Good Mouse, Bad Mouse

2012-02-09T09:06:00.003-06:00

Teaching story from a state university.

Students: Brrrrrr (teeth chattering, arms crossed over chests, turning slightly blue)
Professor: Is it a little cold in here?*
Students: Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Professor: Hm. So weird. Especially since last week, it was about 95 degrees and three of you fell over from heat exhaustion.
Students: Brrrr.
Professor: (calling Facilities line) Excuse me, I need to report a very cold classroom. It's really too cold in here for students to learn comfortably.
(Class continues for about ten minutes, student sitting under the air vent loses a few fingers to frostbite)
Facilities Guy: Hi, I'm here from Facilities.
Professor: (totally speechless that someone has responded this fast)
Students: (totally speechless from cold/seeing a Facilities Guy in the flesh)
FG: Did you complain about the temperature?
Professor: Oh, yeah, sorry. It's been very cold in here today.
FG: (walks to thermostat) Did you adjust the thermostat?
Professor: Wha...?
Students: Wha...?
FG: Well, it's set at 60. Maybe if you just turn up the thermostat.
(Entire class dumbfounded)
Professor: Wait. The thermostat...WORKS?!
FG: (Rolls eyes, leaves room)
Professor: WAIT, THIS CLASSROOM HAS A WORKING THERMOSTAT?
Students: Whoa. We've never seen a working thermostat on campus before!
Professor: I know. I don't even have a phone.

* Outside, it is a nice, balmy 52 degrees.

2012-02-08T12:49:00.001-06:00

A quick poll regarding the heinous claimjumping of my poor old domain name, where they now post particularly inane dribble and refuse to give me any way to contact them. Shall I

1) Leave my URL www.goodmousebadmouse.blogspot.com (I am tired just typing it)
2) Choose a new URL (goodmousebad.com? mouselandia.com? other suggestions)
3) Rebrand the WHOLE THING (shivers)

Thanks for the input, micies.

2012-02-08T08:51:00.002-06:00

Another recent read on the Kindle...the thing about Jonathan Safran Foer is that sometimes the flash overshadows the content. As soon as I met Alex in Everything is Illuminated, I knew Foer was one of the best character writers of his generation--he shrugs on the intimate details of life, speech, and personality with notable ease, and with great humor. But Everything read to me as overwrought, as an exercise in MFA school tricks, as a bit of a circus performance. For my next trick, I will attempt...

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is grown-up Foer. The amazing character writing is still there, but the sideshow is shut down and the prose constrained, placing the experience of the story (and not the technically interesting writing) back at center. With no spoilers, this is the story of a grieving child who lost his father on September 11, 2011, and it is a beautiful and funny account of individual and national grief and fear, with a truly excellent balance between pathos and hope. It's real enough not to let us off the hook, but sweet enough to recommend.

And for anyone who's lost a family member, even if it happened in a much less dramatic way, it's an excellent and moving read.

What have you been reading, nice mice? And did anybody see the movie of Extremely? I would think that it's the opposite of Everything, which I thought was even better as a film than as a book. I bet Extremely loses its best characteristic--the detail of its narrator--as a film.

Printed Word here, Kindle here.

2012-02-07T07:49:00.002-06:00

Here is a little sublime happiness to get you through your week, micies.

1. Kristen Bell has adorable sloth-related meltdown

2. As women's boxing goes to the Olympics for the first time this summer, meet Tyrieshia Douglas, who's 23:

TYRIESHA DOUGLAS: Boxing is my mother and my father.

(SOUNDBITE OF PUNCHING)

DOUGLAS: Boxing is my brother and my sister. Boxing make love to me. Boxing kiss me.

UNIDENTIFIED MAN #1: You should keep that hand up, OK?

DOUGLAS: So, honestly, boxing is the love of my life.

...

DOUGLAS: So I'm mean. I know I'm a woman, but when the bell rings, I'm like a monster.

(SOUNDBITE OF A BELL)

DOUGLAS: When I was young, I wanted to have a big butt and big boobs. I wanted to be the average girl. People used to always say that women shouldn't have big arms, we shouldn't have broad shoulders. They were like, don't wear that T-shirt. You look too strong. Your outfit is cute, but you look like you're about to break your high heel. And I'd be like, what? It's against the rules to have as many muscles as I have.

From NPR. Listen to the entire magical story here.

2012-02-02T06:18:00.001-06:00

So, I've been having this neck issue related to the fact that I really like to sleep on my face* and now I have to go to physical therapy. My therapist is this very small south Asian woman with a gorgeous accent and a last name I can't pronounce who likes to tell me I'm being stupid. For a tiny little person, she is one of the most domineering women I've ever met. Understand that all of this information is in the context of liking her a lot. Here's how it goes:

Therapist: Let me explain. What God Has Done is put two long muscles around the spine, and these are okay, and then several small muscles, and these are weak. We must work to strengthen God's small muscles.
Mouse: (Finding this charming, but not really being a God person) Okay.
Therapist: Let me see the pillow.
Mouse: (Hands her the very expensive pillow she made me buy last week)
Therapist: Is it helping you to not sleep on your belly?
Mouse: Yeah. Well. I guess.
Therapist: It is too small. It must be half an inch higher and much more long.
Mouse: Okay.
Therapist: They have them at Costco. You will buy one. They come in packs of two.
Mouse: Okay. That's good, because He-Mouse was jealous he didn't get a special pillow and now he can have one.
Therapist: Ha. Ha. Ha. (This is what her laugh actually sounds like.)
Mouse: (Laughs)
Therapist: By the way, you can do no more downward dog.
Mouse: WHAT?!
Therapist: The downward dog puts too much traction on your neck. You can do the other poses, but no downward dog.
Mouse: That would mean no more yoga at all, wouldn't it?
Therapist: (shrugs.) Also, you need to cut back on your drinking.
Mouse: !!! (Silent dread)
Therapist: This is too many drinks per week for a small woman.
Mouse: Um.
Therapist: Also, you need to do something to reduce your stress.
Mouse: DRINKING AND YOGA ARE HOW I REDUCE MY STRESS.
Therapist: Ha. Ha. Ha. Now you will go and do the arm machine.

* Probably because Mama Mouse told me not to do that at a young age and I'm contrary.

2012-02-01T13:25:00.004-06:00

So, not to blow my Read the Printed Word street cred, or anything, but He-Mouse Claus brought me a Kindle Touch for Christmas. Mostly I was excited about this because of the world's nerdiest job-related injury, in which I got debilitating tendinitis in both wrists for about two years from reading too much. Yep. For crying out loud. Anyway, Kindle is much lighter than a book, and now I can happily read big giant hardbacks for hours at a time without hurting anything.*

Here's the thing, though: it's actually really hard to figure out which books I want to read on Kindle. I'd never thought much about this, but a lot of my book-buying has to do with physical factors: design, size of text, placement in the store, and--perhaps most importantly--those dear scrawled notes from employee/readers that let me know whether I might like it. In Kindle (much like Netflix, in my opinion), you can sort of browse around for hours and not know what to get/check out/buy. So I'm going to start doing reviews of books that are both on Kindle and in print, and I hope you guys will tell me good Kindle ideas, too, especially when they are free.

I started out with a book by Justin Cronin, The Passage, which I got for three reasons:

1) It has an apocalypse

2) I heard this fantastic interview with Cronin in which he talked about writing the book in conversation with his little girl, which means that a little girl is actually the hero of this apocalypse. That's right. Full-on Girlpocalypse.

3) It has VAMPIRES. Real ones. Not this kind.

The thing is, though, that this book is one of the best I've read in a long time. It has a transcendental, eerie quality, but Cronin's deft plotting and sense of action keep it moving in a very satisfying way. This is the first of a trilogy, but unlike some series I can think of,** he clearly knows where he's going. The future world is clearly conceptualized. It's dark and sad, but not in the hopeless way of The Road or even, in a sense, The Hunger Games trilogy: this future world is ripe for revolution, and the vibe is seventh-season Buffy the Vampire Slayer rather than despair. In other words, it treads the line between excellent, evocative and even self-reflective prose and that tantalizing anticipation of a really good action story.

In other words, I recommend it without reservation. If you read it, tell me what you think.

Printed Word here, Kindle here.

* This would have been helpful with those damn Game of Thrones books this summer, but that ship has sailed.
** YOU AGAIN, Game of Thrones.

2012-01-23T08:37:00.003-06:00

Helloooo from the first day of school/continuing limbo in which we don't know where we will be living next year. May I just say that I never thought it was a crazy thing, wanting to live with one's husband? I never thought that was an entitled, unreasonable sort of demand, and yet that's the reaction I get from 99% of people when I describe the situation with my job and He-Mouse's job. The whole thing has obviously driven me back to my imaginary cottage. This time I want to run off to remote New Zealand, where my cottage will perch on the ridge of a mountain. At night He-Mouse and I will keep our arms around each other, listening to the wind whip around our four little walls, the smell of dry prairies and strange new plants keeping us always slightly alert. In our little sunny front porch we will greet the spring, play cards all summer, and stack our firewood in the fall. And our real lives won't matter, because it will just be us there, us at the top of the world.

Image from Remote Huts Westland.

2012-01-15T19:25:00.002-06:00

He-Mouse and I, as you know, have been under some heavy effing stress. We have basically been eating cheese and watching Army Wives on a loop, so we joined one of those massage places. Usually we go together, but today he went on his own, to be massaged by Tom.

He-Mouse: I want to go to massage together next time.
Mouse: Oh?
He-Mouse: Yeah. I like the couples room, cause then there's some female energy in there.
Mouse: Ha ha ha.
He-Mouse: It's different when it's JUST ME AND TOM.
Mouse: ((giggling uncontrollably))
He-Mouse: And then he gets the lube out, and it goes squish...
Mouse: You mean the lotion, right?
He-Mouse: Whatever. Squish squish squish.
(Pause)
He-Mouse: At least at the end he said "Go, Giants."

2012-01-02T10:00:00.002-06:00

"I want a dyke for president. I want a person with aids for president and I want a fag for vice president and I want someone with no health insurance and I want someone who grew up in a place where the earth is so saturated with toxic waste that they didn't have a choice about getting leukemia. I want a president that had an abortion at sixteen and I want a candidate who isn't the lesser of two evils and I want a president who lost their last lover to aids, who still sees that in their eyes every time they lay down to rest, who held their lover in their arms and knew they were dying. I want a president with no airconditioning, a president who has stood on line at the clinic, at the dmv, at the welfare office and has been unemployed and layed off and sexually harassed and gaybashed and deported. I want someone who has spent the night in the tombs and had a cross burned on their lawn and survived rape. I want someone who has been in love and been hurt, who respects sex, who has made mistakes and learned from them. I want a Black woman for president. I want someone with bad teeth and an attitude, someone who has eaten that nasty hospital food, someone who crossdresses and has done drugs and been in therapy. I want someone who has committed civil disobedience. And I want to know why this isn't possible. I want to know why we started learning somewhere down the line that a president is always a clown: always a john and never a hooker. Always a boss and never a worker, always a liar, always a thief and never caught."

-Zoe Leonard, of the radical lesbian collective Fierce Pussy, 1992.

I try not to be so serious around here, but come on, 2012. Come on, Iowa. Come on, everybody.

2011-12-24T08:20:00.005-06:00

New Jersey, let's see some winter, or else I am going to my imaginary cottage in Montana. There will be far too much snow for any more Christmas errands, so I will just be in there with my fire crackling, looking out over vast unspoiled snowdrifts, breathing clean clean air and marveling at how small my life is under that big sky.

You can come visit me, micies, if you'll buckle on your snowshoes. I will make you cheese straws* and cocoa with peppermint schnapps. Happy holidays to you and yours.

* These ones. They taste like Cheese-Its for grownups!

2011-12-19T08:07:00.002-06:00

2011-12-15T17:46:00.003-06:00

By popular request, I am here with an ass update. The ass is NOT BROKEN! Wahoo. This means that basically it's just going to, by a particularly apt phrase, be a pain in the ass for another month or so. This bone bruise thing is really amazing, actually: I hit it right with the edge of the stair, dead-center, and it still isn't a serious enough thing to show up on an x-ray...but it hurts like a mother. The fall was almost two months ago, and it still hurts to push on it.

The nice part is that the doctor says I am excused from snow-shoveling.* Sorry, He-Mouse.

* Not that we HAVE any snow. This brings me to another quandary: shoes.

In Chicago, there are basically three seasons:

November-May 30: Freeeeezing-ass cold winter (big thick tall Sorel boots, of which I have three pairs).
June 1-September 20: Hot hot humid miserable but fun and often drunken summer (flip-flops)
September 21-October 31: Glorious colorful nippy fall (big thick boots more often than you'd think, with intermittent presentable and dressy boots or Fryes)

In Jersey, so far:
July 1 (when we got here)-October 15: Hot hot humid miserable disgusting gross sweaty summer
October 16-now: Waiting for winter to actually get its act together.

This means I don't have any actual shoes, the kind you wear with socks. How did this happen? East Coast people, what's your go-to pre-snow-season shoe?

2011-12-14T09:38:00.005-06:00

You guys, the holidays are kicking my ass. See, I used to be an only child. And then the parents divorced, Mama Mouse remarried and my dad remarried. I acquired five stepbrothers and stepsisters. And then some of THEM got married. And then I got married. And what with one thing and another, He-Mouse and I now have 18 people in our immediate family. Micies, I am not even counting people like cousins and aunts and uncles, even the ones we're close with. I'm talking four grandparents, seven parents, five stepbrothers and sisters, two stepbrothers/sisters-in-law, two foster siblings, three nieces and nephews, and a partridge in a pear tree.

By the way, if any of those people are reading this, please GO AWAY until after Christmas, or you will ruin the surprise.

So Christmas, which is one of my favorite holidays, is suddenly very very complicated and expensive. The result of this family expansion is that He-Mouse and I can't afford to buy real presents for anybody, and that there is no chance at all of seeing everybody on Christmas. We are doing some good boundary-setting this year by not going ANYWHERE, simultaneously recognizing our own exhaustion (we've had not a single two weekends in a row in our house since August), and establishing that we aren't on some kind of unbreakable Christmas rotation that has nothing to do with the needs of our own, new little family.

But, dudes. I'm running out of inexpensive ways to do Christmas. Even my little sister spends in the neighborhood of $40 per person, but she's buying for seven people. If we did that, our tab would be $720 (unthinkable on our budget).

I've had a good string of inexpensive gifts. Last year, I hoarded our wedding photos, not letting them circulate until people received little personalized Shutterfly albums on Christmas. The year before that, we sent s'mores kits. Before that, I used my grad student skills to send PDF albums of newspaper articles (in page view) from the day each person was born.*

This year, I'm sending goodies, thanks to ideas from the Nosy Bitches** on Twitter. Fleur de sel caramels, four kinds of biscotti (of which this and this are the winners), and two kinds of granola (this one, btw, is like crack!). But, frankly, I feel cheap. Even though we're pairing this with a new strategy, in which everybody gets something small and then the people we actually SEE in a given year get bigger gifts, I can't help feeling really shitty about it. I am a person who loves giving presents, and not to sound snotty, but I have a highly refined and enormously successful gift-giving compass. I'm excellent at picking things out for people, and goddammit, if I had $800, I could rock this list. I've suggested drawing names, secret Santa, and any number of other strategies, but other people, who actually have money, overrule these attempts. Sigh.

Any ideas about holiday guilt and budget shopping?

* This is way more expensive then you would think, because it involves Kinko's.
** For those of you who don't know, this is a term of endearment.

(Image from Martha)

2011-12-12T17:09:00.000-06:00

Whoop, whoop.

2011-12-06T20:51:00.003-06:00

(Or, Meditations on a possibly broken tailbone)

So, on the day before Halloween, we got one little bitty snowstorm in New Jersey and I, who am from effing COLORADO and had never before fallen on the ice, had a total, disastrous, cartoon-style wipeout on our front steps. I fell right on my medial sacral crest (ass), and have basically been dealing with low-level aches and pains and swelling since then.

My tailbone likes:
• Heating pad

My tailbone does not like:
• Marching in the Occupy Wall Street November 17 thing and almost getting smushed further by the NYPD
• Going up and down the stairs in sports stadiums
• Inclines and declines
• Yoga
• Doing the Charleston at the End-of-the-Twenties party
• Going to the gym for more than 20 minutes at a time
• Sitting at my desk
• Airplanes

In short, I have been getting pretty boring, inflexible, and chubby sitting around on my stupid, much-hated heating pad. I went to the ER when it happened (incidentally, 98% of the nice people I have met in Jersey were working in the ER that day). Then I went to Mean Condescending Doctor, who said things like "I really don't want to image you if we don't have to" and "well, you have to give me some kind of reason if you want me to send you to physical therapy." Obviously her getting better plan did jack shit, and I just sat around slowly swelling up to the size of a Macy's float and getting more and more boring.

So I FINALLY went to a real doctor today (six weeks after the fall), and she's like, oh, well, actually you really need an x-ray. Sigh.

All of this is to say that it is a really good husband who not only doesn't mind when you are boring and chubby and inflexible, but will actually stop on his way home, in the drizzly disgusting rain, to pick up a donut-shaped rubber pillow that you have to inflate by mouth, and which tastes so disgusting that it nearly makes you hurl, and then proceeds to blow the thing up for you and not even mention his level of disgust until later, when you accidentally touch your lip with the same hand that had touched the donut (which, incidentally, belongs on the tailbone-does-not-like list) and discover its utterly horrific rubbery taste. Yep. That's a good husband.

2011-12-06T12:48:00.002-06:00

Eff you, Google domain registration. We will be over here at trusty .blogspot.com until I fix you. If I can fix you.

UPDATE: No, I can't fix you. I am mad, mad, mad about this. In the approximately three minutes it took me to realize Google had an old credit card number, somebody else bought my domain name. To that person: booooooooooo.

Oh, well. I'll be right here where I started.

xo
Mouse

2011-10-31T21:02:00.003-05:00

And now, a card, transcribed verbatim, from He-Mouse's tiny, 82-year-old grandma:

***

Dear He-Mouse and Mouse
Got your card, and it made
me cry. I do love Grandpa very very much
I have a lot to be thankful for
having him. My grandfather
told me way back
to never go to bed angry at one
another. We always kiss at bed
time and tell each how much
we love each other. You know
He-Mouse there hasn't been any
sex for years. Since Grandpa had
prostate removed with cancer.
We don't have to have sex and
still love each other. It's just
being close. We have never
had a real argument or a
shouting match. We didn't get
married for all of that stuff.

Love,
Grandma

***
Obviously everybody over at my house will be talking about this for awhile.

I love how it's going along all Hallmark, and then, WHAM, sex.

2011-10-12T07:51:00.001-05:00

The End-of-the-Twenties party is almost here! I got an amazing dress, sent cute invitations (which I will show yall when I get around to it), and the divine and amazing Petite Chablis is figuring out a signature cocktail we can do on the cheap! Visit her Woozy Wednesday today for more, and to vote on your favorite of her excellent ideas...
Meanwhile, how do I do this to my hair without actually doing the icky gel and wet-style of finger-waving? Can I fake it somehow with hot rollers?
We're having the party at my darling friend's house, which we're going to trick out to look like this. And also, no matter how cute my dress is, here's what I REALLY wanna wear...

2011-10-11T12:35:00.003-05:00

I'm peeking out from a very whirlwindy sort of month to mention that I got to see He-Mouse, the ocean, Country Mouse, and Tiny Niece and Tiny Nephew all in the same weekend, which was just totally bitchin.

and

I got to meet wise bloglandia friend LPC in person, and she gave me yummy iced tea and a good dose of excellent career advice. I've been thinking about said advice a lot and will probably blog about it more over the next few weeks, but here are the big highlights: first, in considering a career path, figure out the thing you need, exactly. Because you may be able to get it in a different way than you suppose. And second, following one's heart is neither anti-feminist nor selling out. To summarize LPC, she didn't work all those years with all those bozo chauvinist men so that women my age would feel like we MUST pursue a high-power career, even if that career is something we happen to be pretty good at.

Maybe it's possible to be pretty good at something but choose to focus on something else.

Maybe the universe is wide enough for all of it.

2011-10-01T10:44:00.002-05:00

And now, a highly scientific study of what happens when He-Mouse is out of town:

1. Things that increase
Risk of fire
Boredom
Watching of stupid television
Aimless wandering around house
Occurrence of spiders
Weird noises
Random paranoid strategies related to weird noises*
Really dumb mistakes (like stubbed toes, completely forgotten things, etc)
Broken shit within our house (oven is now refusing to turn on, which is probably okay because of the fire thing)

Boo Jersey. Come back, He-Mouse.

* I got a DOORSTOP ALARM. It is louder than an ambulance siren, and it is HILARIOUS. Its main function is to ensure that a) anybody who breaks in to murder me will at least be deaf by the end of the deed and b) the whole neighborhood knows when I get up to pee cause I forget to take it out of the door.

2011-08-30T12:37:00.002-05:00

So, after eighteen hours without power and five inches of water in our basement, we are now officially high and dry in Central New Jersey. By "we," I mean "Mouse and He-Mouse," because many other people are still dealing with awful mud and our favorite park is entirely underwater. It was pretty awful. The power went out at 2:30 a.m., and the worst of the storm struck around 4. We had a long, sleepless, worried night as our basement filled with water and there was nothing we could do about it. So I wanted to share the things I learned from Hurricane Irene, because they turned out to be little parables that can be applied to life in general.

1) It's all you
Living in an apartment is nice, because when you live in a house, there is nobody to call when your basement is full of water, except your Huz.

2) Get started
Nobody but you is going to muck out all that water, so you may as well do it now, and the longer you wait, the worse it is going to smell. Even if it means more work in the long run, getting started will make you feel better.

3) Be organized
It may not seem important to sweep the basement now, but when basement muck is floating by on rainwater, you will be really excited to know it does not contain spiders/icky grease/pebbles and hair that are going to clog your drain or stop your sump pump from pumping.

4) Prepare for the worst
Because sure, it may just be one inch of water. But if it's six, that entire box of books that you set on the floor is toast. As in reduced to dripping, stinking, blocks of pulp with pages that don't ever come apart again. Don't store shit in your basement AT ALL, said our handyman. But if you have to, stack it at least six inches off the ground on pieces of wood. Never put upholstered furniture in your basement at all. Trust me.

5) Always have a back-up plan
Sump pumps and wet/dry shop vacs are fantastic, but guess what? Both run on electricity. I want a battery-operated sump pump or a small, one-outlet emergency generator. I do not care if all of the food in my fridge goes bad,* but dammit, I want that sump pump to pump.

6) Kill bad stuff early
It is easier to spray too much bleach on everything than it is to get rid of mold once it already has a heartbeat.

7) Go ahead and splurge on galoshes
Because not only are they cute, but they will be a really good thing to have when you're crouching on your basement floor, frantically bailing water by flashlight using a dustpan. Look at my cute red galoshes!, you will think, as you see them through the murky water. Meanwhile, your Huz, who has taped garbage bags over his feet, will be muttering under his breath as the water/sewage slowly seeps into his shoes because he decided he didn't want to spend the money on galoshes. Just buy the damn galoshes. May I recommend Kamiks, which are only $55 and are cuter than Hunters?

8) Don't let people get between you and what you know you need to do
I am a worrier, nice mice. This may be because Mama Mouse was an American Red Cross disaster responder in the mid-1990s, and saw the worst of Hurricanes Andrew, Floyd, and Iniki, not to mention the midwest floods. The lesson she learned from this was one she repeated to me with great frequency: you know the long list of stuff they tell you to do when a disaster is going to happen? DO ALL OF THOSE THINGS. I mean, yes, sometimes you won't really need five gallons of water per person. Sometimes you won't need all that canned food. Sometimes your power won't go out, and you won't need your battery operated radio.** Sometimes, they will tell you to evacuate and you will come back and nothing will have happened to your house at all, and you will think, well shit, I could've been in my own bed this whole time instead of stuck in traffic. But you know what? All of this is better than ignoring the instructions, because ignoring the instructions is how you get killed. That's what I learned from Mama Mouse. So I stockpile, and I listen to evac orders, and I listen to the storm news. And people roll their eyes, and say it won't be a problem, and tell me I'm overreacting. But you know what? Those same people always want my bottled water. So just do the shit you know you need to do.

* By the way, it takes 72 hours for the food in your fridge to go bad. It takes about two hours, in Hurricane Irene, for your basement to fill up with water if the sump pump isn't working.

** Which is only $10, by the way, and which was our only source of information during our long, dark night.

2011-08-19T08:59:00.000-05:00

Whoop, whoop.

2011-08-04T09:48:00.000-05:00

2011-07-27T21:23:00.004-05:00

While watching 127 Hours...

Mouse: I hate James Franco. Well. I love and hate James Franco.
He-Mouse: Yeah. He's a beautiful man.
Mouse: Despite the chin pubes.
He-Mouse: Ugh, cut your arm off already.
Mouse: Can you pause it?
He-Mouse: Mmmm.... (noncommittal)
Mouse: (returns to the room) Wait. You didn't pause it. Did I miss anything?
He-Mouse: MISS WHAT? Eventually he's gonna cut his arm off.

2011-07-18T06:46:00.002-05:00

So, in preparation for seeing Harry Potter, we have been catching He-Mouse up on what has happened, you know, this entire time. He-Mouse is an avid reader of the first twenty pages of every book he sees, but frequently stops then, since he's seen another book. Meanwhile, he's a sleeper. Every movie, regardless of content, he's on the floor, peacefully snoozing. I once saw him fall asleep in a movie theater during the opening credits.

Anyway, now that there is an element of pressure, he's making it through the movies (although sometimes they take two nights to finish). The bad part about this is that I'm basically ready to pee my pants in anticipation of the final movie (DON'T TELL ME ANYTHING) and will still have to wait another week (ARGH). The good thing is comments like this...

He-Mouse: "Wait. That guy is Voldemort, too?! Oh my god, that Voldemort guy is everywhere!"

Word.

2011-06-12T17:16:00.002-05:00

Dear yard sale shoppers,

You do not need to ask me "Is that it?"

Yes. That is it.

Thanks,
Mouse

2011-06-06T21:55:00.003-05:00

After reading The Hunger Games in one morning last week, and then watching The Colony* on the Discovery Channel all week, I have been thinking about what my skills would be in the event of an apocalypse. It seems that there will not be much need for blogging, or for pith and/or sarcasm. Stupid apocalypse. Anyway, He-Mouse and I have been sitting around talking about this off and on. It usually goes like this:

He-Mouse: See? See? We could, like, help with group cohesion.
Mouse: Nah. If there's an apocalypse, I will probably die on, like, day one.
He-Mouse: Don't say that! You have valuable skills!
Mouse: I also have no upper body strength and no training in mechanics, engineering, or kicking people in the head.

But then I was thinking, while watching The Colony, that I do have some skills. They would be helpful on the show, if not in an actual apocalypse. Here they are:

Mouse's Apocolyptastic Survival Skills

• Reading. Having become well versed in what happens in every apocalyptic novel, there are some insights I can contribute, because I know what the producers are about to do. For instance, there will be a euphoric moment when it rains and/or somebody finds a way to provide a bath/shower, immediately followed by getting attacked/losing some of your food/dying of a snakebite.** Therefore, when it starts raining, I could tell everybody to hide all their shit (see point 3).

• Hoarding. I am a world champion hoarder. As a little kid, when I was allowed to eat only one piece of Halloween candy every day, I would save the perfect, giant Swiss chocolate bar from the lady two doors down until about February, when it would be totally stale. But see? I can ration better than anybody.

• Hiding shit. This is similar to hoarding, but also includes stashing things like "medical supplies."*** Why does nobody on this show hide that shit? Extras can break in to steal it all they want, but they won't FIND it if they stick it somewhere besides their totally visible pantry. I could hide that shit. When I was hoarding candy, I also used to hide part of my Monopoly money under the edge of the board so people wouldn't notice my rising wealth and try to target my properties. Yeah, bitches.

• Being scared. No, really. How long is it going to take these people to figure out that they need some kind of alarm system? I would have a gong or a bell or something rigged up by the first afternoon. This whole shouting uh-oh strategy sucks.

• Getting hangry. I do not like to be hungry. Several men in my past, independently of one another, have stashed chocolate bars in their glove compartments in case of hangry emergencies. Because of this, I am the first viewer in the entire world to notice when The Colony is down to only however many days of food left. And then, about every ten minutes, I turn to He-Mouse and say WHAT GOOD IS THAT FLAMETHROWER IF THEY DON'T HAVE A FOOD SOURCE?! Because I know that in apocalyptic novels (see skill 1), it is always the case that the food runs out and then you can't find any because you are too hangry to think straight. Because I spend so much of my life hangry, I am completely prepared for this part. I would be foraging way before anybody needed any food, so there. (Also, I would tell them not to trade canned food for perishable food. Stupid.)

* The Colony is a show where they pretend it's the apocalypse and a bunch of people have to band together to survive as they are subjected to food and water shortages and also attacks from what has to be the most diverse crew of random extras ever assembled in Los Angeles/the Gulf Coast. They spend a lot of time doing things like creating solar energy panels, and not a lot of time doing things like finding food.
** Oregon Trail habits die hard.
*** Nobody on The Colony is actually sick, they just count "medical supplies" as currency. As in, the extras/marauders try to steal it a lot.

2011-05-31T22:06:00.001-05:00

I hit myself in the nose with the bottom of a hairspray bottle. Really hard. It is swelling. And bleeding.

Wah.

2011-05-16T21:50:00.002-05:00

I haven't seen a really good tiny cottage in awhile, but this one takes the cake. Don't you think? This is a SUMMER tiny cottage, one for cool breezes, Fritos, and lime-ade. Care to join me? We can play lazy card games, paint our toenails orange, and gossip about the boys that walk by. We can occasionally throw water balloons from our spiky upper balcony, and in the summer heat people will smile about this and let our colorful missiles break open on their sweaty sternums, joyous in the cool droplets on their faces.

2011-05-10T12:17:00.002-05:00

I am BACK! To celebrate:

Mouse: See, honey? This is the dress I was thinking about buying myself in celebration, and also to wear to that wedding.

He-Mouse: Ungh.

Mouse: What?

He-Mouse (wrinkles nose and shakes head)

Mouse: You don't like it?

He-Mouse: Honey, that dress is gross.

2011-05-04T16:21:00.003-05:00

Prelude: A number of years ago, while on a somewhat unofficial tour of a very famous author's house, lack of air conditioning, and swimmin' pants, a very nice tour guide gave me a piece of the unused wallpaper from said very famous author's office. Being his groupie, I framed it and put it in my office, and people always ask why I've framed it, and I say "So that maybe some of it will rub off on me, of course." It's very neutral wallpaper and looks like an empty frame from a distance. Now, then...

Mouse: BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

He-Mouse: (from the other room) WHAT HAPPENED?

Mouse: BAAAAAAAAAA (hiccuping sobs)!

He-Mouse: (Still from the other room) Honey! What's wrong? Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?

Mouse: (Running into the hallway, colliding with He-Mouse) BAAAAAAiiiiiiI BROKE IT

He-Mouse: Wha?

Mouse: (hiccuping sobs) I...was...dusting...and...it...fell...and...I...broke...it...

He-Mouse: It's okay, honey! We can get it re-framed!

Mouse: BUT IT'S A SIIIIIIGN! NOW I WILL NEVER FINISH MY DISSERTATION! WHAT IF I'M CURSED!

He-Mouse: Um.

Mouse: BAAAAAAAAAA!

He-Mouse: Um. There, there.

2011-04-20T13:50:00.002-05:00

So, in preparation for the move to Jersey, we have been getting rid of a bunch of old clothes. I realized yesterday that doing this properly would actually mean getting rid of ALL my clothes. There is this thing called grad school that eats your clothes, starting with holes in your socks and undies and working right through your favorite shoes. It pills the tweed pants you've had since college. One day you're innocently doing yoga and realize that for all intents and purposes, since the pants you're wearing are from the late nineties, this is now a threadbare peep show.

Anyways, I'm making a list. Don't let me get any of this shit from H&M, because the goal is to compile a closet of semi-professional and at least non-hole clothing which I can wear to my grown-up job in the fall. Holler if you see any of this shit on sale.

Tweed pants (mine are from 2000).
Skinny dress pants (black, gray).
Good black flats*
Suit (I guess. Or whatever.)
Blouses (these can be from H&M.)
Lightweight wool cardigans, black and neutral
A few long, wool-blend sweaters
Flat, slouchy black boots (CHECK!)
Black oxfords (CHECK!)
Jeans without holes (one more pair)
Yoga clothes that are not see-through
2-3 good quality long-sleeved tees/henleys
2-3 good quality short-sleeved tees in colors other than black
1 black tee
A watch (I'm pretty sure grownups have to have these)

* OH GOD this black shoe hunt has been going on for three years already and I still can't find any good ones. At this point I would pay $7 billion dollars. Tragic.

2011-04-11T22:35:00.004-05:00

(I am from Out West, where there is no working public transit system, and have found it difficult to shake the feeling that I will end up stuck in the suburbs with nothing to do unless I have my own car. I use the public transit, or whatever. I just hate the idea of being stuck with no wheels.)

He-Mouse: When we move to Jersey next year, we should sell our cars and just get one new car.

Mouse: WHAT?!

He-Mouse: We could get a cute new Prius, and save all that money.

Mouse: I don't understand. How would I go places?

He-Mouse: We'll share! It makes good ecological and financial sense.

Mouse: How does it make good financial sense to get a new car?!

He-Mouse: Your car uses a lot of gas.

Mouse: ALL CARS USE A LOT OF GAS.

He-Mouse: We could share the car!

Mouse: WHAT?!

He-Mouse: You know! We could share! It would be soooo greeeen!

Mouse: Is this like how you share my iPod earbuds by taking them and not putting them back and then they're gone and I can't find any because all three sets of earbuds are in your car?

He-Mouse: Yes.

Mouse: Quit stealing my shit.

He-Mouse: I'm just sharing your stuff with myself.

2011-04-02T13:50:00.001-05:00

Total fucking chaos, you guys. Total fucking chaos. I need to write a chapter and an intro and do ALL my revisions by June 1. AAAARRRRRRRRRRRR

2011-03-16T16:19:00.002-05:00

And now, a partial list of stuff I have eaten within the last two weeks, partly due to stress and partly due to deliciousness:

• An entire bag of Wavy Lays
• Four baby back ribs
• Parmesean arugula salad
• Cheese enchiladas
• Beef enchiladas
• Capirutada
• Calabacitas with chicken
• Quiche
• Quiche
• Chicarron tacos with egg
• Egg tacos with salsa
• Giant hamburger
• Beer-battered double-fries
• Chilaquiles
• Tamales
• Burros with bacon, egg, and potato (x4)
• Do-nuts (x3)
• Pork roast and veggies
• Fancy Chex Mix (with CASHEWS)
• Blueberry cobbler
• Root beer float
• Pad See Eiw and Green Curry

This is why none of my pants fit.

2011-02-23T09:23:00.001-06:00

1. Cold
2. Make tea
3. Get hands wet
4. Sit down to write
5. Hands are dry and flaky, ew
6. Get up and put on lotion
7. Sit down to write
8. Scroll down
9. Lotion fucks up rollerball in the mouse
10. Go find windex to clean rollerball
11. Okay, mouse works
12. Cold.
13. Make tea...

2011-02-18T10:40:00.003-06:00

Via Goddiva

Micies, guess what? I'm coming up on a really big birthday. (By "coming up on," I mean "in more than six months but it's fun to dream about.") I'm going to turn 30 on 11.11.11. Obviously, the sheer coolness of repeating numbers + big birthday requires some kind of epic party. I had thought about just telling everyone I've ever met to come meet me on some beach somewhere and party from 11:11 a.m. until we pass out, but shit, I'm not made of money.

And then it hit me: it's the end of my twenties. Why not have an end of the 1920s party?

"Oh, God," said He-Mouse. "Are you going to make everybody wear costumes again?"

But my friends have so far reacted to this idea with glee, and wild speculations on how to finger-wave their hair. I think it's a GO. Don't you? I'm going to find some old Chicago speakeasy for us to hang out in.

But I have to find a dress. And I only have, like, a year to do it. Ideas?

Oh, and there's a birthday party ideas Pinterest board, if you wanna play. Comment and I'll add you as a contributor.

2011-02-14T11:17:00.005-06:00

For Valentine's Day, you can't beat the classics. Happy Valentine's Day, micies.

2011-02-04T17:37:00.004-06:00

It's time for a quiz to ascertain my grownupiness again. I have the feeling this is not going to be pretty.

Q: What are you wearing right now?
A: A bathrobe. (-500) But wait! I'm going out later! (so -only 200)
Q: But why a bathrobe?
A: Fine, I just now got around to showering. (-500) But it's because I went to the gym! (so -only 200)
Q: Did you get work done today?
A: Yes. (+20)
Q: Did you eat something hot for breakfast?
A: YES! (+100)
Q: What was for lunch?
A: A chicken breast, some carrots, and sprouted whole-wheat toast. (+500) Okay, actually it was some carrots, frozen hot wings, and some sourdough toast. (-a trillion)

Nope. No grown-ups here. I have to go change out of my bathrobe now.

2011-01-21T16:57:00.003-06:00

So, I'm in this epic battle with my slow cooker. I hate the damn thing. Don't get me wrong, it's a really nice slow cooker and it was a lovely and thoughtful wedding present from some dear friends--it's just that I don't know what the eff I'm doing and I don't trust it and it's like being back to square one again, as a cook.

I made vegetable stew in it this week because He-Mouse is unbelievably excited about cooking things in the slow cooker.

"You know!" he said, literally hopping up and down. "It's slow food! It's better for you!"

"This is stupid," I replied. "I can do better stew in my Le Creuset. Shit, I can do better veggie stew in a $3 stock pot."

"Don't call our slow cooker stupid!" he said.

"Also," I said, about 85% sure I was right but not sure enough to venture this as a statement, "Isn't 'Slow Food' all about eating local and in season, and about preparing your own meals? I don't think there's a nutritional component to cooking things slowly, is there?"

"Yeah!" he said. "That's why it's called slow food!"

I poke at the carrots, which are still undercooked after seven slow (excruciatingly slow) hours. At this point, I could probably make better veggie stew with a blow torch. Obviously, this is because I don't know what I'm doing.

"I don't know what I'm doing," I tell He-Mouse.

"But EVERYBODY loves slow cookers," he proclaims. "Remember your brother said he made that amazing pork shoulder in his?"

"Well, shit!" I said. "You can make a pork shoulder taste good with any damn heat source! I'd love to see HIM try effing health food veggie stew!"

The veggie stew was "Okay," according to He-Mouse, and "An Abysmal Failure," according to me. I don't know, micies. I work at home. Why wouldn't I just use a pot?

"But I loooooooove the slow cooker," He-Mouse whined...

Obviously the answer is 1) I don't know what I'm doing, 2) Health food is harder to cook deliciously than pork shoulder and 3) He-Mouse needs to learn how to use the goddamned slow cooker if he looooooves it so much.

P.S. I'm very grateful for the lovely gift of the slow cooker. I'm just very, very confused.

2011-01-13T11:29:00.000-06:00

He-Mouse gave this to me for Christmas, because he had so loved the earlier volume, Haroun and the Sea of Stories. I haven't read that one. But Luka took me all of three seconds to read because it is that kind of rapture: it's a children's book and a fable and a drama all at once, and it consumes you like, well, fire. The amazing thing is how it speaks to all your selves, child and now and future. And, to be honest with you, it's a lot of fun to read even though, in the end, it's the story about cheating death that's at the core of so many other stories.

Also, you have to love a story with persistent characters of a dog, named Bear, and a Bear, named Dog. Go read this one right now.

2011-01-11T13:27:00.001-06:00

The sky is falling down in big cottony flakes. Troubled kids have guns. He-Mouse's family can't sleep through the night. And we've all done this too many times already. So many times that I can't even figure out what I want to say.

It's just a heaviness in the bones.

2011-01-03T09:43:00.000-06:00

Stuff we cooked and ate over the holidays (a partial list):
Pizza (heirloom tomato, mushroom, and spinach; fig and prosciutto).
Baby bok choy, my new favorite. With rice. Then with duck.
Brussels sprouts, en stalk.
AND, in a new experiment still under investigation, my favorite dish from our honeymoon:
Biscuits and gravy, but Flying Star Cafe-style. It is supposed to look more like this:
And it is brilliant because it is half really good sausage gravy, and half really good green chili with turkey sausage that also has Hatch green chili peppers. The piquancy of the chili counteracts the heaviness of the gravy, and NOM NOM NOM. If I lived in New Mexico, I would probably weigh 400 pounds and not even care.

Apparently, they have a cookbook. But that would be cheating. I'll tell you when I've perfected the recipe. It's definitely a New Year's project.

Happy year, micies.

2010-12-21T07:37:00.002-06:00

Today I am over here at Lizzie's Love Your Way, writing about last night's Solsticlipse, and thinking about dark deep quiet nights and about scarcity and about giving. Come join me?

(Photos of previous eclipse from here.)

2010-12-13T10:32:00.001-06:00

Dear People Who Make Christmas Cookie-Cutters:

A horse is a horse, of course, of course, but I think we can all agree that this is a Christmas llama.

Sincerely,
Mouse

2010-12-06T10:26:00.003-06:00

I KNOW! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!

Anyway, one of the most terrible books I've ever read. The plotting is a disaster, the woman is completely obsessed with naming so many new characters that there has to be an appendix, I cringe every time she describes an article of clothing, there is seriously weird Mormon shit going on with at least two of the major romantic relationships, the gender message is just damn creepy, and RENESMEE?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

And yet I read all several hundred pages in one airport layover and two quick before-bed jaunts. There is something seriously addictive here. It's like Cheetos. No, it's like baloney sandwiches on white bread. No, it's like the middle part of an Oreo cookie.

2010-11-16T08:20:00.002-06:00

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Like children's stories, except really they are dark, twisted, bloody, funny parables about icky kinds of people.

2010-11-11T09:37:00.004-06:00

So, at a library the other day, I plugged in my power cord and it exploded in this four-foot-high* puff of smoke and sparks. "OH!" I said, surprised. "SHHHHH," said the librarian.

Anyway, I'm taking this as a sign that, rather than shell out the $80 for a new cord, I should get an AirBook. Don't you think? I've been using a hand-me-down laptop that's so old it freaks out the teenagers who work in tech support.

"Wow, I've never seen one like this before!" they say.
"Yes," I reply, "It's from 1986."
"REALLY?" They say, all excited about encountering an historical artifact, and not at all aware that MacBooks did not exist in 1986 and that this one is from 2005.

I ran home with my busted cord and showed it proudly to He-Mouse, all excited about new laptop possibilities. "I've never seen anyone so excited to have something explode right in front of them," he said. "AIRBOOK!" I replied.

So it's my birthday today, and I'm gonna go get me an AirBook.

* Maybe more like two feet, but STILL.

2010-11-05T10:56:00.002-05:00

By Twitter request, here is my go-to pecan pie recipe. I do it every Thanksgiving, and it always gets rave reviews. It feels like cheating, it's so simple, but isn't that the mark of pie greatness?

Aunt Ruby’s Pecan Pie
Ingredients
• 1 cup light Karo syrup
• 1¼ cup pecan halves (or more--fill that crust up!)
• ½ cup sugar (scant)
• 3 eggs
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 teaspoon salt

• Preheat oven to 325º
• Beat eggs lightly
• Add sugar, syrup, nuts, vanilla, salt
• Pour into an unbaked, un-stabbed pie shell
• Bake 50 minutes at 325º (or until set in the middle)

The trick:
I usually make whipped cream with one small container, ¼ cup sugar and ½ teaspoon vanilla. (Always use a glass or metal bowl for whipping cream, and always chill the bowl first.) However, this pie does not want any more sugar. What it wants is creme fraiche, to help with all that rich sweetness. Do it with just vanilla, or with nothing at all--but don't add sugar.

2010-11-03T15:08:00.001-05:00

Strange little dark book, self-consciously Faulknerian except ghosted in a Toni Morrison sort of way. Odd. If you read it, tell me what you think.

2010-10-31T22:06:00.003-05:00

I live in a four-flat in Chicago, which means one apartment on each floor and a total of seven people in our building. Our entire street is similar apartment buildings. I hung lights in the window, lit my jack-o-lantern, hung up two signs saying TRICK-OR-TREATERS THIS WAY and then sat around for awhile wondering why no one was ringing my doorbell.

It is because people were stealing our effing trick-or-treaters!

The lady upstairs had staked out a spot by her window, and would, like, book it down the stairs and open the door before they even rang any bells. BOO!

And even worse was the man across the street, who would stand out on his lawn with a bowl of candy, and when he saw people coming, would cross the effing street and give them candy right in front of our house as if he lived here and this was all the candy to be gained from this residence.

I basically had to tackle, pick-n-roll, and cut a bitch in order to give chocolate to a tiny little tree frog and Strawberry Shortcake.*

* P.S. are these costumes back or have they always been around? I saw a Rainbow Brite tonight, too.

2010-10-26T16:53:00.003-05:00

This is my tutu for Halloween.* They're only, like, $12 a piece and that one is pretty big. It seems to me that there is some untapped wedding centerpiece potential here, especially if someone finally has an eighties prom wedding. Discuss.

* Which is my favorite holiday, and which is going to be effing awesome.

2010-10-23T09:54:00.003-05:00

Those are JELLO SHOTS, you guys, with edible insects inside. See more incredible, artistic jello shots at My Jello Americans, which is as amazing to wander about in as a really good museum or library. They also have recipes, although I doubt my ability to make jello oysters and jello peanuts and jello butterflies and jello teeth.

(Photo from My Jello Americans.)

2010-10-19T13:43:00.004-05:00

Two summers ago, I planted dahlia seeds in our scraggly little front garden, which put up sad little plants that didn't bear any flowers. All summer, and all this summer--while the garden sat neglected, abandoned for the wedding--nothing. Not a single bud. And then the weather turned cold, and I walked to my front window one day and thought "Oh, the high-schoolers have been littering in the yard again," but instead of a crumpled piece of yellow trash, I pulled from our tangled little garden this massive, perfect yellow dahlia.
I mean it. This thing is the biggest dahlia I've ever seen, so big it was bending the stalk over. It nearly topples its little bud vase. Did you know that yellow dahlias signify gratitude about love? Giving one means "I'm so deeply grateful that you love me."

I suspect our new marriage grew this dahlia out of nothing.

2010-10-12T13:47:00.003-05:00

Quiz to see if I'm being a grown-up today, because I haven't done it in awhile:

1. Are you wearing pants?
Yes. +1

2. Do they fit?
No. But they're comfortable. -1

3. What was for lunch?
A panini with vegetables in it (+1), SnaPeas (+1), and six Mexican Wedding Cookies (-10) which I made myself (+1).

4. Have you left the house today?
Um, I went to the gym (+2) and re-read Memoirs of a Geisha (-1) again (-1) while halfheartedly bicycling...

5. How many thank-you notes have you written today? For points, subtract number written from number you need to write.
Uh-oh. (+66)

6. Have you done anything useful?
Nope. (0)

7. Have you done any work?
Not especially. (0)

8. What, you have lots to do later or something?
Yes! Yes! I DO! I'm going to work for, like, four hours in a row tonight! (+4) AND see my shrink! (+5)

9. I don't know. Maybe you've just been effing around online all morning.
Well, yeah...(-5)

10. Was it at least FOR something?
YES YES! It was for my Halloween costume! (-10)

Not a grown-up today.

2010-10-07T10:32:00.007-05:00

So, in the giant pile of wedding presents waiting for us when we got back from the honeymoon, there sat this gorgeous Le Creuset pot. I have been drooling over this pot for, seriously, five years. It is not cheap, and I could never figure out how to afford to buy one myself. "YAAH!" I squealed when I opened the box, reeling with visions of perfect coq au vin and stew through our long Chicago winter. I hunted around for the card, wondering which close family member or parent had decided to splurge on us so.

But it's from one of He-Mouse's frat brothers. One who's single. WTF? I thought. Well, how generous of him in any case.

"You're Mouse's favorite person now," He-Mouse told Fratty on the phone, "Cause you gave us that beautiful Le Creuset."

"The what?" said Fratty.

"The Le Creuset. You know, the blue pot."

"Oh," said Fratty, "I just picked it cause it's called a Dutch Oven and I thought that shit was hilarious."

2010-08-30T12:20:00.004-05:00

As much as I want to be eco-whatever, I cannot get the hang of wrapping presents in reusable cloth trappings. This one, for Mama Mouse's birthday, is the best I've done.

Sigh.

2010-08-23T13:28:00.002-05:00

Know where they don't have wedding-planning Excel files? In tiny cottages built on top of chimney stacks.

2010-08-22T19:02:00.004-05:00

I got these boots as a present! Woohoo! But as out favorite local Milkmaid would say, they are bossy boots. They want me to get a new purse, and definitely some new clothes to wear with them. Suggestions? Possibly things to go with my highly anticipated post-wedding bangs?

2010-08-18T07:24:00.000-05:00

And now, after a long pause, we resume He-Mouse's haiku movie review. This week's installment: Public Enemies, that John Dillinger movie with Johnny Depp.

"Why do those horses
Have underpants on their heads?"

2010-08-16T08:36:00.005-05:00

Oh, dear, micies, it has been MUCH too long. I'm sorry. Would you like to come over for dinner and catch up? We can have a dinner that starts with adorable new potatoes...
And turns into a rich blue cheese tart, served cold, natch. It is EFFING HOT in Chicago.
I'll put sunflowers on the table, and a mix of new things--flutes and wine glasses from wedding well-wishers--and old things like our mis-matched plates.
We'll start with figgs on marscapone with spiced Georgia honey.
And then a salad with roast peaches, fresh mozz, and spicy baby arugula. And chilled corn soup, drizzled with chili water, but there's no photo of that because it was tooooo delicious to pause.
Then pasta tossed with zucchini and squash ribbons, with fleur de sel and Provencal spices and lemon. And a faux-nicoise salad. And a blueberry cobbler.

xo, Mouse

2010-07-18T14:41:00.001-05:00

Let me tell you something: you can learn a lot about the man you're about to marry based on his behavior when you spend all day with horrid food poisoning and later have to go to an urgent care clinic. In Mexico City. On a Saturday night.*

For instance, He-Mouse did the following things:
1) Held my hand for a full hour while I got intravenous rehydration
2) Held my hand while I got a shot in my pompa (butt cheek)
3) Slowly and patiently translated for me and advocated for me with the doctor and nurses**
4) Told me I was pretty right after I had finished throwing up. Also I hadn't washed my hair for a few days. And I smelled.

That's the sort of man I can build a life with.

* Actually, it was the highest level of care and patient attention I've received in a good long time, and it cost U.S. $70. Our health care system is busted, y'all.
** I speak Spanish, micies, but not when I'm doubled over.

(P.S.--I'm totally fine today, but now poor He-Mouse has a little fever. Eff. My turn to be Florence.)

2010-07-01T07:55:00.002-05:00

(More glee already!)

2010-06-30T16:09:00.002-05:00

From here, via Shiny Pretty Bits.

2010-06-17T08:21:00.002-05:00

This just tickles me. Bawck.

2010-06-07T07:34:00.000-05:00

Not to be hyperbolic or anything, but THE GREATEST THING EVER TO HAPPEN happened to me over the weekend. I was walking down the street, minding my own business, when this adorable gay guy walked by carrying this:
OH HELL YEAH, micies, that is a Steel Magnolias-style armadillo red velvet cake! Which he had baked HIMSELF! And which had ears that matched his shirt! (This was clearly not a coincidence. He was rocking that armadillo cake.)

He proceeded to tell me he was on his way to an outdoor screening of Steel Magnolias followed by a Steel Magnolias theme party. And he let me take a photo, because he was clearly prepared to be the Star of the Party. I mean, really.

I wish I'd crashed it. But still, greatest thing ever to happen.

2010-06-04T08:06:00.002-05:00

Oh, really? Just now?

2010-05-31T18:04:00.004-05:00

I am a bad mouse blogger lately. Sorry, you guys. I was going to post stuff about my epic road trip through Nebraska with my bestie and a U-Haul trailer, but it turned out not to be either scenic or fun. So I won't inflict it on you. Anyway, things are fine, but busy. I'll be around. Sometimes.

How are you?

xoxoxox
Mouse

2010-05-16T21:10:00.003-05:00

Usually Chicago slips effortlessly from cold to the hot hot of early summer, stifling us with the sudden humidity without any time to acclimate. This year is, instead, a strange little dance, warm and then cool again and then warm. Jacket weather. Sudden thunderstorms pelt the apple blossoms to the stones.
And the beach is awash with clouds come down to earth for awhile, strange white wisps you can almost touch.
What a strange thing that you can't see a cloud when you're standing in its center. You can only notice the absence of the sun, the blurriness of the things around you, the moisture on your cheeks.

2010-05-12T10:56:00.003-05:00

I WIN! The spider the size of my face is no longer living in my side-view mirror. I spotted it while driving last night, pulled over, and whacked it to the ground with my ice scraper. I think it scurried away. I spent lots of time brushing off my arms, legs, and the scraper, while jumping up and down and feeling mysterious ticklies like you always do after close contact with a spider.

2010-05-10T07:38:00.000-05:00

I took care of He-Mouse a few weekends ago when he had his wisdom teeth out, complete with much patting on the head and saying of "there, there" and bringing of assorted pudding. He brought me these gorgeous gerbera daisies to say thank you. Ah, l'amour. I check your mouth for blood, you bring me flowers.

2010-05-06T07:53:00.000-05:00

I haven't gone crazy over a tiny cottage in awhile, but Love You Big posted this one yesterday and I am in looooove. It's in Spain, and was hollowed out by a cow.
Things to do in this tiny cottage: stare at the ocean, nap in the sun, eat giant red grapes at three in the afternoon when it's too hot to be outside, make a bucket full of sangria, climb atop the cottage and sit in the sun, kick of one's espadrilles and run about, sit on the cool floor.

2010-05-04T17:49:00.003-05:00

Dear grants people: Why don't you love me? Would it help if I got a new haircut, some short-shorts, and some hella cute heels? Yeah, I thought it might. Going shopping.

2010-05-03T22:26:00.003-05:00

There is a GIANT spider living in my right side-view mirror. He only comes out when I am driving down the highway, which a. makes me almost have car accidents and b. makes him impossible to squish. I thought the winter would kill him, but no such luck. He is approximately the size of my face. Any ideas on how to rid a car of giant spiders?

I am not concerned with humane treatment of the spider, sorry to say. He is a driving hazard and must be stopped.

2010-04-28T08:43:00.003-05:00

As you know, my moisturizer hunt has been taxing. I am happy to announce that I have found the perfect night cream. Completely natural and paraben-free, smells yummy, attacks fine lines like a ninja, and moisturizes like you wouldn't believe. I HEART KORRES.

2010-04-27T07:47:00.000-05:00

I forgot to show yall the two completely different but equally awesome orange houses we fell in love with in Hermosillo. House one has stones stuck in the walls. I should like to live in a house with stones stuck in its walls.
This one has a Guadalupe shrine, badass plants (agave, I think), yellow trim, and a mysterious door. Seriously, where does that door go? To a secret corridor, I think. These houses are for hiding from midday heat, for secret inner courtyards filled with bougainvillea and night-blooming jasmine, for dominoes and horchata and beer so cold it feels smoother than silk. These are oases in the petrol cloud, tiny havens of still and silent.

2010-04-26T07:36:00.000-05:00

Episodes of Treme: 2
Total number of Southern accents on Treme: 5
Total number of self-declared non-New Orleans accents on Treme: 3

What, they can't hire actors from actual New Orleans? This shit bugs me.

2010-04-24T08:27:00.003-05:00

By Lalo Alcarez, LA Weekly, April 21, 2010. Because this is horrible.

2010-04-23T07:49:00.000-05:00

Adventures at a wood carving shop/artist's studio/scenic overlook of Hermosillo. With the alcalde of the people, Benji, demonstrating the awesomeness of antlers.

2010-04-22T09:12:00.002-05:00

Lately I am obsessed with arches.

2010-04-21T07:24:00.000-05:00

It was a wonderful surprise to return to Chicago and find spring there. We took a long walk Sunday to look at all the tiny green buds bursting forth into the sunshine.
We bought tartness, freshness.
We walked beneath a curious bridge, a sort of aqueduct-shaped support for the El.

2010-04-20T07:14:00.000-05:00

Once each year, we recall the smell of yeast, the taste of pennies, the rending into before and after.

2010-04-15T07:19:00.000-05:00

This is a coyota. It is a salty, thin, crumbly pastry stuffed with something sweet. In this case, it is stuffed with strawberry ice cream. It is even better when it is stuffed with caramel, or cajeta. A coyota is for holding on laps, for munching slowly, for sticking tongues out to taste folded edges.
And while munching your coyota, you sit on a bench in the shade--only a tiny bit cooler there, but welcome in the afternoon's scalding sun--and you watch the plaza. Women come and go from the church in pairs, their arms linked. And you have bites of your coyota and also your sweetie's.

2010-04-14T07:29:00.000-05:00

I love traveling with He-Mouse. Know why? Because despite the fact that he's my love and partner and I know him better than I know anybody, there is ALL THIS STUFF we have yet to discover about each other. For instance:

1. I do word search puzzles by glancing about until a word pops out at me. He-Mouse chooses a word and then looks for it systematically, line by line and letter by letter.* This is interesting, because I am the orderly and rules-oriented person, and he is the spontaneous one.

2. He-Mouse snaps with his thumb and middle finger. I snap with my thumb and ring finger. Each of us thinks the other one is weird; he says "THAT IS ALIEN SNAPPING!" Secretly, I bet I'm probably the weird one. This is in keeping with the general trends in our relationship about giving a shit about what other people think of us. I don't, and that leads to weirdness.

3. Remember how he doesn't remember the words to any songs? This is the best one so far, the He-Mouse version of Beyonce's to the left song. He thinks it goes like this: "To the left, to the left...everybody likes to go to the left." Hahahaha. This is not surprising, except that all the time it surprises me how much I love him.

* This word search, in a random bilingual weekly in Hermosillo, Mexico, was a very trendy one and included different names for groups of animals. We've been all atwitter about a parliament of owls and a susurration of...um...something else. But did you know about the rest of them? I particularly like the skulk of foxes.

2010-04-13T07:04:00.000-05:00

Context:

Today's sign:
"In case of fire, please turn into a bald, demonic clown at your earliest convenience."

2010-04-12T07:19:00.000-05:00

Can I just say that I'm concerned about the owner of these boots?

2010-04-09T09:32:00.003-05:00

My favorite thing about Tucson, incidentally: everything still closes on Easter Sunday. That means that instead of shopping for mother of the bride dresses or looking at rehearsal venues, you have to sit under the awning at the Arizona Inn, looking at the greengreen grass and the blueblue sky, drinking margaritas with the man you love and also your mom, just hanging around for a couple of hot, lovely hours.

2010-04-08T07:29:00.000-05:00

Hi micies. I'm sorry I've been a very bad absentee Mouse. We had a whirlwind week in Tucson what with work and also bridal showers, and now we're in Hermosillo, Mexico. It's lovely, in its way. It mostly looks like Tucson (where I spied these lovely cacti blossoms). The main similarity is that I'm violently allergic to some unknown plant that is blooming in both places. Sniff sniff sniff, I go all day, sniff sniff cough cough. But I DO have internet here, and $5 room-service banananana splits, so el blog is back.

So what's new with you?

2010-04-02T13:26:00.002-05:00

Happy Easter, micies, if that's what does it for you. Otherwise, happy muppet. xoxo

2010-04-01T20:24:00.001-05:00

In Tucson! Finished scary work thing successfully (enough)! Mama Mouse here for shower in two days! Smells like orange trees! He-Mouse's abuelita is making me breakfast burros every day!

Still sick. But things are looking up. xoxoxo.

2010-03-30T22:17:00.003-05:00

Sick. Tired. Traveling to Tucson tomorrow. Giant scary work stuff happening. Am going to try to send you all some sunshine later in the week, but communications will be spotty until someone takes the sandpaper out of my throat. Miss you, xoxo.

2010-03-26T07:31:00.000-05:00

From my favorite yoga teacher, loosely paraphrased: Emotions are the way that the soul expresses itself, so it's okay if you need to laugh or cry in your yoga practice or as you go through life. Just make sure your emotions don't bother everybody else. Like, you probably shouldn't scream or bang on the floor.*

* English is her second language, so she said this in an incredibly cute, halting way. And she smiled the entire time.

2010-03-25T07:27:00.000-05:00

First produce box dinner!

Wilted watercress salad with steamed beets*
Wash watercress. Don't shake off all the water. Stick in pan on high. Turn over. When wilted, it's done. Watercress is my new favorite, micies. It tastes and smells like an artichoke heart and is all kinds of good for you.

Black bean and sweet potato tacos
Followed this recipe from Fresh365** with two very important modifications and one minor one (didn't have a lime so used lemon juice). Important ones:
1. Whole wheat tortillas are gross. They taste like cardboard. Used small corn tortillas instead. The ones with only three ingredients (corn, salt, lime).
2. Feta doesn't melt, so this works better as taco filling than quesadillas. We warm up the tortillas over the flame, but if that scares you or if you have an electric stove, you can do it in a saute pan with a spatula.

* Which weren't from our box. Have you seen that you can buy steamed beets at Trader Joe's, whole and shrink-wrapped? They last FOREVER and totally rock my world.
** I looooove Fresh365!

2010-03-24T07:38:00.003-05:00

Got some bad news about funding this week. Am now feeling like I must hang onto some optimism. Please send some good juju to the money gods for me, via Jay-Z if we must.

2010-03-23T07:38:00.000-05:00

I am so effing excited about this: He-Mouse and I FINALLY found a CSA*. We've been wanting to do this forever, but we tend to go out of town for large chunks of the summer. Nobody wants to even split a CSA share if the split is "You get nothing in June, we get nothing in July." Anyway, this one we found lets you opt in by the week--pay in advance for the next week's box, and just don't opt in if you're out of town. I am already swept off my feet by the excitement, by the challenge of what to do with stuff I'd probably not buy otherwise. Contents of the box this week:

1 big bunch mustard greens
1 little bunch watercress
2 delicata squash
3 giant, grapefruit-sized naval oranges
1 bunch romaine lettuce (I think)
a bunch of regular-sized oranges
four Braeburn apples
four banananananas
a sack of sweet potatoes
three kiwis

Stay tuned for recipes!

* Do they have these in other countries? It stands for Community Supported Agriculture, and you pay for a share of local produce. You get whatever they grow. You eat local and in season, mostly, and they get security. Good for everybody.

2010-03-22T07:35:00.000-05:00

Despite a long, soggy snowstorm followed by bitter cold on the alleged first day of spring...
THEY LIVE!

2010-03-19T07:31:00.000-05:00

Oooh, micies. We cooked a yummy thing this week, Leek and Cauliflower Risotto from Fresh 365. And can I just say: this recipe is actually not that bad for you,* but still tastes like creamy, hearty cauliflower au gratin. Like any risotto, I suppose, it's labor intensive--you have to stand and stir for quite a long time while adding simmering broth a half-cup at a time, coaxing those fat grains of arborio rice into fluffy perfection. But I am assured by the local peanut gallery that it was worth it, and that we must have it again real quick. The peanut gallery then proceeded to wash all of the dishes, so I know he was telling the truth.

* Butter aside, naturally.

2010-03-18T07:27:00.001-05:00

This sort of iris is Mama Mouse's favorite flower. She passed some bulbs to me recently, offspring of those grown by my grandmother way back in Tennessee. I planted them last year, too late for them to flower. This should be their first season. So while I tide myself over with graceful purple blossoms from California via Trader Joe's, I anxiously inspect our soggy, still half-frozen front yard for the first shoots of green, the first promises. Everyone knows that the first, scraggling blossoms, clutching at their existence, have a beauty far more powerful than the hothouse perfection of established plants.

Have you ever noticed that these iris smell like cheese?

2010-03-17T08:43:00.003-05:00

He-Mouse and I, having grown envious of our observant Jewish friends, have created our own sort of Sabbath. Each Saturday, we have decided that we will not use computers, cell phones, electronics, or spend money until noon. This way we get a block of time just for us, for reading and talking, for taking a walk. We started it last weekend, and walked around our neighborhood, discovering new and wondrous things, one after another. We found a Filipino grocery store with amazing imported food--sardines in bright packages, all sorts of fish, bags of tiny dried squid, and six or seven different kinds of canned quail eggs.
We found a panaderia with teensy chocolate micies, pan dulce, and impossible cakes.
We walked and walked, though it was still cold and rainy.
We saw an abandoned garage whose turrets we quite liked, and speculated about how it could be turned into residential space. Don't you think I could write a fine blog looking out between two turrets, micies?

Anyway, the walking and general togetherness, the oats and the crossword have brought me back from the land of overwhelming stress. I love our new weekends.

2010-03-16T07:19:00.000-05:00

This is the community garden just a short walk from our house. It lies fallow, empty, soggy with mud after the first non-frozen precipitation in months and months. Perhaps it doesn't look like anything much to you, but to me it holds all the promise of spring, of a new season of growth, of my name on an application list (oh please oh please). Could you all send some happy energy to the woman who decides the allocation of these precious plots of good rich dirt? I have wildflowers to grow, and peas.