Girl Detective

Over the weekend I went with friends to The Glass Menagerie at the Guthrie Theater. While reviews have been good, my friends thought it was terrible. I’m not familiar with the play (more on that below), but it had some of the hallmarks that made me stop going to the Guthrie a while back–it felt homogenized, and overfull of sitcom-ish laughs. The Guthrie production was most effective in its use of one character at two ages, played by two actors, the elder of which is the narrator. These scenes were poignant. My friends liked the set, a small box of an apartment surrounded by dirty and decayed-looking scaffolds and cheap neon signs. I, on the other hand, longed for a more abstract set. I don’t go to a play for realism; if I want that I see a film.

As for the new theater itself, the views from the lobby are spectacular, but I don’t like that the lobby is not on the ground floor. This is counterintuitive, and makes “meet me in the lobby” ambiguous. I found the red interior of the proscenium stage a little too reminiscent of Target.

Embarrassing admission: When my friend told me we were seeing The Glass Menagerie, I thought I’d seen a television production before. I was mistaken–what I’d seen was A Doll’s House by Ibsen. I’d neither seen nor read anything by Williams before–yet another gap in my so-called liberal arts education that I’ll address on my own. So take my opinions for what they’re worth–I’m hardly part of the theater cognoscenti.

“Sexyback”’s lyrics begin

I’m bringin’ sexy back
Them other boys they don’t know how to act

The first time I heard it, I thought it was “The motherboys”.

I wonder if Justin was an Arrested Development fan?

Since I’m admitting embarrassing things, I might as well admit that I borrowed the new Justin Timberlake CD, FutureSex/LoveSounds, from the libary, based on a rave review I read somewhere. To my surprise, I liked it. Really liked it, in fact. The album in general (and the track SexyBack in particular) is catchy, and reminded me (in a good way) of listening to pre-weird Michael Jackson’s Thriller, oh-so many years ago.

The recent death of Sidney Sheldon coincided with an online column and lengthy comment section at Entertainment Weekly on surreptitious reading–what books did people read as teenagers and hide from their parents, because the books were about sex, profanity, rebellion, violence, etc?

I was a precocious reader. My parents didn’t forbid me from reading anything, but I tried to hide some of the racier ones. (Interestingly, they forbade my sisters and me from watching Three’s Company, Charlie’s Angels, Love Boat, and Fantasy Island, so TV was censored more than books. Yet I remember watching all those shows many times, and I couldn’t have spent THAT many nights at friends’ houses.)

A list of forbidden books is the antithesis of the more usually found top ten lists, like those recently compiled in The Top Ten by J. Peder Zanes. Forbidden books were usually selected more for their racy content than for their literary merit; very few of the forbidden books I read as a teenager have survived in my library.

Here, in all their embarrassing glory, are some of the books and authors I read when I was a teenager. I couldn’t contain myself to ten, even when I collapsed a few authors and categories.

1. Flowers in the Attic, V.C. Andrews’s cult classic. I don’t even want to know how far I got in that series.

2. Judy Blume: The progression for me was Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret, Then Again Maybe I Won’t, Forever, and Wifey.

3. Horror Books: The Amityville Horror (couldn’t sleep for weeks), The Omen, anything by Stephen King. These books often had sex AND scary stuff, so there was plenty of stuff that parents would disapprove of.

4. The Crystal Cave and The Hollow Hills by Mary Stewart. Merlin! Magic! Naughty bits! But, oh, the later books were pretty bad.

5. Restoree, Dragonflight (and far too many of its sequels), Get off the Unicorn, by Anne McCaffrey, who had some non-explicit racy bits mixed into her fantasy stories and novels.

6. Chances and Hollywood Wives by Jackie Collins

7. Rage of Angels, Bloodline, If Tomorrow Comes, and Master of the Game by Sidney Sheldon

8. The Promise by Danielle Steele, strangely, a novelization of someone else’s screenplay. I remember a stirring love story, yet when I re-read it as an adult I was horrified by how badly written it was.

9. Bodice rippers: Whitney, My Love by Judith McNaught, A Rose in Winter by Kathleen Woodiwiss, and the Steve and Ginny books by Rosemary Rogers.

Years later, my younger sister pointed out that most of McNaught’s books have a rape scene; I hadn’t noticed or been bothered by them when I was younger–yikes.

I loved most of the books by Woodiwiss, but this Beauty and the Beast homage was one I read again and again.

Even when I was reading them, I found the Steve and Ginny books by Rogers to be kind of disturbing. Steve cheated on her all the time, yet she only cheated on him when she had amnesia or was being tortured, then he’d be horrible to her after she got rescued. And I don’t recall what he went through, but she was a captive army prostitute, a harem girl, an opium addict, so I definitely think she got the worst of it. A most embarrassing moment: I was reading one of the Rogers books while waiting to go on a school trip. The teacher commented, “Oh, you have such a look of intensity on your face while you read!” Given the racy cover of the book, and the very racy scene I’d just read, I was mortified.

I always wondered–why was the man always 33, and the woman always 18? That was a hard age difference for me to buy when I was young, yet I suppose it was mostly that a man would have to be significantly older to have achieved the kind of financial success necessary for a romance hero.

10. It looked like a bodice ripper, but it had more substance to it: Amanda/Miranda by Richard Peck. I had to tear off the cover, because I got tired of being teased about it. It was a romance, a mystery, and about the Titanic! It was a girly dream come true.

11. Lace by Shirley Conran, The Debutantes by June Flaum Singer (these were pretty much the same book) Lace had a very naughty part involving a goldfish.

12. Scruples, Princess Daisy, and probably my favorite of them all, Mistral’s Daughter by Judith Krantz

At our lovely dinner last weekend, my husband G. Grod and I opted for the 5-course, rather than the 7-course tasting menu. The cheese entry in the 7-course menu featured Brillat-Savarin cheese. Earlier that day, I’d intercepted R., the cheese man at our grocery cooperative, as he put out freshly cut wedges of Brillat Savarin. I bought some medjool dates to go with the cheese, so thought the extra course at the restaurant would be redundant. Yes, I may spend too much on cheese. But it’s really good cheese.

To celebrate both our birthdays and his recent bonus, my husband G. Grod made surprise plans for a babysitter and dinner out at La Belle Vie. Earlier that day, we took baby Guppy to the doctor. He’d had a cold, then spiked a fever, so we feared an ear infection. The doctor allayed our fears and said it was just a virus. We also worried about the impending winter storm, but decided to venture forth in spite of it all.

It was well worth it. We chose the five course tasting menu, and supplemented with
the foie gras first course and an additional dessert. La Belle Vie has food that is both delicious and well-presented. Each dish has numerous ingredients, yet none are superfluous, and all are complementary. From the amuse bouche of tuna tartare, to the post-check plate of petit-fours, everything was exquisite. The foie gras, with its caramelized exterior and melting interior, nearly brought tears to our eyes. That was G. Grod’s favorite, but I couldn’t decide between the Moroccan spices of the quail and the perfectly done char. It was a stunning meal, and its memory lingers long into the mundane reality of this week.

Truffle-Poached Florida Pink Shrimp with Tangerine Reduction
Sautéed Arctic Char with Razor Clams, Salt-Cod Stuffed Squid Ink Ravioli and Bibb Lettuce
Caramelized Foie Gras with Porcini Mushrooms, Sweet Potato-Chestnut Gnocchi, and Marsala
Pan Roasted Quail with Carrot Fondant and Moroccan Spices
Roasted Lamb Ribeye with Black Trumpet Mushrooms, Salsify and Red Wine
Lemon-Scented Financier With Blood Orange Curd, Mascarpone Sorbet and Candied Kumquats
Chocolate Custard Cake with Coconut Sorbet and Sweet Curry Foam

With the rise of Netflix and the fast, inexpensive availability of DVDs, why do I go to the movies, especially now that I have two kids, and going with my husband involves paying a sitter?

I go because I like the experience (even when I don’t; more on that below) and because some movies are better in the theater. I saw Branagh’s Henry V at least four times in the theater (a really good one, too) and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it became one of my favorite films.

I recall reading (but can’t find a link after much searching) that the brain processes films and DVDs differently. Films are a string of images, and even though the break between frames happens so fast it’s impossible to see, our brain still experiences it and actively provides closure between frames. DVDs, though, are a steady stream of digital images, and the brain receives these passively.

From his review of Star Wars: Episode II, Roger Ebert has this to say about the difference between film and digital images:

Digital images contain less information than 35mm film images, and the more you test their limits, the more you see that. Two weeks ago I saw “Patton” shown in 70mm Dimension 150, and it was the most astonishing projection I had ever seen–absolute detail on a giant screen, which was 6,000 times larger than a frame of the 70mm film. That’s what large-format film can do, but it’s a standard Hollywood has abandoned (except for IMAX), and we are being asked to forget how good screen images can look–to accept the compromises. I am sure I will hear from countless fans who assure me that “Episode II” looks terrific, but it does not. At least, what I saw did not. It may look great in digital projection on multiplex-size screens, and I’m sure it will look great on DVD, but on a big screen it lacks the authority it needs.

That’s why I went to see Lawrence of Arabia last year when it was showing in a nearby revival. It was not meant to be seen on my television; it was meant to be seen on a big screen. It was a spectacle, and as such, it was spectacular.

There are films that are better at home. Comedy DVDs, with their extras, are especially fun. My husband and I watched Talladega Nights last week, and got several nights of enjoyment out of a friend’s DVD. Character-driven films, and films that were shot digitally, also benefit from small-screen viewings.

It’s not only the image that draws me to theaters for films. It’s the holistic experience. I know what the arguments are against theater going; I don’t disagree with most of them: dirty theaters and restrooms, overpriced and poor quality concessions, skyrocketing ticket prices, and, oh, the humanity–cell phones, conversations, small children in adult movies. Yes, these are hazards, and not uncommon ones.

One of my most disappointing experiences in recent years was going to see the movie Adaptation at The Lagoon theater. Tickets were $8 each, even though the movie was in the early afternoon (there had been a morning show). A 16-oz. bottle of water cost $3 (I’d purchased a 6-pack of 24-oz. bottles at Target the day before for $1.99). We paid for parking, and then I didn’t like the movie and the people behind us talked the whole time. I haven’t been back to the Lagoon since. Instead, I adjusted my movie practices and have had much better experiences, with only occasional annoyances ever since. Going to the movies has become an event, and an oasis of time to myself. I make the effort to minimize these potential pitfalls.

Dirt: if I go to older theaters, I bring anti-bacterial wipes and tissues. I seek out new stadium theaters that have not yet acquired the sticky patina of pop on the floor. The newer restrooms have hallway entrances, not doors, and automated soap, water, and flushing, so there are fewer contact surfaces.

Overpriced concessions: Theaters make their money here, not on tickets. I think it’s bad manners to bring stuff from home. But there are usually some lower-priced combos. I always buy the smallest size because it’s more than enough and it is cheaper, if not by much. I also seek out theaters that have good concessions. Three Twin Cities theaters with good popcorn and real butter are The Heights, The Riverview, and the GTI Roseville 4.

High ticket prices: I try to go to the cheapest show of the day, which is often the twilight show (about 4 to 6 p.m.), NOT the matinees. Don’t buy tickets online or on a credit card if you’re carrying a balance; the additional charges add up. Also, check out discount theaters. Paying $2 a ticket is a bargain, but there are hidden costs. I’ve found the crowds at discount theaters are less polite, and the last film I saw at one was out of focus.

Rude and stupid people: There’s no way to avoid them fully. Going to nicer, newer theaters and seeing non-blockbuster movies will reduce their incidence. While some people WILL bring children to adult movies (there were a few last week when my husband and I saw The Departed. I’m all for early education, but Scorsese is a bit much for the under-six crowd), I try to stem the tide of judgment and wonder if they can’t find childcare or can’t afford it. Finally, my best advice for avoiding talkers and other pests is to take the path of MOST resistance in the theater. If the door is on the left side, I cross over and sit on the right side. I don’t sit in the middle. I sit against the wall rather than on the aisle. If the person behind me talks, I move, since shushing them often doesn’t work.

Leaving the comfort of my home means taking some chances, and possibly spending more to do so. For me, seeing a movie is such an enjoyable event I think it’s worth the risk.

Tivo is perfect for watching the Oscars. We started late, forwarded through all the commercials and boring awards and speeches, and only got to real time at the end.

Fashion, good: Kate Winslet’s dress’s old-time glamour, though the shade was a bit too pale. Cate Blanchett’s dress flattered and dazzled. Helen Mirren seems to own the definition of “age-appropriate”. The color of Jessical Biel’s dress looked good in general and on her.

Fashion, not so good: Nicole K’s red dress looked like she had a giant red mushroom on her shoulder, and only served to accentuate how ghostly pale and weirdly non-human she looks. She’s done too much to her face; it doesn’t seem to move. Her hair color is too pale, and too straight. The skirt of Reese Witherspoon’s boring-black dress was distracting, though the shape was flattering. And she’s gotten too thin for her chin; it’s going to take over the world. J. Lo’s jeweled bodice was also distracting, and the dress wasn’t flattering to boot. Plus where’s the color, people? Bleige is not flattering or interesting. Kirsten Dunst’s dress had a collar at the top, and feathers at the bottom. And what was that shove she gave Toby when they presented? Play nice, kids. Clive Owen’s weird collar and blue suit did not enchant.

Ellen did a good job as host, though her her last pair of pants were not flattering. The extra ceremony stuff was pretty good, though I found Michael Mann’s America montage a little bizarre. And oh, yeah, the movies that won awards were pretty good. I didn’t feel there were any egregious mistakes. For the record, though, I think Children of Men deserved better attention.

For more gossip, visit Perez Hilton and Go Fug Yourself.

#7 in my 2007 movie challenge was Amores Perros, directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu, an Oscar nominee tonight for Best Director. I’d heard AP was good but violent, and that held true for both people and animals. The movie told three interwoven stories that centered around love, also for both animals and people. Love for animals proved more simple, though not less wrenching.

#6 in my 2007 movie challenge was Children of Men. Using sparing detail, director Cuarón effectively evokes a near-future dystopia in which humans can no longer reproduce. Clive Owen looks handsome and haunted as the reluctant hero, drawn into danger by his ex-wife, Julianne Moore. The colors are dark and somber, and the long film shots are mesmerizing to watch. I think this competes with some of the Best Picture nominees. It is well worth seeing both for its look and the story, which is told simply and well.

#6 in my 2007 book challenge was The Easy Way Out by Stephen McCauley, recommended by a member of my writing group. Though the plot meanders, it has outstanding characters, sharp writing, and some very funny, believable and poignant insights on relationships. Patrick, the main character, can’t seem to dump his boyfriend. One of Patrick’s brothers is engaged, but seeing another woman. The other brother is separated from his wife and living in their parents basement. Published in 1994, some of the material is dated, such as the perception of the threat of AIDS, and the details of the travel industry. Yet the travel details are so hilarious that they inspire nostalgia rather than disdain. (Remember using travel agents to book flights? Remember meeting people as they got off planes?) Sharon, the main character’s best friend and co-worker at a travel agency, takes great pleasure in subverting the travel system, among other things. She is one of the best and funniest characters I have read in a long time.

The planet Mercury has turned retrograde. According to astrologers, this is not a good time to start new projects or books. If you’re found new books slow going, give old favorites a try until March 8, when Mercury turns direct again.

I was born on an Ash Wednesday, which I know because my mother tells me her father came to the hospital to see us, and he had ashes on his forehead. A few years ago, it suddenly occurred to me to wonder why Ash Wednesday was the kickoff for Lent. Lent coincided with the 40 days in the wildnerness, the palms of the future Sunday have their precedent, yet I could not recall a specific about the ashes, even though I attended church most of my life and studied religion at college and in graduate school.

Of course, as I went to research this post, I could not find links that confirm what I found before. There are several links about Catholicism, all of which say similar things–the use of ashes dates from the Old Testament, or Hebrew Bible, but its origins before that are murky. Ashes are a sign of repentance, humility, and mortality, all three of which figure prominently as themes of Lent. There is no specific text in the Bible that calls for ashes to be used on the eve of Lent; ashes were an adaptation to Lent as of about the 8th century CE.

The connection I recall, but cannot find, is between Ash Wednesday and the scapegoat. On Yom Kippur, two goats were set out. One was sacrificed to God, the other heard the people’s sins and was sent out into the wilderness as atonement for them. While Jesus’s 40 days in the wilderness is parallel to the goat that was sent off, the ashes are perhaps a physical reminder of the goat that was sacrificed.

In any case, the connections are murky and interesting, and have no clear antecedents in either the Hebrew Bible or New Testament. The image of the ashes on the forehead is a powerful one, and one that many people seek even when they forego church at other times. But it is not clearly grounded in early Christian tradition like most assume it to be.

For my husband’s recent birthday, I made a hot fudge pudding cake. We had friends bring over dinner, and afterward I dished up the cake with vanilla ice cream and gave small portions to each of the children, who are 3, 2, and 1 years old. I thought they would appreciate the treat, while we parents would appreciate that they hadn’t ingested a great deal of sugar and chocolate. Instead, we found ourselves on the receiving end of accusatory gazes, and demands for “More cake! More!” None of the three were able to be placated, and all were disgruntled about what they perceived as unfair cake distribution. Here is the recipe, which was easy to make, and turned out so well that it nearly caused a toddler riot. You have been warned.

Hot Fudge Pudding Cake
from Cook’s Country 2/2007

Do not overbake this cake or the pudding sauce will burn in the pan and the cake will be dry, not fudgy. Store leftovers, covered with plastic, in the refrigerator. Reheat individual servings in a microwave on high power until hot (about 1 minute).

Serves 6 to 8
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup Dutch-processed cocoa powder
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup milk
4 tablespoons unsalted butter (1/2 stick), melted
1 large egg yolk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/2 cup semisweet chocolate chips
1 cup boiling water
Whipped cream or vanilla ice cream

1. Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 350 degrees. Spray 8-inch square glass or metal cake pan with cooking spray. Whisk 1/2 cup sugar with 1/4 cup cocoa in small bowl.

2. Whisk flour, remaining 1/2 cup sugar, remaining 1/4 cup cocoa, baking powder, and salt in large bowl. Whisk milk, butter, egg yolk, and vanilla in medium bowl until smooth. Stir milk mixture into flour mixture until just combined. Fold in chocolate chips (batter will be stiff).

3. Using rubber spatula, scrape batter into prepared pan and spread into corners. Sprinkle reserved cocoa mixture evenly over top. Gently pour boiling water over cocoa. Do not stir.

4. Bake until top of cake looks cracked, sauce is bubbling, and toothpick inserted into cakey area comes out with moist crumbs attached (see photos), about 25 minutes. Cool on rack for at least 10 minutes. To serve, scoop warm cake into individual serving bowls and top with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.

Baby Cakes: Put a fancy spin on this homey recipe by baking up individual pudding cakes. Spray eight 6-ounce ovenproof ramekins or coffee cups with cooking spray. Fill each with 2 tablespoons batter. Top each with 1 1/2 tablespoons cocoa mixture, followed by 2 tablespoons boiling water. Arrange cups on rimmed baking sheet and bake until tops are just cracked, 20 to 25 minutes.

I made yellow cupcakes with vanilla frosting for Guppy’s recent birthday, and dark chocolate cupcakes with the leftover frosting for Valentine’s Day. These cupcake recipes are easy, better than a box, and enjoyed by both kids and adults.

I can’t recommend Cook’s Illustrated and Cook’s Country too highly, or too often. They are tremendous informational resources with reliable recipes. I’m a self-taught cook, and much of what I’ve learned is from both magazines and the companion television show, America’s Test Kitchen.

Yellow Cupcakes
from Cook’s Illustrated 1/2003

These cupcakes are best eaten the day they are made, but unfrosted extras will keep in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days. To double the recipe, use 3 whole eggs and 2 yolks, and double the remaining ingredients.

Makes 12 cupcakes

1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (7 1/2 ounces)
1 cup granulated sugar (7 ounces)
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon table salt
8 tablespoons unsalted butter (1 stick), room temperature
1/2 cup sour cream
1 large egg , room temperature
2 large egg yolks , room temperature
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1. Adjust oven rack to middle position; heat oven to 350 degrees. Line standard muffin/cupcake tin with paper or foil liners.

2. Whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in bowl of standing mixer fitted with paddle attachment. Add butter, sour cream, egg and egg yolks, and vanilla; beat at medium speed until smooth and satiny, about 30 seconds. Scrape down sides of bowl with rubber spatula and mix by hand until smooth and no flour pockets remain.

3. Divide batter evenly among cups of prepared tin using 2-ounce ice cream scoop or heaping tablespoon. Bake until cupcake tops are pale gold and toothpick or skewer inserted into center comes out clean, 20 to 24 minutes. Use skewer or paring knife to lift cupcakes from tin and transfer to wire rack; cool cupcakes to room temperature, about 45 minutes.

Dark Chocolate Cupcakes
from Cook’s Illustrated 3/2005

This recipe does not double very well. Cupcakes made from a doubled batch and baked side by side in the oven yield a slightly compromised rise. It’s best to make two separate batches and bake each separately. Store leftover cupcakes (frosted or unfrosted) in the refirgerator, but let them come to room temperature before serving.

Makes 12 cupcakes
8 tablespoons unsalted butter , cut into 4 pieces
2 ounces bittersweet chocolate , chopped
1/2 cup Dutch-processed cocoa (1 1/2 ounces)
3/4 cup unbleached all-purpose flour (3 3/4 ounces)
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
2 large eggs
3/4 cup sugar (5 1/4 ounces)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon table salt
1/2 cup sour cream (4 ounces)

1. Adjust oven rack to lower-middle position; heat oven to 350 degrees. Line standard-sized muffin pan (cups have 1/2-cup capacity) with baking-cup liners.

2. Combine butter, chocolate, and cocoa in medium heatproof bowl. Set bowl over saucepan containing barely simmering water; heat mixture until butter and chocolate are melted and whisk until smooth and combined. Set aside to cool until just warm to the touch.

3. Whisk flour, baking soda, and baking powder in small bowl to combine.

4. Whisk eggs in second medium bowl to combine; add sugar, vanilla, and salt and whisk until fully incorporated. Add cooled chocolate mixture and whisk until combined. Sift about one-third of flour mixture over chocolate mixture and whisk until combined; whisk in sour cream until combined, then sift remaining flour mixture over and whisk until batter is homogenous and thick.

5. Divide batter evenly among muffin pan cups. Bake until skewer inserted into center of cupcakes comes out clean, 18 to 20 minutes.

6. Cool cupcakes in muffin pan on wire rack until cool enough to handle, about 15 minutes. Carefully lift each cupcake from muffin pan and set on wire rack. Cool to room temperature before icing, about 30 minutes. (To frost: Mound about 2 tablespoons icing on center of each cupcake. Using small icing spatula or butter knife, spread icing to edge of cupcake, leaving slight mound in center.)

Quick Vanilla Frosting
from Cook’s Country 4/2005
Cook’s Country
If the frosting gets too soft while you ice the cupcakes, put the frosting back in the fridge for about 10 minutes.

Makes about 4 cups, enough for 24 cupcakes
3/4 pound unsalted butter (3 sticks), at room temperature
3 cups confectioners’ sugar
2 tablespoons milk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/8 teaspoon table salt

Using electric mixer, beat butter in large bowl until fluffy, about 30 seconds. With mixer on low speed, add sugar, 1 cup at a time, and mix to combine. Increase speed to high and beat until pale and fluffy, about 1 minute. Reduce speed to medium-low and add milk, vanilla, and salt. Increase speed to high and beat until fluffy, 30 more seconds.

I’ve noticed, and I’m not sure I’m happy about, my recent entries being more focused on parenthood. I don’t want this to be a mommy blog. I want it to be a testament that it’s possible to be a mom and to keep learning. That’s what my writing, book and movie goals are for. Yet the mommy stuff what I’m living most immediately on a day-to-day basis. I’m trying hard to find the humor and joy in the experience.

Earlier this month, my psychiatrist confirmed what had begun to suspect: my depression is worse, not better. The heartening news is that I’ve got a good group of healthcare people helping me, and a good circle of friends and family. The not-so-good, though unsurprising, news, is that depression sucks. This is not a pull-myself-up, cheer-up, look-on-the-bright-side kinda thing. Rather, this is being tired and angry, lacking focus, taking forever to complete simple tasks, and forgetting things. It’s having a bad day, every day. It’s like moving through mental, physical, and emotional sludge. It’s getting side effects from the medication without getting the benefits.

For distraction, I visit gossip site Perez Hilton. Like other readers, I was horrified when I saw that Britney Spears had shaved her head. Crazy and nuts were two adjectives that leapt to mind. Soon, though, I recalled how only a few months ago I thought about shaving my head. It was just as baby Guppy started hair pulling in earnest. My husband G. Grod talked me out of it; he said it was rude, as people would think I had cancer. I also probably wouldn’t have gone through with it out of vanity. My hair is pretty much my go-to, feel-good-about-myself asset.

It didn’t take me long to wonder whether Britney and her hard-partying, wacky behavior isn’t just a 25-year-old with too much money, not enough sane support, and a whopping case of post-partum depression. Like so much that has come to me with motherhood, I yet again realize that I can identify and empathize, but I sure as heck can’t judge. This is me, eating humble pie, again.

Every week, my husband G. Grod rues the day I befriended the cheese guy at our grocery cooperative. Because every week, I bring home new and different snacking cheeses, and every week G. Grod reminds me that normal people don’t spend close to $20 a week on cheese.

In my defense, the total cheese bill is not only for the snacking, or recreational, cheeses, but also for sandwich and dinner-ingredient cheeses. Also in my defense is that G. Grod, Drake, and I all enjoy the cheeses, so it’s not like I’m cheesing alone. And now that Guppy is a year old, he’s trying the cheeses, too.

I believe there are lots of things in defense of the $20 weekly cheese bill: demand for a variety of cheese produces a supply of varied cheese; money goes to a local, member-owned grocery cooperative; it’s gotta be better for us than Easy Cheese, right? (more, from Wired); many of the cheeses are from local farmers, so we’re supporting local agriculture. Trust me, I can go on from here. I have many failings, but rationalization isn’t one of them.

A recent week’s selection included a goat havarti from Natural Valley in Wisconsin; a cranberry and black walnut sharp cheddar from Prairie Hollow Farm in Dover, MN; and Big Woods Blue, from Shepherd’s Way Farms. Some past favorites have been Bucherone, a soft, brie-like goat cheese that turned up on the cheese plate at a recent dinner out; Mobay, a lovely looking sheep and goat milk combo; and Pleasant Ridge Reserve from Uplands Cheese Company.

While my cheese purchasing has yet to make our life unmanageable, there are some signs I may need to rein things in. I’ve already mentioned G. Grod’s weekly complaints. The other week as I approached the cheese case, R. the cheese man said, “I have something for you,” and disappeared into the back. He came back brandishing a cheese slicer. “I got an extra one of these from one of our suppliers,” R. said. “I figured if anyone deserved it, you did.”

I could feel guilty for buying too much cheese. Instead, I’ve used the slicer in good health and taught Drake how to use it, too.

I was researching an upcoming post on cheese, when I found the disturbing news that one of my favorite local cheese makers, Shepherd’s Way Farms, recently experienced a pair of suspicious fires, and hundreds of their sheep died.

There’s information about a relief fund on their site, but you can also support them by going out and buying their cheese. Our family enjoys both the Shepherd’s Way Friesago and Big Woods Blue. According to their website, you can find their cheeses “at most Minneapolis/St. Paul natural food stores and co-ops, Bylerly’s and Lund’s, and at specialty cheeses shops. You can also find our cheeses nationally at select stores and restaurants in California, Chicago, Washington, D.C. area, Iowa, and the Boston area.”

Both my husband G. Grod and my friend Blogenheimer sent me this link (via Boing Boing, I think) for The Cupcake Courier. While I love cupcakes, I find this a bit much. I made vanilla cupcakes for Guppy’s birthday. Unlike any other child I know, he started with the cake (not the frosting), and ate the entire thing with minimal mess. Then I used the extra frosting on top of dark chocolate cupcakes for a Valentine’s day party. I found my 13×9 Pyrex with lid was fine for holding and transporting eleven cupcakes. (G. Grod and I split one to make sure they were good enough for the party. They were.)

Recipes to come. It’s a non-napping day for the kids.

Bad news courtesy of Neil Gaiman: Dreamhaven Books, the independently owned book/comic/ephemera shop in Minneapolis, was burgled and trashed last weekend. Visit their site, buy a book and help them out.

My husband G. Grod has enjoyed these books lately:

The Android’s Dream by John Scalzi

Dzur by Steven Brust