Ultramundane: · It's · Just · Not · Natural

On Lundi Gras, while lying in bed trying to fall asleep, I got the urge to make a King Cake for Mardi Gras. I’ve never made such a thing, so I am not sure why I suddenly imagined that overnight I would be the next Randazzo’s. By late morning I had given up on the idea of raising a yeast bread but not on the idea of a Marti Gras dinner and dessert. So having seen the “easy” recipe using canned rolls enough times, I gave it a shot.

Emiril I am not. Authentic it wasn’t. But it wasn’t that bad, considering that it was the “easy” recipe. That it was the “kids” recipe. That it was, I later discovered, the “semi-homemade” recipe.

Gods help me if I’m turning into Sandra Lee.

As penance for my foodie sins I will take a cue from Courtney’s new food blog and braise some leeks, or make some seitan, or bake up a shoo-fly pie. (Confession: I bought frozen pie crusts for this. But they’re vegan and organic, if that helps.)

Originally published at Ultramundane: It's Just Not Natural. You can comment here or there.

Never assign to stomach cancer what can be adequately explained by rainbow-colored cake.

OK, that’s totally not fair. There was a lot of food at the potluck, and I hadn’t heard of anyone else who got sick from eating the food there. And just because a food has seven very-brightly-colored layers does not mean it’s harboring ill will against me. So William of Ockham would probably agree, I was most likely down for four days with the stomach flu, which I could have picked up at any number of places.

But I still don’t think that William would have eaten the cake.

Regardless…now that I’m recovering, The WiiFit is getting angry with me. Unwisely I let it measure me after my fourty days in the porcelain desert, and it was elated that I was losing weight so quickly! Wow, congratulations on doing such a good job shitting out your insides! Only a few more organs more and you’ll reach your goal weight!

Now it wants to know WHY; WHY on earth have you gained so much weight? What could you have possibly been thinking? The options don’t really give you much room to wiggle out of it either. (”OVEREATING” “INACTIVITY” “PMS” “MAINLINING MILKSHAKES” “UTTER MORAL FAILURE.”) I said “INDIGESTION” and it suggested I eat more fiber. Look, I’ve only just recently gotten back into solids. I’ll work up to it, I promise.

“WORRY” was not an option that Wii Fit would accept either. I never learn my lesson not to browse WebMD for symptoms. Especially not the week before my health insurance is set to expire. But at least I know more about diarrhea, gastroenteritis, neck pain, fever and bloating than I ever wanted to.

Oh, about the neck pain? Never assign to viral meningitis what can be properly explained by hours of World of Warcraft.

Originally published at Ultramundane: It's Just Not Natural. You can comment here or there.

Your result for The LONG Scientific Personality Test…

ISFJ-The Protector

You scored 9% I to E, 53% N to S, 10% F to T, and 16% J to P!

Take The LONG Scientific Personality Test at HelloQuizzy

Originally published at Ultramundane: It's Just Not Natural. You can comment here or there.

I haven’t seen the premiere episode of Season 44 yet; it’s on TiVo, so please no spoilers in the comments. (Except for that whole Dick Cheney is the fifth cylon thing—no surprise there. Mostly just strange that they bothered making him a skin job and not a Centurion.)

I also had a couple of people on LiveJournal suggest shaving their ‘personal areas’ in honor of the end of Bush. (I won’t link you to those.) Not sure if one wants to be that itchy for the first week of the new Presidency. It’d feel too much like being a Republican. However if you’re so inclined, I’d recommend not being literal and removing yours with a helicopter.

Originally published at Ultramundane: It's Just Not Natural. You can comment here or there.

Traditionally The Ex-Roommate and I would pick a song for the first of the year. It gave us something reflective to do on the nights before the New Year. This is not a tradition I’ve kept with The Boyfriend. (Unless his song for the year is the theme(s) from the Planet of the Apes. We had a nice, quiet, relaxing New Year’s celebration.) 

But I did select a song for 2009. Perhaps appropriately it was originally recorded over twelve years ago, but it took her this long to agree how it should really come out. I think it’s amazing. And it’s also a pretty great song to exercise or lift weights to.¹

So this year I have some old business that I need to attend to. I have to take the good work I’ve done and make it better. This year, I could be cool. Soft as a breeze. 

Or I’ll be a hurricane. Ripping up trees.

¹ Count this among the many things I never expected to post in a blog entry.

Originally published at Ultramundane: It's Just Not Natural. You can comment here or there.

I was browsing the website for the Ritz Carlton Dining Room, looking at their menu wondering if I could find something to eat there (assuming I could ever afford to eat there.) I noticed the first entree listed for the second course:

TROLL-CAUGHT KING SALMON
squash blossoms stuffed with provençal vegetables, long ziti, pesto

And while a part of me knows they mean the fish was caught like this:

…another part of me really kinda hoped it was salmon caught like this instead:

Originally published at Ultramundane: It's Just Not Natural. You can comment here or there.

And surely it will come as no surprise to anyone that I did far better in the “vices” category than the “sports/athletics” one.

Originally published at Ultramundane: It's Just Not Natural. You can comment here or there.

Well, that year went out with a bang. Took the Day Without A Gay off and met up with a small but spirited protest against Proposition 8 that evening. Met with a kitchen designer to discuss layouts and kitchen cabinets. The next morning I was laid off from my job. At least we hadn’t done all of our Christmas shopping yet.

A week later we left for Virginia for our usual big family holiday event there and sadly had a poor experience in Virgin America’s First Class. We expect to fly coach next time…and like a Cher farewell concert, we referred to the flight as “our first last-time-in-First.” But it might end up as our last after all. Returned for a city inspection (that was more effort setting up than complying with) and a canceled kitchen appointment and a living room full of…stuff. (I have a bit of cleaning, sorting and organizing to do.)

Consequently we really were just hoping for an uneventful New Year’s Eve celebration, which is what we got. Making all the lucky foods we can—black eyed peas, greens, cornbread, round cakes—and wearing yellow underwear while doing it. Not that I’m superstitious or anything.

I’m not making a New Year’s resolution to blog more, but I’ve been enjoying microblogging with Twitter and Plurk (and Facebook), so I’m hoping I can translate that into more posts. Perhaps I’ll finish my World AIDS Day post or some of my half-finished work-related ones. Perhaps I’ll subject you to more about my gaming life and about my hunt for a new job. A friend of The Boyfriend’s said that even though I’m unemployed, we should still drink champagne sometimes—and that it’s probably even more important that we do. So I raise a glass and toast to you. Best wishes for your 2009.

To the Lord let praises be
It’s time for dinner now let’s go eat
We’ve got some beans and some good cornbread
Now listen to what the preacher said.

—Lyle Lovett, “Church”

Originally published at Ultramundane: It's Just Not Natural. You can comment here or there.

The conservative course is not to banish gay people from making such commitments. It is to expect that they make such commitments. We shouldn’t just allow gay marriage. We should insist on gay marriage. We should regard it as scandalous that two people could claim to love each other and not want to sanctify their love with marriage and fidelity. -David Brooks, New York Times

While a group met in San Diego for a prayer meeting for ‘traditional’ marriage on Sunday, we like other people across the state went to a last-minute wedding with a different kind of prayer. I’m not one to say Amen, but it’s hard to disagree with a Presbyterian minister when she says that the love celebrated in a wedding is not a political act, but a divine one. She prayed that not only would Bill and Branden be united as husbands to God and community, but also would remain so in the eyes of the state and become so for the whole country. It was likewise hard not to burst into applause after everyone had signed the license and she noted softly, “It’s legal.” Amen, sister.

It’s a little bittersweet…the rush by the couples trying to get this done before the uncertainty of Tuesday’s election; the possibility that complete strangers can look at Bill and Branden, or our neighbors and friends, or even at me and The Boyfriend, and say to our faces, “You don’t have the same rights we do. We don’t think you deserve this.” We as gay people must be crazy to want this. That’s why they call it an institution, I suppose. For now we sit on pins, waiting to hear if the majority really will uphold the rights of the minority.

Bill and Branden, a million wishes for your happiness, whatever the voters decide. Forgive the gallows humor, but let’s hope the marriage lasts longer than Wednesday.

Originally published at Ultramundane: It's Just Not Natural. You can comment here or there.

When I took this in the mirror I said to myself, “Happy Birthday, old man.”

The Boyfriend got me a very nice Absinthe spoon along with glasses and a bottle of Lucid. And after I opened presents we went to Absinthe for dinner. Kind of a theme going there. My parents got me Rock Band 2 and an iPod, continuing on the theme that they rock.

And being both old and tipsy, you can imagine I fell right to sleep.

Originally published at Ultramundane: It's Just Not Natural. You can comment here or there.

There is a spot on my shirt.

I am not certain if it is salad dressing or not, though this seems to be the most likely culprit given the balsamic dressing and the small brown dot down the front of me. It’s not the milk from breakfast, nor is it coffee. I know I haven’t spilled coffee on myself today, not even on my pants, like yesterday. Which was fine, since it covered the food splatter I didn’t notice from making dinner in those pants the night before that.

This shirt is extraordinarily wrinkled too, since I sweat through it powerwalking my way to work. I suppose it’s a fair trade since the wrinkles the hanger left on my trousers smoothed out at the same time. I’m thankful the cleaners only costs a dollar and half; money well spent for the 20 minutes of crispness I got impressing the people on BART who weren’t looking at me.

Hopefully this weekend I will remember to wash the bathrobe I have sat in most of the weekend before. As well as the pants that retained the odor of the public restroom I used at lunch. 

Can I have the hose and a do-over for last week’s clothes, please?

Originally published at Ultramundane: It's Just Not Natural. You can comment here or there.