A random IM (he was away from his desk. When he came back there were a series of messages saying I was being attacked, it was horrible–no, never mind, just dust bunnies) with a co-worker lead to me thinking about short short stories.

Which I love.

As Shawn was talking about short stories just the other day, we can consider this not completely from out of nowhere. Especially since IO9 was talking about short fiction today.

My favorite short short story. (This really is an all time favorite short. Go read it! It’ll take less than a minute!)

Six word biographies.

Extremely responsible, secretly longed for spontaneity.
– Sabra Jennings

6-word science fiction stories

Machine. Unexpectedly, I’d invented a time
– Alan Moore

And from IO9: 8 Unstoppable Rules For Writing Killer Short Stories

Now I want to go write a short story.

Along the lines of the Evil Overlord list:

Things I Will Do If I Am Ever the Vampire

3. The Hero will come armed with holy water, a cross and a stake. I will come armed with a 5.56 mm assault rifle and grenades. If the Hero has to cross open ground, there is no better way to reach out and touch someone than with a sniper rifle.

Being the geek that I am, I deeply hate to admit that I do not like to read science fiction. It feels akin to saying an a Luddite or something. The strange thing is I’ve never been quite able to explain why I don’t like it, but Kate sums it up in her post on dystopian futures and science fiction.

The vast majority of SF I have read or attempted to read is terribly depressing. There are plenty of exceptions, and when I have read those books I generally have enjoyed them (Ender’s Game, Cowboy Feng’s Space Bar and Grille, the Callahan series) but the vast majority of what I come across looks like it’s going to make me even more depressed than I already am.

And I just don’t need that.

That’s not to say only SF is guilty of that. I felt off kilter for several DAYS after I finished reading Joyce Carole Oates “Blonde” because it was so terribly depressing. But I don’t read a lot of “literature” either. Possibly for the same reason.

So I suppose my question about SF now would be, what SF is out there that isn’t terribly depressing?

I loved “Ender’s Game” but felt the series went steadily downhill, and quit reading after “Xenocide.” I enjoyed Spider Robinson’s Callahan series, but that’s all but straight up comedy. (Same thing for Steven Brust’s “Cowboy Feng’s Space Bar and Grill.”) I read a book called “Becoming Human” that I very much enjoyed, as it dealt with the issues of human rights and who is and is not deserving of them. And of course I loved reading the Han Solo books by Brian Daley when I was younger–those were pretty much straight up action/adventure.

But some of the stuff my dad loved? Take “A Canticle for Lebovitz.” I couldn’t stand it. When they did the radio play when I was a teenager, I would leave the room so I wouldn’t have to hear it because I found it so depressing.

So is there SF out there that isn’t horribly depressing? And if so, how do I find it?

And not just any baking mind you, but yeasty baking.

There’s been a lot of talk around these parts about pizza. And after reading Jim‘s post about different types of pizza crust, I decided that I needed to make pizza for dinner.

As I was unable to find Jim’s recommended potato flour, I decided to delve into my new cookbook, A Passion for Baking (Christmas gift from my Aunt & Uncle) and see if it had a good recipe for pizza dough. “The World’s Best Pizza Dough” recipe caught my eye, so I decided to try it. Instead of Jim’s potato flour, it called for Semolina flour OR cornmeal, and as I HAVE cornmeal, that made it a win.

The interesting thing this recipe called for was to roll out the dough after the first rise, add the toppings, and then have a second rise. Since I use a pizza stone, I wasn’t sure how well that was going to work, so I compromised. I rolled out the dough after the second rise, and then placed it on a sheet of parchment paper, where I let the dough rise again. Then when I went to bake the pizza, I slid parchment paper and all onto the hot stone, and everything was perfect.

How did it turn out? Well, Grandmom raved about the pizza through dinner, and then came back in later and said it was the best pizza I’d made and the best she’d had. So, I’d say that’s a win.

And since I had already made a mess, while the pizza dough was on it’s first rise, I started dough fr sweet rolls. I’ve used several different recipes for sweet rolls over the year, but the one I like best makes way too many at once, and even a half recipe is ridiculous, so I decided to use the dough recipe from the The King Arthur Flour Baker’s Companion, and improvise the filling on the fly.

So we just got finished rolling out the dough (despite the long rise, the dough was still difficult to roll, and I took a couple short breaks to let the dough relax while rolling it out. (Also, if you care about such things, I adore my French rolling pin I never thought the kind of rolling pin would make a difference, but this is the best pin I’ve ever used, and makes even pie crusts a joy to make.)

Anyway, sugar/cinnamon/butter (with a dash of nutmeg) and crasins and walnuts (except on Grandmom’s portion) were spread onto the dough, then the dough was rolled and sliced, and now one pan is in the fridge to bake for breakfast tomorrow morning, and the other is in the freezer for some other morning.

Now I get to look out the window at the snow, enjoy the heat from the wood stove in the basemnt, curl up with a book, and know I’ve got breakfast for tomorrow.

How awesome a Saturday is that?

I’ve been thinking a lot food recently. OK, I’ve been reading the Omnivore’s Dilemma, which hasn’t helped, but my ruminations do predate picking up the book.

Let’s go back a bit.

I haven’t eaten red meat–or any kind of mammal–since I was 21. (That’d be 17 years for those of you counting along at home.) And I didn’t eat a lot of meat in the three years before that either, so it’s getting close to half my life I haven’t eaten mammals. I don’t eat much poultry either, and when I do buy chicken or turkey, I try to make sure it’s organic, which means not just the diet but also the living conditions under which the animals are kept.

Why? To be blunt, because I think that the food industry in the US is highly unethical and immoral. Feed lots disturb me terribly, as does the idea of cutting off the beak of a chicken and sticking it in a tiny cage for the entirety of it’s life.

But before you get your panties in a bunch thinking I care more about animals than I do humans, I am even more horrified by the working conditions of humans in slaughter houses, and the way farmers are corralled into a lose-lose situation, and the way workers at most fast food restaurants are treated. In fact I have hardly set foot in a fast food restaurant after my own food service experiences and reading Fast Food Nation, and tend to eat at restaurants that are local, or else chains that have a reputation for treating their employees well, and providing them with benefits. (If you’re not sure about a restaurant’s reputation, look for a place where the waitresses have been there for years. Employees won’t stick around for long at a place that treats them like crap.)

So, long story short, I don’t eat mammals, and I don’t patronize restaurants that treat their employees badly.

So I do try to consider the whole picture when I made these decisions about what I would and would not eat. And as Michael and I slowly make more money, I try to make more and more food choices that are organic and/or fair trade. Often I fail in this, but it seems to me my only choice is to try. And of course it’s even hard to make these choices with my grandmother living and eating with us, because her diet is restricted by her health problems and her medications (she’s on coumadin, has dairy problems, and has high blood pressure; each has it’s own dietary restrictions.) But it’s still worth the effort, because things that are important are rarely easy.

But things have in fact become easier in recent years, as organic products have expanded from co-ops to regular grocery stores. There are three grocery stores within a few miles of my house that have relatively large organic sections. And one sells a variety of organic meats and poultry in addition to the veggies and dairy etc.

Which leads me to my current quandary.

Quiet obviously, ethical food is important to me. So would it not behoove me to start eating organic and ethically raised meat, so that I can support the farmers who put in the extra work and effort to raise their animals in a more healthy and moral manner?

To further complicate matters, the reason it was easy for me to stop eating meat, is because I never cared one way or the other for it. Excluding family get togethers, and some restaurants in the early 90s, it’s never been a problem for me, and, excluding going to the Jewish Deli in Baltimore near where my grandmother lived and getting fresh corned beef (oh, I do miss Attmans; turkey pastrami just isn’t the same), I haven’t missed eating meat in the slightest.

So would a change in my diet be worth it? I simply can’t decide.

So go to Basic Instructions and be amused by this comic.

Also, more book reviews over at Random Reading.

Which Science Fiction Writer are you?
(more…)

Sorry. Nothing for you today but a book review over on the book blog.

Went to have a very belated Chinese New Year’s celebration with our friends Kim & Mike (their baby has been sick, so they wanted to err on the side of caution.) And the restaurant from which we wanted to order was (for an unknown reason) close. So we got our second choice restaurant, but Kim made Sesame Noodles, and I made the world’s best brownies, and we got to hang out, so it was all good.

Hope your Saturday has been enjoyable. Now I’m off to try and finish Thud.

logy \LOH-ghee\ adjective
: marked by sluggishness and lack of vitality : groggy

Yeah, that’s about right for the past three days…

Just one of those days.

I’m going to go eat some more double chocolate cookies and curl up with the second Repairman Jack novel.

Meanwhile, if you’re bored, you can go read some book reviews or read a book yourself. I’ve got lots of recommendations…

The only mystery in this book, is why I bothered to read it all the way through.

Yes, it’s one of my very rare bad reviews. I’m not sure that my full level of annoyance shines through, however. I mean, a couple chapters in I was telling Michael I just wanted to finish it so I could move onto something else. But I kept reading. Which I suppose is the most positive thing I can say about it.

Because I know you were dying to know, I ended up getting 16 hours of sleep between Friday evening and Saturday evening. And 9 hours of sleep last night.

Now I feel like I’ll be wound up for the rest of my natural life.

But on the bright side, I don’t have the cold Michael came down with. I have, however, washed my hands seemingly continually since he started to get sick.

Also, I hadn’t mentioned in awhile that I’ve read quite a few books recently, so there are that many reviews up. Read both good mysteries and good supernatural fantasy. Which means that I’m trying to figure out what I want to read next, while the sequels to the books I read ship from Amazon. (Damn Amazon for it’s 4-for-3 sales!)

Authors pronouncing their names.

And usually telling a quick story about the pronunciation or history of their name.

That’s the thing about depression. It sneaks up on you when you aren’t paying attention, and just when you think that everything’s hunky dory, BAM.

Okay, it’s not quite that bad, but I’ve been in a funk for the past week that I just can’t seem to shake. Worst part is I know what’s wrong, but it’s all out of my control. Which is not such a good thing for someone with OCD.

So lemme get it all out and see that gets it off my mind.

First and foremost is the recurring issue that I’m not going to bring up in a public space. Michael and I spent a lot of time discussing this issue this evening, and I’m once again back to the mantra, “it’s not me, it’s her.”

Secondly, something I haven’t much talked about, is that several older women in my life are seriously ill and or dying. Michael’s grandmother has slowly failing kidneys, and has been refusing dialysis for the past year, so it’s only a matter of time. She’s in a nursing home, and with her physical problems, doesn’t get out of bed very much.

Then my cousin’s grandmother (I actually spent a lot of time with my cousin’s grandparents when I was younger. They were a lot of fun.) suffered a series of small strokes, and is now under hospice care in a nursing home. I was sent a picture two weeks ago, and was shocked to see how thin she has become. It’s hard, because she wants to go home, but that’s is physically impossible at this point.

The just before New Year’s, my other grandmother had a series of small strokes, and is currently in a rehab center. She is also apparently suffering from dementia, and her lucidity comes and goes.

And then there is the fact that I have a horrible phobia of nursing homes. As in, it’s so bad just the idea of going into one freaks me out (as in nausea and hyperventilating freaking out), and I haven’t set foot in one since I was eight. (Long story at an impressionable age) So: guilt and depression.

That is not to say that I’ve done nothing. I write weekly, and we send flowers regularly, to cheer up their rooms. But it’s not the same as being there. And being me, I always feel like there is more I should be doing.

Is there anything I could plausibly be doing? I don’t know. Is there anything else I should be doing? Probably not if I want to retain my sanity. Are there things I should be doing? Yeah, I need to do a better job safeguarding my own mental health. Problem is, taking care of myself feels like I’m wasting time when I could be doing something more useful for other people, even though I know I do a crappy job taking care of others when I’m depressed. (Hey! Catch 22!)

So what do I do? Take my meds. Exercise. Write my letters. Send flowers. Take care of myself. Relax.

Why are these things always easier said than done?

Anway, to cheer myself up this evening, I made a batch of Jeri’s “Ought to Be Illegal Cookies.” I don’t know if they’re quite as good as the double chocolate cookies I make with peanut butter chips (also from the Alice Medrich book.) but they are pretty darn good, and they hit the spot. And now I have something to take to work tomorrow for Mardi Gras.

Now if you’ll pardon me, I think it’s time for a hot relaxing shower, and then some time to curl up and read before bed.