The most recent 20 comments posted to Making Light by nerdycellist:

For those who would like to role-play a hamster, try this hotel next time you're in France.

SylvieG -

My condolences. I'm afraid I have no advice. My childhood kitty was put to sleep a few years ago, at the age of 20. He was like a small, furry brother. It took awhile to get over him, but luckily all my friends were pet-people and gave me sympathy and permission to grieve. I have a dog of indeterminate age now, and when I remember that she will most likely precede me in death, I panic. Please know you have my sympathies.

for happier news...

The second test batch of truffles was a resounding success. The Dolci Frutta that was recommended worked very well to provide a reasonably chocolate candy shell. Unfortunately, it's not quite "dark" enough for my tastes, so I will be ordering the stuff Xopher suggested for the chocolate, and going with the Dolci Frutta for the white. That's it for test batches though - no more truffles until the week before Xmas. In a last ditch effort to avoid filthy looking hands, I will be portioning out ganache, putting in the freezer briefly, and then rolling.

I've wrecked more batches of fudge... and with a roommate who's not a fan of chocolate, that's just too much "hot fudge sauce" to go around.

Right now we're looking for a reasonable substitute for corn syrup in Divinity candies. She's mildly allergic to corn and tries to avoid by-products whenever possible. Found info about making an invert syrup using cane sugar, water and cream of tartar, so we may do that. It would be cool if that worked for marshmallows too!

Thanks, Xopher.

I actually checked out that site yesterday and am seriously considering trying out their ridiculously named enrobing confection. I'm going to give the choc chip/shortening recipe a try this weekend, maybe just with pretzels or something. If that's not satisfactory, I'll order some from Chocoley. I saw the tempering machine and lamented my lack of counter space, as well as my blood sugar levels. Even if I had the counter space and cash for such a gadget, it's the last thing I should have around.

(I wonder what else I can dip in chocolate? hey, let's try this Hershey's Mr. Goodbar, since they're now mockolate anyway! god, that and a deep fryer and I'd be one large mass of very sweet cholesterol.)

We live in a the back top apartment of a 6 unit building. Our Hollywood neighborhood is "transitioning", so most kids go elsewhere to ToT. Very few of the ones left climb up to knock on our door, but sometimes one or two do. We have a bowl of tootsie pops should one be bold enough to make the trek.

I'd like to take Ardala around in her Lobster outfit, or have her answer the door, but I'm not sure how long she'll tolerate it.

There was also some mention of joining a chorus, which made much more sense than cello-ing my way through the armed forces. Besides the customary lack of confidence in my ability to audition in, I thought it would have been unethical for me to enlist when I had serious reservations about serving in any kind of non-musical capacity.

Candle @ 164 -

This is perhaps the best poem I've ever read about two completely disparate aspects of my life. That I can hum it also recommends it. Much better than the last poem written about me, but a future ex-boyfriend many years ago, which began with protestations of great desire and ended with the phrase "... But do I love her because she is all those things? No. She has low self-esteem, and I love her because she's easy." At a public poetry reading. Yeah, that was nice. And that it took me at least 6 months to move from boyfriend to ex-boyfriend proved his point.

So was the recruiter lying lo those many years ago when the Army was trying to fill it's quota? At some point I interrupted him and pointed out you couldn't march with a cello, although the end-pin did provide certain defensive capabilities. Was I imagining cellists in uniform, playing carbon fiber instruments for the pre-inauguration festivities?

(and really, who wants to hear a string orchestra for a bit of chest-thumping inspiration?)

Re: SAD. My dad has it fairly severely. He's been able to cut down on his autumn light-box regimen since he got his boat and spends as much time outdoors fishing. In the winter he still uses it a lot. I only wish he had made this discovery when we were growing up.

I think I may have a little SAD, because despite having no car, living paycheck to paycheck and having no hopes of any kind of love life for the last 7 years, I have been distinctly not depressed while living here in L.A.

My earliest memories are also of reading (and catching snakes with my manx cat Abishag) so I must have learned between 3 and 4. My parents lived in student housing while my dad was attending UofO so I went to a co-op preschool with a lot of professors kids and I'm sure some pretty smart people teaching us. In elementary school I was always one of the more advanced readers, but I was not alone. Reading was presented as an exciting thing and used as a reward (finish your worksheet and you can go into the Book Nook!). When we moved in the midst of Jr. Hi, I wound up in a school district where no one was reading at anywhere near my level, and only a precious few really loved books the way the general populace in my old school did. I have no idea what the (richer) school district did to engender such a hatred of reading in their students, but at least it didn't hit my siblings too hard.

Incidentally, I was also "diagnosed" based on my late speaking. The doc told my parents that only time would tell, but I was most probably autistic. To my parents relief, I spoke my first word (taco) only a few weeks later. I've told them on several occasions that I just didn't have anything to say.

I get public transit questions from tourists both here and in London. Here is great - I'm thrilled to help the confused Norweigan or Wisconsinite find their way about using our ridonkulous bus and subway system. I'm always amused that in a crowd of people, I look like the one they should ask. (maybe the fat makes me look more harmless or motherly or something). London baffles me though, as it happened even the first time I visited. I wound up wandering up to the giant tube map with the nice Scots ladies to put our heads together to see how they could get to x.

As for Home Depot, the last owner of the building I'm living in thought himself some kind of master renovator and re-did all the apartments with tons of cute but useless (pedestal sink with no storage and mirror with no medicine cabinet in small bathroom) renovation. He got all supplies - including freaking lightbulbs for the lighting fixtures - at Home Depot. now when one of those damn things burn out (which is frequently), the only place we can get replacements is the Despot. For all other needs, I go to the OSH which is kitty-corner from the HD. This place is laid out fairly intuitively and when I need to find those little rubber dealies you put on your furniture to keep it from marring the hardwood floors, not only do the employees not look at me funny, but they cheerfully walk me to the appropriate aisle, which not only has the little rubber dealies, but those felt whatsits as well.

I get the "visibility" problem at bookstores. Despite having not worked in a bookstore for 7 or 8 years (which is about the length of time I worked in bookstores) people still ask me questions about where things are. I must smell like a bookseller.

As for being invisible. Yep. I'm fat and living in Los Angeles. I would imagine should I ever require a cane, walker, crutches or wheelchair I might just be constantly shoved aside and run over. Maybe that will happen in three years when I'm forty.

... and it's warming up already. I'm bummed. I have several cold weather recipes ready to go. On the plus side, I don't have to worry about my sadly depleted winter wardrobe quite yet. On the minus side, that's one more pedicure I need this year.

Here she is -

chagrined banana

Ambar @45 -

She's a corgi mix, also with a sable coat. It's impossible to determine whether she hates the coat more than getting wet. Because she's not so good on cause-and-effect, the crappy weather means she's even more pokey on her walk, so then we're all cranky.

We only dress her like a banana because she would overwhelm the apartment with eau-de-wet-dog. And also, because we enjoy laughing at her.

Why thank you, Abi. I will have to take a picture of the chagrined banana in question before I take her on this evening's walk. I had to coax her down the steps one by one this morning. Whether her reticence was due to the OH NOES! WATER!! or her shame at having to wear a bright yellow rain slicker I have yet to determine. Maybe I'll cook an extra chicken breast and bribe her.

Oh, wait - I was supposed to answer this in verse. I have no gift for poetry, but I can hack out a haiku:

Wet bellied, dry backed
corgi hates yellow raincoat -
chagrined banana.

Chiming in from LA again; it's lovely, wet, grey, misty, chilly soup weather. It's my dog's least favorite, as she has to go out in a rain coat. And it's supposed to be back in the mid-to-upper 80's this weekend. Sad.

About dress codes violators -

I recently bought an "18 Hour" bra just for the novelty of getting something in my size in a national brand. I can't wear any neckline lower than a crewneck (which I generally find uncomfortable) with that ginormous bosom tarp.

Sometimes a girl can be built so that any non-turtleneck shirt shows cleavage, and therefore heavier or bustier girls will suddenly be violating the dress code just for dressing in summer/fall/spring appropriate garments.

Perhaps a long baggy robe and maybe a head covering just in case for those sluts who dare to expose their bosoms so wantonly.

Other possibilities for Dress Code protests: Dress Code compliant clothing worn backwards. Long sleeve shirt made into pants (or skirt with extraneous tentacles), pants converted to shirt. Orange jumpsuits.

I caught part of an episode of Merlin when I was visiting England last fall. My expectations were low - I was assuming it would be Arthur by way of Xena - and yet I was still annoyed. First by just plain sloppiness (I'm with you Xopher - inappropriate Your Highnesses and Sires are the verbal equivalent of zippers on knitted chain mail) and then I found myself griping about the scrawny whiny emo-Arthur, much like my bitching about the latest Robin Hood. I had to turn the TV off before I got to the point where I might shake my cane and yell at those kids to get off my lawn.

I am old.

I have been enjoying True Blood though. And finally going back and watching all those episodes of ST:TOS - and not just the same 5 episodes that Sci Fi shows on ST marathons - has been enlightening.

Terry @ 125 -

St Mary of the Angels? Are these the papist splitters? Perish the thought! (said with gentle, loving humor of course...)

I'm currently singing at St. Thomas in Hollywood, where I'm frantically preparing to sing a counter-tenor solo next weekend, the alto parts of the quartet in the Haydn St. Nicolas mass for Xmas and all the usual ensemble parts in the anthems and lessons & carols. I've been there about a year and I've never heard the hymn with the saint being eaten by a great wild beast (or meeting them at tea or in the lanes at sea...) I think I may start agitating for it; it sounds delightful.

Sweet, fancy Moses - as if life weren't grim enough...

It'll be like Jaws, only with a peg leg!

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