mokie: Stonehenge with the sun shining through the stones (holiday renewal)
My family always started the new year off with a Southern tradition by way of Africa - a meal of black-eyed peas and greens (cabbage, in our house), symbolizing wealth in the year ahead. It was a fartstravaganza, guaranteed to chase home any lingering relatives.

Alas, this year I'm down with the flu, which is not conducive to cooking, or focusing, or staying awake.* Maybe I can fudge it, and count six days after the Greek Orthodox Christmas...


* Or posting publicly: this post has been post-dated for quality assurance purposes.
mokie: Vintage photo of a woman with legs crossed reading a book (smart)
The sad thing about "Back in the day..." rants is how often they're wrong.

Today's example: someone asked for advice on storing potatoes and onions. In particular, they wanted to know if it was true that the two shouldn't be stored together, since each supposedly gives off a gas that causes the other to go off.

In comes the so over this nonsense type, who points out that back in the day, grannies just put all their veggies into the root cellar and didn't worry about gases.

Except that's not true. No, back in the day, grannies knew the importance of properly ventilating a root cellar, so as to keep gases from building up and all those stored veggies from going bad. Grannies also knew the importance of separating stored fruits and veggies by type, too, because some need to be kept cooler while others need to be kept drier, and some just don't play well together at all--like onions and potatoes.

So sure, if you just have a couple of potatoes and onions to use for a recipe this week, chuck them into the same cubby next to the popcorn maker. But if you buy your potatoes by the child-sized bag or don't go shopping every week, then yes, storage matters.

Edited to add: Weird cut-off sentence fixed! Very odd...
mokie: Cartoon of an angry tea pot raging (drink tea)
Earlier this year, I imposed a tea moratorium: not another box, pouch, brick or bag would I buy until my drinking was under control. Until my stash no longer took up its own kitchen cabinet. Until I no longer had more varieties than the grocery store. Until I could look at my supply and reasonably say, "Uh-oh, better buy more tea before I run out."

It wasn't easy. I ran out of my favorite blends one by one. I used up my runners-up. I forced myself to pitch the try-it-outs that didn't work out. But finally, in November, my stash was down to one basket on the kitchen counter. Sure, it was holding about a pound of tea, but seven or eight varieties, and most of those green, and shut up, I don't have a problem, you have a problem! with cold weather coming, I decided some black teas were in order.

Long story short: I've got new sippage, so you get new tea reviews!

One of my new regular vendors is the English Tea Store, purveyors of bulk tea and snackage from the UK. One of the teas I ordered was 4 oz of blackcurrant 'naturally flavored' loose leaf black tea, to see how it stacked up to my custom currant-y blend from Adagio Teas. I love the custom blend, but Adagio botched it twice in a row and their customer service leaves one wishing for the care and attention of, say, Charter or AT&T.

I also regularly order from Baltimore Coffee & Tea Company, because they own the Eastern Shore Tea Company, seller of loose leaf tea in white paper pouches with nifty labels and reusable muslin bags. I don't remember where Eastern Shore and I first met, but after a long dry spell, they turned up again sporadically in the shop at the Missouri Botanical Garden, tucked behind items on random shelves like they'd been stocked by someone who's never worked proper retail before little surprises. Though it's been a few years since I had their blackcurrant tea, named Black Raven in honor of Poe, I purchased a pound because I remembered it fondly.

In the Bag:
- The English Tea Store's blackcurrant contains blue and yellow petals--cornflower and sunflower, probably, since they're popular fillers these days. (I guess hibiscus has been retired.) The petals aren't in the sample photo and the ingredients only list black tea and 'natural flavor' (i.e. flavoring sprayed on the tea leaves), so either the site is outdated or you only get uncut tea in larger amounts.

The bag smells like perfume with a whiff of berry behind it, and the reviewers describe it as 'smooth and fruity', much like you'd expect from people who've never tasted blackcurrant-flavored anything before. Put the two together and it doesn't bode well.

- Eastern Shore Tea Co.'s blackcurrant is just flavor-spritzed tea with no petals or mystery bits, so it's already a step ahead. It smells like malty black tea and Ribena. Taste buds puckered, I had a brief flashback and wondered what markfinnMark's up to these days. Good signs!

The Steepening:
Plain cold tap water boiled in the electric kettle and a little hot tap water in the pots to swish off any dust from the tea--a general hazard of dried plant matter rubbing against itself in packaging. Each tea steeped long enough for me to put on coffee for the non-tea drinkers, and each poured mug was sniffed and sipped hot before cream and sugar, for thorough comparisons.

- The English Tea Store's blackcurrant is ridiculously floral, almost like a berry chamomile, with a strange oily mouthfeel. Maybe the base tea is too bright--it's all perfume and no fruit, especially as it cools down. The effect is less a nice blackcurrant tea than it is sipping regular tea out of your great-grandmother's powdered cleavage.

- Eastern Shore's blackcurrant is already gone. I finished the cup before I could write anything down. Dark, malty and tart and perfect for cold mornings and long novels.

The Verdict:
Oh, Black Raven, I'll never let you go again.

Meanwhile, a quick trip to Google [turned up a now-defunct link that] confirms that it's not me: the English Tea Store's blackcurrant tea is all wrong. Not just cornflower and sunflower petals, but blackberry (not blackcurrant!) leaves, which are the special ingredient that gives Celestial Seasoning teas its gritty "How do you fuck up herbal?" astringency, and mallow flowers, which Google proclaims floral and earthy, and which is on the list of ragweed relatives (along with chamomile) for allergy sufferers to avoid--which explains why I had to suck down ibuprofen and sinus meds after breakfast.

And, again, none of these are listed as ingredients on the packaging or the website, but now I've got an inkling why their Earl Grey left me sick as a dog...

Update: The now-defunct link was to a blogger who had requested a full list of ingredients for the tea. The blog's MIA, but the English Tea Store itself now lists ingredients, so that's good.
mokie: A vintage image of a girl and kitten smiling (pets)
Back near the end of July, during that fun 3-month heat wave/drought combo platter, I got a call from Zaphod, my nephew, asking if I would take in a stray kitten he found. It had been hiding under some bushes near his house, panicking at the passing cars and panting in the heat, and it had been out there for a while.

But you know young animal lovers. A baby bird on the ground must be in dire danger, a bunny out of its burrow must need rescuing from any potential threats, and a kitten under a bush must be lost and in need of saving. I gave reluctant and conditional permission: I'd bring the kitten in, check it out, and let it get some water and cool off, but in all likelihood it was simply an outdoor cat trying to dodge him.

A few minutes later, my sister came up the street with the boy and a couple of neighborhood kids, and I realized it wasn't just Zaphod being oversensitive. The kitten wasn't starved, but it did seem a little bony and dehydrated, and it was petrified by every sound, from random dog barks a block away to squealing tires a few streets over.

That's how Maynard came to us.

The fact that he was so affectionate, and so willing to be lugged around and snuggled by Zaphod, told us that Maynard was most definitely not a feral cat, but he did like to dodge out the door--and then freeze on the porch, as if asking himself what he'd just done. We were banking on Maynard being a local kitten who'd darted out one day and not been able to get back in, so we checked grocery store bulletin boards, looked for Lost Cat posters, posted notices online, and the nephew said he even put up a Found Cat notice near his apartment building.

Nothing. Poor thing. I'd only saddled him with the name 'Maynard' because I thought he'd just be here a day or two.

As the month creeped by, the other possibility started to look more like a probability. Maynard was (I would guess) eight or nine months old, at that gangly stage where cats stop being cute and start knocking things over in earnest, and we live in a neighborhood dominated by apartment buildings, with a lot of turnover in the summer months. It was all too possible that someone simply decided they didn't want a kitten anymore, or was moving and didn't want to lug him along.

Due to a human medical emergency earlier this year, Ming and Murphy's visit to the vet to be fixed ended up being pushed back, but with a second intact male in the house, procrastination was no longer an option. Last week I called the vet to ask if they check for microchips as a last ditch effort to find Maynard's previous owners, and made an appointment for all three cats to be vaccinated. (It's required at least two weeks before spaying/neutering, even for indoor cats.)

I didn't even need to fully explain to the vet. I started with, "There are a lot of apartments..." and she knew where it was going. How's that for depressing?

Ming's check-up included an ultrasound to be sure there were no surprises. While the vet saw some fluid in her uterus, there were no signs of kittendom, so she was vaccinated and yowled all the way home about it. Kitty PMS!

Maynard's check-up revealed no chip and no health problems. He's now vaccinated and officially a member of the family. He took it so well, the vet's assistant dubbed him 'loverboy'.

Murphy's check-up took place in the office sink, since he felt a little less exposed there. He's about as social as I am--we both hide when new people come into the apartment--so I was surprised he was willing to come out of the carrier at all. The exam revealed a blocked eye duct and problematic tooth, possibly allergy/sinus related since the weepy eye seemed to act up most often when the people-allergies flared up. The vet warned that vaccinations and antibiotics together could make him feel sick, but I figured a little sick was better than stressing him out with a string of vet visits. Two minutes after we got home, he felt so sick that he bounded up the cat tower, flung himself at Maynard, dodged a swipe from Ming and rolled across the rug chasing absolutely nothing.

And everyone was happy to be home.
mokie: A large white shark rearing from a tiny child's pool (devious)
When I woke up, the nephew asked if I would fix the router, since he'd been knocked off his game five minutes earlier. The router was fine, but the power strip that the modem was plugged into had been turned off.

Okay. Except the modem and power strip are both in my bedroom, and when I went to sleep last night, I was alone, I put the cats out and pushed a hamper in front of the door to keep them out. Yes, they open doors, and yes, I know how sad that whole line read.

So the nephew was using the Internet until someone turned off the power strip that the modem was plugged into about five minutes before I woke up, moved the hamper and opened the door.
mokie: Text, "Only the good die young. Most of us are morally ambiguous, which explains our random dying pattern." (indescribable)
Dear Cat:

It's rabbit poop, not a toy. Leave it in the litter box.

Yours Truly,
Tired of Sweeping.

Dear Cat:

I saw you knock over the dustpan and wallow--yes, wallow--in the rabbit poop. You want to act like a dog, you're going to be bathed like a dog.

Sincerely,
Grossed Out

Dear Cat:

Know that thing where you fill three litterboxes in two days, including the Jumbo? What the hell are you eating when I'm not watching you? You're not even a year old! Are you half bear or something?

Seriously,
Researching Toilet Training for Cats

Ming may be walking proof that the Devil invented cats, but Murphy is a dog in a cat's body.
mokie: The Dark Knight's Joker inserted into a scene from Beetlejuice (confused)
This afternoon, the mokiemama was in the basement talking to the neighbor. He has a bunch of hand-me-down furniture down there, which makes me nervous as we've already had one nasty bedbug infestation thanks to a former tenant's found mattress. This stuff can't be too old, though, since he's thinking of selling it to make rent. He and Mom talked loveseats and kittens and random bullshit, and the neighbor asked if we wanted that one over there, since he knew we were looking for one. Mom thanked him and said she'd need to run the idea past me.

Upstairs, I scoffed for I am done with inherited furniture. And shuddered, because you have no idea how hard it is to get rid of bedbugs in an apartment building unless you've had to do it. Besides, we're saving up for a nice double-seater papasan and maybe a hanging pod chair, because we like them and we don't have to pretend to be sofa-loveseat-recliner people anymore. Suck my milkcrate shelves, world!

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door.

Mom back holding two kittens...

All in all, much better than a loveseat.
mokie: Firefies swirl beneath a tree on a moonlit night (happy)
Earlier this month, I gave up on the ancient mattress with unexpected springs that pop my back all out of whack, the futon mats that go flat in all the wrong places, and the inherited bunkbed frame that looks silly in an adult's bedroom and creaks with my every move. So terribly, terribly uncomfortable--especially compared to...

A HAMMOCK!

Not the taut rectangle of canvas or rope spread wide by wooden dowels and prone to flipping cartoon dads on the lawn, but a proper Mesoamerican humidity-defying cocooning sling, almost impossible to fall out of accidentally, and so comfy they're damn near as hard to climb out of on purpose. While I don't recall the specific train of thought that led to this decision-making process, I believe I remember the key points.
  • Comfort. Hammocks are comfy. That's one of their key selling features. My bed? Not comfy.
  • Custom. Lots of people sleep in hammocks. Gilligan, for instance. And Nicaraguan truckers. Astronauts, even, and they manage it without gravity.
  • Health. Some campers swear hammocks fixed their back problems. After lugging 30lbs of gear and sleeping on rocks, you'd better believe their backs were plenty problematic.
  • Money. It looked way cheaper than buying a new bed.
All true. As added bonus, you should see how much more spacious the room feels without a bed taking up half of it. Oh, and I never have to make a bed again. Not that I ever made it when I had one, but it's the principle, you know?

There are a few problems I did not anticipate in making the switch, though.
  • Insulation. Without a mattress or futon beneath me, I tend to sleep a little cooler. Since St. Louis usually flips straight into summer sometime around April, I didn't think this would be an issue, but apparently we're trying out that 'spring' thing, so I'm sleeping in winter jammies still.
  • Temptation. With a bed, even a moderately comfortable one, taking a break from work to watch the news or read a little is no big deal. With the hammock, I'm no sooner comfy than I'm dozing off for half an hour. Or an hour. Or three.
  • Invasion. When the hammock arrived, I'd not yet taken the bed apart or out of my room. I wanted to set up the hammock frame ASAP to be sure all the pieces were there, and my 11-year-old nephew Zaphod lent a hand. And then tested it out. And then spent the night and slept in it. And then protested me moving it to my room. And then begged me to move it back into the living room. And then decided the bedroom hammockroom was a perfectly cromulent place to lounge.
By moving the hammock out of the living room, I changed his perceived territory.

Upside: I know what to get him for his birthday. Downside: sleepovers will probably mean double-bunked hammocks.
mokie: Cowboy Bebop's Ed on a bike in hot pursuit! (energetic)
mokie: Come help me shred paper! Peeeeeer pressure! Peeeeer pressure!

Mom: Peer pressure doesn't affect me.

zaphoddityzaphod: Above the influence!

About dream/reading tags

y-* tags categorize dreams.

For types: beyond the obvious, there are dreamlets (very short dreams), stubs (fragment/outline of a partially-lost dream), gnatter (residual impression of a lost dream).

For characters: there are roles (characters fitting an archetype), symbols (characters as symbols), and sigils (recurring figures with a significance bigger than a single dream's role/symbolism).

x-* tags categorize books.

Material is categorized primarily by structure, style and setting. If searching for a particular genre, look for the defining features of that genre, e.g. x-form:nonfic:bio, x-style:horror, x-setting:dystopian.

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