The Return

I picked up Guido and the dogs today. Guido was complaining very loudly about being in his crate. The little dog was doing that little dog excited trembling thing. The big dog ignored me in favor of the kennel worker who was still holding the bag of food. All in all a big improvement over the year Molly-the-dim couldn't figure out who I was after staying there a week.

No, I was not surprised that the dogs' report card did not have "Quiet" checked. I know they spend the entire week barking at everything that catches their attention.

Once we finally made it home the dogs literally ran laps around the yard sniffing everything that might have changed during the week, then we all went inside and Guido ran up and down the hallway a few times before settling in for a nap.

Happy New Year -- I hope the coming year brings you health and joy!

Home again, home again, jiggety-jog

(Title note: I did not buy a fat pig at market.)

I drove back home today, and once I was able to get past Los Angeles it wasn't bad. (Getting through Orange County and Los Angeles is always bad. There was stop-and-go traffic all the way past Magic Mountain on a Sunday afternoon and it was completely expected.)

I stopped at a couple of rest stops along the way just to move around, and then I finally stopped for gas before I got to Sacramento -- I could have made the whole trip on one tank, but it probably would have been beeping at me near the end, and having an almost empty gas tank stresses me out.

The two cats at home were very excited to see me. It's been an hour and they've just now calmed down enough that they aren't tripping me every time I move. Guido and the dogs come home tomorrow, at which point the full amount of chaos will be present in the house again.

Anyhow, I'm going to go collapse on my bed for the next ten hours. I think it might be time to look into a bus the next time I have to make that trip -- I can probably find something comfortable with wifi and then someone else can deal with the driving.

The Royal Mycological Society of the Great County of Orange

K-Poo Weak Hands (last seen here two days ago helping make stollen, although I later found out she doesn't even like stollen so probably my plan of having her make it in the future is doomed from the start) joined some mycological society up in near San Francisco.

A mycological society sounds like steampunk cosplay to me, but apparently it is just reasonably normal adults who like to learn about fungi, and she and her husband now wander around in the wilderness identifying mushrooms. She doesn't, however, eat any of the feral mushrooms, so this is still a safe hobby.

Meanwhile, my parents had a bunch (bevy? quarry? ring? murder?) of large mushrooms show up in their front lawn, and KPWH convinced us that it would be neat to chop off the stalk (known as the "stem" if you're wearing a velvet corset and/or carry a pocket watch with visible gears) and place the cap on a sheet of paper/foil overnight and look at the spore pattern left behind the next day.

KPWH had to take the zeppelin back to her dear husband early this morning, but Jeff promised to duly record the results. We finally remembered the stuff was out in the garage this evening, so we rallied the urchins and hustled off to the great unveiling. It was anti-climactic. Maybe there were a few lines where spores had dropped from the gills, but it was subtle. I considered making a replica with glue and glitter, but it was late so yet another great scientific prank is lost to sheer laziness. And then Jeff crumpled up the paper and foil before he remembered he was supposed to be taking a picture to send to KPWH.

Anyhow, if anyone invites you to join a mycological society, maybe ask them what kind of tea and spirits are served before you commit to anything.

Peggy and the Swingers

The title of today's post is from the story Peggy told us after dinner about the time she was in a bar and a huge group of swingers was having their pre-hookup meeting (scheduling? organizing? I'm not sure what the keys-in-a-bowl phase is called). She declined, which is probably good for her overall health and sanity, but kind of a bummer for my ability to live vicariously.

My seven year old niece roped my sister (her other aunt) into playing with her, then told her that she was a "natural pretender". High praise indeed!

Anyhow, I'm tired and I ate too much (although the food was so good I have a hard time feeling regret about that though the four miles I ran this morning only worked off about three forkfuls), so I'll just leave you here with this in-progress version of a doodle for a calendar I made...

Stollen Again

In case anyone wants to make stollen (which is another way of saying "Hey, I should really keep this recipe somewhere!"), this is from The Spice Cookbook (pretend a proper attribution is here but I don't have the book in front of me).

Notes courtesy of my mom -- she adds currants in place of some of the raisins (and I've been told that currants and raisins aren't the exact same thing despite how they look).

Stollen and More

Today I made stollen with my sister K-poo Weak Hands (who, come to think of it, didn't do any of the kneading, so she missed her opportunity to work on her finger strength). I have no idea how the loaves taste, but they look right, so that's at least half the battle.

I also dropped by the grocery store to buy shampoo, conditioner, and soap. They have all of those things at the hotel, but... they've made some interesting choices.

Last time I was here they had those little bottles (which were annoying and wasteful), but I loved the shampoo and conditioner. I even tried to find the same thing elsewhere and failed. This time, they've replaced the little bottles with dispensers in the shower (which is a step forward), but the shampoo and conditioner are eucalyptus scented, so it feels like I'm rubbing Vicks VapoRub all over my head. The body wash says it is lemon sage -- I'm not sure if it's due to the camphor smell or what, but the soap smelled like rotting oranges.

As long as I'm complaining about the hotel, there's also the temperature issue. I like it cold in the room when I'm sleeping. It's 45 F outside, but it's a struggle to get the room under 71 F. The A/C only goes down to 68 F. I've got the window open the entire four inches that it will go, but it's still hot.

On the other hand, even if it is too warm there's a certain comfort level to be found with a nice mattress and a bed without multiple creatures kicking me and sitting on top of me all night long.

I Don't Love L.A.

I spent all day driving down to southern California and as I went through the Tejon Pass (ie, the top of the Grapevine) I suddenly lost my will to live, and that's when I remembered that I feel this way every year.

I'm pretty sure it's just a reaction to driving in L.A. -- if you actually have a strong desire to stay alive, you wouldn't be able to successfully navigate through the torn up roadways, narrow lanes, and crowds of cars. Mostly I try to treat it like going on a roller coaster, which means that for one portion of the trip near Magic Mountain I was barreling down the road screaming "I'M NOT HAVING FUN ANY MORE!" pretty much like I do at amusement parks. (Note: I don't go to amusement parks for exactly this reason.) (Note #2: If you use this method, remember not to throw your hands up in the air when screaming.)

Anyhow, I survived the trip here and successfully delivered the springerles.