Beautiful Shoes -

The Washington Post published a story (free subscription required) in their Health section with gruesome illustrations of what happens to your feet and your spine when you wear high heels. I hate stories like this, because they force knowledge upon me so that I am torn between doing what I know is good for me and doing what make me happy. And I love high heels. I could write an ode to them (and may, in fact, commission AinA to write one, as she is such the poet). They make me taller. They make me look elegant. As I walk, they click on the floor in an authoritative manner. They take a dress from everyday to dressed-up. What else can I say: my love of high heels exceeds my good sense.

Just so you know that I'm still alive

It doesn't feel like anything noteworthy has happened to me lately. But I know that if you all continue to check my blog and see the same old post, you'll soon point your browsers in other directions.

We went to a lovely Cinco de Mayo party on Saturday. I've never been to one, but the folks that hosted it love to cook, and do it well, so there was a feast. Sangria and margaritas and enchiladas with salsa verde. I couldn't eat the turkey with mole, but I am once again tempted to try making it, just for the challenge. They reported that it took about three and a half hours to make the mole. It sounds like something you do once, just so you can say that you've done it. Sort of like croquembouche. (And de-I knows that well.)

Yesterday was one of those days that we all have occasionally, where you question why you have chosen the job that you do, and whether you could get paid more for less pain for doing, well, anything else. Street sweeping, for example. But it passed, and today was better. I spent almost seven hours writing six problems for my students to work on. This is so low on the efficiency scale that it almost falls off, but since it was my first time writing problems I assume I'll improve with practice. Either that or I'll be looking for that other job sooner than I expected.

We watched Fiddler on the Roof last night. I've seen it performed live, but never caught the movie until now. It's really very good, as far as film productions of musical go, and I cried buckets.

Must go now - making borscht for dinner, in honor of Tevye and his family.

Tree Liberation Front

Last night after dinner, my parents and I liberated trees. I live next door to a bank, and when the bank was built, they planted a bunch of trees, carefully supporting each baby tree with wires and stakes. Then they never went near them again.

As babies grow, so did these trees, and now they are quite big. The wires, even shielded by rubber hose, have cut into their tender trunks. In addition, the single old, mighty tree on the property is covered in vines to a height of about 25 feet. It's not looking good for these trees. I've often said that I'd like to rescue them, though I was worried that the bank would be upset by my trespassing. But my father just grabbed some pruners, and he and Andrew cut through as many of the vines as they could without destroying the bark. Then he removed all the wires from younger trees. I hope that we've saved them. One died last week when a fierce wind toppled it, breaking it right where the wire had sufficiently weakened the trunk.

For the love of all that is good, people, think of the humanity, um, arborosity.

The promised details

Regarding moving: Andrew and I are moving in together, so at least one of us would have needed to move. We both love my place, but at $1200 plus utilities, this puts it at a bit over fifty percent of our combined monthly incomes, which is a scary place to be. I figured that by getting a one bedroom instead of a two bedroom apartment, we could save money. But this place will be even cheaper than we expected (a huge selling point). Our list of pros and cons were both long, but the pros were definitely longer. The landlord (living below) smokes like a chimney - con. It's in my current neighborhood, where you can walk to dozens of shops and there's decent public transportation - pro. It's tiny - con. But there's loads of storage - pro. I'm allowed to put in a garden - pro. It's decorated in 1960's dark wood paneling and fake brick - figure that one out yourself.

We're moving in late July, so that means there's still a long time to wait before we discover if we chose well or not. But we've chosen, and (except at 4am when I can't sleep and all the world is a scary place) I think we've chosen well. And, for goodness sakes, it's only an apartment.

Regarding the rolls: First off, I don't even know what they're called. Some recipes call them "Vietnamese Fresh Spring Rolls," some "Summer Rolls," some "Salad Rolls." But here's how you make them.

1. Get thee to an Asian grocery, and buy rice vermicelli and rice paper rounds.
2. Cook the rice vermicelli about 5-8 minutes, until done, and then drain and rinse with cold water.
3. Slice into matchsticks or thin slices the flavoring ingredients. Vegetables should be raw, but meat cooked and cooled. I used red pepper, lots of fresh basil, and fried tofu, but other recipes call for bean sprouts, lettuce, carrots, cilantro, mint, shrimp, or pork.
4. Soak each paper round in warm water for about 30 seconds just until soft. Lay it on the plate, fill with a handful of cooked noodles and a few of each of your flavorings, and then roll like a burrito.
5. I made a dipping sauce of peanut butter, rice vinegar, and chili sauce, but I think you could also try peanut and lime, maybe with some cilantro, with heat to taste.
6. They say that you can prepare them a few hours ahead of time, but I ate the leftovers from the meal two days later and the basil was still crunchy, although the skin tore more easily.

Here's what theylook like. Yum.

News Flash!

....The parental units are in town for one night tonight. Expect cheap but good Ethiopian food, accompanied by astoundingly bad service... Andrew and I found an apartment we like, across the street from my current digs. After literally hours of debating, we decided to take it. Further updates on the wisdom of this decision as events develop... I secretly cut my hair myself two weeks ago and the few comments I received were positive. This means that either my current haircut is pretty foolproof or that I have some previously undetected haircutting ability. I suspect the former... Those soft rice paper rolls you get at Vietnamese restaurants, filled with rice vermicelli and basil and a protein source and dipped in peanut sauce, are actually quite easy to make. I think they'll become a regular item on my weekday menu rotation...My friend who's going to Europe to do research for eight months was just told by her advisor that there was a misunderstanding: he didn't mean eight months, he meant three years. I'm going to miss her so much... Stay tuned for more details at 10.

Um, can you handle more cute kid photos?

My niece just celebrated her birthday. While I was unable to attend the shindig, my mother sent this photo of a very styling idea for an alternative to boring birthday cake:

Kyla is destined for stardom. Here she practices her coy look for the camera...

... and here she is, wearing shades because her future is so bright.

This and that

My work computer has been in the ER for over a week now. I miss it terribly. It seems to have had a complete nervous breakdown and, as a result, needs extensive therapy and medication. The tech support guy is not yet ready to release it, although I go and visit my computer every day to let it know that someone cares. In the meantime, I'm sort of on pins and needles. I backed up everything a few weeks ago, when the computer was acting a little funny and my little scan disk and defrag routine didn't seem to make it feel any better. But until I get it back, I won't know quite how much I've lost. For example, I back up my grade sheet every few weeks, but not every single time I enter a score. So have I lost some of my students' grades, or not? And if I have, how bad will the fallout from that be?

In completely other news, this morning I was reminded once again of how clueless physicists can be. I was walking down the street towards campus, and passed a man I've often seen in the physics building, whom I assume is a professor. I smiled at him, and he smiled back, but muttered, "Trash!" angrily under his breath. I was rather taken aback, especially as I looked down at the emminently respectable black pantsuit ensemble that I was wearing today. Having reassured myself that I did not deserve that comment in any way, I turned around and looked at him. He had gone a few steps beyond me, then stooped down to pick up some garbage on the ground.