[personal profile] conuly posted a link to an article called "Toothpaste Is Our New Favorite Souvenir," which I clicked on out of curiosity:

Cardamom sounded appealing (right now I'm using Tom's of Maine cinnamon-clove), thymol no, cucumber coriander mint… mastic dental gel "that's for Velma" and a momentary sad pang because of course I won't be able to share that with her.
redbird: my head and chest, from in front (new gym icon)
( Nov. 19th, 2015 01:06 pm)
The local movie theater had a few showings of Fantasia this past week, to go with the movie's 75th anniversary. [livejournal.com profile] cattitude and I went yesterday afternoon (and the clerk gave us the senior discount without asking). It was fun, but I hadn't remembered how much "here is the next thing you will be seeing and hearing" was in the movie, and I definitely could have done without the several-minute introduction by the conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra, about how much he loved the movie and why it's important. That said, this is a visual spectacle, so it definitely benefits from the big screen.

For anyone thinking about Retro-Hugo nominations, I am less inclined to nominate Fantasia now that I've seen it again; there are bits that I'd count in SF/fantasy (Mickey Mouse as the sorcerer's apprentice, and some of the bits with the fairies), but most of it isn't. The history of the Earth part is of course way out of date—I was looking at the volcanoes and thinking "right, nobody in 1940 knew those things could explode sideways," and the speculations on the extinction of the dinosaurs seem odd from here—but I liked the crinoids and trilobites.

A few hours later, I was doing some of my exercises. I started a new Evernote entry to list what I was doing, typed the date at the top (as usual), and realized that it would have been [personal profile] roadnotes's birthday. So, a bit sad, but there are worse things than remembering the people we've lost. I went back to exercising, thinking a bit about her, and then took it as a reminder to say hello to Scraps.

I did more exercises this morning, in the fitness room; I'm pleased that between the two days, I did basically all my exercises, and did well on the one I sometimes have trouble with form on.
the notes mentioned above )

And once I finish this tea, I will go outside, and get some sunshine and a bit of walking in, in the course of running a couple of errands.
I called our old favorite chocolate shop in New York today, to order chocolates for us and for [personal profile] roadnotes. Mark Varsano, the chocolatier, started by taking my name and address, but it wasn't until I gave him Roadnotes's name that he recognized me. Probably some combination of there being more Vickis than Velmas, her distinctive looks, and maybe that she'd been shopping there longer.

It was interesting selecting chocolate over the phone, since I couldn't see what was in the display case today (the website gives some examples of what he carries, and then adds "and much more")—and I just remembered that I'd meant to ask for a cashew or pecan turtle. But once he had Roadnotes for context, along with my name, Mark said "you want orange peel and ginger, right?" and we went from there. Is that kind of memory normal for people who work in retail, or is Mark Varsano's unusually good?

On the other hand, Varsano's is the shop that made me think "I live in a small town, population eight million," because Mark didn't just remember that I prefer dark chocolate, he would ask after [livejournal.com profile] baldanders's health. And today, along with whether I miss New York, he asked whether I had a job. That wasn't random; I'd mentioned being laid off, and job-hunting, to him back in 2012. However, rather than trusting his memory, Mark is going to look at his notes to put together a box for Roadnotes, since that's a better/more detailed description of what she's likely to want than I could come up with. (I talked to [livejournal.com profile] cattitude in the middle of writing this post, and he says those notes were pretty sparse last winter; I wonder if I will be getting a call back.)

We chose to be optimistic about the weather and the chocolate not melting in transit, rather than spending lots of money on FedEx overnight (Mark mentioned the FedEx pp, but in tones of "I wouldn't recommend this").


I got out the trash-picked bosu (balance device) this morning, and tried standing on it and exercising a little. It was too easy, especially given that it's been over a year since I used one; when I was putting the bosu away I saw that, having been stood upon, it was visibly deflated. So, not worth keeping, but I am thinking of buying one.

Also in the self-care/maintenance department, I stopped at the supermarket pharmacy a couple of hours ago for a flu shot. I had a few minutes' wait after I asked for the vaccine, read and filled out the form, and gave the clerk my insurance card. The injection itself went smoothly. Like last year, it's costing me nothing (the insurer is paying $30), and they gave me a coupon for a discount on groceries. [ETA, for reference: I was given Fluvirin. Trivalent, which this season is A/H3N2, A/H1N1, and B.]
redbird: Me with a cup of tea, standing in front of a refrigerator (drinking tea in jo's kitchen)
( Jul. 1st, 2012 10:29 pm)
I have slowly been getting rid of papers I don't need anymore, where "slowly" includes going through some stuff and then stopping for long periods. Last weekend I was talking about this, and some of what I had done recently, and that I had hit an entire box full of old letters, and hadn't even taken a deep breath and checked whether it was that or another ten years of extremely out of date bank statements.

[livejournal.com profile] papersky started to offer me advice/support about not needing to keep so many old things, and I explained that I knew this already and being told again didn't help. But it turns out not to have hurt, either. With a few days more time between me and opening that box; the desire to stay in the air conditioning today; and an attitude-shifting post from [personal profile] green_knight, I took another stab at it. Green_knight's suggestion (which wasn't intended as such, she was posting about her own current decluttering) is not to set any goal of how much to get rid of or how much will be left, but to think in terms of looking at things, with "decide later" as explicitly allowed, and counting any amount > 0 of things gotten rid of as an achievement, rather than having to get rid of at least a certain amount to count the project as successful.

I didn't open most of the envelopes, just looked at who they were from. I kept a bunch of letters from my best friend from high school, who I hadn't even thought of in years, and threw away everything from other people I knew in high school. I saved a few letters from my grandparents, a couple from someone I dated in college, and a few others. A lot of other people's letters, I didn't feel the need to keep: I hadn't so much made a deliberate decision back in the 1980s, as thrown a lot of things into a box. (Mostly it's letters from specific people, but I also found a grade report for a college course I took my senior year of high school; I thought briefly about hanging onto that and then remembered that I have my B.A., so transfer credits don't matter.) The startling thing wasn't the random "why do I have a postcard from this person?" but "who is this person who I keep finding letters from?" Names that ring no bell at all, but apparently 25 years ago we corresponded regularly enough that I've got a dozen envelopes with their return address.

At some point I may look at the letters I kept; for now, it's enough to know that I have these. But right now, a third of a shoebox full seems to be enough, at least from that epoch. (Maybe I'll flip through the stack of fanzine letters of comment on the bookshelf and try consolidating.)
Our toilet has been malfunctioning for a couple of days: it rarely flushes properly when we use the handle (maybe 1 time in 10), and is running constantly. (This at least means that we aren't dealing with unpleasant or unsanitary overflows.) We left a note for the super yesterday; he called me about 9:30 this morning. Since I was already at work, I arranged for him to come tomorrow at 9 a.m. I then walked over to my boss, explained the situation, and before I could ask she told me to work at home tomorrow because my "productivity would be higher," presumably compared to, say, showing up at 11 if the plumbing didn't take long. So, I have both emailed myself the files and brought them home on a thumb drive (along with a few relevant photocopies).

When I got my most recent credit card bill, it showed that Delta had refunded the change fee they should never have charged us. Since Mom paid for my tickets, including that added charge, I emailed her to say we had a refund. She asked me to put it in her New York checking account. So I wrote a check for $250 to my mother, turned it over, wrote "For Deposit Only" on the back (that always reminds me of my grandfather, who wrote that on every birthday check he mailed any of us), signed my name, put the account number on it, and filled out a deposit slip. This is a joint account (though I almost never use it; she set it up that way so I could do banking stuff for her), so this isn't actually unreasonable, but it feels a little odd to write a check to someone else, then turn it over and endorse it myself. Even though I suspect I could have signed it "John Wilkes Booth" and nobody would have noticed.

After work, I went to the gym: a shorter workout than often, but varied.

cut to avoid boredom )

Also, I got email this evening saying I won the auction for those hand-knit socks.
redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
( Dec. 24th, 2006 07:29 pm)
A few days ago, I went back through some of my older journal posts. The prompt for this was wanting to tag all my "collected comments" posts so I could pull them up more easily. In the course of doing this, I reread a bunch of stuff.

Some of it was utterly unsurprising: lots of posts about going to the gym, and about birds. But I hadn't remembered quite how often I'd posted about the bald eagle reintroduction project.

Some of it was depressing: I spent a lot of 2003 fretting about money and unemployment.

There were also some small, pleasant surprises. A few weeks ago I posted about having seen violets in autumn before a frost, and how novel (I thought) that was. I found a 2003 post about the same thing. I also found a comment from [livejournal.com profile] adrian_turtle written well before I'd met her at [livejournal.com profile] papersky and [livejournal.com profile] rysmiel's home. She told me either at the time we met or shortly thereafter that she recognized my name from Usenet, but seeing a comment that she left here before we'd met in person feels different. (There are people I've gotten to know quite well online before meeting in the flesh, as well as some of you who I've not yet met offline, but Adrian and I did most of our getting to know each other after finding ourselves in the same room.)

[This seems to tie in to some of the talking about the past, and about people and patterns, that [livejournal.com profile] roadnotes and I have been doing in the last month or two, though none of the specific examples above came up there.]
Tags:
redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
( Dec. 24th, 2006 07:29 pm)
A few days ago, I went back through some of my older journal posts. The prompt for this was wanting to tag all my "collected comments" posts so I could pull them up more easily. In the course of doing this, I reread a bunch of stuff.

Some of it was utterly unsurprising: lots of posts about going to the gym, and about birds. But I hadn't remembered quite how often I'd posted about the bald eagle reintroduction project.

Some of it was depressing: I spent a lot of 2003 fretting about money and unemployment.

There were also some small, pleasant surprises. A few weeks ago I posted about having seen violets in autumn before a frost, and how novel (I thought) that was. I found a 2003 post about the same thing. I also found a comment from [livejournal.com profile] adrian_turtle written well before I'd met her at [livejournal.com profile] papersky and [livejournal.com profile] rysmiel's home. She told me either at the time we met or shortly thereafter that she recognized my name from Usenet, but seeing a comment that she left here before we'd met in person feels different. (There are people I've gotten to know quite well online before meeting in the flesh, as well as some of you who I've not yet met offline, but Adrian and I did most of our getting to know each other after finding ourselves in the same room.)

[This seems to tie in to some of the talking about the past, and about people and patterns, that [livejournal.com profile] roadnotes and I have been doing in the last month or two, though none of the specific examples above came up there.]
Tags:
redbird: closeup photo of an apricot (food)
( Nov. 21st, 2006 01:02 pm)
We bought a new frying pan this summer, to replace one that had gotten badly worn. The new pan, rather than becoming seasoned properly, or simply staying clean (with proper treatment), accumulated cruft inside, and one evening filled the kitchen with smoke while [livejournal.com profile] cattitude was heating it in order to cook dinner.

Goodbye, new frying pan.

So I took out and washed an old frying pan that had been gathering dust. Old as in, my mother gave it to me when she emigrated in 1990. She gave it to me because I asked for it: this is the pan I fried mushrooms in when I was growing up. (It probably got used for other things—salami and eggs comes to mind—but I wanted it for mushrooms.) Cattitude doesn't like it, and not because he doesn't like mushrooms.

It's a moderately heavy enamel pan. Once upon a time it had a wooden handle, or so I'm told: by the time I remember it, that had disappeared, leaving less than three inches of hollow metal, which of course should be handled with a protective glove when cooking. The pan is heavy, and a bit awkward to lift, especially given the shortness of the handle.

None of this matters to me. I grew up with this pan, and it's one of the tools I learned to cook with. I just sauteed mushrooms for lunch, with a scallion and a bit of ginger. I was almost done when I realized that there should have been rice, a realization tied as much to memories of cooking rice and mushrooms as to the need for more food.
redbird: closeup photo of an apricot (food)
( Nov. 21st, 2006 01:02 pm)
We bought a new frying pan this summer, to replace one that had gotten badly worn. The new pan, rather than becoming seasoned properly, or simply staying clean (with proper treatment), accumulated cruft inside, and one evening filled the kitchen with smoke while [livejournal.com profile] cattitude was heating it in order to cook dinner.

Goodbye, new frying pan.

So I took out and washed an old frying pan that had been gathering dust. Old as in, my mother gave it to me when she emigrated in 1990. She gave it to me because I asked for it: this is the pan I fried mushrooms in when I was growing up. (It probably got used for other things—salami and eggs comes to mind—but I wanted it for mushrooms.) Cattitude doesn't like it, and not because he doesn't like mushrooms.

It's a moderately heavy enamel pan. Once upon a time it had a wooden handle, or so I'm told: by the time I remember it, that had disappeared, leaving less than three inches of hollow metal, which of course should be handled with a protective glove when cooking. The pan is heavy, and a bit awkward to lift, especially given the shortness of the handle.

None of this matters to me. I grew up with this pan, and it's one of the tools I learned to cook with. I just sauteed mushrooms for lunch, with a scallion and a bit of ginger. I was almost done when I realized that there should have been rice, a realization tied as much to memories of cooking rice and mushrooms as to the need for more food.
I'd been going to make ice cream, but the current cold/sore throat thing doesn't seem to like large quantities of milk (at least not as hot chocolate with extra cream), so sorbet.

Ingredients:

1 12-ounce (weight) package frozen blueberries (approx 2.5 cups, per the nutrition information)
Scant half cup sugar [vanilla sugar, because that's what I have]
Scant half cup water
1/2 teaspoon Grand Marnier liqueur

Combine berries, sugar, and water in a saucepan. Bring to a boil. Simmer 30 minutes. Let stand another 30, to cool for easier handling. Blend, strain into a bowl, mix in liqueur, chill (I've set the timer for another hour), freeze in the ice cream maker.

Notes: This was based on poking around online. The simplest recipe I found wanted a quart of berries, and 3/4 cup each of sugar and water. Okay, 5/8 of 3/4 is 15/32, which is a scant half cup for the home cook. This recipe didn't mention alcohol, but most of the sorbet recipes I've seen do, to keep it from freezing too hard. They often suggest vodka, I think on the theory of "neutral spirit," but we don't have that. The orange liqueur has been around for years, literally—I bought it for chocolate mousse, and haven't made that in a while—and seemed a better choice than white wine, sherry, or bourbon. Hmm. One that I looked at earlier (probably where I got the idea of Grand Marnier) calls for this many blueberries and a full tablespoon of vodka; maybe I'll add another half teaspoon of liqueur. (That one also wants a cup of sugar to half a cup of water, and some lemon juice, but the orange is going to take care of citrusness, I think.)

In the course of this, I not only dug out a dusty bottle of liqueur, but a hand-held blender I got as an odd sort of prize from the temp agency I was working through during the Commute From Hell, an apron I almost never use (I thought the blueberry stuff might splatter when blended), and my spurtle, which I found earlier today in the course of putting away my grandmother's shell-inlaid trivet. We have better trivets, for practical use; this is a memory of my grandparents' home. I put it in the baking-stuff drawer.
I'd been going to make ice cream, but the current cold/sore throat thing doesn't seem to like large quantities of milk (at least not as hot chocolate with extra cream), so sorbet.

Ingredients:

1 12-ounce (weight) package frozen blueberries (approx 2.5 cups, per the nutrition information)
Scant half cup sugar [vanilla sugar, because that's what I have]
Scant half cup water
1/2 teaspoon Grand Marnier liqueur

Combine berries, sugar, and water in a saucepan. Bring to a boil. Simmer 30 minutes. Let stand another 30, to cool for easier handling. Blend, strain into a bowl, mix in liqueur, chill (I've set the timer for another hour), freeze in the ice cream maker.

Notes: This was based on poking around online. The simplest recipe I found wanted a quart of berries, and 3/4 cup each of sugar and water. Okay, 5/8 of 3/4 is 15/32, which is a scant half cup for the home cook. This recipe didn't mention alcohol, but most of the sorbet recipes I've seen do, to keep it from freezing too hard. They often suggest vodka, I think on the theory of "neutral spirit," but we don't have that. The orange liqueur has been around for years, literally—I bought it for chocolate mousse, and haven't made that in a while—and seemed a better choice than white wine, sherry, or bourbon. Hmm. One that I looked at earlier (probably where I got the idea of Grand Marnier) calls for this many blueberries and a full tablespoon of vodka; maybe I'll add another half teaspoon of liqueur. (That one also wants a cup of sugar to half a cup of water, and some lemon juice, but the orange is going to take care of citrusness, I think.)

In the course of this, I not only dug out a dusty bottle of liqueur, but a hand-held blender I got as an odd sort of prize from the temp agency I was working through during the Commute From Hell, an apron I almost never use (I thought the blueberry stuff might splatter when blended), and my spurtle, which I found earlier today in the course of putting away my grandmother's shell-inlaid trivet. We have better trivets, for practical use; this is a memory of my grandparents' home. I put it in the baking-stuff drawer.
redbird: closeup photo of an apricot (apricot)
( Oct. 23rd, 2006 09:50 pm)
In random conversation over dinner just now, we wandered from ciabatta to different kinds of rye bread to Ry-Krisp crackers, to SAS serving them to me as part of my special seafood meal several years ago. I mentioned that they'd given me a lot of smoked salmon, and one snack centered on a hard-boiled egg and some fish eggs, which [livejournal.com profile] cattitude noted sounded appealing.

I have actual pleasant memories of airline food from seven years ago (!).
Tags:
redbird: closeup photo of an apricot (apricot)
( Oct. 23rd, 2006 09:50 pm)
In random conversation over dinner just now, we wandered from ciabatta to different kinds of rye bread to Ry-Krisp crackers, to SAS serving them to me as part of my special seafood meal several years ago. I mentioned that they'd given me a lot of smoked salmon, and one snack centered on a hard-boiled egg and some fish eggs, which [livejournal.com profile] cattitude noted sounded appealing.

I have actual pleasant memories of airline food from seven years ago (!).
Tags:
redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
( Oct. 9th, 2006 08:15 pm)
I just threw out a jacket that I'd put away last Spring, knowing it was badly ripped in ways that probably aren't fixable (a tear in the patterned fabric, exposing the layer of fabric that made it a mid-weight Spring/Fall jacket).

I'll miss it, but I'm sure I got my money's worth. I picked it up at a consignment shop several years back, while in Seattle for a week between Corflu and Potlatch; that was the year they were both in Seattle, on consecutive weekends. I stayed with [livejournal.com profile] alanro and [livejournal.com profile] shikzoid for the time between the cons, except for the side trip to Vancouver with [livejournal.com profile] marykaykare, [livejournal.com profile] akirlu, and [livejournal.com profile] libertango. My Vancouver aquarium shirt is still in good shape, but it was new when I bought it.
redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
( Oct. 9th, 2006 08:15 pm)
I just threw out a jacket that I'd put away last Spring, knowing it was badly ripped in ways that probably aren't fixable (a tear in the patterned fabric, exposing the layer of fabric that made it a mid-weight Spring/Fall jacket).

I'll miss it, but I'm sure I got my money's worth. I picked it up at a consignment shop several years back, while in Seattle for a week between Corflu and Potlatch; that was the year they were both in Seattle, on consecutive weekends. I stayed with [livejournal.com profile] alanro and [livejournal.com profile] shikzoid for the time between the cons, except for the side trip to Vancouver with [livejournal.com profile] marykaykare, [livejournal.com profile] akirlu, and [livejournal.com profile] libertango. My Vancouver aquarium shirt is still in good shape, but it was new when I bought it.
I didn't know Mike as well as I'd have liked, but I did get to spend time with him, either listening to him on panels or as the delightfully funny "Ask Dr. Mike," or in company with [livejournal.com profile] elisem.

The last few times I saw him, Mike was wearing an enamel lapel pin, with a good depiction of the human kidney. A fitting thing, for someone with a kidney transplant, but Mike thought of it and many others didn't. When Mike got the new kidney, he said that a good friend of his whom he had never met had just died. And he was still in the hospital when he got a friend to bring him a steak-and-kidney pie.

This past Wiscon, [livejournal.com profile] adrian_turtle and I kept Elise and Mike company for a quiet dinner in their hotel room, and then we all helped her set up for her haiku earring party: quiet and companionable, talking for a while, then slicing cheese from the Farmer's Market and assembling furniture.

I missed Mike last weekend, at the Farthing Party: not because he'd said he'd be there, but because [livejournal.com profile] elise was, and because there was an Asterisk panel, and he was part of, and part of the reason for, the first of those, a few Minicons ago.

A few Wiscons ago, I'd been working on an earring haiku. Well, it started as a haiku. The Sunday evening, L (who is not on LJ), Elise, Mike, and I had dinner. I sat across from Elise, who helped me work on what had become a prose poem, while Mike and L sat across from each other and discussed theatre. It was a remarkable blending/overlap of conversations.

Mike had the same gift [livejournal.com profile] papersky does, of writing poetry that fits into a conversation. Not the only kind he wrote, or that she does: Mike also wrote about love and the ways we defy entropy, and his memorial poem 110 Stories is all over the Web.

There are friends and loved ones we expect to outlive, for whatever reasons: we're younger, they have health problems, we think ourselves immortal. But that expectation doesn't make it less of a shock, or less painful.

[livejournal.com profile] pegkerr pointed me at this group of photos of Mike, many with his eyebrows raised, alone and in groups. It helps.
I didn't know Mike as well as I'd have liked, but I did get to spend time with him, either listening to him on panels or as the delightfully funny "Ask Dr. Mike," or in company with [livejournal.com profile] elisem.

The last few times I saw him, Mike was wearing an enamel lapel pin, with a good depiction of the human kidney. A fitting thing, for someone with a kidney transplant, but Mike thought of it and many others didn't. When Mike got the new kidney, he said that a good friend of his whom he had never met had just died. And he was still in the hospital when he got a friend to bring him a steak-and-kidney pie.

This past Wiscon, [livejournal.com profile] adrian_turtle and I kept Elise and Mike company for a quiet dinner in their hotel room, and then we all helped her set up for her haiku earring party: quiet and companionable, talking for a while, then slicing cheese from the Farmer's Market and assembling furniture.

I missed Mike last weekend, at the Farthing Party: not because he'd said he'd be there, but because [livejournal.com profile] elise was, and because there was an Asterisk panel, and he was part of, and part of the reason for, the first of those, a few Minicons ago.

A few Wiscons ago, I'd been working on an earring haiku. Well, it started as a haiku. The Sunday evening, L (who is not on LJ), Elise, Mike, and I had dinner. I sat across from Elise, who helped me work on what had become a prose poem, while Mike and L sat across from each other and discussed theatre. It was a remarkable blending/overlap of conversations.

Mike had the same gift [livejournal.com profile] papersky does, of writing poetry that fits into a conversation. Not the only kind he wrote, or that she does: Mike also wrote about love and the ways we defy entropy, and his memorial poem 110 Stories is all over the Web.

There are friends and loved ones we expect to outlive, for whatever reasons: we're younger, they have health problems, we think ourselves immortal. But that expectation doesn't make it less of a shock, or less painful.

[livejournal.com profile] pegkerr pointed me at this group of photos of Mike, many with his eyebrows raised, alone and in groups. It helps.
For a panel at the Farthing Party this weekend, [livejournal.com profile] papersky asked me to read the piece of [livejournal.com profile] ianmcdonald's Desolation Road that I read at her and [livejournal.com profile] rysmiel's wedding. I couldn't find my copy of the book, but I have Papersky's emails to me about wedding plans, which included the piece I'm reading. I also read some of the emails she'd send me before and after that, including cheerful discussions of what to wear ("anything you like"), the non-necessity of gifts (in which I got silly and talked about the possibility that she already had five platypus warmers or that rysmiel disliked monotremes), and similar things (along with practicalities about airports, rides to Hay, and such). That was fun, in a quiet, reminiscent way.

I pasted the reading into Word, fixed a couple of small transcription errors ("sand" for "sang" and an extra vowel dropped into one of the run-together words that it's full of), and printed it out in 14-point type, so I can practice. ([livejournal.com profile] rysmiel is going to bring a copy of the book to the hotel tomorrow, but I didn't feel like waiting.)

First, I read it through taking the advice Papersky gave me five years ago, to read the run-together words a bit faster than normal. Then I had an idea: deliberately read the rest of the text more slowly than my normal conversational speed, which is a good idea when I'm reading aloud, and do the runtogetherphrases in my fast New York way. I think it works, and that thinking of the other parts as "slow down here" rather than those as "speed up now" will probably improve intelligibility, by giving me the contrast without taking me faster than I'm comfortable.
For a panel at the Farthing Party this weekend, [livejournal.com profile] papersky asked me to read the piece of [livejournal.com profile] ianmcdonald's Desolation Road that I read at her and [livejournal.com profile] rysmiel's wedding. I couldn't find my copy of the book, but I have Papersky's emails to me about wedding plans, which included the piece I'm reading. I also read some of the emails she'd send me before and after that, including cheerful discussions of what to wear ("anything you like"), the non-necessity of gifts (in which I got silly and talked about the possibility that she already had five platypus warmers or that rysmiel disliked monotremes), and similar things (along with practicalities about airports, rides to Hay, and such). That was fun, in a quiet, reminiscent way.

I pasted the reading into Word, fixed a couple of small transcription errors ("sand" for "sang" and an extra vowel dropped into one of the run-together words that it's full of), and printed it out in 14-point type, so I can practice. ([livejournal.com profile] rysmiel is going to bring a copy of the book to the hotel tomorrow, but I didn't feel like waiting.)

First, I read it through taking the advice Papersky gave me five years ago, to read the run-together words a bit faster than normal. Then I had an idea: deliberately read the rest of the text more slowly than my normal conversational speed, which is a good idea when I'm reading aloud, and do the runtogetherphrases in my fast New York way. I think it works, and that thinking of the other parts as "slow down here" rather than those as "speed up now" will probably improve intelligibility, by giving me the contrast without taking me faster than I'm comfortable.
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