Over the summer Josh and I gave a small dinner party for our friend Scott and his girlfriend Patty, who had just moved to Bloomington. They'd been saying for awhile that they'd love to have us over once they got a bit more settled, and then last night we finally got to go over to their place for a pumpkin carving party. Their house is gorgeous - I'm so envious of anyone who can make a space look homey. Patty's approach seems to involve a lot of textiles - they had fabric draped over their coffee table, quilts hanging on the walls, and blankets everywhere. Size also seems to help - they have a very large lamp and a huge comfy chair, which sort of fills the space. Also plants. I'll never be able to do that sort of thing myself. (Patty also decants everything into glass, like Holly Sturgis - their kitchen is full of Bell jars containing rice and lentils of various sorts and so on. I'm so envious!)
We had a very nice time carving pumpkins, chatting, and drinking hot cider. Socializing in couples always makes me feel so grown-up somehow, and Scott is one of my favorite colleagues (technically he's in HPS, like Josh, but his office is in our building and I always think of him as a philosopher) and Patty is very sweet and down-to-earth.
This morning I rode my bike three miles over hill and dale to the Bloomington Friends Meeting, which was very pleasant. I used to go to Quaker meeting regularly in Northampton, but the meetinghouse here is prohibitively far away; three miles isn't that far, I realize, but it's so hilly! I am afraid it's probably too much effort to go every week. This meeting has the children sit for the first 15 minutes, which is nice in theory, but these Quakers appear to be very much of the reproducing variety - for those 15 minutes a good 10% of the room seemed to be under 5. The traditional Quaker silent contemplation is, I find, not aided by half a dozen piping toddler voices. It's also hard for me to concentrate on anything when there are babies in my line of sight; all I can think about is babiesbabiesbabies. But then the babies were taken away and we had more the usual sort of thing, although even then these were the chattiest Quakers I've ever seen. Not five minutes went by without someone standing up and sharing. I am very pro-sharing in meeting, as a rule, but what with one thing and another I was unable to really get into a proper spiritual groove. Maybe next time.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Cozy
Sitting in my well-lit kitchen, working at the small, round table with the brown and yellow vintage tablecloth I got at a garage sale, reading The Foundations of Arithmetic and waiting for my oatmeal bread, which is making the apartment smell warmly of baking and molasses, to come out of the oven. When it does, I will have a slice with gingered butternut squash soup and a cup of Earl Grey. I am wearing my soft new beige sweater and brown corduroy pants. Outside my window, the sky is pink and purple over my neighbors' rooftops. This is a good way to spend an October evening.
Before they make me run
Woke up at 5:15 yesterday and went to Indianapolis to run the half marathon. I'd been training for three months using Hal Higdon's training plan, so even though I had only ever run ten miles before, I was fairly confident that I could at least finish. My father suggested this plan, and I have great faith in structure; I truly believe that following instructions leads to success. And in this case it did.
The course was very pretty: the leaves are changing and we ran through some very posh neighborhoods full of McCain/Palin lawn signs and an agreeable park with a big blue lake. It was fairly flat, which was awesome because, having trained in hilly Bloomington, I was able to power up what few hills there were and pass a lot of people. In fact I spent most of the race passing people, which was fun - I started off in the 10 minute mile group and ended up running 8:44 miles, so the first four miles in particular were spent just passing everyone. Around six miles I started to worry that I had gone too quickly. I wasn't wearing a watch and, much to my dismay, there were no pacers at the mile markers, so I really had no clue how fast I was going. Once I hit seven miles everything was smooth sailing, and I spent the last mile and a half or so just letting it all out. I had an excellent iPod playlist - I crossed the finish line to "Reach for the Stars" by S-Club 7, which was fun - but for the most part I was so much in the zone I barely noticed anything. Except the pain in my knees and ankles, a little bit.
It's kind of sad, but Josh, who had driven me to Indy, didn't see me cross the finish line. Partially this was because I was merely a blur, but partially it was because neither of us expected me to come in under two hours. At 1:57, when I finished, he was still looking for a spot to watch from. (1:57, I might add, was merely my clock time; my official time, which started when I crossed the start, rather than when the gun went off, was 1:54). I was pretty tired and stiff afterwards, but after an afternoon of watching Scrubs, napping, and reading Frege, I was in good enough shape to attend my colleague Andrew's cowboy-themed hootenanny. It was a good party: the Werewolf was there, fresh from his new job at Ohio State, and as much of a sad sack as ever, and there was a small bonfire and some friendly, highly allergenic dogs, and some decent beer.
Today I woke up shortly before ten, then slept from about eleven to 3:30. I am honestly pretty appalled by this but I suppose a case could be made that I needed it. My next athletic goal will be to run a full marathon, which I suppose I'll start training for after I find out where I'm living next year. Part of this training will include another half marathon, and I'll be moving up to Higdon's intermediate training plan. I'd really like to try to get down to 8 minute miles - can the runners in the audience indicate whether this is possible?
The course was very pretty: the leaves are changing and we ran through some very posh neighborhoods full of McCain/Palin lawn signs and an agreeable park with a big blue lake. It was fairly flat, which was awesome because, having trained in hilly Bloomington, I was able to power up what few hills there were and pass a lot of people. In fact I spent most of the race passing people, which was fun - I started off in the 10 minute mile group and ended up running 8:44 miles, so the first four miles in particular were spent just passing everyone. Around six miles I started to worry that I had gone too quickly. I wasn't wearing a watch and, much to my dismay, there were no pacers at the mile markers, so I really had no clue how fast I was going. Once I hit seven miles everything was smooth sailing, and I spent the last mile and a half or so just letting it all out. I had an excellent iPod playlist - I crossed the finish line to "Reach for the Stars" by S-Club 7, which was fun - but for the most part I was so much in the zone I barely noticed anything. Except the pain in my knees and ankles, a little bit.
It's kind of sad, but Josh, who had driven me to Indy, didn't see me cross the finish line. Partially this was because I was merely a blur, but partially it was because neither of us expected me to come in under two hours. At 1:57, when I finished, he was still looking for a spot to watch from. (1:57, I might add, was merely my clock time; my official time, which started when I crossed the start, rather than when the gun went off, was 1:54). I was pretty tired and stiff afterwards, but after an afternoon of watching Scrubs, napping, and reading Frege, I was in good enough shape to attend my colleague Andrew's cowboy-themed hootenanny. It was a good party: the Werewolf was there, fresh from his new job at Ohio State, and as much of a sad sack as ever, and there was a small bonfire and some friendly, highly allergenic dogs, and some decent beer.
Today I woke up shortly before ten, then slept from about eleven to 3:30. I am honestly pretty appalled by this but I suppose a case could be made that I needed it. My next athletic goal will be to run a full marathon, which I suppose I'll start training for after I find out where I'm living next year. Part of this training will include another half marathon, and I'll be moving up to Higdon's intermediate training plan. I'd really like to try to get down to 8 minute miles - can the runners in the audience indicate whether this is possible?
Monday, October 13, 2008
Weekend
A pleasant weekend, largely spent in nesting-mode, which I enjoy although I sometimes miss the hard-partying days of yore. On Friday we went to see two guys in my department play at a Christian coffeehouse. They were doing selections from Phil's concept album based on The Great Divorce. Like so many things, it was much more religious than I would have liked, and although Phil is unquestionably talented I resented being made to think about hell on a Friday night. Cufflinks was more enthusiastic than I was; he compared the music favorably to Jars of Clay. This is my life now apparently - spending time with people who think "This sounds like Jars of Clay" is a compliment.
After the set we came back to my place and watched Goodbye, Lenin, which I'd been wanting to see for a long time. It was quite good, although I think it says a lot about Germany that they consider it a comedy. Of course, science has shown that Germans find everything funny, so perhaps that explains it.
To the market on Saturday where I purchased apples and a pumpkin (don't yet have any plans for it, though), and where I snapped these gentlemen engrossed in conversation:
On Sunday I ran ten miles, which was actually pretty okay although it was very hot (I cleverly decided to go out at 1, so it was the heat of the day and the sun was in my eyes half the time) and I had counted on the Rail Trail having water fountains, which it did not. I had long wanted to go there, but it's miles away. This of course made it perfect for yesterday's purposes. Now I'm in taper mode and on Saturday I will run the half marathon! I am pretty excited although I don't relish having to wake up at 5 to drive to Indy.
Today I don't have class so I'm baking bread and this afternoon I'm serving at the Community Kitchen. My apartment smells like sourdough rye. I'd better go check the timer.
After the set we came back to my place and watched Goodbye, Lenin, which I'd been wanting to see for a long time. It was quite good, although I think it says a lot about Germany that they consider it a comedy. Of course, science has shown that Germans find everything funny, so perhaps that explains it.
To the market on Saturday where I purchased apples and a pumpkin (don't yet have any plans for it, though), and where I snapped these gentlemen engrossed in conversation:
Today I don't have class so I'm baking bread and this afternoon I'm serving at the Community Kitchen. My apartment smells like sourdough rye. I'd better go check the timer.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
More thoughts on protesting
Just got back from a 9-mile run. As my runs have gotten longer, I've had to face the fact that I live in a pretty small town, and it's hard to map a route that's long enough without running into a highway or a twisty-turny confusing suburb-place. I tend to get lost a lot. So for today, instead of trying to find a 9-mile loop, I just did my old faithful 4.5 mile loop twice. I was afraid this would be discouraging - it was not so long ago that 4.5 miles seemed pretty long to me, and to get to the end and have to start over sounded awful - but it was not. Though my legs hurt a lot now and around the halfway point I got a serious stitch in my side, I felt pretty good and finished strong.
The annoying thing was that on this loop I pass the Catholic church where I sometimes attend, and today they were having a big anti-abortion protest. CLA posted recently on an anti-gay protest at her school, and when I read her post, I was pretty quick to condemn the school's Pride organization for turning what sounded like a small, harmless demonstration into a big confrontational scene. No one profits from this, I argue, because no one is ever going to change anyone else's mind.
But these protestors, who were just standing quietly and holding signs that said "ABORTION KILLS CHILDREN" (no bloody graphics, though, for which I was grateful), really got under my skin. I spent the next seven miles rehashing every argument, retracing my steps. I do this quite often - I would say I do a good thorough think-through on the abortion issue at least once or twice a week. I read about it online. I (very rarely) discuss it with people I know. It's important to me not to become set in my ways on this topic - I don't want to be pro-choice out of dogma or habit. I want to stay freshly convinced.
I had a frustrating conversation with Krista the other day. She remarked that even though she was personally pro-life, she didn't think that abortion should be illegal, but that it should be an individual decision. I tried to explain that this was the very definition of pro-choice, but I'm not sure she was convinced. It was frustrating, because it seemed like she had pretty much the same instincts I do, but she's swallowed some party line and absorbed a lot of misinformation on the mainstream pro-choice position, and so she allies herself with the anti-choicers.
Anyway, now I'm thinking - what's the point of protesting? It's really not a forum in which meaningful debate or exchanges of information can flourish. Is it basically a collective version of a bumper sticker? I used to protest the war in high school, and it seemed like a good thing to do, but what was the point? What were we hoping to achieve?
In a way, of course, the protesters outside my church today did achieve something - they made me go back through all my arguments and see if they still hold up. And they do. I found it almost irresistably tempting not to shout out: "Banning abortion kills women!" but I refrained. There is almost never any point to rudeness. Still, this event has unsettled me, and I'm still feeling that there's little point in trying to meaningfully exchange ideas with anyone, because people tend to be so stuck in their ways that by the time they're in high school they're sold on their whole life philosophy.
The annoying thing was that on this loop I pass the Catholic church where I sometimes attend, and today they were having a big anti-abortion protest. CLA posted recently on an anti-gay protest at her school, and when I read her post, I was pretty quick to condemn the school's Pride organization for turning what sounded like a small, harmless demonstration into a big confrontational scene. No one profits from this, I argue, because no one is ever going to change anyone else's mind.
But these protestors, who were just standing quietly and holding signs that said "ABORTION KILLS CHILDREN" (no bloody graphics, though, for which I was grateful), really got under my skin. I spent the next seven miles rehashing every argument, retracing my steps. I do this quite often - I would say I do a good thorough think-through on the abortion issue at least once or twice a week. I read about it online. I (very rarely) discuss it with people I know. It's important to me not to become set in my ways on this topic - I don't want to be pro-choice out of dogma or habit. I want to stay freshly convinced.
I had a frustrating conversation with Krista the other day. She remarked that even though she was personally pro-life, she didn't think that abortion should be illegal, but that it should be an individual decision. I tried to explain that this was the very definition of pro-choice, but I'm not sure she was convinced. It was frustrating, because it seemed like she had pretty much the same instincts I do, but she's swallowed some party line and absorbed a lot of misinformation on the mainstream pro-choice position, and so she allies herself with the anti-choicers.
Anyway, now I'm thinking - what's the point of protesting? It's really not a forum in which meaningful debate or exchanges of information can flourish. Is it basically a collective version of a bumper sticker? I used to protest the war in high school, and it seemed like a good thing to do, but what was the point? What were we hoping to achieve?
In a way, of course, the protesters outside my church today did achieve something - they made me go back through all my arguments and see if they still hold up. And they do. I found it almost irresistably tempting not to shout out: "Banning abortion kills women!" but I refrained. There is almost never any point to rudeness. Still, this event has unsettled me, and I'm still feeling that there's little point in trying to meaningfully exchange ideas with anyone, because people tend to be so stuck in their ways that by the time they're in high school they're sold on their whole life philosophy.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Recipe: Savory Squash Bread Pudding
One of the many nice things about Smith was that, unlike some colleges you hear about, we really had pretty excellent food and it was served in a pleasant, homey environment. One of my favorite Smith desserts was the coconut bread pudding. Whenever we had it, I'd take a big paper cupful back to my room for later and end up chirring it all within the hour. It was good.
Since then, I've had one or two other delicious bread pudding experiences - Susan brought a pumpkin bread pudding with cream cheese sauce to a dinner party I hosted and Amity had a really good bread pudding with bourbon sauce at her St. Patrick's day bash - but until Thursday I had never tasted a savory bread pudding. My excellent new cookbook "Simply in Season," written by Mennonites and given to me by my Aunt Grace, contains a recipe for savory squash bread pudding, which struck me as an admirable use for the butternut squash I got at the Farmers' Market last week.
The only trouble with this dish is that it's hard to reheat without a microwave. Steaming it for a few minutes seems to work okay - it keeps it fairly moist. However, if you have a microwave you won't have this problem. It also makes the house smell really nice.
Peel and cut into 1/2 inch pieces:
3 cups butternut squash.
Bake at 400 degrees until tender, about 12 minutes. Remove from oven and reduce temperature to 350. (If you are so inclined, it might be a good idea to puree the squash. I did not do this because I didn't feel like dirtying the food processor. It's certainly fine to leave it in chunks, but it might be neat to have it more integrated into the custard.)
In a frying pan, saute:
1 cup onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
with a bit of olive oil until tender. Remove from heat.
Whisk together:
3 large eggs
2 large egg whites
2 cups milk
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese
salt
pepper
nutmeg or other spice (I used garam masala, which worked well)
Stir in squash, onion, and garlic.
Pour this mixture over:
9 cups day old bread (I used French bread from Wal-Mart because not even I am going to bake a whole loaf of bread just for bread pudding. Sourdough might also be good.)
Stir gently to combine and let stand 10 minutes.
Sprinkle on top:
1/4 cup Parmesan cheese.
Bake at 350 degrees until custard is set and top is lightly browned, 45 minutes. Serves 4-6.
This would be a nice dish for an autumnal dinner party if you are not inviting anyone with a phobia of plant-based foods or soggy bread. A spinach salad or some bitter greens like kale or broccoli rabe would help to mitigate the heavy breadiness of it all. A fruit or bittersweet chocolate dessert - nothing too heavy and nothing cakey - would make an admirable conclusion to the meal.
Since then, I've had one or two other delicious bread pudding experiences - Susan brought a pumpkin bread pudding with cream cheese sauce to a dinner party I hosted and Amity had a really good bread pudding with bourbon sauce at her St. Patrick's day bash - but until Thursday I had never tasted a savory bread pudding. My excellent new cookbook "Simply in Season," written by Mennonites and given to me by my Aunt Grace, contains a recipe for savory squash bread pudding, which struck me as an admirable use for the butternut squash I got at the Farmers' Market last week.
The only trouble with this dish is that it's hard to reheat without a microwave. Steaming it for a few minutes seems to work okay - it keeps it fairly moist. However, if you have a microwave you won't have this problem. It also makes the house smell really nice.
Peel and cut into 1/2 inch pieces:
3 cups butternut squash.
Bake at 400 degrees until tender, about 12 minutes. Remove from oven and reduce temperature to 350. (If you are so inclined, it might be a good idea to puree the squash. I did not do this because I didn't feel like dirtying the food processor. It's certainly fine to leave it in chunks, but it might be neat to have it more integrated into the custard.)
In a frying pan, saute:
1 cup onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
with a bit of olive oil until tender. Remove from heat.
Whisk together:
3 large eggs
2 large egg whites
2 cups milk
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese
salt
pepper
nutmeg or other spice (I used garam masala, which worked well)
Stir in squash, onion, and garlic.
Pour this mixture over:
9 cups day old bread (I used French bread from Wal-Mart because not even I am going to bake a whole loaf of bread just for bread pudding. Sourdough might also be good.)
Stir gently to combine and let stand 10 minutes.
Sprinkle on top:
1/4 cup Parmesan cheese.
Bake at 350 degrees until custard is set and top is lightly browned, 45 minutes. Serves 4-6.
This would be a nice dish for an autumnal dinner party if you are not inviting anyone with a phobia of plant-based foods or soggy bread. A spinach salad or some bitter greens like kale or broccoli rabe would help to mitigate the heavy breadiness of it all. A fruit or bittersweet chocolate dessert - nothing too heavy and nothing cakey - would make an admirable conclusion to the meal.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
The need to sneeze
Systems can be constructed. But what is once standing must remain, or else the whole system must be dismantled in order that a new one may be constructed. Science only comes to fruition in a system. We shall never be able to do without systems. Only through a system can we achieve complete clarity and order. No science is in such command of its subject matter as mathematics and can work it up into such a perspicuous form; but perhaps also no science can be so enveloped in obscurity as mathematics, if it fails to construct a system.
-Gottlob Frege, "Logic in Mathematics"
The man loves his systems. You know, I respect that.
Finally met with Joan yesterday about transferring, a meeting I'd been dreading for months and months. Unlike the Badger, who seemed dismayed to think I might leave and who wanted to think of ways to keep me, Joan seemed highly unsurprised and indifferent. Her reaction was basically, "You really aren't doing amazingly well here, so maybe you should go." This of course I already knew, and if I were doing amazingly well here I'd be much less inclined to leave. The bad thing is that my lack of amazingness means that Joan can't write me much of a recommendation. The pressure is on for me to do something spectacular in this Frege class. As if that hadn't already been my main priority. Joan was not terribly positive about my chances of getting in anywhere but CUNY. She says maybe it won't be so bad, and maybe even if it is it will be worth it in the long run.
I am sick. I've missed several running days and I feel a constant desperate desire to sneeze. Last night for dinner I had ready-made soup from a box, frozen garlic bread, and Jello Cook and Serve vanilla pudding. I just had the exact same thing for lunch today. Now I am so full of preservatives I will never biodegrade.
-Gottlob Frege, "Logic in Mathematics"
The man loves his systems. You know, I respect that.
Finally met with Joan yesterday about transferring, a meeting I'd been dreading for months and months. Unlike the Badger, who seemed dismayed to think I might leave and who wanted to think of ways to keep me, Joan seemed highly unsurprised and indifferent. Her reaction was basically, "You really aren't doing amazingly well here, so maybe you should go." This of course I already knew, and if I were doing amazingly well here I'd be much less inclined to leave. The bad thing is that my lack of amazingness means that Joan can't write me much of a recommendation. The pressure is on for me to do something spectacular in this Frege class. As if that hadn't already been my main priority. Joan was not terribly positive about my chances of getting in anywhere but CUNY. She says maybe it won't be so bad, and maybe even if it is it will be worth it in the long run.
I am sick. I've missed several running days and I feel a constant desperate desire to sneeze. Last night for dinner I had ready-made soup from a box, frozen garlic bread, and Jello Cook and Serve vanilla pudding. I just had the exact same thing for lunch today. Now I am so full of preservatives I will never biodegrade.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
