November 10th, 2008


The Big Photo Post of Moving DOOM

Ok! Flickr powers go!

So we moved on Sunday with the help of so many of our friends. We didn't really know who would show up at such an ungodly hour, to do such ungodly, dog-fur clouded work, but zoethe , theferrett , khiron1416 , grettirhadrada ,and transfiguration  all came with bells on. It was an amazing morning--we packed up in about 4 hours, a horrendous amount of stuff, and zoethe showed off her Tetris skills in directing the arrangement of goods. I tried to keep it together through everything: all these friends I loved so much, and we were leaving them. It was far, far harder than I anticipated. There were pancakes for breakfast afterward, with all of us so starving we just about rioted when it took 45 minutes to bring us some damn bacon. (Sample conversation: Me: Not that many writers write to my kinks. justbeast : Hey, there's this writer who writes to all my kinks! And she's hot. Me: You should take her away to an island in Maine! theferrett : No. You should get her some damn bacon.)

The point is that I love you all. You made my life wonderful in Cleveland, took in a lost, damaged girl fresh out of Japan and were so kind to her. We'll be back, I promise.

Then it was car and truck (valiantly piloted by the Beast) for 13 hours. When we finally pulled into New England, the trees were so violently bright and beautiful we kept calling each other to say ohmygodlook! Plus my sunglasses are tinted slightly golden, so it was like Photoshop for the real world. When we crossed the bridge from New Hampshire to Maine...well, no technicolor movie has ever been so vivid, and so archtypally New England, with blue river, red trees, little steeples. Over cell phones we talked about how hard moving is, how hard it is to acheive escape velocity, in terms of money and heartache and loss. This is not a culture that approves of moving, as the rental truck bills might tell you. And even though we've become more nomadic, still, the emotional pain of leaving a life behind is pretty damn sharp.

buymeaclue , emilytheslayer , and lynxreign came to help us on the other end--we were, unfortunately, a bit late to the ferry, and so caught the last car ferry over as the dusk gave decided way to night. (And emilytheslayer made us socks! These huge warm green things for D which I now steal all the time, and Goth Princess Ballet Socks for me! (German Shepherd sold separately)

But the point is, we arrived after 5, and thus we arrived in darkness, unable to see much of anything, as dark is some serious dark on the island. Even at 7 pm it was totally silent and black, except for some Halloween lights and the ferry horns. Despite the fact that the following pictures were taken the next day in the sunlight, you have to imagine us, pulling up to a creaky New England house the day after Halloween, in the dark, with the wind smelling of woodsmoke and the gulls crying softly...

Witchy awesome tree in the front yard! At night? It will eat your kids, I swear.

Around this point, I figured out what was going on. Oh my fucking god. We're in a Stephen King novel. Like, the ones where some idealistic young couple moves to a creaky old New England house from the Midwest and they thing everything's gonna be awesome and countryfied but actually they're about to get chomped.

I explored the house--which was empty and cold and possessed of random bits of old furniture that hadn't been removed. I couldn't open several of the closets, but when I found one whose doorknob worked, I cracked a joke about Stephen King again, and opened it, only to find:

Headless St. Francis!

But in the dark! With cobwebs! And he's sitting on an altar thing with a Foul Unguent in a glass jar on it! I did not run screaming, but I did let the others explore the dirt basement, which clearly has an Ancient Burial Site underneath it. It actually took me a couple of days not to be freaked at the upstairs of the house, which is not scary, but it lacks the warm red wood floors and has Headless Saint Francis in it. Also, in general, it was a rough first couple of nights, as I used to be an avid King reader and I am always alert for cliche in my own life. And I missed my friends, and familiar things.

We went down to the pub after our erstwhile and beneficent friends had gone back on the boat, which did not help the King comparison--the bartender is a totally awesome guy with a big black beard named Hutch. Bartenders in horror novels have to have names like that, you know. We ate chowder and chili and pumpkin beer and talked about the election--what a strange feeling to be in a blue state where it's just obvious you voted for Obama. On election night, people gave us high fives when Ohio went blue. There are not a few Ohioans living here, actually. Two from Cleveland Heights, no less!

It's taken us a week. We're mostly moved in--pictures of the inside of the house when we finally are. I love the house now, though it is a bit drafty and cold and our furnace stopped working yesterday for some reason. Headless Saint Francis has not eaten me. I have cooked and taken the ferry a few times and feel pretty good about everything--though I'm still missing my friends and hoping Bostoners will want to come up soon.

And yesterday we finally drove around the island. Holy cats, you guys. This place is amazing. It goes from pretty civilized--we're only 1/3 mile from the store and post office and such--to very wild, very fast. The street we live on, Central Avenue, which is, as might be expected, the central island road, turns into this five blocks from the house.

That's the Central Ave Extension. It's beautiful, and the forest is dense and rocky and mad, but this is a road that people live on, and it is not friendly to cars at all. But I know where I'll be running in the mornings. There's also WWII and Civil War forts and bunkers about--you can see gun turrets from the Civil War on one of the neighboring islands.

There are a whole mess of pictures under the cut--I will relent to cuts at the end. We will be instituting weekly picnics on the shore, I think.

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In conclusion, there is a house named Edgewood here, on the ocean side of the island. That's, possibly, all that needs to be said of where we are.

  • Current Mood
    happy happy

He Sort of Skipped That Part

As though the universe means to give me a housewarming gift, my divorce papers arrived at the new house today, after two years of delay and lawyerly incompetence. Two years almost to the day.

Um. Anyone out there a notary and wants to come stay on the island and have me bake cookies for them and be nuzzled by dogs and be plied with liquors for a weekend as payment for stamping this thing? Soonish?

A life without zoethe  is hard.

I used to want to have a divorce party when all this was final, with a black wedding dress and walking down an aisle backwards and such. But it's taken so long I'm kind of whatever about it now. Alas. Would have been a great party. Better than the wedding was, by a long shot.

Subject heading is true, btw. Our minister, forced on us by inlaws, was so nervous he skipped the "forsaking all others" and "til death do you part" bits. I'm not saying I should get to wear virginal white at the next wedding, but I think that means me and Buttercup are in the clear.

  • Current Mood
    indifferent indifferent


Would any of my knitting inclined friends out there be willing to make a version of this guy for me? We ordered one from her a YEAR ago and never heard back or got anything from her at all. But I still really want it! It has baby seals on the ends!

  • Current Mood
    annoyed annoyed

Bananas. This Shit is Them.

Oh my god, you guys. We were a BANANA HOUSEHOLD tonight.

Due to justbeast 's Kong-like appetite for bananas and a lost-replaced-then-found bag of groceries, we found ourselves with a stupid surplus of bananas. Which I don't actually like to eat raw or in smoothies. Thus: Banana Dinner Overdrive.

Dessert was obvious: banana bread. With butterscotch and pecans in, since I had some left over from the Halloweentown cookies.

The main dish, though, was banana curry. Over salmon and brown rice. Sound foul? It was one of the best curries I've ever had. Sweet, not really banana-tasting at all, spicy, creamy, awesome. If you don't like sweet curries, it's not for you, but if you do, this is a winner. I am profoundly pleased with myself. The banana bread was also fantastic, with gooey butterscotch and crunchy nuts and mmmmm.

But! I would be remiss if I did not hand over the recipe! So here it is:

Banana Curry:

2 large bananas, cut into pieces
2 tablespoons curry powder
1 teaspoon dry mustard
3 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup plain yogurt--could be replaced with coconut milk for Thai-ness, but I don't really like coconut-based curries so I went with yogurt
a handful of fresh cilantro, however you interpret a handful--the more the better
Grated zest of 1 lemon
Juice of said lemon
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon fresh-ground black pepper
3/4 cup water

Meats of your preferred beast (It makes, I don't know, about 2-3 cups of sauce, so however much meat you think that would cover and leave you with enough for pouring over rice. Goes wonderfully with fish.)

I also threw in some curry paste and chili powder, but that's not really necessary. I also added a few slices of fresh jalapeno, because curry on its own is not that spicy. Given more time I probably would have reconstituted some dried chipotle, which is really just smoked jalapeno anyway. All this is optional, but my kitchen turns into EVERYTHING MUST GO when I'm making any kind of sauce.

Mix all the sauce stuff up in the food processor except the water, then mix in the water till the sauce is the consistency you like it. Pour it all over raw beast, in the oven at 400 for 20-25 minutes, depending on what sort of beast you used and how done you like said beast. Butter can be replaced with more yogurt for a lower-fat option.

It is seriously fantastic. Like a korma, sort of, but richer and smokier. I am SO trying this with mango soon.

Tomorrow: banana bison burgers, based on regyt 's banana-pork burger recipe. We still have two bunches of the suckers left.