Praise then darkness, and creation unfinished

I'd been using the resistbot texting tool on and off to send faxes to my senators and/or representatives, because I believed those faxes would get more attention than letters or email, and it was easier than actually calling. The last couple of times I used the bot, instead of "your fax has been sent on the second try" or even "we couldn't get through to Senator Warren," I got either "your message has been queued" or a generic "something didn't work" error.

So I looked at the resistbot FAQ a couple of days ago to find out what's going on : they're no longer faxing congress, but connecting to the House and Senate electronic messaging system. The reasons make sense: the message volume was overwhelming the fax system, so some offices were taking fax machines offline, and constituents faxing to ask for help with problems couldn't get through.

Resistbot is now basically a way to email both my senators (or them and my congressmember, or just one of the above) at once, from my cell phone. Useful, but it doesn't feel like a substitute for actually calling. If I'm home rather than waiting for a bus, I can send emails more smoothly from my actual computer, with a real keyboard. That said, I will probably still use the bot occasionally.

Side note: when I sent electronic messages to both my senators via resistbot, I got an autoreply from Ed Markey almost immediately (thanking me for writing about my concerns) but nothing from Elizabeth Warren. (When I lived in Katherine Clark's district, some of my phone calls got actual paper letters back; that hasn't happened yet with Mike Capuano, but I've only lived here two months and called him two or three times.)

More comments from elsewhere: ( names, anonymity, illness, comparisons, libraries and collection development, tool use )

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 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.