Crossing the Great Divide

Sammiches and music and photos, oh my!

Tonight finds me splicing together and taping a tapestry of divergent topics into one semi-coherent blog post.

Rather than explain the why for's, I'll simply commence into the subjects and let them speak for themselves.

First order of business in this trilogy:

The turkey sammich.

I am one who struggles not with my existence, but with what fuels my existence. I've wrestled with what is in my diet for years, and really there is no excuse but laziness and lack of sufficient motivation to learn the skills necessary to take me from meat eater to not. This *is* complicated by living with my mom, who would never even consider such a change, nor would it be wise for me to experiment both on her digestive tract and her overall health. Let's just say this change does loom in my future.

That said, I harbour the guilt of fondness for turkey sammiches. If that day of change comes around, it is this which will be my lone regret at what is left behind. Today was therapy day (more on this in a moment) and therapy day finds me in the pub below, anticipating and enjoying a wonderful turkey on rye with swiss, lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise. Damn, but it was good...

Second item of blog merit:

This is your brain on music.

A guest host was setting in for Diane Rehm as I made my way northward, dodging road construction in various locales, on my way to therapy. Did I mention more on therapy later?

Susan Page filled in for Diane, and interviewed Daniel Levitin, author of This Is Your Brain On Music This topic is of great interest to me, for as many of you know, I play nor understand not a note of music, yet it grabs me by the throat and holds tight, with this sort of unknown yet understood language.

Shannon felt it was spooky I called a song with lyrics that appear very depressing, "strangely uplifting." I'd not seen the video, yet when I did, not suprisingly, the song was... of positive message. Nothing knew, music just has a direct line to my soul.

And given this, Daniel's work might well help explain the science behind this connection of music to my mind, though it was clear he knows not why some seemingly have this connection and others do not. Stay tuned. Tune in, listen to your tunes!

OK, you've made it this far, so it is self indulgence time. As the final segment, here is

Therapy day

Yes, it was therapy day, an hour of chatting it up with my therapist, whom I really have a whole lot of respect for, and confidence in. This time... I brought my camera. And so rather than my rambling on therapy recounting and discussion, I bring you... Nelle, Nancy, and Sydney. Sydney gets an extra mention as the cutie pie in the pic! She is a Burmese Mountain Dog, so very friendly and welcoming, and the very sight of her brightens my day.

I do not photograph well, and of course that is my line and I'm sticking to it! No way it could be reality, right?

Right?

Oh, Nony...

A recurring theme this past weekend has been my >cough< consumption of a chocolate cake my mom decided to make on Friday. Um, if it's there...

In any event, there is but one piece remaining, and that is probably a good thing, though it is a sad thing! The cake is made without eggs, but with vinegar, and is nmummy...

In order to not be alone in my affliction, as well as my addiction to this cake, thought I'd share the recipe...

1/4 lb of margarine at room temperature

2 cups of sugar

6 tablespoons of cocoa

2 teaspoons of vanilla extract

2 teaspoons of baking soda

1 teaspoon of salt

2 cups of cold water

2 tablespoons of cider vinegar mixed into the water

3 cups of flour

Cream margarine and sugar, then add other ingredients. Beat all together and put in greased or non-stick pan. Bake at 350° for one hour or until cake center springs back.

Let cool. Eat. Enjoy.

Cooking by the seat of my pants...

well, that would be skirt, a nice flowery black with orange and red posies one... but the subject is... food. Er, I call it food, you may not.

Now I am hardly a chef, certainly not a Karen, show me a recipe and watch me sca-rew it up... so tomorrow get to poison my office... once upon a time, I used make a fairly decent macaroni and cheese... but haven't done so in more than moons, and sorta kinda remember how it was all put together.

A member of the local office below us leaves this week, and tradition has it our office greets leavers and newbies in the same way... with food. When I arrived some six weeks ago, it was to... food. When news came of this pending transfer, I signed on for the mac and cheese. Sure, I can do this >cough<.

Logistical problems surfaced almost immediately... no oven at work, and I'm not crazy about the reheated stuff. No choice.

Tonight it was off to fetch ingredients, some dry mustard, whole wheat penne pasta, three different cheeses... damn, but I was tempted to add Cabot's habanero cheese, now that would have been interesting! I went with their seriously sharp Hunters, A orange-yellow cheddar, and some munster. A little condensed milk, regular moo milk, butter, worcester sauce, flour, salt, pepper... bake it all up, and >poof< it was done.

The question is... would Bailey it eat? Will I? Will anyone?