Things to Do in Bloomington When You're Dead

Warning: This is a long, boring entry about things I did on Thursday and Friday. It is almost Schuminesque in its self-absorption. I figure this is my journal and you're here voluntarily, so I'm entitled to be a little self-absorbed periodically.

I decided to go up and make a day of it, though by the time I was ready to go it was already ten-something in the morning (eleven-something in Bloomington), and I got there about 1:30 or so. I made myself go straight to one of the places where I was going to apply in person on the south side first, since I try not to voluntarily set foot on Walnut Street if I can help it; that didn't take long. The University art museum is hiring guards, so I thought I'd apply even if it doesn't pay enough, because hell, it's work, it's in Bloomington, and I love the art museum.

( OMG ART MUSEUM! )

I guess it is foreordained that I'm not supposed to be a museum guard, because nobody was still at the information desk when I came out. And by then I had to make my interview at 4 o'clock about fifteen minutes away, so.

Had the interview; it was on the better side of average. We'll see what happens. Then I went to O'Malia's and bought grocery-store eel sushi and ate them with my fingers and went window-shopping for books I can't afford but came away wanting a whole bunch of stuff anyway because I am a shallow, vapid, book-grubbing bitch that way. And then, reluctantly, I wended my way south again. That bit really sucked.

On the bright side: the lolmom finally got paid, so we went grocery shopping (om nom nom nom). I control the horizontal, the vertical, and what we eat, because I do most of the cooking. We were over budget this time, because the lolmom wanted ground beef and steak (they were marked down for quick sale, so it's not like this was OMG EXTRAVAGANCE), and also had volunteered to make things for some sort of church persiflage she's doing this weekend. I proved brilliantly, once again, that I don't know anything about chocolate; I apparently suggested The Wrong Kind to Mom. (I am not a fan of chocolate and don't really care about it, and as far as I'm concerned, there are two kinds: the dark kind, preferably more bitter than sweet and even better when cut with espresso, and the crap kind. I don't eat the crap kind, except very infrequently and then I have to be in the mood for it.)

I got her back, though. Mom is a bit illiterate technologically, and when she spazzed about having left her cell phone in the car all day, I told her it was just a little melty around the edges but if she put it in the freezer for an hour or so it ought to firm right up. She almost believed me for a minute. Lolmom is lol.

The lolmom had previously gone to a Pampered Chef party her friend was having down the street, and came away with swag in the form of a citrus peeler and a cookbook. I made one of the salad recipes from the cookbook and found it pretty good (mmm, spinach with avocado and grilled chicken and grapefruit, mmmm), but what amused me was all the bolded product-placement references in the recipe (which I guess is only what you'd expect). For instance, spinach should go in the Prep Bowl before you use the Citrus Peeler to peel the grapefruit.

We're somewhat h4rdk0r3 about cooking in our house, so most of our dinners are accomplished with the Knife (pick one, it doesn't usually matter which), the Cutting Board, and some Wooden Spoons. For some reason we get CHEFS catalogue, probably because the lolmom got the stand mixer from them some years ago, but I find myself giggling at half the stuff in it. I mean, sure, if I were a restaurateuse, I'd probably want to have some of this stuff, but being l33, I personally am extremely unlikely to use, say, a crème brulée blowtorch more than once every couple of years, if that, and if you really do cook, you don't need most of the gadgetry in order to accomplish perfectly good results. Also I see no reason to spend $12 on special pie weights when you can use half a small bag of rice for the same purpose. (WARNING: In case you don't already know, the rice will be totally useless for eating purposes after that, so if you use rice for pie weights, be sure you continue to reuse the same rice for pie weights thereafter. You can reuse it several times--we actually have a special Tupperware container in the fridge for the pie rice.)

So. How was your weekend?

Hiatus Fail

Order of business: Dear Portuguese anon, I saw your comment, which was summarily deleted because you did not sign it, as is my policy. Also, should there be any other lurkers without LJ accounts: I DON'T LIKE ANONYMOUS COWARDS. NO UNSIGNED COMMENTS. EVER. If you don't have an LJ account, I'm not going to make you get one, but I delete comments when people don't leave their names.

I'm in this place where I really like being not-online all the time, and being free of pressure to Respond To This Immediately, but miss you people. I don't know what I propose to do about this. To forestall having to make an actual decision, I give you yet another example of how it is my mind works.

I'm reading vol. 1 of the collected works of Edward Sapir (this delightful little offering is called General Linguistics. I think you would be a lot happier if you didn't know how I pick what to read, so I'll spare you my selection process and why I chose this). For the most part, it's yawn city (and I like linguistics mind you), but part of Sapir's essay "The Grammarian and His Language" stands out to me, so I'll share it with you.

But when Achilles has bewailed the death of his beloved Patroclus and Clytaemnestra has done her worst, what are we to do with the Greek aorists that are left on our hands?
At university, I used to obsessively visit the 9th floor (where the classical language-and-literature material is kept) and work my way through the many Festschriften to be found there. (I still do this, actually.) I started on the Festschriften about a year or two before I actually started learning Greek, so I read a lot about the aorist in this fashion. When I actually got to learn the aorist tense, I was pathetically excited because I'd read so much about the aorist and the uses thereof that it was kind of like getting to hang out with a celebrity.

I used the word "aorist" three times in the above paragraph, not counting where I was quoting Sapir. God damn me.

Anyway, Sapir then goes on to say:
There is a traditional mode of procedure which arranges [the Greek aorists] into patterns. It is called grammar. The man who is in charge of grammar and is called a grammarian is regarded by all plain men as a frigid and dehumanized pedant.

LOL PWNT. The little joys of scholarly monographs are without number.

Totally unrelated to the above, I grilled pork chops outside tonight and did not overcook them. WIN. We had grilled balsamic pork and peaches for dinner, except we had no peaches and no ready cash to go get any, so I used nectarines. It wasn't bad, but the nectarines weren't ripe enough for emotional satisfaction and peaches are higher in sugar so would have caramelized more satisfactorily. Still, not bad. Also, I'm not sure what my position on "gourmet herbal salad mix" is.