http://bearshapedsphere.blogspot.com/2009/11/going-home-for-thanksgiving.html

November seems so innocuous. It seems like such a pleasant, in-between month, a time when no real expectations are laid, and nobody really has any major plans until waaaaaay late in the month when Thanksgiving comes and then there's a crush of OMG holidays until about the tenth or so of January. And then everything goes back to normal.

This is my sixth November in Chile, and as I bust out the shorts and other assorted summer paraphernalia, I notice it is the first time I have not gotten weather sick. Weather sick is like homesick, missing something you can't access, can't truly experience. Weather sick in November is triggered by talk of kids running through piles of leaves and zipping up coats over Halloween costumes. It's fanned by tales of hunkering down and thick stews and picking up cast-aside knitting projects. Because that's fall.

Here in the southern hemisphere, my spring allergies are raging (still have not bought that nutmeg necklace I say I'm going to get), windows are flung open and berries and chermioyas flood the markets. And while I still find it unsettling that it stays light until so late in November and summer holidays will be in January and February, the draining whiny nostalgia of what fall feels like in the northern hemisphere is absent this year.

You might think it was because I've gotten over it.

Or you might know that I have in my greedy little email account confirmation of a ticket "home" for día acción de gracias (Thanksgiving). And while I will miss the chance to plan a very gringo thanksgiving, complete with a fight over the last remaining sweet potatoes at the Vega (go in on the Dávila (back) side and find the middle-eastern veggies and stuff, there's a guy there that has them this time of year), and combing the city for celery (Jumbo is a good bet right now), and lamenting yet again that although they grow cranberries in this country, nearly all of them are exported, only to be reimported in small quantities in gelatinous goo contained in cans, well in spite of all that, I'm really glad to go see my people, and my people's people in a new/old tradition that we've been celebrating for the past three years. (did you see that sentence? and I call myself an editor!)

The tradition is called "Aunt Eileen comes home for Thanksgiving." I think everyone is pretty happy about it, particularly my nephew, (2.5) who says on the phone, "een bring suny" (suny is soft caramel candy not unlike fudge, but without the chocolate), as I'm told his supply recently ran out. Did you hear that? He calls me "een." Please cue heart-achingly saccharine music and then see if you can speed up the next two weeks a bit. There's a little boy that needs his aunt (or the candy she brings, so what?) way up north. Thanksgiving, indeed.

For those who lived in this area, the DC sniper... I don't know, I'm speechless. I'm trying to write something thoughtful, but I can't. It was terrifying, and it's weird to think how long ago that was. Tomorrow the DC Sniper will be put to death at 9pm in my home state of Virginia.

I feel blank about it. Not without feeling or not that I don't care. I do. I think for many people, thinking back about that time is kind of a void. It's like being numb, but with the dull ache of intense fear and sadness.

Making a change in the house - switching off cable television. (well, actually, DirecTV)

We decided a while back that we watch way too much tv... then, when the dvr broke, and DirecTV gave us shoddy customer service, that clinched it. They promised us a new box and instead they wanted to charge us more for a refurbished model than give us our replacement for free, like they said that they would.

Looking at the shows that either BHK or I record, we figured it was a good thing to just cancel our service, and get what we want via netflix or online.

Here's what we had on the save list to follow and/or catch up on. It may be a bit obvious which I lean towards, and which are BHK's.

Hint, BHK's are in italics, mine are in bold. Both... are both.

Burn Notice
Being Erica
Parks and Rec
Modern Family
White Collar
Eastwick
The Office
Gossip Girl
America's Next Top Model
Chuck
Dr. Who
South Park
Bridezillas
Craig Ferguson
Sanctuary
Vampire Diaries
House
Ugly Betty
Castle
Big Bang Theory
Ace of Cakes
The Soup
So you think you can dance
glee
V
Venture Brothers
Dragon's Den
The Mentalist
Tru Calling
Monk
Psych
Eureka
Royal Pains
Drop Dead Diva
Defying Gravity
Being Human
Hell's Kitchen
Better off ted
Warehouse 13
Last Restaurant Standing
Speeders
10 things I hate about you
Skins
Wolf Lake
Nighty Night

 1 year ago -  beardless pic, good gas prices.

2 years ago - crabs for christmas

3 years ago - george washington will kick you apart, pictures of deerfield

4 years ago - google map risk, sexy archie, personality meme

5 years ago - bro issues, MM/Islam, light and shadow, mallah and brain, walking annual post, famous cat, truthout

6 years ago - Eclipso, Lady From Shanghai, Tomacco, fonts, Book Fair, pondering, maggot art, mirror, Witch

7 years ago - poetry search, Newtcam pic, Zombie, DTH, Stupidty, Rachel

8 years ago - evil news, tattoo poll, shirty, Bizarro, Da Vinci

9 years ago - Apologies for FL, clown, log sheets, sweet disorder, I knew a woman, crimson dreams, chupacabra

note to self, add today's to story list - (each dot is a prior year's).....

William, Bryce, Dominic, Dalton, (and Donnie , but he was outside, and didn't come in) came over for a surprise visit and afternoon of Wii gaming. It seems that Bryce and William's own Wii was broken, and so they figured they'd swing by our place for some goofing around and general fun.

Bryce was the rare talent today - creamed us at Wii bowling and barely lost mario party 8.... not to mention being a surprise champ at Hey, That's my fish, and Labyrinth. 

It was a pleasant, though chaotic visit... the kids were all very well mannered. They all just piled out of the house to go home to dinner.
 
(Damien wasn't here tonight, but he did check out haunted.scottobear.com for the Callis Haunted Adventure earlier this week.

In other gaming news, I won mario party 8 and blokus at the Nailles on Friday night -- the trophy is ours once more!

I have to admit, it's been a pretty stellar Saturday night, and I have to say, I have two super hot dates for this evening.





To steal my new favorite term from olivetree, I'm livin' large with my two favorite fur people, Clover and Horatio. Patrick is having bro time this evening in Maryland, which I am happy for; he hasn't seen his best friend in a couple of months.

But seriously, I love it. Earlier this afternoon, I hitched a ride with coworkers to another coworkers engagement party out in the countryside of Virginia. It was an absolutely beautiful fall day, and it was such a great time with good people.

On the way back, I was just exhausted... and it was only 8pm! I was napping in the car, and when I finally got home around 8:30pm, I was so happy to just fall on the couch with the pooches. I only made it through about 20 minutes of Law & Order before I completely fell asleep.

I felt so lame. A few years back, I would have been partying until dawn. Now I get all excited about a Law & Order marathon on TNT and my pjs, heh. (Although I still do like to throw down on occasion with the right people.)

Either way, I woke up around midnight, feeling a bit revitalized. Now I'm cuddled with the fur people, enjoying... you guessed it: more Law & Order.

On an unrelated note, I am a Christmas Closet Case. For example, on Friday I broke out my cinnamon apple tea (my Christmastime staple) and was secretly listening to my Christmas Pandora station while doing my work, heh. I feel a bit vindicated now since the Christmas commercials have started.

I'm a sad person.

atw man defeats kong ii

--

atw man defeats kong

http://bearshapedsphere.blogspot.com/2009/11/saturdays-seven-snarky-snaps.html

And contrary to the popularly-held misconception, a Spaniard would not say Thaturday'th Theven Tnarky Thnapth. That's Elmer Fudd. Spaniards only -th the c and zs in speech. Which you can put in your pocket and take out for trivia night, though be careful, people may start to call you (yourname)-oogle. I'm just thaying.

So here are seven snaps from the previous week which I think pretty well typify some repeated traveler and expat observations about Chile.

1. The dogs sleep anywhere they feel like it. Also, they are picky eaters and prefer kibble and meat to all forms of carbohydrates. This one has his face in a pile of french fries, and isn't budging. And yes, he was alive.



2. Just because you call it pizza does not make it pizza. These guys set up here there and everywhere, set up a gas-powered oven of dubious cleanliness and slap down some flattened rolls with a piece or two of sweaty cheese atop. I know we're beating the whole pizza-in-Santiago thing a bit to death, but this truly is an abomination before Italy. Darn cheap though, and will suffice in a pinch. Olives optional.



3. Things may look the same in Santiago as at home, but when you get a little closer, you'll discover tiny little differences that will make you scratch your head. Also, the native speaker's intuition will never die. I haven't been in a KFC in the United States in at least ten years, but I can nearly guarantee that there is nothing on the menu called "rods."



4. There is no end to the abuse of dictionaries and machine translation vis-a-vis confused misuse of words. This one is understandable, at least. And I should say, it wasn't translated by the actual postal service here, rather likely a hilltop vendor of postcards and such atop Cerro San Cristobal. No relation to the guy who will pose your kid atop a stuffed zebra and snap a photo, for a price. Why a zebra? Why, indeed.



5. Inconsiderate motorists are the norm, not the exception. This construction truck has decided to straddle the bike lane during prime travel hours for your pedalling pleasure. Thanks, construction truck! I always look for a reason to swerve out into traffic.



6. The restroom can be elusive at times, but if you can hold it, it will come.



7. Even when someone explains to you what is going on and why someone is dressed like a combination of a rat and the center-left presidential candidate/former president (Frei), and even if you speak Spanish, it still doesn't make a whit of sense. But you should always ask anyway, and if you're really curious, look up his channel on Youtube (I'm not that curious, I suppose).



Brought to you by nosiness, my personal endless store of snark, random silly, and of course, the smashing camera on my phone, which actually isn't half bad, and I still haven't managed to smash.

Recipe here: http://www.theklutzykitchen.com/2009/11/thanksgiving-part-i-cranberry-orange.html

at neuros... more of the same

--

No lie, I haven't been cooking much, or at least cooking and blogging about it, thanks to the Boston trip and my failed foray into eggplant, from which I am still licking my wounds. That'll change tonight, however:

Creamy Sweet Potato Soup
Sweet Potato Rolls
Cranberry Orange Bread

Later this weekend? I might try my hand at biscotti, but I'm not sure yet.

pye and newt on the couch

--

http://bearshapedsphere.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-does-taxi-in-santiago-say.html

Have you ever been unable to find an item in your house (keys, camera cable, that movie someone pressed into your hands promising you'd love it and you never watched it and now they want it back), only to rifle through your items like a B-grade detective and come across not the item in question, but the previous thing you'd given up for lost?

This happens to me all the time. Partially it speaks to the fact that there's probably too much stuff in my 1-BR apartment (with view!), and too many areas that could be called the X of danger. As in the drawer of danger, the shelf of danger, the clear plastic box even though I'm opposed to storage solutions of danger, etc. Drawer of danger is what I like to call that catchall drawer in the kitchen where you put your carrot peeler and some weird knife accessories and the garlic press and that plastic jar-opener thing and whatever other cachibaches (like the yiddish tchotchkes, but more towards junk) you've got. It's a scary place, and it's hard to find stuff. So sometimes you can't. But then you look again for something different, and the first thing pops up.

Which seems like it would fly in the face of the law of conservation of matter, but apparently doesn't, or if it does, it doesn't apply in my apartment or any place I've ever lived. And you?

The frustrating thing about finding your items later is that you're still left with the desire to find the new thing. And if my experience holds true, you'll never find it until you lose something else.

What on this wide wonderful planet does that have to do with this (sorry, cellphone) picture?



Well, I'm so glad you asked.


Many months ago, in fact maybe even more than a year ago, I was out at a birthday shindig at one of those places mentioned in the pizza post, and it was late, and public transportation was iffy and it was freezing cold and also raining, and ok, sometimes me doy el lujo de (I spoil myself by) taking a taxi. And I'd recently had a skittish taxi experience, and so was eyeing the taxis nervously, when one of this small fleet of re-upholstered taxis showed up.

And I got in, and a laughed and laughed, and cursed myself for the cruddy camera on my old phone (new one is somewhat better), and wished high and low that I would see that taxi, or another like it some time. There's a small fleet of these, somewhere in the 12-14 range, and they drive around picking up unsuspecting (and probably unsmiling) Santiaguinos and taking them where they need to go.

Well since then, I have a list of several hundred things that I wish I'd taken pictures of, and like the lost things in the drawer, this memory was sufficiently old and rusty for it to come to the forefront. So thanks Mandi for showing up about five minutes late last night, so I could cumplir mi sueño (fulfill my dream) of snapping a shot of this beauty. Also, in case you were wondering, when I got home from my first experience with this taxi, I announced to my friend (by SMS), "I think rode a dalmation on the way home." And she responded "te fuiste en una vaca!" (you took a cow!). Which now that I heard the mooing sound the taxi makes (this time), makes much more sense.

Take that Santiago deriders. Where's your banyard animal taxi? And would it stop to pose for a picture? Didn't think so. Mu po (moo, then).

Well, one of my favorite movies of all time is Sleepless in Seattle. So it follows that my favorite romantic movie scene is in this movie, but it's way before Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks meet.  My favorite romantic scene is when Jonah, Tom Hanks' son in the movie, gets Tom Hanks on the phone.  When Tom Hanks starts talking about meeting his wife (who died of cancer at the beginning of the movie), and all about "magic" while Meg Ryan is crying, listening to him on the radio... gets me every time.  I guess it's not conventionally "romantic", but it's a beautiful scene.

EDIT: Those were some interesting tags added by default, heh.

I can't look away. :-(

So last night I had my first Klutzy Kitchen failure. And it was ugly. And smelly. I tried to duel it out with eggplant... and the eggplant won. I ended up with a mixture that was so foul, even our dogs turned their nose up at it. I am not even kidding. Patrick had a bit on his finger, Horatio sniffed it, and turned his nose up at it. Horatio is not a dog who snubs human food. Ever.

Sigh. I was all excited, too. I was going to write about how I learned last night the eggplant is a BERRY (I know, right?!) and other fun things. But alas, I've been bested by a weird purple food object. Boo.

In other news, Patrick (heymurph) described the difference between DC and Boston perfectly when he said this:

"I forgot what it felt like to be in a town with character. DC has character but its character is that of a snobby friend you have that does everything better than you and lets you know that on a regular basis. Boston just wants you to have a beer."

Tomorrow night, after work, I'm going to be looking at this dress (as I mentioned, I was going to be selling the other dress I have):

It's by Watters, and I'm going to be looking at it in their steel gray color, I think.  Kind of excited about that.

Otherwise, tonight I am going to try to redeem myself in the kitchen by making cheddar chive scones. I hope. Nervous about that, too.  I've lost my kitchen confidence. I'm also probably going to make some sort of cranberry bread, as I have this bag of fresh cranberries laying about, and I have nothing to do with them!

I am exhausted. Yawn.

http://bearshapedsphere.blogspot.com/2009/11/winetasting-in-south-america-or-how-to.html

Pique is many things. In Spanish it's a type of shaft drilled in mining to put in elevators or cables. It's also a kind of flea, and irse en pique means to be on the brink of doing something.

None of which has anything to do with the (English) pique I'm experiencing right now, which if your SAT-studying is still fresh in your mind, you will recall that:

Pique: Anger

a. hungry: famished
b. sheep: wool
c. sad: happy
d. donald: duck

The correct answer here is a. I am not angry, per se, but I am piqued. And because you are all my dogged and loyal followers, I shall now explain to you why.

Remember this crazy formula:

(desire to write about topic X number of hours slept)/ (interestingness of blog - time of day) + how many cups of coffee drunk so far/ desire for exposure - 2x laziness quotient.

If that is equal to or greater than the total number of legs my friend's four cats have (hint, not 16) times my favorite number minus the number of times I've been called "preciosa" that day, then I will certainly write.

that I posted here where I talked about how to decide whether or not I would write a guest post for someone?

Well let me add one swooping overarching end run around the whole thing.

If you ever so much as dream of scraping my content, or stealing something I have written and posting it on your very popular travel website, or have done or are considering doing the same to any of the very vast number of truly talented and over worked and often underpaid people that make a living from writing about travel or anything else, well then, a guest post?

That is the sound of my jaw clattering to the ground. In the words of Mamaj, (who I called because who doesn't want to call their mother when someone wrongs them, on the playground, at school or on the internet)

"That's wrong."

So it is, Mamaj, so it is. The copied article has been deleted, with little more than an FYI, and this is where the arrow really started moving on the pique-o-meter.

In other, extremely-related news, I wrote this really nifty article on winetasting in South America and it's getting all kinds of traction and tweets and fun and go Bootsnsall because they rock, and also thanks to every other editor I've ever had, (even that creepy one that looked at nekkid lady pictures at work, because even though he was a perv, he was still a good editor) because they have taught and encouraged me, and even jumped to my defense when warranted (like today).

And if you'd like me to write a guest post, hey, who knows, I just might. But please. Play nice.

Mamaj would want you to.


::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::Addendum:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The party of the first part has responded. I am mostly convinced that it was not entirely his fault, but since I develop, write and post my own content, it is difficult for me to understand exactly how the event in question came to pass. I think this is another sound-off (meta-talk, if you will) bubbling to the surface, about how making yourself a brand name with a big team in my mind takes you out of the running for "blogger" of the year, month, week, or time period of your choice. A blog is written by a human or a dedicated and equal-sharing group of humans (at least in my mind). Alas, the world may never know (just like with that tootsie roll pop question. Did anyone actually like those?)

I remain perplexed and not undisgruntled (bet you didn't know English could prefix-stack like that. Mine can). Thanks for sticking it through to the end. I wish I could give you a scooby snack. Or give me those hours of the day back.

pirateolantern!

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Been a gorgeous day, although I have to admit we're currently back being lazy in the hotel room yet again. Started out the day by trying to go to Zaftig's for brunch (one of my favorites) in Brookline. The hour and twenty minute wait, however, proved prohibitive, so we ended up at the Coolidge Corner Club, which wasn't too shabby from brunching.

I showed Patrick around: Newbury Street (and Newbury Comics), Copley, the Prudential, a couple of bars during the football games, a bit of shopping, etc. Normal stuff. It was very relaxing and a nice change of pace from the touristy stuff we did yesterday like the waterfront, Boston Common, etc. That stuff was a lot of fun, but today was just more low key. Perfect for a Sunday.

Here are some pictures:



( A few more... )

Tonight we're meeting up with notclever908 for dinner. Haven't seen her since she came to visit us in DC. We're going to Taranta in the North End for dinner.

Then tomorrow we had back to DC. And I have a ten page paper I need to write, heh. I'll focus on the good things with today.

http://bearshapedsphere.blogspot.com/2009/11/de-compras-con-las-chauchas-coin-fueled.html

Sunday. Day of relaxation, of rest, of work (what? just me?), of move it or lose it re: feria visits. My best closest fresh market is on Sundays, down in Barrio Yungay. For a list of the ferias in the city by comuna (district/neighborhood), don't miss this handy website put out by the Chilean Ministry of Agriculture. Unlike estoeschile, they don't even have an English translation, so you won't waste a bunch of your time clutching your sides at the slips of word. Seriously, this is so. unbelievably. helpful. You always see the freshmarket in passing, on a day when you just can't stop, don't have time, etc. Now on any given day if I've got a little freshies-hankering, I can figure out where to go to get my fix.

So today is Sunday, and my feria, which I've just learned is called Esperanza, which means hope (but is also the name of the street it runs on) was on. And so off I went, canvas bags on handlebars, to go get some grub.

I like to play a little game I like to call chauchitas. Chaucha is a Chilean (and other Spanish) word for coins that appeared to be silver but in fact where nickel. In Chile we use it to mean coins in general. If you take out a handful of change, people will say "Andas con puras chauchitas!" which means something of the equivalent of, dumped out your piggy bank today? And I respond, "y, que tiene?" which means something like "And your point is?" The goal today was to bring my pocket full of chauchitas to the feria, and leave heavily laden with goods.

Lucky for me, we have some very valuable coins in Chile (500 peso coins are worth almost a dollar), and I have a little wooden jar (is that possible?) that I keep them in. I left the house with 3,770 ($7.10 by today's rates, thank you currency converter. And I went a-hunting.

And here's the spoils, minus a bag of "ensalada de penca" which sounds hiliarious in Chilean Spanish because penca means kind of boring or sucky. But penca is also a leggy thistle plant which people strip the outer part of and chop up and serve with lemon. It's delicious, and tastes somewhere between artichoke stems and celery, but I forgot to put it in the pic, and it just looks like a chopped up bag of green stems anyway.

Behold!



Here's the haul:

stirfry mix, 1,000 pesos $1.88 (a little overpriced, but saves much chopping)
strawberries, 1 kilo 600 pesos $1.13
asparagus, .5 kilo 350 pesos $.66
lemons 1 kilo 150 pesos $.28
fava beans 1 bag, 500 pesos $.94
penca 1 bag, 200 pesos $.38
peas, .5 kilo, 350 pesos $.66
cherimoya 1, 600 pesos $1.13

total: 3750 (20 pesos remaining!) or just over US $7.00. That's enough for about 1.3 downtown lunchtime specials, or 3 cortados (tiny little lattés) at a reasonably-priced café, or almost 9 trips on the metro.

Or you could also buy 63% of one of these crazily overpriced out-of-season melons I spied at the supermarket the other day.



Just a reminder to a) buy locally b) purchase what's in season and c) support your local small businesses.

The cherimoya was really the whole reason I went to the feria to begin with. This custardy starchy fruit is one of the harbingers of spring, and like nísperos (loquats), they're something you can only get in season, and to me aren't worth eating in any form other than fresh. Yesterday I saw two different people eating cherimoya, and my antojo (craving) was born. And the guy who sold it to me called me lola which means "young thing" more or less. It also is the name of Emily's dog, but I have to trust that this casero (feria guy) doesn't know that, and that we don't look that much alike. People claim the etymology is related to Nabakov's Lolita. Can anyone substantiate? Margaret perhaps?



And I'm nearing 40, which this photo can substantiate. Young? Sure, why not? Pass the fruit and veggies, and the complimentary (if untrue) piropos. Enjoy!