(no subject)

Chicagoans, if you're annoyed by today's snow, blame me; I asked for it. I said a little prayer the other day for a bit of a topcoat. (You have to admit, the snowcover was beginning to look awfully ratty.) What I had in mind was a "stealth snow" like that of a week ago Monday: a scant half inch or so in the middle of the night that hardly affected the morning commute.

If schadenfreude helps, it bit me in the ass, too. I was so proud of myself for making it to the bus stop on time despite only waking up at 8 p.m., I forgot that even the littlest bit of snow at that hour is enough to completely derail the morning shuttle. I can't claim to understand it: Sheridan was entirely clear, with traffic running normally. There were no holdovers waiting, so the 8:20 must've arrived on schedule. But my bus? twenty minutes late, at least.

But worth it all the same. I've got a lunchtime stroll planned to take in the beauty of it all.

Title of the Day

فانتزى شلغم وعقل

(Fāntazī-i shalgham va ʻaql "The fantasy of turnip and reason")

A bear of very small brain

Power is out in the area again. After all, a reliable power supply is the prerogative of a developed country. For better or worse, my part of the building isn't affected. As I was leaving for lunch, I bumped into two returning coworkers who advised me that the lights at the nearest crosswalk were out. After two or three minutes of walking, I reached the crosswalk. And stopped to wait. After a bit, it dawned on me, "You know, the traffic is moving awfully oddly." Then I remembered and charged out into the street. People on the other side were gazing on me in bovine disbelief, so I explained, "The lights are out." None of them said a word, but when I turned back, I saw that a few had ventured into the crosswalk themselves.

The rest of my trip downtown was without incident. But when I stepped into the Middle Eastern café where I go for lunch, I spied someone I knew, a bear friend I hadn't seen in years. We greeted each other with a warm hug and he introduced me to his companion. Then we had this exchange:

"Thanks for the card."
"What card?"
"Didn't you send me a Christmas card?"
"I don't ever send Christmas cards."
"Your partner then?"
"I don't have a partner."
"Wait...who are you?"

So not someone I hadn't seen in years, only one I hadn't seen in months. He was polite about it, but my attempts to banish the awkwardness with some joking around about my worthless brain fell flat. The other guy never said a word, and I began to feel I'd interrupted some serious conversation with my jackassery, so I beat a retreat to the counter to order.

Tonight, I'm cooking dinner. If I remember to, that is.

Food from afar

Well, I managed to fix a tasty dinner tonight with losing anything, burning anything, or forgetting my boyfriend's name. Go me! In fact, it may have been the best seasoned sauerkraut ever. I started off by frying up some of the fattiest chunks from the ham monshu made last weekend before tossing in the apple slices and caraway. And just before covering the kraut to steam, I mixed in some leftover carlins and sweetened it with a little cranberry juice. Yummy! It no doubt helped that the sauerkraut was homemade, a gift from a co-worker whose mom makes it herself back in Michigan. The veggies were a simple sauté of two kinds of summer squash, including a variety I've never heard of before called "lita squash". It looked very zucchiniish and, sure enough, some gourmet sites describe it as being like zucchini only "sweeter and milder". I actually had the opposite impression, so I'll try it again in summer when it hasn't had to come so far, and perhaps that will be true.

monshu and I are currently on a mission to try new things. In Chinatown last weekend, I picked up a package of some 鴨梨 yālí "duck pears" from Hebei. (Yes, foodpoisoningsf, we had an earnest discussion of their carbon footprints.) They are, in fact, pears, but I was intrigued by their pale-as-white-peaches skin. I found them very crisp and delicate, almost like a cross between an Asian pear and jicama; monshu loved them so much he went out today and bought more. No explanation yet for the "duck" in the name, but the importance of pears to Chinese New Year is that 梨 lí "pear" is a near miss for lì "profit".

And then earlier in the weekend, monshu fixed a new dish called धानसाक dhaansaak, a Parsee Sunday stew. He got the idea of putting lamb in it without even realising that that was in fact the more traditional recipe. It's might tasty, but sadly too spicy for me to eat much of, except perhaps as lunch on a Saturday.