 Unforgettable Cayuses

1.When I was 10 I went to horse camp that summer. I was assigned to a bay pony named Sheba. She was kind of difficult and stubborn, but so was I, so we managed to get along just fine. I won my first blue ribbon ever at the camp horse show in a jumping class.

2. I took riding lessons for most of my childhood; my instructor had this horse named Kiowa, a former racehorse, who she was training in dressage. He had this weird habit of scratching his neck with a hind foot like a dog. Well, one time he did this, lost his balance and fell over backwards. On me. Luckily I got mostly out of the way.

3. In college, I rode on the equestrian team. At the stable where we took lessons under the instruction of a bodybuilding dwarf, there was this really cute palomino named Paddington. He was owned by the snottiest girl at the barn before she grew out of him and into a more expensive horse. He was one horse that I felt like I really clicked with and we competed together somewhat successfully.

4. During my 4 years on the team, we competed in shows sponsored by the Intercollegiate Horse Show Association. These horse shows were “unique” (read: CRAZY) in that you would show up at whatever school was hosting the show and randomly be assigned a horse. All the horses had weird behavioral problems. At least the one’s I got. Like Revelry, who spent the entire class dancing sideways and spooking himself when he looked in the mirror that made up one side of the arena. I think I still managed to get 5th place, but probably because they felt sorry for me.

5.Another intercollegiate horse was Toby. He was a small pony. Small in the sense that being 5’7” I looked utterly ridiculous on him. He was also impossibly slow and it took extreme effort to get him to move out of a walk. I must have drawn that horse three times before he died of old age.

6. Also during college, I worked at this barn that offered trail rides. In exchange for guiding and cleaning stalls I got to ride. Every so often I would even make some actual money! Being young, immortal and excited to ride, I was responsible for working all the horses that had issues so that they would one day be safe enough for guests to ride. I also got to ride whatever was leftover when the safe horses were taken. Like Cinnamon, who spent the entire ride either trying to bolt, or turning her head to glare at you while trying to bite your foot, while knocking you into trees. For some reason, everyone at the barn thought I liked this horse.

7. When I worked on the ranch I had the opportunity to fall in love with a number of horses. One such beast was Sweetwater. He was a Morgan and I’m not quite sure what he was doing on a dude ranch, especially since he was a driving horse and pretty green under saddle. On the ground he was an absolute dream to work with. He would come to me from the pasture and then follow me back to the barn without a lead, his head just above my right shoulder. I could touch him anywhere while grooming and he wouldn’t object and stood rock still when being saddled. Once you got on him, it was a whole other animal. He would refuse to leave the barn, and then spend the next 50 yards trying to turn around and run back to the barn. Once safely out of sight of the barn he fuss and fuss and do idiotic things like nearly backing off cliffs and turning in circles for no apparent reason. If you could get him to settle, he was a pretty nice ride. He’d go through water, jump over logs, and race over the trails. And he NEVER. GOT. TIRED. EVER. I sure did though.

8. Homer was another ranch horse, so named because of the HMR brand on him. When you’ve got 70+ head of horses, it’s crucial to give them names you can easily remember, (Red was red, CJ had a CJ brand, and Diamond had a diamond shaped star on his head). From the moment we got him, Homer was something of a loner. The other horses never really bothered with him. So, he liked people attention. He was a real sweet horse, a pleasure to ride and work with, but he was rather accident-prone. He was always coming in with scrapes and scratches from walking into things. Once he managed to get a hoof caught on something and came in bleeding with his fetlock torn open. It was a pretty bad injury and he was out of commission for a while after that one. Poor guy.

9. Cody was another guy I’ll never forget. He was one of the horses we’d use to round up all the others from the pasture and bring them in for the day. Cody was damn good at his job too, weaving and dodging and giving the occasional “move along” nip. This one time, he and I were going after some stragglers when he stepped in a hole, stumbled and sent my flying off over his head. I landed on my butt…in front of every single person on the ranch, who had, for some reason, decided to watch me bring the horses in that morning. It took a while to live that one down. (To our credit, we got back up and got the rest of the stock in, but man, was I hurting.)

10. Red was another special ranch horse. He was completely reliable and calm and good natured. Whenever I had a bad day, I would go out to the pasture and find Red. I’d bring him a treat and he’d eat it and rest his head on my shoulder, or go on grazing quietly while I sat on his back and tried to forget whatever it was that was troubling me.

11. After I moved back to Massachusetts, I worked for a bit with a barn that showed Morgans. I didn’t know that much about saddle seat so it all seemed kind of nuts to me. Anyway, I was a groom for a couple of the big shows out here and I got to spend a lot of times with these guys. One horse in particular totally won me over, PT Son of a Gun. He was a cute little bay horse who seemed a lot more sensible than his barn mates. When you cleaned his stall, you didn’t have to worry about getting crowded into walls, or nipped at, and he always stood quietly through all manner of ridiculous grooming rituals like tail wrapping, hoof sanding, ear clipping and gingering.

12. Technically, Libby is a mule, not a horse, but she’s definitely one of the coolest things on 4 legs. I lived on this farm for a while and the owners boarded horses there, since they had about 10 acres of pasture. One of our neighbors owned this mule, Libby. I would go visit them and scratch her long ears and feed her carrots. Yep, she was stubborn, and probably too smart for her own good, which made keeping her inside her pen something of a challenge. She was really friendly and cute and a treat to ride.

13. Roxy was a pony that I was roped into working with as a favor to one of my neighbors. She had bought this pony for her precocious 6 year old daughter, but the pony wasn’t quite ready for a 6 year old, (read: she didn’t steer, or know basic commands). Somehow it leaked that I knew a little something about horses and I was quickly recruited to help out. I have to say I did have a lot of fun with this pony, even when I was tricked into showing her at a local 4-H thing and looking absolutely ridiculous on this pony. Especially when competing against normal sized horses. To our credit, we did take Reserve Champion in the Green Horse division and a shred of my dignity remained intact.

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Free Pineapple

On Sunday I went to the annual Clam Chowder Fest in Rutland, MA. It's a thing we do with my grandmother, and it's pretty fun. Except the part where I don't really like chowder all that much, but I don't know how to break it to an 84 year old woman. Last year it was really bad; I went pretty hung over from the night before. Let me just say that there are precious few things that are worse than unlimited clam chowder when you are hung over.

This year, it was pretty much the same, except I didn't feel like I was going to vomit at any second. I had a bunch of chowder and an Orange Crush. In all honesty, I probably had like 7 spoonfuls of chowder, but it felt like so much more. There was one delightful surprise this year to set the festival apart from other years: A Free Pineapple.

Some real estate company was giving them out. I thought I was going to have to get my dad to refinance his house to get one, but they were free for the taking. I managed to grab the 2nd to the last one and my sister and I spent the remainder of the day walking around with it and poking each other with the leaves.

Thursday Snakes on a Motherfucking Plane 13

13 Things I am Thinking About This Morning

1. You know it's going to be a bad day when you are hitting the M&Ms at 9.30 am.

2. Oooh! These are DARK CHOCOLATE M&Ms.

3. I wish they were Reese's peanut butter cups.

4. I really hate power point.

5. There is no way I am designing a proposal cover that involves a 'fade' (or "gradient" for you techno geeks.)

6. Whatever happened to Kid & Play?

7. Snakes on a Plane opens up tomorrow.

8. I actually want to go see it.

9. I'd love to see it tonight at the Sneak Preview, actually.

10. Last night's episdoe of "Dog the Bounty Hunter" was a real tear jerker. (Dog's daughter died in a car crash on his wedding day.)

11. I can't help it, I love crap TV.

12. Laguna Beach didn't live up to the hype.

13. I still put season 1 on my Netflix queue.

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Mild Annoyances

Gargamel brought over some lovely dinner tonight, Big Lie brand Shells & Cheese. You know, the kind with the gooey cheese pack instead of the powder. The top shelf macaroni. He had my favorite cashier at the store, Doris, who is this no-nonsense woman who looks down at customers over her glasses and always seems mildly annoyed with everything. My kind of person!

For some reason, Cock has been reeeeeaaalllly getting to me lately. Everyone there is just so socially awkward and irritating. Like the guy who comes by my desk and says things like, "What ARE you drinking?" (It was iced tea, albeit weak looking and in a Poland Springs bottle, but what's it to you?) And then proceeds to hang out for 5 agonizing minutes talking about how he drinks green tea in his Borders travel mug and uses the same tea bag all day and just keeps filling it with hot water, so by the end of the day it's pretty weak, so yeah, tea.

Or Turquiose Sweater Vest who hands me a fax from the machine and tells me it's very important so I had better walk it downstairs to it's recipient right away. For some reason, this man makes every thing he says sound so annoying and is obsessed with all manner of minutia. I cannot stand this man, so when he gave me the fax lecture about how it was so time sensitive (it wasn't) I immediately put it into a time capsule marked "Do not open until 2047".

Later that day he came over to tell me that there is this Italian restaurant in Hopkinton that he and his wife go to, that's nothing special, but it's family owned and either you like it or you don't, you know? Well, up at the cash register they have York Peppermint Patties and everytime he goes in they seem to be getting more expensive. Last time he was there they were up to TEN CENTS, but he just has to have one after his meal. You know?

"the fall I've known was possible but not yet experienced"

On Saturday, anchored in at the top of the 2nd pitch of Beginner's Route on Whitehorse, I thought, "Why exactly do I like climbing? It's kind of dangerous when you think about it." I looked towards the ground, a couple hundred feet down from where I was tethered to the rock by a couple yards of synthetic fabric (granted, it was Dyneema, the strongest fabric ON EARTH) and realized that I had no idea why I was up there but that I was having the time of my life.

On Sunday, my feelings were a bit different.

Forrest suggested that we do Inferno, a 5.8 four pitch route on the South Buttress. I agreed because I'm affable that way, and also because Forrest was going to be leading the hard pitches. In retrospect, we should have regarded the arduous scramble to the base of the climb as a bad sign. But you know, that hindsight, it's 20/20.

I knew from the start, just by the way he was climbing, that Forrest was uneasy. And right before it happened, I knew he was going to fall:

"After traversing over to the very large flake/crack under a right-leaning arch, I was able to set a red Camalot, with a dbl-lenght sling and then tried to pull over the horn, I took it as a layback, stemmed and was trying to surmount the horn when I slipped.

From my sketchy memory and talking on the phone to 'Tom' who'd been leading "Lost Souls" off to our right, I believe this is what happened:

The initial fall was about 16 feet (I was 5 feet above the cam and had a 3 ft runner attached). Somewhere around 12+ feet of fall I hit a small ledge with my left thigh/hip/knee, that seems to have spun me upside down (remember that vividly!) and wound up about 30 feet below the gear, so there was probably some slack due to the route-wander and there was about 110 feet of rope out to stretch. (Tom says the first impact was on my back/backpack on a ledge, but I'm quite certain that's was a second-bounce ... he was focusing on a .10+ lead and not looking at me untill I'd screamed on the way down.) I actually fell inside the loop of the black rope.

I self-assessed, knew that my hip was gonna be painful for awhile but that nothing was broken and I was ok if very shaky. I pulled over to a cam behind a flake, clipped into that, assurred people I was OK and worked out how to get down. I untied the Green line, which was wrapped around Black, re-tied and asked Jess to lower me off as I cleaned the gear on the lower 2/3 of the pitch. The left hip was clearly too painful to climb back up to retreive the intermediate pieces, Tom offered to get the gear on their rappel, and was able to get everything but the Camalot at the top -- free to me, found on WG last year, so that's fine. On the subject of gear, nothing pulled, while I was pretty sketched by the route, the placements were all bomber.

I was really shaky after getting off the route, I've been sketched often enough but this fall was the first time on rock I've been terrified, there was a moment of tears before getting back to the business of getting off."

Terrified only begins to describe what it feels like to watch your partner plummet off and smack soundly into the rock, knowing that you've got him loacked of, but that there is enough rope out that you can't actually stop the fall any sooner than the laws of physics allow.

This wasn't one of those whooping sport whips that are more of a thrill than a danger. This was the kind of fall that has the potential for serious consequences, and even though once you get down and recover you'll recount the story to all your buddies, you still know that flash of genuine terror that screams, I COULD HAVE DIED.

Or in my case, I COULD HAVE KILLED HIM.

That's the part that really keeps my insides churning; the knowledge that had I for a split second looked away, or let my attention lapse I could have let someone fall to their death. I didn't, of course, but that's the reality of this sport, that it's really and truly dangerous and despite all the precautions you take and the safety measures you employ, at the end of the day, it's still a risky sport.

But we're climbers; it's what we do.

In other news, I had breakfast with Boulder today. He's off the AT nursing a broken foot and came down to Worcester this weekend. We met at Annie's and had a nice time drinking coffee and eating hash like we used to before he gave "real life" the big middle finger and became a full time hiker. It was great seeing him again and he looks great, and seems really happy despite the Robocop looking cast on his foot. He still hopes to finish the trail before winter. But first there is french toast to be eaten and old friends to catch up with.

Thirteen Historical Events/Personalities that I am Strangely Obsessed With

1. The Hindenburg Disaster, May 6, 1937. I have a recurring nightmare that I am a passenger aboard the ill-fated dirigible. You can see a video clip of the crash here.

2. The Triangle Shirtwaist Fire, March 12, 1911. I saw a TERRIBLE movie about it once, that, although terrible, was really scary. And also sad.

3. Coconut Grove Nightclub Fire, November 28, 1942. Occured in Boston. The first time I heard the story, from an elementary school teacher I think, I was immediately fascinated and horrified. Apparently I have a thing about fires.

4. The Donner Party, Winter 1846-1847. I am also obsessed with and repulsed by cannibalism. There is a PBS docu. on the DP that FREAKED ME THE FUCK OUT when I saw it. I thought it was easily the creepiest historical documentary ever.

5. 1996 Everest Expedition- I've read all the accounts I can get my hands on, Krakauer, Boukreev, Bershears, and Lene Gammelgaard, and am continually fascinated. Of course, you might say, I like climbing, so obviously I'd be into Everest. Except that I have NO DESIRE to go anywhere near Everest. It just seems like the most miserable experience ever. No thanks.

6. Queen Mary I- "Bloody Mary" the daughter of Catherine of Aragon and Henry VIII was totally cheated out of the throne and when she finally became queen she promptly had hundreds of people burned at the stake. You know, to restore the Catholic Church.

7. Henry VIII- Yes, I have to put him up here too. Bust mostly because he went crazy with that whole Anne Boleyn et. al thing and became paranoid and grossly fat. So fat that his bed was 4 meters wide and required a pulley system to get him in and out of it.

8. In speaking of fat leaders,William Howard Taft was America's fattest president. Apparently he got stuck in the White House bathtub and had to have a bigger one installed. Regardless of weight, Taft is my favorite president.

9. Frank Morris and John & Clarence Anglin- The attempted to escape from Alcatraz on JUne 12, 1962 and their bodies were never recovered. The FBI lists them as "missing, presumed dead". I have to say that Alcatraz is one of the creepiest places I've been to. And almost entirely covered in bird shit.

10. The Rosenberg Executions, June 19, 1953- The idea of death by electrocution totally creeps me out.

11. Herman Melville's letters to Nathanial Hawthorne c. 1851- There is a whole collection of letters that Melville wrote to Hawthorne, but for some reason, there are no surviving letters from Hawthorne to Melville. His letters always made me feel as though Hawthorne was the popular kid and Melville was constantly bugging him to be friends. Or maybe he had a wee crush on Hawthorne. Anyway, I have a soft spot for old Herman. And his beard.

12. The Mayans- And their obsession with time, and the Dresden Codex, and especially the theory that they predicted the end of the world for December 21, 2012. Only 6 more years. I better get busy.

13. The Salem Witch Trials- Teenage girls are SO EVIL. Of course, I can't exactly blame people for becoming hysterical. I mean, what the hell else was going on in Salem in 1692? Stupid Puritans.


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Progress

I have graduated from mashed potatoes to tater tots.

Invasion of the Schooligan Snatchers

I never thought I would say this but... I think I'm sick of ice cream.

Morgan brought me home a new vanilla Frosty from Wendy's yesterday to help soothe my sore mouth. It was delicious. And about the only thing I could eat, what with the hurt and the not being able to open my mouth wider than required to insert the tip of a spoon. Later that night I went out to get some edibles that didn't require chewing, applesauce, pudding and Jello Pudding Pops.

I ended up rejecting the applesauce (bits of apple that required chewing) and the pudding (for some dumbass reason, I got rice pudding, forgetting that bits of rice would be magnetically drawn to the gaping holes in my mouth) and trying to make dinner of of pudding pops. Pudding pops that didn't quite fit in my mouth because I couldn't open it more than a millimeter.

Hopelessly unsatisfying.

Today, feeling a bit better, and with the left side of my face looking much more normal and pain that was bearable with 3 tylenol every 4 hours, I branched out and tried to eat things that were a little more solid. Like instant mashed potaoes. With melted cheese.

Currently I feel a bit starchy. But as far as I can tell, there's no food stuck in my tooth holes.

I'd rather have teeth pulled

I had a dentist appointment this week. I had prepared by flossing EVERY DAY... for the week preceeding my visit. Years ago I had gotten 2 of my wisdom teeth out as part of a clinical study. I got an experimental pain medicine and $300. I was a lot better off than the kid who got the placebo. Anyway, I only got 2 teeth out because they were only extracting impacted wisdom teeth, and my other 2 were fully erupted. (Too bad because then I would have gotten another $300.) Since then I've not really thought about them too much, mostly because of my lack of insurance. Until Wednesday when I learned it was time for the other 2 to come out.

Post op: Oh my god. Let's just say that Dr. Chen is a very kind man. Despite weilding all manner of horrid objects and assaulting my poor mouth.

Honestly, I don't remember the other 2 teeth being this bad. Of course, $300 probably clouds my memory somewhat. This time I had to pay money, $95 in fact, which seemed like a bargain at the time.

Apparently I am a very sensitive indivdual, as evidence by the multitude of shots required to numb my mouth. Dr. Chen said that it also contains a small amount of epinephrine, which was probably why I sweated through my clothes and twitched while my heart raced. Then I felt nausesous. Then the Dr. began digging and prying around in my mouth, stopping several times to get more terrifying instruments and to shoot more anesthetic into me.

Why have we progressed so far in other areas of medicine, yet dentistry is still performed in a civil war like fashion? I don't know that there is anything worse than the sound of creaking and breaking teeth. Dr. Chen assured me it had nothing to do with my teeth and was just the sound of the instruments, but as far as I'm concerned, my teeth were screaming.

It took ages for the friggin teeth to come out. Seriously, for-fucking-ever. But after about 30 years, we were done. And now, all I can think about is how hungry I am and all the things that I can't eat because I can't open my mouth because the left side of my face is swollen.

But at least I don't have to go to work.

I don't even know why I'm surprised by this

I was reading some articles for work about Mercury Polution and reduction required by power plants, and came across the Bush Administration's Mercury Rule of 2005 which aims to reduce Mercury emissions substantially by 2010. However, the law allows utilities to either lower their Mercury emissions OR purchase credits from other plants that have made more drastic cuts. This system is the cheapest and fastest way to reduce Mercury emissions... without actually doing any widespread reducing.