1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me!"

2. I will respond by asking you five questions. I get to pick the questions.

3. You will post the answers to the questions (and the questions themselves) on your blog or journal.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions. And thus the endless cycle of the meme goes on and on and on and on ...

1. If you could magically change careers overnight, would you pick something different? Why?
This is a good question.  I am a Born Nurse, have always wanted to be a nurse, and it's still what I want to do... but if it meant I had a good, steady, enjoyable job right now?  Maybe.  There was a brief time in college when my heart desired a job writing for Entertainment Weekly, which still sounds great in the abstract.  Or I could be an art history professor, especially if my doctorate had been completed magically overnight too--I'm sure there are parts of that that would be fun.  Or I could be paid a living wage to tell people what they should read and then discuss it with them afterward, but I should probably keep this in the realm of semi-reality.  Wait, that's an English professor.  Okay, sure.  As long as I didn't have to teach the freshman survey courses.

2. If you wrote a book, what would it be about?
I would love to be able to write the quintessential summer camp book.  Or if so many people hadn't already written this book, I would write about my Summer in Tuscany.

3. What is your least favorite thing?
Packing. 

4. Do you like to travel?
More than almost anything.  Possibly more than anything.

5. What's your latest favorite cookie recipe?
I no longer have a reason to bake cookies, so I guess it would still be the raisin crisscross cookies I posted a recipe for a while back.

I didn't get to see all of the Oscar telecast, but what I did see really annoyed me.  For those of you who didn't see...

During the big montage of everyone-who-died-this-year, they had Queen Latifah singing on stage--which was fine, she sounded great--but instead of showing the montage itself like they always do, they filmed the screen that was showing the montage, so lots of the time it was too far away to really see, and then they kept swooping around so it was hard to read the names and I got seasick when I tried.

The acting awards (I didn't get to see the supportings, but I understand the same thing happened there)--instead of showing clips of the people, you know, acting in their roles, they had previous winners telling the nominees how great they were.  The speeches were kind of nice--Anne Hathaway in tears as Shirley MacLaine praised her was one of the highlights for me--but I really wanted to see the clips.  Every year when I see clips of movies I haven't seen, I decide I want to see them.  

They did show clips for the Best Picture nominees, but instead of straight clips, they interspersed them with clips from older movies that supposedly had the same theme.  This was bizarre, and confusing, and hard to describe.  I'd seen three of the movies (Slumdog Millionaire, Milk, The Reader), but even those ones, it was hard at times to tell which scenes were from the movie and which weren't; the ones I hadn't seen, I was totally lost.  I can't imagine who thought this was a good idea.

I need to find a clip of the opening monologue to watch, because it looks good.  And there were some great moments--besides Anne Hathaway, there was Kate Winslet asking her dad to whistle so she knew where to wave, and all the men in Indian-style formal wear, and the little kids from Slumdog who must have been incredibly overwhelmed (two of the three really do live in the slums of India).  I usually have one award I have strong feelings about, and this year it was that I thought Sean Penn should win Best Actor for Milk.  Actually, I thought everyone thought that, but I just heard his win referred to as "the one upset of the night" on The Today Show.  Apparently Mickey Rourke was supposed to win.

I should just sign off listservs that only serve to aggravate me, right?  I mean, it's a bit silly to think that I have a duty to educate the ignorant and horrible people on the listserv, not least because they seem to take such pride in their ignorance.

I should sign off and never look back.

Hasta la vista, Girl Scout Controversies.

Hi, all!  I don't really want to post about job-search stuff, but I'm back from Portland.

I have a new post at http://sixboxesofbooks.blogspot.com that might interest many of you, especially because it is a poll-type post, and I always get lots of responses to those here, no matter what the subject.

The question is about whether you read any books when you were kids that warped you for life...

So please, click over and answer!

Okay, first: I decided I'd better buy a new job interview outfit before I go to Portland (so, like, this afternoon or tomorrow).  Just to recap, I've lost quite a bit of weight since I bought my previous interview clothes, and they were really too big when I wore them to a job fair in December, and they'll be even more too-big now.  I was going to put off buying more because they, too, will be obsolete pretty soon--but I think I'll be happier with clothes that fit, even if I'm still slopping around in big jeans and shirts most of the time.  (I was going to poll you all to see if I should do this, but decided you'd probably all say Yes, If You Can Afford It.)

I have zero fashion sense.  I was thinking of just going to Macy's and asking for help.  If I do that, I can set a price limit, right?  I'm afraid it'll be so ridiculously low that they'd laugh, but I really don't like to spend a lot of money on clothes.  Oh, my goodness, I don't even know what section of the store I'm supposed to shop in anymore.  Do Macy's saleswomen have fashion sense, or are they just ordinary people who know how to work the register?  Is Macy's the right place to go, or should I go to some smaller store?  I don't think there's anything really local-local that will have the range of styles and sizes I feel like I'm going to need if I want to find something... Can you tell this is stressing me out?  (And not many things do, seriously.)  Please tell me what to buy, and where and how to buy it.  (I don't need a suit, by the way, just something on the more-formal side of business casual.)

Yesterday I made some great cookies.  Nicole takes a lunch to school every day, and one of the ways I "contribute to the household" is by baking bread and cookies for additional nutrition and deliciousness, and decreased cost.  I've never enjoyed baking cookies, because I want to stop after I bake one pan-full; but with most cookies, you just have to KEEP ON BAKING, when you'd rather be sitting down with a warm cookie and a cup of tea and your book.  So most of the time I like to make bar cookies, which really are done with one pan-full.

I felt like being creative yesterday, though, so I perused my beloved vintage-reproduction Betty Crocker Cooky Book.  I LOVE this book, which is full of delicious pictures and almost-as-delicious glimpses at a long-vanished way of life.  (An example: Lemon Crinkles From Mrs. Alfred T Neilsen of Council Bluffs, Iowa, who prefers simple and easy recipes that leave her time for her hobby of making hats.)

I got these from a chapter called FAMILY FAVORITES and a section called Lunchbox Cookies:

Millions of lunches go off to school and work each day in boxes, pails, and paper bags.  And many of these lunches contain cookies--to sweeten the day and provide quick energy for the afternoon ahead.

The ideal lunchbox cooky is appetizing in appearance, flavorful, and satisfying.  Always pack cookies in pairs--one for lunch and one to share.  Sometimes tuck in a third for an afternoon snack.  And, of course, a cooky that's good in a lunchbox is just as delicious eaten for lunch or snacks at home.

I don't usually like raisins at all, especially in cookies, but for some reason my eyes lighted on Raisin Crisscross Cookies.  ("Nourishing and cheap!" is probably what I thought.)  Nicole likes raisins, although I found out later she doesn't usually like them in cookies.  But actually, we both really, really liked these cookies.  The raisins aren't cloying and go well with the citrus flavor.  So even if you think you don't like raisins in cookies, maybe you will like these.

RAISIN CRISSCROSS COOKIES
Delicious lemon-flavored raisin cookies... children love them!

1/2 c shortening (part butter or margarine)--I used all butter
3/4 c sugar--I used brown, because we're out of white, apparently
1 egg
1/2 tsp lemon extract--I used most of the zest of one orange, instead, and I'm pretty sure it's better than lemon extract would have been
1 3/4 c Gold Medal flour--I used one cup white, 3/4 c whole wheat, and it was great.
3/4 tsp cream of tartar
3/4 tsp soda--I'm sure you could use baking powder instead of those two
1/4 tsp salt
1 c raisins--I used golden raisins, which I find less sticky and sweet

Heat oven to 400.  Mix thoroughly shortening, sugar, egg, and extract.  Measure flour by dipping method or by sifting.  Blend flour, cream of tartar, soda, and salt.  Stir into shortening mixture.  (Dough is quite stiff--I sort of kneaded it.)  Mix in raisins (or knead them in).  Roll in 1" balls.  Place about 3" apart on ungreased baking sheet.  Flatten with fork dipped in flour (I used sugar), making a crisscross pattern.  Bake 8 to 10 min.  Makes about 3 doz. cookies


Seriously, these are some of the more satisfying cookies I've made.  And they ARE nourishing--sort of--and cheap.  I liked them so much I had to SHARE THEM WITH ALL OF YOU.

 

 

Awards have been announced!  And just in time for me to make it to jury duty (I've never been glad I lived so close to the courthouse before, except for the time I got to watch a man trying to stage a jailbreak, WITHOUT PANTS), which is where I am now, with a slow wireless connection.  You can read my MINUTE BY MINUTE responses at six boxes.  Sorry for the lack of context, for those of you who aren't in this fandom; I'll write a more coherent post there another time.

I decided that I do want to start a books-only blog, um, mostly so I can have a nice big non-LJ platform for my deep thoughts.  I hope any of you who read this for book stuff will follow me over there.  And I'm hoping that my sisters might be interested in posting their occasional book-related thoughts and reviews; I'm going to add them as authors if they give me permission.  It is called Six Boxes of Books.  I thought of that on my bike today.  Who can identify the source?

And it seems like a good idea to make this my first post over there, so it will be cross-posted, and will have some information/thoughts repeated from previous LJ entries.

******************
ALA awards will be announced Monday morning, starting at 6:45 am Pacific time.  (I'm relieved to discover that my jury duty shouldn't interfere with either finding out what the awards are the minute they're announced, or with blogging about it afterward, because the courthouse is wifi-enabled for bored jurors.)

I started out trying to read as many Newbery possibilities as possible; then started working on the Printz; and at the eleventh hour, became interested in the Caldecott.  

NEWBERY SPECULATION
I'm more invested in the outcome of this award than any of the others, and I've read more of the possibilities, too.  I'm not sure how many, but I'd say it's probably around 40.  I've read 27 of the 38 suggestions on the Goodreads "2009 Newbery Contenders" poll.  My preferences first:

The Porcupine Year (Louise Erdrich).  I was relieved and happy when I read this book, because it was the first possibility I'd read that I could really get behind.  This is distinguished, sophisticated writing, but highly readable.  I actually enjoyed it all the way through, even the very sad parts, which left me with a feeling of strength instead of despair.  At the mock Newbery I attended, this was chosen as the winner, and hardly anyone had any criticism to speak of.  Nina pointed out that the voice in this book isn't as strong as in some of the other offerings, which I think is true; but this has more to offer than a terrific voice.  There's a clear plot arc, character development, delineation of a setting--all the elements of a solid award winner.  

Brooklyn Bridge (Karen Hesse).  This one hasn't been getting much attention, which is sort of surprising since the author already won a Newbery, for Out of the Dust.  This is a coming-of-age story about a Jewish boy in early-20th-century Brooklyn, but it never has the ponderous feel that many coming-of-age stories do; it has humor and movement and a plot that's interesting.  The setting is well-realized.  Not everyone likes the vignettes between chapters that tell something about the life of Brooklyn street children, but I thought they added a lot to the book, and deepened the picture of what life was like in that time and place.

Masterpiece (Elise Broach).  This is getting a last-minute swell of support, but as of now I'm the only one who's voted for it on Goodreads; when I added it to the list I did so hesitantly, sort of afraid that people would laugh.  This isn't a particularly deep book, and some of it is derivative (this is about beetles, but it has similarities to The Borrowers and Stuart Little).  But it has all the elements of a really good book for middle-grade readers.  It's clear and easy to understand; it has jokes that aren't too hard to get, but are still actually funny; it will make kids think without frustrating them.  If it weren't for a completely superfluous section (the infamous turtle tank chapters), I'd probably support this even more.

The Underneath (Kathi Appelt).  I think the writing, the actual poetry of the words on the page, is terrific.  I'm less convinced on the plot, and I thought it got manipulative toward the end--I thought "this author is trying to make me feel as bad as possible", which wasn't pleasant.  I didn't buy the ending at all.  Yet I can't ignore the power of the words, and would be happy if this got an Honor.

Greetings From Nowhere (Barbara O'Connor).  This is the first book I heard any buzz about, early in the year, but it seemed to die out after awhile.  I found this very well-written, and it felt more true-to-life and honest than many problem novels; it was also more optimistic.  This is an enjoyable book, real but a little gentle.

WHAT I THINK WILL WIN
It's hard, frankly, to imagine anything other than The Porcupine Year winning, because I think so strongly that it's the best of the lot.  And so I think it has a shot.  But it sounds like Chains (Laurie Halse Anderson) is a big favorite; I didn't think it was particularly strong.  Leaving behind issues related to race, I thought it had one of the flattest voices of any of the books, and a plot that took a really long time to get anywhere.  I won't be pleased if Chains takes the gold, but I think it might.

Medal: Chains or Porcupine Year
Honors: The Underneath, Masterpiece, maybe Savvy (Ingrid Law) and Alvin Ho (Lenore Look).

The only book that I will really scream about, if it should win, is Diamond Willow (Helen Frost).  Wait, and The Willoughbys (Lois Lowry).

And, of course, there's the distinct possibility that the winner will be something I haven't given serious consideration (Shooting the Moon?  Keeping Score?) or even SOMETHING I HAVEN'T READ.

Printz and Caldecott speculation is forthcoming, on Six Boxes.

The most amazing thing happened to me this morning:

It is a rainy, "cold", blustery day in Sacramento.  But I was walking to this sort of mall that's here in downtown, several blocks away.  (I say "sort of" because it's... hard to explain.  It has mall-type stores, and so on, but it has nice open space--really open, providing actual fresh air--and it doesn't give me the horrible "GET ME OUT OF HERE" feeling that I get at other malls, even though I still don't really like going there.)  I was chasing a few more Caldecott possibles.  Although there are three nice used bookstores near my apartment, new bookstores are harder to get to, except for the small one in the mall.

So I'm walking through the rain and the cold, and feeling generally miserable, when I finally get to the entrance of the mall, relieved to be out of the rain but still cold and wet, when I hear the words...

"Would you like some oatmeal?"

I was in front of a Jamba Juice, and there was a sample-lady at the door with a tray full of steaming oatmeal, which I guess is their newest offering.  She handed me a generous cup full of hot, creamy oatmeal, rich with brown sugar and blueberries.

It was like magic.  Like a fairy tale.

Bowing to public pressure, I've been concentrating on Caldecott and Printz possibles this week.  And I have come to the unfortunate conclusion that

MOST PICTURE BOOKS ARE TERRIBLE

as both literature and art.

Also,

DO NOT WRITE IN RHYME UNLESS YOU ARE DR. SEUSS.

That is all.

Am dying to post my ALA award predictions, and I'm almost there, but I can't in good conscience until I finish up with the last few books I already have.  Everyone ELSE is posting THEIRS, and I want to do it, too.

I can't get over the fact that I just saw a  photo of a black man sitting at the desk in the Oval Office, and it's not a movie.

What must it be like to be a Harvard-educated attorney and then suddenly (more or less) have people saying things about you like "And, in her first official act as First Lady, Michelle Obama chose a lemongrass-colored suit for the Inauguration..."?

I wish they'd gone into that side of things more on The West Wing.  Actually--all the media moguls who read my LJ, pay attention!--I can't remember that there's ever been a first-lady-focused TV drama, and I would totally watch that.  Do it!  Do it!

I'm also sitting here amusing myself with thoughts of how much Bill Clinton would have gotten into all the official fashion stuff as First Gentleman.  He'd start out conservative at the inauguration, but grow progressively nattier and dapperer as he grew into the role.  First a purple tie here, then a little sparkle there, next thing you know, it's "And, as expected, the First Gentleman has chosen a tuxedo featuring sequins to celebrate the beginning of President Clinton's second term with a little glitz and glamor..."

I'm almost sure that this building is what used to stand on the site of my apartment:

Washington School

The cross streets are right.  After my initial "hey, that's where I live!" response, I remembered that an intersection actually has four corners.  But I live in a building that's perhaps 1960s-era, while across the street is a beautiful 1910s house, catercorner is a fine, large 1920s house (both are now split into apartments, of course), and the third corner is a lovely Russian Orthodox church built in 1953.

I really, really love my neighborhood.  It's going to be hard to leave.

The ALA awards will be announced a week from Monday (that's the Caldecott, Newbery, Printz, Coretta Scott King, etc). 
Poll #1332233 Hmm...
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All

If you were me, would you spend this time to:

Am amused to realize that ALA awards are my fandom.

Have somehow lost my bike helmet somewhere between locking the bike on the parking strip outside my apartment and... coming in the door, or something.  My apartment is tiny.  Well, I guess there are plenty of places for a helmet to hide around here, but there was only about an hour between when I came in and when I looked for it again. 

This is the biggest mystery I have faced since the time I swore the water in the camp infirmary smelled of fish.

The surest way of finding my helmet would certainly be to buy a new one, but do I have to resort to that?  How much bike riding am I allowed to do without a helmet?

Since I'm busily trying to read all the books I can that might win the Newbery, and some that might win the Printz (the relatively new young adult category), although a lot of those sound like books I don't really want to read unless someone tells me they're awesome by giving them awards, I thought I might expand into the Caldecott-eligible books.  (Remember, I have a lot of time on my hands.)

And after looking at a list, realized... I have ZERO confidence in my ability to judge what is good and what is not in picture books.  I'd be reduced to saying "well, I don't know much about picture books, but I know what I like".  This is curious, since my educational background is in art, not in English.

I think I've never been much of a picture book reader, though I have a few favorites I remember from childhood; I doubt that I checked picture books out of the library, or even that other people checked them out for me much, though my sisters might remember better than I do.  My understanding is that I pretty much went straight to "chapter" books, once I allowed myself to learn to read.  (I don't think I was an early reader; I think I learned after I started kindergarten.  No one ever noticed anything I did, because I am the fifth of six children, so I don't really know, but that's how I remember it; and my mother thinks it's about right.  Plus I like being a story that I can tell to parents who are worried that their children might not be geniuses because they aren't reading at three.  Or four.)  (Um... you guys know I said that to be funny, right?)  So I think picture books always seemed like "baby" books to me; I did read them to my younger brother, but otherwise, I remember not wanting anything to do with them (except at Christmas, when the box of Christmas books came out.  Still, when my mom bought a nice copy of The Polar Express for the Christmas book box, I wondered why she was buying a book that we were all too old for.  I couldn't have been more than ten.).  When teachers and librarians read them aloud, I felt like they were reading us baby books.  They would show the beautiful illustrations, and I would think, "pictures are for babies". 

One school librarian taught us about the Caldecott, and showed us a range of Caldecott winners.  She knew child sensibilities; I remember her showing one book and saying "Now, I know you might look at this and think the illustrations aren't very special, but..." and she told us whatever it was that she thought made them good.  (And as I remember, she was right: none of us were impressed, because like most children, we thought "good pictures" were realistic ones, preferably lavishly painted, like the Pre-Raphaelites and such.)  I'll have to look for that book sometime; I sort of remember cutout-type illustrations with lions in them.  Anyway, I thought of the Caldecott as the little-kid version of the Newbery.  Now, of course, I realize that it isn't.  But I feel like I don't have any background in how to judge these books.  It makes me wonder how anyone develops that sensibility--but I guess it isn't necessarily any more rare than feeling like you can judge children's non-picture books.

Does anyone have any thoughts?  Do you ever read picture books?  Do you feel like you know what makes a good one?

Relatedly, I'm sort of vaguely contemplating starting a regular books blog if LJ really does shut down.  There are enough of them already, probably, and this might be a passing phase of mine--not reading kids' books, of course, but having so much to say about them--but I'm thinking about it.  Or maybe the blog that satyridae and I have discussed, theburtonsisterstellyouwhattoread.blogspot.com.

Other Girl Scout leaders annoy me a lot, often, in so many ways, but I don't know if I've ever been so irritated as I am by Girl Scout leaders who think they have every (theoretical, thank god) right to say they won't accept a girl with HIV into their troops, because they "don't feel qualified" since they don't have "medical training" like I do.  The conversation has gone something like this:

Me: refusing to accept a girl with HIV, a medical condition that would have absolutely no effect on the troop, is not so different from refusing to accept one of a different race or religion.  A troop leader who refused to take such a girl would only be acting out of misinformation or prejudice.

Other leader: you can't compare HIV to religion.  In case you haven't heard about HIV, it's a very serious condition [those words were actually used!].  We know to use gloves, but the girls might not.

Me: I'm a nurse, I know all about HIV.  The medical community has agreed for a long time that there's no reason to keep kids with HIV out of schools, and there's no reason troops shouldn't accept them, either.

Different leader: Schools have nurses!  Girl Scouts is more dangerous than school!  It's nice that you know how to handle HIV, but we don't!

Me: There's nothing I would do for a kid with HIV that a leader without medical training wouldn't do.  They don't require any kind of special handling or treatment. 

Other leader: but you're a nurse!  How many troops have nurses?  We shouldn't have to accept these kids if we don't feel comfortable with our ability to handle the situation.

Ad. nauseum.

(This is the continuation of a discussion from the Heavy Medal blog about the Newbery winner/honors from 1953.  The site wouldn't accept my whole comment for some reason, but I thought some of the readers might still want to read this response.  Apologies to those who are coming in the middle of the conversation and/or are not at all interested.)

You're seriously making all my points for me here. Did Jim throw a cross or a rosary on the ground in anger?  The author seems to be saying that the Crow religion and most of their values are false.  It's a sop when his brother says that those Crows weren't all bad, that he learned a lot from them; it felt thrown in to me, as if the author knew what a negative portrayal she'd gotten herself into at the end and didn't want that to be the sole message of her book.  The theme of "Indian way of life is over, white settlers are here to stay" is in-and-of-itself racist.

I also have doubts about some of the historical accuracy.  I don't know enough to be sure, but I note that Jim displays some sexist attitudes--is this accurate to what a Crow man would have thought, or is it what a white person assumes about Indian culture?  There's a long history in children's literature of Indian men scoffing about women's work that seems to be generally inaccurate.  Is the portrayal of the Umpqua accurate?  I've no doubt that a Crow would have had negative attitudes toward many other tribes, but is the actual portrayal of the Umpqua as primitive, cruel slave-holders accurate?  I don't know.

What I'm really curious about is whether any of this affected the Newbery decision that year.  Did any of the committee have doubts about the way Indians were portrayed in this book?  It's an odd juxtaposition with Secret of the Andes, which has an altogether admiring tone toward indigenous people.  Looking at the list of Newbery winners and honors, I think it's easy to presume that committee members over the years did value having children develop positive attitudes about people of other races and cultures.  There's definitely the occasional misfire, like Amos Fortune, but in general I think they were trying hard.  Or was Moccasin Trail a runner-up only because of issues with the writing?  (What I mention above about it being too long in the middle, maybe too obvious, are really the only major flaws--so to speak--I noted.)  Or did the committee think that Moccasin Trail was distinguished, but--hard as it is to understand--Secret of the Andes was MORE distinguished?  Did Moccasin Trail seem possibly too sophisticated (mirroring discussions going on now about this year's possible Newberys)?  Andes, Charlotte's Web, and Birthdays of Freedom are squarely middle-grade, after all--I don't know about Red Sails to Capri, and Hemlock Mountain is even younger.

I wonder, too, if Charlotte's Web just seemed ORDINARY to the committee.  You have a book set in Peru, a book straddling Indian and white-settler culture, one set in Italy, a philosophical/academic book (and I have no explanation for Hemlock Mountain, does anyone?)--and next to all those, maybe Charlotte's Web, about an ordinary girl in the modern-day US living on an ordinary farm and going to the ordinary fair, just didn't seem special enough.  "Special" is, of course, not an official criterion, but I think it was an unofficial one, and maybe it still is.

AAAAAH!

I am trying to reread Charlotte's Web, which I haven't read in many years because I pretty much have it memorized: I was in the play in high school, and the play is an almost word-for-word adaptation of the text.  (Because I know you will ask: being a person of rather limited acting ability, I was one of three cast in a sort of narrator/everyman role; the play has the nature-descriptiony lines read by a sort of amorphous-fury-like chorus, and the other two girls who were cast in these roles dropped out in disappointment at not getting  "real" parts after rehearsals were well underway, so I just took over their parts and ended up with a lot to memorize; and I can't remember whether it was written or just directed this way, but I also played a bunch of small parts, like an announcer and a photographer, in my same Chorus costume.  And one of Charlotte's children, which was the most fun, by far.)

The Heavy Medal blog suggested that people read The Secret of the Andes, which won the 1952 Newbery, and Charlotte's Web, which was an Honor book that year, so we can discuss how the hell that happened.  Since I already read and hated TSofA, I read three other Honor books from that year (Moccasin Trail, The Bears on Hemlock Mountain, and Birthdays of Freedom; I haven't gotten my hands on Red Sails to Capri yet), and then decided that even though I have Charlotte's Web practically memorized, I should try to read it with fresh eyes.  It's been, let's see, almost thirteen years since the play.

No dice.  I just read the first chapter, and COULD NOT, despite trying very hard, read it without hearing the voices of my high school friends and frenemies in the roles.

This is going to be an uncomfortable read.  Because I really, really prefer not to revisit the high school theater rehearsal room if I can help it.

Cold! Cold!  Cold!  This is the first day it's been cold enough that it actually feels like something of a challenge, not turning the heater on until December.  We've had an unseasonably warm November (we actually got STRAWBERRIES in the CSA box this week, which was a surprise to everyone, including the farmer); last year, one of the reasons we were excited about spending Thanksgiving week in Yosemite was that we'd be "allowed" to use the heater in our little Curry Village cabin.

We thought briefly about going to Yosemite again, because we had so much fun last year.  But I think we were both afraid that it wouldn't be the same--actually, I guess, that it WOULD be the same, and so it would be disappointing.  "The same" is not always bad, especially for holidays, but it's like--if we went to Yosemite every Thanksgiving, if this was, like, the fifth year we'd gone, that would be different--it would be like, "Let's do our traditional hike up to the top of Nevada Fall!".  But instead, doing it the second time, it could just be "What do you want to do?  I don't know, I guess we could go up Nevada Fall again."  (Options are somewhat limited in Yosemite this time of year.)

(That last paragraph reminds me of the time, during my first year at Carleton, when two of my floormates decided to keep track, with tallies on a whiteboard, of how many times I said "like" in an hour.)

I finished canning applesauce on Friday--it took two days, because the canner only holds six quart jars at a time, and that was plenty.  Obviously, I did not get hit with shrapnel, but lurking botulism wouldn't be discovered until the jars are opened.  (I always aim to be Mr. Titus, Ms. Kuzina, not Mona OR Randy.  In canning terms, I mean.  Not in general.)

I got ten quarts, plus a little, out of the bushel of apples.  I expected twelve, but I didn't weigh my half-bushel boxes, so maybe they were short.  (ETA: have since discovered that my "half-bushel" boxes, which weighed twenty pounds, do not equal the 48 pounds you find in a real bushel, so mystery solved.)  Nicole says the applesauce is better than last year's; not sure why, but maybe it's because I used two different varieties, mixed (Fuji and the real Red Delicious, the kind with flavor); or maybe because I cooked the apples with the peels and stems and seeds and cores.

But I was sort of disappointed to find, when I calculated everything, that I saved exactly five dollars on the applesauce.  I'm pretty sure I had a better rate last year, but maybe apples cost more this year, or applesauce costs less right now.  The price is not the only thing, of course, or even the main thing--I mean, I know I'm saving on packaging, supporting a local farmer, avoiding having to carry quarts of applesauce on my bike, and presumably this applesauce is better quality--but the tangible thing would be nice, too... I could have saved more by buying cheaper apples, of course.  Or I could claim to save more if I compared my cost to more expensive applesauce, instead of the rock-bottom discount grocery kind we buy; it's probably more similar to the natural foods or Trader Joe's applesauce, right?

Kitchen cleaned to the near-clinical level I like for canning.  I'm about to go up to my elbows in apples; if I never post again, you'll know a canning jar exploded and I was hit in the head with shrapnel.