A busy day

I spent yesterday morning doing a nice, thorough workout, and the afternoon hanging out with feorag.

Between the two, I missed Feorag's call (because I was on the subway), and couldn't understand the phone message she left, because of the background noise. And I'd forgotten to copy her mobile number into my Palm. So I grabbed a quick lunch at my usual place in Chinatown, bought clementines, and took them home via the drugstore.

Once home, I put the kettle up and was in the process of extracting Feorag's number from my saved email when she called me. So I was home just long enough to put down the fruit, make tea, decant it into an insulated carry-cup and grab a chocolate-ginger cakeling, then went back out.

We agreed to meet at a goth clothing store in the East Village. We got there at about the same time, and discovered that the store's website, while happy to state that they have large-size clothing, hadn't bothered to mention that they were closed for renovations. So we wandered, looking into assorted shops that had what Feorag thought might be interesting tat: East Village, then down to Chinatown.

We kept going into shops, and either we bought nothing, or she bought nothing and I got something I can't actually claim I need. But Dinosaur Hill (306 East Ninth) has actual working wind-up sushi, which I hadn't seen in years, so I had to buy a piece. And I couldn't resist some more New Year's tangerines, when walking down Grand Street (yes, I know; as of last night there were 32 tangerines in our refrigerator). Then we went into a place on Mott Street that had bags in the butterfly-on-black style I'd admired when I saw eleanor's. I took it down, looked at it, and put it back, saying something about "you'll still be here Friday, and so will I" (mostly because I didn't feel like carrying it just then). The shopkeeper said it was "normally $15, but today, for you, ten." I said I'd have to ask my friend, and headed further back, to talk to Feorag. By the time we returned to the front of the store, the price had dropped to $8. Feorag said that it seemed to be competently made, and that I could always hang it on the wall, so I bought it. I hadn't intended to haggle, but sometimes my genuine uncertainty--which can translate into "I will go home and think about this"--brings out haggling in shopkeepers.

Along the way, Feorag asked if there was somewhere we could stop for a quick drink and to use the bathroom. Geography was in our favor at that point, so I took her to dba. Middle of a weekday afternoon, the place was almost empty, and the bartender was happy to pour us samples: Feorag tried two beers before deciding, and I tried a perfectly decent American cider because they were out of the Welsh cider that Feorag saw on the board and assured me I would like; I ordered a half, knowing my capacity and how slowly I drink. A pleasant interlude; I tipped the bartender $2 on a $7 bill (for both our drinks), because she'd been friendly and helpful.

While we were doing this, Feorag was keeping in touch with her partner autopope by phone and text messaging. Somewhere in there, the plan of the three of us going to dinner somewhere, for which we'd been looking at lists and checking menus when we passed plausibly vegetarian restaurants, was thrown for a loop because he wound up going to Tor yesterday afternoon instead of (or, as it later transpired, in addition to) today, and then they decided they wanted to take him to dinner. Feorag and I went up to the Flatiron Building, where we then decided that it made more sense for her and me to go off by ourselves than for her to join Autopope et al. for "a boring business meeting." I explained to a couple of people that, despite appearances, I was not attending the NYRSF meeting that week, and then Feorag and I headed over to the Indian restaurant strip in the upper 20s. The place we headed for first turned out not to exist anymore, so we aimed for a second choice. On Lex, we had several choices, and picked one. Despite having said "I can eat here happily" after seeing lemon rice on the menu, I instead got a thali that didn't include it. But did include more than I could eat, including a fine mostly-cauliflower curry, two fried appetizers, another vegetable dish, both papadam and poori, raita, lots of rice, a hot pickle, and a fine yogurt-based dessert. Being indecisive, I chose among the four thalis based on which dessert each included.

We finished the evening by walking down to a bar/restaurant on Union Square, and meeting Autopope and Tom Doherty (WINOLJ, as far as I know) for a drink. We talked about science fiction, earthquakes, tornadoes, and other cheerful subjects. Tom stayed just long enough to pay for the round and drink his pint down quickly. By the time Charlie and Feorag had finished their drinks, I was halfway through my cider-with-Chambord, and they needed to go to their hotel and go to bed, so we went our respective ways, them by cab and me by bus and subway.

I'd estimate that, in addition to the workout, I walked about six miles. I was somewhat stiff by the time I got home (mixing long walks with sitting in restaurants or trains for significant periods will do that), and slept about 11 hours last night. A quote from the gym: "Oh, you're doing fine, you're shaking": a trainer, commenting to me on the position and weight I was using on the seated leg press.

( exercise numbers )

Overall, the weights or number of reps are down a little from the last couple of workouts, but this is the longest, most thorough workout I've done so far this month. Also, even a four-day layoff seems to be enough for me to notice.

A busy day

I spent yesterday morning doing a nice, thorough workout, and the afternoon hanging out with feorag.

Between the two, I missed Feorag's call (because I was on the subway), and couldn't understand the phone message she left, because of the background noise. And I'd forgotten to copy her mobile number into my Palm. So I grabbed a quick lunch at my usual place in Chinatown, bought clementines, and took them home via the drugstore.

Once home, I put the kettle up and was in the process of extracting Feorag's number from my saved email when she called me. So I was home just long enough to put down the fruit, make tea, decant it into an insulated carry-cup and grab a chocolate-ginger cakeling, then went back out.

We agreed to meet at a goth clothing store in the East Village. We got there at about the same time, and discovered that the store's website, while happy to state that they have large-size clothing, hadn't bothered to mention that they were closed for renovations. So we wandered, looking into assorted shops that had what Feorag thought might be interesting tat: East Village, then down to Chinatown.

We kept going into shops, and either we bought nothing, or she bought nothing and I got something I can't actually claim I need. But Dinosaur Hill (306 East Ninth) has actual working wind-up sushi, which I hadn't seen in years, so I had to buy a piece. And I couldn't resist some more New Year's tangerines, when walking down Grand Street (yes, I know; as of last night there were 32 tangerines in our refrigerator). Then we went into a place on Mott Street that had bags in the butterfly-on-black style I'd admired when I saw eleanor's. I took it down, looked at it, and put it back, saying something about "you'll still be here Friday, and so will I" (mostly because I didn't feel like carrying it just then). The shopkeeper said it was "normally $15, but today, for you, ten." I said I'd have to ask my friend, and headed further back, to talk to Feorag. By the time we returned to the front of the store, the price had dropped to $8. Feorag said that it seemed to be competently made, and that I could always hang it on the wall, so I bought it. I hadn't intended to haggle, but sometimes my genuine uncertainty--which can translate into "I will go home and think about this"--brings out haggling in shopkeepers.

Along the way, Feorag asked if there was somewhere we could stop for a quick drink and to use the bathroom. Geography was in our favor at that point, so I took her to dba. Middle of a weekday afternoon, the place was almost empty, and the bartender was happy to pour us samples: Feorag tried two beers before deciding, and I tried a perfectly decent American cider because they were out of the Welsh cider that Feorag saw on the board and assured me I would like; I ordered a half, knowing my capacity and how slowly I drink. A pleasant interlude; I tipped the bartender $2 on a $7 bill (for both our drinks), because she'd been friendly and helpful.

While we were doing this, Feorag was keeping in touch with her partner autopope by phone and text messaging. Somewhere in there, the plan of the three of us going to dinner somewhere, for which we'd been looking at lists and checking menus when we passed plausibly vegetarian restaurants, was thrown for a loop because he wound up going to Tor yesterday afternoon instead of (or, as it later transpired, in addition to) today, and then they decided they wanted to take him to dinner. Feorag and I went up to the Flatiron Building, where we then decided that it made more sense for her and me to go off by ourselves than for her to join Autopope et al. for "a boring business meeting." I explained to a couple of people that, despite appearances, I was not attending the NYRSF meeting that week, and then Feorag and I headed over to the Indian restaurant strip in the upper 20s. The place we headed for first turned out not to exist anymore, so we aimed for a second choice. On Lex, we had several choices, and picked one. Despite having said "I can eat here happily" after seeing lemon rice on the menu, I instead got a thali that didn't include it. But did include more than I could eat, including a fine mostly-cauliflower curry, two fried appetizers, another vegetable dish, both papadam and poori, raita, lots of rice, a hot pickle, and a fine yogurt-based dessert. Being indecisive, I chose among the four thalis based on which dessert each included.

We finished the evening by walking down to a bar/restaurant on Union Square, and meeting Autopope and Tom Doherty (WINOLJ, as far as I know) for a drink. We talked about science fiction, earthquakes, tornadoes, and other cheerful subjects. Tom stayed just long enough to pay for the round and drink his pint down quickly. By the time Charlie and Feorag had finished their drinks, I was halfway through my cider-with-Chambord, and they needed to go to their hotel and go to bed, so we went our respective ways, them by cab and me by bus and subway.

I'd estimate that, in addition to the workout, I walked about six miles. I was somewhat stiff by the time I got home (mixing long walks with sitting in restaurants or trains for significant periods will do that), and slept about 11 hours last night. A quote from the gym: "Oh, you're doing fine, you're shaking": a trainer, commenting to me on the position and weight I was using on the seated leg press.

( exercise numbers )

Overall, the weights or number of reps are down a little from the last couple of workouts, but this is the longest, most thorough workout I've done so far this month. Also, even a four-day layoff seems to be enough for me to notice.

Another cakeling iteration: chocolate chip/orange/cinnamon

It's papersky's basic cakeling recipe, this time withouyt the apple, beating in half a teaspoon of orange extract just before the egg; folding in a large handful of semi-sweet chocolate chips after beating the egg in, and sifting in a teaspoon of powdered cinnamon just before sifting in the flour (and folding both in at the same time).

The proportions worked: it's noticeably but not overpoweringly cinnamony, and still orangy and chocolaty.

Another cakeling iteration: chocolate chip/orange/cinnamon

It's papersky's basic cakeling recipe, this time withouyt the apple, beating in half a teaspoon of orange extract just before the egg; folding in a large handful of semi-sweet chocolate chips after beating the egg in, and sifting in a teaspoon of powdered cinnamon just before sifting in the flour (and folding both in at the same time).

The proportions worked: it's noticeably but not overpoweringly cinnamony, and still orangy and chocolaty.