There's no domestic bliss here this weekend.

So, I had all kinds of plans for myself this weekend and I got none of them done. Well, very few of them, anyway, and those that I did get done I can't say that I got done well. Let me give you a few examples.

Example One: I had planned on shoveling the driveway on Friday night, so that I wouldn't have to do it on Saturday, but I ended up staying later at work than planned, Doug picked me up and talked me in to sticking around in Harvard Square for dinner, and by the time we got home neither one of us felt like suiting up to go out into the cold and dark to finish the shoveling that Doug started on Thursday morning. So, we ended up doing it Saturday morning. And I ended up getting into a really foul mood while shoveling because I was simply amazed at how much snow we have and unless we have some serious melting in the near future we will be piling this stuff in the street because our piles have reached their maximum capacity. (Don't even tell me about an impending snowstorm for this week because I just can't hear that right now.) The piles we have made from shoveling are already about my height and then some, and I can't lift the snow any higher. See here? We used to have a fence, but now we just have snow. I was trying here to make a space for our garbage cans to go, and I succeeded, but only for a few hours, because when I went out later that morning to go to the grocery store I noticed that an avalanche slid into my nice, clean spot. Too bad, garbage cans. You'll have to go in the street.

Example Two: After calling much of Saturday a wash, given the hours spent in the yard shoveling and contemplating my potential death should one of these beauties fall on me as I'm walking in the driveway (yes, I know that I should knock them down, and I tried, but, in yet another example of jobs done poorly, I'm too short to reach them even with my shovel stretched at full length, so the most damage I was able to do to them was break off their pointy tips. A small win, I guess. Now instead of piercing my skull should one fall on my head it may simply knock me unconscious for a few minutes.), I decided to watch Fantastic Mr. Fox before bed. I almost achieved this goal, almost succeeded, until I fell asleep with my chin on my chest about two-thirds of the way through. That's no reflection on the movie, of course, since I loved all that I did see. It's simply another indication that this weekend was pretty much a waste of my time.

Example Three: And a waste of my money. I spent quite a hefty sum at the grocery store on Saturday buying ingredients for my planned meals today, and yet somehow two did not turn out at all like planned so I have scratched the third and will attempt it another day. So there goes that money, down the drain, flushed away like, well, I won't say.

I first attempted aebleskiver, in my new aebleskiver pan, and had such high hopes. See? Don't they look like they had such potential for looking like this? (Thank you to Secrets of a Kitchen Wizard for the photo (and for showing me up).) But in the end, my aebleskiver looked like this: I suppose my consolation on the aebleskiver (which tasted great, even if they looked like a cross between clams and footballs) is that Marge, in her letter to me, said that it took her about three tries to make hers come out well, too. Of course, if it took her three tries that means I may be making these forever before I get them to be the little carbohydrate beach balls that I was hoping they'd be.

I probably should have taken my breakfast-cooking experience as a sign of things to come for the rest of the day, but I ignored all warnings and set out to make an eggplant ricotta bake for dinner. I tried this recipe before, without much success (please read on for more info on that failure), but thought I'd give it another go because I like eggplant and the recipe seems like it should be easy enough for me to handle. But, no! Rosanne, why would you think that a recipe with only three straight-forward steps would be easy enough for you to handle, especially when you didn't get it right the first time? I made the exact same mistake today that I made the first time I tried this recipe. I cut the eggplant slices too thin, and, consequently, when I roasted them they turned out like this: Eggplant briquettes, anyone? Gah! I mean, I even told myself when cutting the eggplant to cut the slices thicker than I did last time, so that I could avoid the whole charred eggplant thing. Whatever. I threw away the most charred pieces and used the severely-roasted ones, and I can only hope that when we finally eat this tonight the sauce and cheese will overpower any of the eggplant flavor. And then I will file this recipe in the back of my recipe box to try again (third time's a charm, right?) someday a long time from now when I'm having a little better luck than I have been having this weekend.

Oh well. What to do now? I wanted to practice my violin, but at this rate I'd probably snap some strings or drop it on the floor and crack the neck. I might have to stick to reading, but I guarantee that I'll be asleep in fifteen minutes, so what's the point? Maybe a nap. Or maybe I should clean. Sigh. What a perfectly good weekend, and what a way to spend it!

Snow headache.

I have a headache and I blame the weather. Well, really the MBTA, but they wouldn't have had their issues if it weren't for the wretched snow and cold. Monday morning when I left the house the indoor/outdoor thermometer read an outdoor temperature of -2 degrees F. I left my house at 6:55am to walk to the train, and didn't get on a train until 8:02am. And it takes only 15 minutes to walk to the train. Wouldn't you know it - the train had mechanical issues that morning and was about an hour late. I was absolutely frozen standing there at the train stop. Frozen. It took all day for my fingers and toes to stop throbbing and to warm up (I swear I have Raynaud's). And now I sit here at the computer and watch the snowflakes outside, which started small and are now getting bigger and bigger, just like my headache. I'm not looking forward to shoveling.

But enough of that venting. I suppose the winter hasn't been all that bad. I took a really crisp hike at Gay City on Sunday with my mother, brother and Tyrone, which reminded me that snow can actually be quite beautiful, especially when it's still pristine and when the sun is shining on it. And if it weren't so cold out and dark so early I probably wouldn't be getting as much quilting or reading done, because I'd be spending more time outside and would be more active. So my quilt and my bookshelf thank you, dear Winter.

Can you tell that I'm grasping for things to write about? You know, we're just living life over here under all these layers of snow. The library is back to its 24 hour schedule, so I am back to leaving really early in the morning to get to Cambridge before the overnight staff leave their shift. My brain is overloaded each day with things that I have to learn, things that I should already know (I did go to school for this thing called librarianship, but most days you'd never really be able to tell), and things that I put on my very, very, very long list of goals. My evenings consist of dinner, reading, TV, violin, chores, and bed; not all in one night, but that's what I do. Weekends tend to be either really low-key or completely packed with activity. So yeah. Not much excitement to convey on the old blog. But maybe I'll have more to share tomorrow, or this weekend. More shots of me and Doug shoveling, more shots of my little street covered in show. Actually, that's another thing that the snow is good for - blog material. If I didn't have to shovel and didn't take photos of the shoveling experience, what would I put on the blog January through March? So keep reading. I have a feeling there will be more snow to carry us through the next few months.

Wording.

Doug has been wording, which is what I call his complete and total devouring of vocabulary words. He consults word books, is keeping flash cards of words, and he's looking up all words he doesn't know from the books he reads in the dictionary. He's wording for fun, to continue on that righteous path of learning that seems to stop when one leaves school. I wholeheartedly encourage his wording, because through him and his inability to keep his words to himself I am expanding my vocabulary, too. And, surprisingly for someone who reads as much as I do, I really need help with my vocabulary. If I'm sitting and writing or reading, and have all the words in the world at my disposal in my Merriam-Webster, then I am as much a wordsmith as Samuel Johnson, or so I'd like to think. But when I open my mouth to speak, all those words escape me. Weird.

So I have learned (and retained) five words from Doug so far. Repine, used previously, and florid. Also dilatory and vituperative and soporific. It is my goal to incorporate these words that I learn into my every day thought and speech, so beware if you see them creeping into my otherwise colloquial blog posts (I knew that word already!).

Lest this post become too soporific, how about a photo? When I'm not learning words with Doug, I'm now playing my violin. I started a beginning violin class last week and I've practiced three times so far! I am so impressed with myself; for signing up for and actually going to my class and also for practicing at home. These kinds of activities take motivation, and I've lacked a lot of that in the past. But hopefully I'm on the road to recovery, recovering that old interest that I had in music way back when, when I considered myself a clarinet and piano player, and when I was actually somewhat musically talented. Doug has been the musical one throughout this relationship, with my musicality suppressed within a phase of uncertainty. But now that I'm encouraged by the turn my life is taking, with this new job and new direction and all, and am encouraged that I am emerging from that years-long phase, I'm trying things out again, and rediscovering. Doug can have the spotlight, like he did at the Great Molasses Flood anniversary show this weekend, and I will be content with sitting in front of my music stand, squeaking out notes on my (really, really cheap) violin. For now, at least.

And what of that new direction of mine? That change in career path that has lifted some kind of heavy, heavy weight from my shoulders? Well, it's going well. Every day I'm learning, trying to both remember and learn anew what being a librarian actually means, and I'm really enjoying myself. Sure, my new office isn't nearly as plush as my old one, but it feels so much more like me. Look at it! So much less stately, so much more down-to-earth. I have my own barcode reader (because I actually have to read barcodes - on real books and DVDs and such!). And I have my own window still. No name on the door, and no Director in my title, but my life is so much more me these days that none of that really matters.

One great perk of this new situation is that I get more time to read each day. I could have been upset or annoyed by my longer commute, but instead I'm turning it into a positive because it gives me more time with my magazines and books. I've read two so far this new year, and now I'm back to reading A Passage to India, which I started before I went to India but couldn't get into it and didn't want to spend what precious little time I had to read on something that I wasn't all that interested in. Now, though, I feel that I can take the time to read more slowly, to invest a little of myself into the book, and so far this investment is paying off.

Aebelskiver... say what?

I normally don't eat food with names that I cannot pronounce, so it's a good thing that Trader Joe's calls these little tiny balls of doughy tastiness "Danish Pancakes;" otherwise I would have skipped right over them while looking for something delicious (and premade) to serve at Marieke's shower. These aebelskiver were the hit of the whole spread at the shower (well, maybe other than the mimosas), and they deserved their place in the spotlight. They were delicious. Slightly crispy on the outside, warm and spongy on the inside, and not sweet at all. Not fried in a vat of grease like fried dough, and not rubbery like a traditional pancake (maybe I'm the only one who makes rubbery pancakes?). I sprinkled some powdered sugar on the top, but also served them with some raspberry jam, and either topping was a fine accompaniment.

Well, Marieke's now mother-in-law was at the shower, and she noticed these little Danish pancakes right off the bat. She wanted to know if I made these aebelskiver myself, and I kindly handed all the credit over to Trader Joe's, after asking her if that's what they were actually called (what do I know?). This got us to discussing the ways you can make them, and that she has a special aebelskiver pan at home that she hadn't used in ages, and that they're pretty easy to make. And then, when we were at Marieke and Curt's wedding - in the receiving line, actually - and we saw Marge again, she remarked to her husband about the aebelskiver I served. Craig was pleased that I served such food out East (is this regional fare?), and he and Marge decided to send me Marge's aebelskiver recipe. I told her that I'd love to have it, and thanked her, but I admit to not expecting anything out of it. I'm cynical, I suppose. I'm a New Englander. We say things that we don't deliver on, but with the best intentions, of course, so I suppose I expected the same from Craig and Marge. I was happy enough to have had such a nice conversation with them; they truly are such pleasant people.


But wait - what's that? It's my new aebelskiver pan! I found it in a box on my doorstep on Thursday, and it was a complete and total surprise. Doug thought it was one of the pedals he had ordered, but when he saw that it was an Amazon box and addressed to me, his curiosity was piqued, as was mine. Once I got through all the bubble packaging and saw the little holes in the pan, my mind instantly went back to Marieke's wedding, the receiving line, and Marge and Craig's comments about sending me the recipe. But they said nothing about a pan - and where was the recipe? That came in the mail the next day, complete with Marge's alterations to make it come out just a little bit better. I have to say that I am so impressed - and pleased and excited. Marge and Craig's kindness has touched me. A big thank you to them! Are all people as nice as them out in the West?

I do New Englanders some injustice, though, when accusing all of us of being unfriendly and a bit cantankerous. We do have our own kind of niceness here, a quiet, unspoken neighborly niceness, and Doug and I experienced it earlier this week. This was the scene on our street on Wednesday, during the big winter storm (was it a blizzard? Maybe just a Nor'easter? I watched the news virtually all day on Wednesday and am still not sure about what this storm was, exactly. In Connecticut it had a name - Benedict. Here in Massachusetts, it seemed to be just a storm.). Doug and I spent a good two and a half hours shoveling out our driveway, steps, and walkway, and uncovering the cars, in the mid-morning while it was still snowing pretty hard. We witnessed one of our trees falling down, but thankfully were not under it when it fell: Our street didn't really get plowed that day, and even by the time I left for work the next morning the street sat under a good six or more inches of snow. I knew that by the time we would come home that night the street would likely have been plowed, and that would mean that the opening to our driveway (that we had spent so much time shoveling!) would be plowed in. And then we wouldn't be able to get into our driveway. So all day on Thursday I had a vision of Doug and I driving onto our street that night, trying to ram the car into our driveway, and getting stuck. And me getting out and shoveling around the car while Doug rocked it back and forth, burning out the clutch, to get it unstuck.

But we didn't have to do that. Anxious visions be gone! Because our neighbor, the one who I don't think I've ever said even one word to in all the time that I have lived here (he's not a talker, and really neither am I) snowblowed our driveway after the snowplow came by while we were at work. And he widened the path that the plow made on our street, too, giving all of us more room to put our garbage cans. That was another touching moment, knowing that our neighbor had done something so kind and thoughtful, even though he probably doesn't even know our names. So maybe we New Englanders aren't so unkind and unpleasant after all. Maybe we just express ourselves differently. Regardless, this week was definitely the week for kindness, the kindness of virtual strangers, and that made it a really good week.

Fire trucks are pretty cool.

Continuing with my rule of three...

First: The Klinger family Christmas party was this weekend, and this time we had a special visitor. No, not Santa, but a shiny, red sleigh of a different sort - a fire truck! My late-cousin Ann's husband (who so graciously hosted all of us this year) is a volunteer fireman with his town's fire department and he was able to get one of the fire trucks to stop by the house. What pleasure this brought to the kids (those young but also old, like me). Look at the face on my cousin Jeremy! You'd think we were all four again, living out our greatest fantasies. I bet these kids will have great fun telling their friends at school/daycare on Monday that they spent some time on a firetruck. I guarantee you one of those kids will want to be a fireman for the next week, at least until the excitement wears off.

Second: Christmas is officially put away at our house (though I thought about leaving the tree like this until next year, just for fun): It's always a sad affair for me to wave goodbye to the holidays for another year. The season is so short, and I feel like just when I start to get into my Christmas groove it's all over. We only listened to a couple of Christmas records, and only saw a few (really bad) Lifetime holiday movies. No Rudolph or Frosty, no Christmas Story or A Christmas Carol with George C. Scott. I'm not ready to start thinking about spring and about all the outdoor projects I have lined up. I was hoping to hibernate in my house smelling the pine candles burning and basking in the glow of the white tree just a little bit longer. Ah well. At least it was a good holiday season; I really can't complain. We had fun and stayed healthy (unlike poor Summer Sweater and Mr. Summer Sweater - how awful!), so no repining* for me.

Third: I'm getting better at navigating a Mac and today I figured out how to directly upload photos from iPhoto to flickr. To see some of my recent uploads, go to my flicker photostream; you'll see all kinds of goodies from Marieke and Curt's wedding, and also a few of the cats. This one might be my new favorite photo of Sasha: Besides the fact that she looks like a squishy ball of queenly cuteness sitting on top of that husband pillow, she's doing something that Wyatt used to do. This further reinforces the notion that she's picking up some of Wyatt's habits, so it's less like he's actually gone and more like he's just transformed a bit into a sassy, fat thing. But before I get too sentimental about all of this, let me remind myself that Sasha is picking up more of Wyatt's bad habits than his good ones, which means that I may have to start trying to give that sassy, fat thing away again. Anyone want a cat?

* That's a shout-out to you, Stinks! You're teaching me well.

2011 is the year of the rule of three.

I can't let a New Year's pass without writing a little about what I have to look forward to in the coming year. So here's my requisite New Year's post, and I want to direct your attention to the title. 2011 is the year of the rule of three. I've been blogging intermittently with my "three things" theme, and I recently had a discussion about focusing on three things and only three things in order to make one's life more manageable (a variation on the "jack of all trades, master of none" idea). I follow the time-management three things rule, too. So, in an effort to live a consistent life, I've decided to carry over my rule of three to the new year, and instead of making resolutions or declarations on this New Year's Day I'll simply talk about the three golden rules I will strive to follow this year.

Rule 1: Practice a commitment to physical and mental health.
This rule is something I try to do each and every day, but, as with lots of things, sometimes I fall off the wagon. And I've accepted that I'm going to fall off the wagon. And, I'll admit, sometimes I even plan in advance to fall off the wagon if I know a special day or event is coming up, such as last night when Doug and I had Five Guys for our New Year's Eve dinner. Classy, right? But the point is that even with these little deviations from my first golden rule my ultimate goal is to stay healthy. Eat well and get plenty of physical exercise. Not necessarily hours at the gym, but just an active lifestyle. Walking, biking, hiking, yoga, the gym... all of that. Because all of that helps me stay calm and balanced, alert and able to focus. And able to be on the path to follow my other two golden rules for 2011, the second of which is:

Rule 2: Live my values. Do I sound like Real Simple or Self yet? Bear with me if I sound a little new age-y. This rule has much to do with me having confidence in myself, in what I believe, in what I want, in what I know, in what makes me comfortable, in what makes me happy and content, and in doing it. If I think it's important to spend more time with my family, or to remain connected to friends, then I'm going to do it. If I think that sitting on my couch and quilting my way into the New Year is a viable activity for a thirty-one (good god, almost thirty-two!) year-old woman, then I'm going to do it. Because I want to, because I can, and because it's okay for me to live how I want to live.

All of this brings me to my third and final golden rule for the year, which is my Rule 3: Less thinking, more doing. The more I sit and think about being healthy and active, the less I'm actually out there being healthy and active. The more I sit and wonder what my values actually are, and if they are actually viable and realistic and accepted/acceptable values, the less I'm actually living them, or even knowing what they are. So... less of that. Less of that stuck in my head and more of going out there and doing. Like this morning, when I woke up on this fine and relatively warm first day of the new year and told Doug that I wanted to stop off at Minute Man State Park to walk on one of the trails there on our way back from selling a couple of his speakers to this guy Doug met on Craigslist. I could have (and probably would have) debated this idea with myself in my head before asking Doug what he thought we should do, because I would have been concerned about having enough time to do all the things that I wanted to do that day, but instead of all of that headgame I just said, "Let's do it." So we did it. And I felt good because I was practicing rules number one and two - and rule number three. I started the new year off on the right foot. And spent some time with Doug, who got to practice rule number three with me today. I think I might get him to practice my rules this year, too. Or might get him to make three rules of his own. Or, more appropriately, might inspire him to make three rules of his own. Because 2011 will be a year of good things, just as 2010 was, and being able to inspire each other to live these lives that we know will lead to good things will just lead to more good things.

Okay, I've gotten a bit too John Tesh-y for my own liking. Time for dinner, for more Netflix, and for more quilting. Time for living my three rules. I could really get used to this, and I hope I do.