Protagitron Dead From Cute: The Shetland Invasion

I like dogs. I like dogs a lot. When I was younger, I used to harrass my parents pretty much daily for a dog. From a breeder, from the "Free Puppies" signs tacked up on telephone posts, or from the Humane Society- it didn't matter. Raised on a steady diet of Lassie, Benji, Old Yeller, Where the Red Fern Grows and the Dog Who Wouldn't Be, I was sure that no kid's life was complete without a loyal, loving dog. I tried to explain to my parents that it was a safety issue- with out a dog, I was clearly in danger of drowning at best or being crushed by an overturned tractor at worst. It finally worked, but the family was split: my brother wanted a Golden Retriever, I wanted a Rough Collie, my dad wanted a Wheaten Terrier, and my Mom wanted No Dog. Eventually we compromised on a Sheltie, and ended up with the much loved Brydie, who died two years ago. My dad took her death pretty heard- he spent the most time with her. She listened to him when his hormonal daughter, and equally hormonal wife were having a screaming fight in the kitchen. She would lay next to him when he was sick. She would sleep next to his clothes when he was away instead of sleeping with another person, namely myself. Finally, this year we either wore him down or he was finally ready to get another dog, so we went to Brydie's breeder to see her new puppies. And our new dog will hopefully be one of these:

And if I have my way, it will be the one on the far right with the white spot. He licked my fingers, he liked me, and that white spot on his back is illegally cute. I've already come up with a name for the wee bugger: Smitty. After Betty Nesmith, the inventor of White-Out. I would post a better picture, but these little guys are only three weeks old, and still take some time to open their eyes and focus them, so I tried taking a few without the flash so as not to blind the little things, and a bunch didn't turn out well. It was my Dad's camera too, so I wasn't sure how to adjust the aperture or what- it felt like shooting with a disposable camera since I knew NOTHING. There were some older puppies too, and this sable merle was my absolute favorite out of all the puppies. Sure, he looks like a little angel sleeping there, but he has spunk. After finding my jeans were not easily removed from my body, he tried to work on my sock, gave up, and went to play with his stuffed Animal from the Muppets. He tried for success once more after that, but decided licking my face was just as good. His future owners have already named him Copper, but he looks more like a Bogart to me. It's a good thing more people don't let me name their dogs, or else eventually we would end up with a pair of poor, lonely goldfish named Lillian and Dorothy Fish.


Well, I'll be back to Montreal and university next week. No puppies there, but I'll try and teach my degu some tricks.

Holiday Madness

Wow. That was something. I can't believe that Christmas is over, 2006 soon will be, and all I've managed to do with my holiday is knit two hats and read a book of Richard Ford short stories. The hats turned out okay, and I may post pics if I can borrow my Dad's digital camera. One was a gift for my brother, a heavy worsted earflap hat in Montreal Canadiens colours. It was knit with two strands of Zara held together, and I'm worried about wear. I wanted to get something thicker, but that was the only yarn with the particular shades of red and blue I wanted. It's a fairly heavy, and yet draper hat so I'm worried about the smooth merino not being able to bounce back from the heaviness. The other was a Kittyville hat in purple Mission Falls 1824 Wool- one of my favorite yarns. Not for me, but for my friend Emily. You see, the saga of Em's hat is a long and violent one: three different yarns, several different patterns, and a range of terrible results ranging from ones that would double as a tote bag to ones that would look just darling- on a Chihuahua's head. This is the closest I've come to a wearable hat, although I'm not sure if the earflaps will do. I followed the directions, but they seem a little too far forward for my liking. And she's in Florida (BITCH!) so I can't try it on her and fix it before I go back to school. Oh well, I'll finish weaving in the ends, block and mail it to her. She can mail it back to me to make any repairs. I don't mind, I like getting packages. Also, I finally bought a Denise set, and now I'm wondering whether or not I should get the long 40" cord just for simplicity's sake in making moebius shapes, or just stick to using two connecters and a bunch of cords.


As for the Richard Ford short stories, they were... okay. I haven't read any of his novels, although I know The Sportswriter is one of the best books of the 20th century, etc. etc. But most of these seemed like variations on a theme: people having affairs without having sex. Even when they do fuck each other it seems businesslike- just a way to get to the real meat of the story, the ceaseless thinking. They talk in in internal thoughts, speech is just another way to psychoanalyze themselves. They may be physically fucking on the bed, but they're mentally putting themselves on the couch. Their partners in adultery are just psychiatric exercises. I think I'm just getting tired of the bleak, frozen, marriages and relationships people seem to make in a particular kind of American literature. Unsurprisingly, my favorite stories weren't about failing adultery: Calling, about the fractured relationship between a boy and his gay, distant father and Puppy, about the politics of helping others. Next up is Patrick Suskind's Perfume, and maybe finishing Don Quixote.

Regrouping

Bah. I did lamentably little of my list this week. I dis send out some packages, but my Christmas cards are still sitting, neglected, on my desk. I'm also mildly freaking out about my Cultural Studies exam on Wednesday. The Shakespeare on Film exam should go fairly well, but this one? Promises to be hell. Hell. Also, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be studying. One second while I grab my paper bag of hyperventilation...
Will write more later. Most go die somewhere now.

This Week's To-Do

1. Mail out all Christmas cards and packages
2. Finish knitting all Christmas presents
3. Go to see one movie in a theatre, you anti-social weirdo
4. Try a new restaurant
5. Make rice pudding

Snorfle, Hack, Blargh: The Euphonic Sounds of Ailing

I feel like I have the plague, the pox, the black lung and consumption all in one. See these zits? Clearly pustules. This hacking cough? Blood will follow soon. And then I'll waste attractively away as I cough delicately into an embroidered handkerchief. Seriously, though I'm not feeling so hot. My immune system sent up the flag of surrender after my last paper was shoddily titled. I thought it was just a mild bug that would go away after a course of Neo-Citran, but it seems to have only gotten worse in the past few days. Not that I'm helping matters by going out, baking pudding, and playing Laser Quest. Which- it was fun. I want to have another go when I don't have a pounding headache, so that I'm not stumbling around like a zombie, all "Kill me. Please kill me. Oh good, you shot me, little girl. No, please don't stand around and continue to shoot at me so that you can kill me as soon as I regenerate. Where are you parents? Blerrrrghhhhh." Not that I would do any better once I was healthy. I have lousy aim and my competitive streak dies as soon as someone hands me a gun. But it's nice to dream that I'm intergalactic smuggler Mac Johnson, with dead aim and a heart of stone.

Now I'm pounding back the cherry Dimetapp and chain chewing the Halls, leaving me a complete vegetable incapable of nothing more than watching Christmas specials on the telly. I tried knitting a row involving some diabolical nupps and had to stop, but my head between my knees, and breath. What sort of sadistic madness is the purl 5 together? I can do three, four if I try hard, but the last stubborn loop refuses to place itself on my needle. So, I'm cheating and using my nails to pick up the damn stitch. Whatever. Don't make me slap you with a Kleenex box.

Also, I'm trying to come up with some sort of studying program. Unlike last year, there isn't a whole lot of formulas and definitions to remember. I think I'll just re-read through some of the more difficult readings in the course packs, drink some beer, and pass out on my bed. Success will be mine.

Pud!

Bread pudding does not get a lot of respect. Any time I tell anyone that one of my favorite desserts is bread pudding, I get a raised eyebrow. But I decided I would go ahead and make bread pudding for my friend's potluck anyway. Screw the naysayers! Bread pud forever!

This bread pudding is an unholy, university student-ized chimera of about three different recipes I found online, along with my own experiments. I followed the body of this one, mainly, except I used plain white bread instead of cinnamon challah because it's cheaper, and instead added some cinnamon to the milk mixture. Then I substituted a cup of eggnog for some of the milk, on a suggestion from some other recipe, and reduced the sugar a tiny bit. Then I ground chocolate, cinnamon, and sugar over the whole thing because the spice grinders that President's Choice makes have always intrigued me, so I finally bought some to entertain myself. I also made the vanilla sauce from this recipe because I didn't want to go and buy bourbon.

Oh, and there's a ring, thimble, coin and button in there too. I'm not trying to support the dentists of the greater Montreal area- I warned the kids before I served it to them, I swear. Rather, I thought it would be nice to engage in the old Christmas pudding tradition, where the one who gets the ring in their slice will be the next wed, the one with the coin will have wealth, and the one with the thimble will have a life full of luck. Conflicting stories tell me that the latter may stand for spinsterhood, but since I'm keeping the button (which supposedly means bachelorhood? Stupid conflicting traditions) in we'll keep that one happy. Totally outdated custom? Hell yeah. But that's what Christmas is for! Why else would I watch the early 90s commercials on all of my Christmas tapes? I want to re-live the time, no matter how backwards, when the GST was new, Eaton's still existed, and mullets were de rigueur at DeVry.
Here it is baking in the oven. I know it's a crappy picture, but I wasn't about to risk my life and limb (I have a phobia of heat, mmkay?) to get a better one.


I was supposed to take pictures of it before serving at the party, but alas... I forgot. It turned out much better than I expected. Here's the recipe, if you're interested in recreating my experiment:

Martha's Bastard Bread Pud For the Holidays

Pudding:
8 eggs
1 loaf of day-old white bread
1 cup eggnog
2 1/2 cups milk
1 1/2 cups whipping cream
1 1/2 cups sugar
2 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
2 pinches salt
1 cup of raisins
President's Choice Cinnamon, Chocolate and Sugar Grinder*
Sauce:
2 cups sugar
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 cup whipping cream
President's Choice Cinnamon, Chocolate and Sugar Grinder*

*optional

1. Butter 9x13" baking or casserole dish, and set aside.
2. Tear bread into small pieces about 1" in size, place in large mixing bowl.
3. In another large mixing bowl, whisk eggs together to blend. Add eggnog, milk, whipping cream, sugar, cinnamon, vanilla and salt. Whisk until-blended.
4. Pour mixture over bread pieces. Stir in raisins, making sure that all bread pieces are well-soaked in the mixture.
5. Spoon into prepared baking dish. Cover and refigerate for 2 hours.
6. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. If desired, grate PC Cinnamon, Chocolate, and Sugar generously over top of pudding. Bake uncovered for 1 1/2 hours, or until pudding is puffy and golden.
7. As pudding cools, mix sugar, vanilla and cream together in saucepan over medium heat. If desired, grate in a fair amount of PC Cinnamon, Chocolate and Sugar to the sauce.
8. Serve pudding warm with sauce.

The First Issue

Friends, Acquaintances, Ted from Dollarama, welcome to my new blog. I made the jump from LiveJournal because, well, I'm fickle. I was bored, and I needed a change in my life that didn't require me taking a shower and getting dressed. That, and I didn't want to put all of my photos behind an LJ-cut. I do miss my old name, however. Sprunkle was special to me. It combined two of the best things, sprinkles and spunk, into one snappy* word. But we'll see if I grow to embrace this new one.



*Opinions on the snappiness of said name may vary. This is not a guarantee of snappiness.