mrissa: (Default)
One of my friends recently wrote in a locked post that it was amazing how much experience and maturity looked like weariness from where he was sitting. I had to smile, because that happens here, too. And as much as it's sometimes sad and wearying to know that I've been on a road before, it can be extremely useful to know where the signs go.

And here it is Santa Lucia Day, and I have made the lussekatter.

I think if I made them more than twice a year*, it would get into a rhythm faster, a routine, a place where I would never say, "This is not going to work." But lussekatter. They are not for every day. They are for Santa Lucia Day.** And as a result, I always have the stage of "oh no this has gone horribly awry." On the other hand, if I didn't make other breads, I might also not despair, because I would have a healthy cushion of ignorance: "Is this normal? What do you get when you cross an elephant and a rhino!*** Onwards!" But instead I make a lot of other breads that are not white breads, and they are much more substantial, and so I peer dubiously. I keep saying that I have come to accept that the peering dubiously is part of the process, and yet I don't think I really mean it. There are all sorts of things that are part of fighting back the darkness year after year that you think you're prepared for, and then you're not, but you do it anyway. You do. What else is there?

This year, exactly half of the lussekatter did not rise further in the oven. They just...didn't. Usually they do, the other tray did, and this tray didn't. This is not a sign. This is not an omen. What it is, is a little dense maybe, a little chewier than we expected. But they taste fine, and I don't know what I could have done differently, so I am resolved not to worry about it. Flattish saffron goodness: fine.

So okay, you people. I've done my part. The sun can come back now; I'm ready. Whatever you have to do on your end to keep the world turning, you go on ahead and do it. It's time now. Happy Santa Lucia Day.

*The first time in each calendar year is for Timprov's birthday. He doesn't like cake. Everybody should get the baked thing they want for their birthday. His is lussekatter. We'd move his birthday, but he finds mid-December no more congenial than mid-February.

**And Tim's birthday.

***My family would be nearly unable to speak if we couldn't communicate in punchlines. This is one of the rare occurrences where the punchline is assumed instead.

2010 2009 2008 2007 Part 1 2007 Part 2 2006


Nov. 21st, 2011 08:51 pm
mrissa: (Default)
Today I gave up on a thing I was trying to make the vertigo go away or be easier to deal with. It did not do that. It had been two months of trying. It was making me tired and taking up time and money and had no discernible positive effect. So I quit.

I am not at all thrilled that this didn't work. But it didn't. So we're dealing with that.

I'm perfectly happy to talk to people, but not so much publicly on this one. My gmail account is marissalingen, if you feel like talking about this or something else. It doesn't even have to be something more cheerful.
mrissa: (Default)
1. Is anyone reading this who is not reading my livejournal?

2. Is anyone reading this for whom copy-pasted entries over here would be useful?

3. Is anyone reading this for whom copy-pasted entries over here would be annoying?

I can't get it to autopost, because that requires posting from DW first, and all my paid-up icons etc. are at lj. (And I'm not doing locked posts anyway, so the privacy issues are being trumped by the inertia and sheer weariness issues.) But if I have enough friends over here who are otherwise not hearing from me, the copy-paste may become a thing I'm willing to do. Will depend on who answers how. (Edit: Eh, actually I might; smaller change required to change icons etc. over there. Will ponder based on how you-all respond.)
mrissa: (Default)
1. I have often said that if you ever hear someone in a story of mine intoning that there are Things Man Was Not Meant To Know, you should expect an anvil to fall out of the sky on their head. I just don't believe in that.

2. The Bigdale Nordstrom's bra department in a sale: ladies and female-identified persons of other categories of manners, I have seen the Promised Land, and it is well-organized and extremely matter-of-fact, and has an Orange Julius very conveniently located for Wiktory Julius. (Wiktory tastes like blackberries, apparently.)

3. I am working on identifying the things I don't really want to do that I think I want to do, so I can stop wisting after them. I have discovered that my desire to go swimming is very, very narrow. The only place I've found in Eagan so far with the ability to go swimming occasionally rather than getting a membership for a month or more is the outdoor pool attached to the water park here, and it's only adult swim from 7-8 in the morning. It turns out it takes really, really specific conditions to get me out the door to swim in an unknown outdoor pool with strangers at seven in the morning, and the temperature range for that is...not large. And not common in Minnesota at seven a.m.

Mostly, though, I think it's good to be realistic about the difference between "I want that" and "in an ideal universe I would want that, but the parameters involved in this universe make it not worth the time/energy/etc." so that I can focus on making the first category happen and not getting tripped up on the second category.

4. I keep thinking that any one of these days, the eggplant is going to stop flowering and start, y'know, making eggplants. At least the tomatoes have set fruit. The great day of caprese salad is not far.

5. I know this is not a book report post, but uff da, people, 19th century Iceland was so squalid.
mrissa: (Default)
I'm here!

I just didn't realize it would be so pink.


mrissa: (Default)

December 2011

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