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September 26, 2006

Indoor Opera, Outdoors

I had a lovely, unexpected experience after leaving work today. I wandered by Lincoln Center, noticed a screen and large banner announcing Madame Butterfly, and realized it was opening night at the Met. The plaza was full of people and press, and the screen meant that the opera would be broadcast live for an al fresco audience sitting outside. This is all thanks to Peter Gelb, the new general manager for the Met, I think (last week he let random people into rehearsal, and on 10/6 he's doing $25 tix for La Boheme).

A red carpet was set up for somebodies on their way inside, and I caught a glimpse of Baryshnikov walking by (his appearance generated spontaneous applause). I wasn't enough of a gawker to hang around just for the celebs, so I went to run an errand or two, and planned to come back for a bit of the opera later. On my way out, I saw a collection of gorgeous opening-night-appropriate opera attire -- gowns, shawls, and designer-wear of a much more tasteful variety than what I usually see over there. It was a little strange to find it on the sidewalk, mingling with normal people. I couldn't help but stare at some of the dresses I liked. One woman was standing on the corner dressed like a true Madame Butterfly aficionado -- she was wearing a kimono.

Later, on my way back, I could hear the tenor from a block away. I wandered into the plaza, found a decent spot to stand, and got completely drawn into the story.

The story goes like this: An American Navy officer visits Japan, becomes enchanted by a Geisha, and marries her. She takes the marriage seriously, he doesn't. He sails away, she waits for three years with his son, remaining faithful to the hope that he'll return to stay with her. He does return, but with a western wife, and you can imagine how heartbreaking the whole thing gets at the end. I had forgotten that the beginning is sad, too, though -- you know it's going to turn out badly for Butterfly from the start.

It's an impossibly sad story, and Puccini does a very good job at tearing out your heart with the music. I had seen the opera before, but this was a new production, and the new minimalist set brought the story into relief and focused more attention on the two main characters. Isolation, abandonment, and longing are all conveyed a bit better by a mostly dark set. Floating globes of light (maneuvered by invisible dancers) also did a good job of adding a surreal element to the scene.

Something about the music outdoors and the close-up of the action on stage -- and possibly just the unexpected nature of it all -- made everything very enjoyable than I think it might have been inside. I hope they do this again with another opera.

Posted by csageday at 12:38 AM | Comments (0)

September 24, 2006

Blue Sage, Now in Spanish!!

Como tengo que practicar el español, ¿porque no lo practico aquí? (Acabo de pasar 10 minutos buscando como hacer un acento -- no es tan fácil escribir en español como ingles -- hay acentos, signos de interrogación al revés, etc., pero persevero).

Lo siento mucho si 1) mi español te da un dolor de cabeza (es lo que pasa a mi--comprendo como sientas) o 2) no hablas ni una palabra de español. Pero si es el último, no estás leyendo esto (seria más posible que me has dejado completamente). Si es el primero, es probable que leer esto es un poco difícil (o divertido), per por favor, si hablas español fluidamente, te imploro corregir la gramática en los "comments." ¡Necesito ayuda!

Estoy pensando en español hoy, porque pasé una hora y media con María (nuestra instructor de español), aprendiendo otra vez como hablar esta idioma. Con ella, descubrí que 1) todavía lo puedo hablar bastante bien y 2) aunque he olvidado mucho, cuando ella me ayudó con algo (con "supo", por ejemplo), siguó mas fácil la conversación. Todavía no tengo la confianza de tener una conversación completamente normal -- cometo muchos errores, y tengo problemas con el imperfecto y el subjetivo (¡y pensaba que sabía esto perfectamente!) y el condicional. Pero no me importa mucho -- es mejor saber que cuando necesitaré hablar español, podré.

Lo que me preocupa más del vocabulario es que nunca aprendí frases y expresiones de conversación informal. A veces traducir estas frases es fácil, pero a veces en español es completamente diferente. También me molesta como siempre uso las mismas frases. Quisiera aprender unas que sueñan mas natural, y sueñan menos como acaban de ser traducidos por un aficionado.

Pobre Derek. Iba a venir con migo a la lección, pero estababa enfermo -- tiene algún virus, y pasó mucho del día en la cama. Además, porque yo no puedo planificar nada, también pasó el día buscando coches y apartementos para alquilar en Barcelona. Siento culpable, pero a lo menos he hecho una cena buenísima con pasta y legumbres. ¿Eso vale algo, no?

No se si voy a seguir a poner artículos en español aquî -- si alguien quiere que lo haga, por favor déjeme una nota diciendo eso, y lo haré. Por el resto de la gente que visitan aquí, si quieres, puedo poner el artículo traducido. No lo pongo hoy porque si hablo mas español hoy, mi cabezo va romper. (Derek le gusta la palabra "pongo", pues tenía que inventar una excusa usarla.)

Posted by csageday at 10:49 PM | Comments (1)

September 23, 2006

All Knitting, All the Time

Okay. Time for a knitting post, because I need help deciding what the hell to make out of some yarn as a gift for a Spain host.

But first, since blankets take ages, I've moved on to hats for babies. I did the blankets before because I really don't like following a pattern, and hats are similar -- you can pretty much figure it out as you go. I started with a watermelon hat because I liked the one over at Yarn Harlot. Then, because I had loads of lovely Arabella merino wool in fun colors, I did a little striped hat, too. Both turned out fine, size-wise (I tried them on a baby at the baby shower just to be sure, since I was worried), although one's inexplicably smaller. I think I'd make both a little longer, so they cover the ears, the next time around. I finished them and blocked them just in time for the shower -- here they are in the car, on the way to Delaware (wish I'd gotten better photos! Have to get some of them on the baby when he arrives...):

Unfortunately, I didn't include anything in these photos to show size well. Here they are on a very small whoozit, though:

I think they're pretty cute, but I'm not sure if they're really useful without earflaps or a string to tie the thing around the baby's neck. Next time, I'll have to figure out how to incorporate that.

Next up, I've started in on Yarn Harlot's Snowdrop Shawl. Sadly, the pattern is kicking my ass. Every other row, I realize I did something wrong four rows back, so I have to do intensive, stressful, complex surgery to fix it. I think I prefer rectangular shawls to triangular ones -- I hope the recipient of this 1) likes it and 2) doesn't mind the triangle business. I wanted to make something really nice and pretty for said recipient -- I'm not sure the end product will quite match what I wanted to do, but it should be fine.

Finally, I have two more 20-somethings to knit something for. I want to use this lovely Manos de Uruguay variegated red yarn from Rhinebeck last year, but I'm having trouble coming up with the right pattern to show off the color. I also need to make something wearable. I was thinking of a skinny scarf, so I started out with a double-stranded garter stitch, with some variety thrown in. I don't really like it, and don't think I have enough yarn to do two. So I switched so a single strand, and that looks better, but now it's less scarf-like, so I think the shape might need to be different. Maybe a clapotis-like triangular corner and more width would work? Knitting readers -- thoughts?

Posted by csageday at 04:37 PM | Comments (3)

September 22, 2006

Glamorous Groceries

I took a little self-indulgent, nostalgic side-trip on my way home from Union Square this evening. Walking down 9th street, I was reminded that the old Balducci's on 6th Ave and 9th St.--the first gourmet grocery store I'd been to--had turned into a Citarella. The change happened a while ago, but I rarely come to this neighborhood, and when I do I'm usually accompanied by someone who has a low tolerance for leisurely browsing at pricey cheese counters. Because I still have fond feelings for that corner, I went in for kicks. (I've also just realized that I enjoy food shopping much more than any other shopping. I don't understand the whole clothes & accessories marketplace, but when it comes to food, I could (and do) spend hours in a grocery store. Soho clothes-shopping trips for me usually end up in Dean & Deluca, where I find an excuse to spend an hour inspecting sardine and anchovy packaging.)

When I first started coming to the city on my own, I usually ended up in the West Village -- Elephant & Castle was nearby, and 8th street makes itself accessible to teenagers (cheap hot dogs, racy t-shirts). I'm not sure when I first shopped at Balducci's, but I know it was pointed out to me by my parents as a swanky food establishment (they used to live in the neighborhood, which is possibly why I was familiar with the general area before I discovered, much later, that the city extended north of 14th and south of Houston). I remember being thrilled to find jamon serrano there while in college -- first, because it was something I loved in Spain (my Spanish mother took great pains to find a vacuum packed version that I could bring back in my suitcase), and second, because I could identify something behind the counter, which meant that I could participate in the number-taking and waiting and ordering as if I belonged in Balducci's and knew my way around the meat counter.

Today, the layout of the store is pretty much the same, and the items on offer are similar. I know a bit more about the food, thankfully, but am still wary of counters. I didn't plan to buy anything other than a wedge of cheese, but I kept picking things up. First, I found fresh dates on a vine, which I'd never seen. They were yellowish and some looked as if they had "ripened" to the point of being regular dates, while others looked like plums. I picked up some Italian plums for Derek and one of those overpriced blocks of fig cake. I also got fresh figs, a pomegranate, and some caramel cubes for munching on at work. I almost bought some "artisinal" salami.

I couldn't resist comparing the selection to the co-op. The prices were pretty much doubled, and aside from the salami and fig cake, I could have gotten everything there instead. I was paying for the old-style gourmet-grocery experience, though. There were all sorts of European offerings (but no sign of my favorite co-op yogurt, which I think is Australian or has something to do with a kangaroo). I walked past a woman whose cart was filled entirely with pre-made Citarella packaged meals (typical Manhattanite behavior). The checkout proficiency, I have to say, was nearly worth the extra cost (no explaining what everything is -- they KNOW!). It's not like I need to go there again for another five years, but it was a nice side trip and I left thinking that someone might mistake me for an old-school old-money West Village sophisticate.

Afterwards, I took my inflated ego and Citarella bag over to C.O. Bigelow to extend the fantasy. I convinced myself that I needed some travel supplies for the Spain trip. C.O. Bigelow is so quaint and lovely that you feel you need to have a lofty shopping purpose. The store feels European, too, which helped. Before I went to Spain the first time, I remember elaborate preparations (it was my first time leaving home for an extended period) and several new trip-specific purchases. They seemed extravagant to me at the time, because we couldn't really afford them, but the TRIP was all important and demanded such extravagance. I think I had a different wardrobe over there. Remembering this, I decided that I could spend $12 on a hair thing because, while I might not wear it here or really have a purpose for it, in SPAIN, well, it's another story. My Spain self will wear it incessantly. Also, Ladies who Lunch and shop at Citarella wear them, too.

By the way, why do we dress differently when we travel? Is it because we can, because people don't know us, so we can take risks? Or is it the location? Or is it just me?

One more food note: Derek's parents returned from a trip to Scotland with many, many packages of authentic Hob Nobs and digestive biscuits for us (they know what we like). I've been eating the non-chocolate ones for breakfast and the chocolate ones for dinner. They're like oatmeal, right? It's not like they're cookies or anything.

Posted by csageday at 01:34 AM | Comments (2)

September 19, 2006

Audiologists & Car Salesmen

I have enough hearing loss to justify wearing a hearing aid (or two, actually), but I've valiantly (or frustratingly) avoided doing so for approximately twenty years because I hate the things. They're ugly, cost a lot, and are easy to lose. Wearing one makes you feel like you're walking around with cotton in your ear, into which someone has wedged a mini radio that goes "whoooossshsshhhh" all day and occasionally amplifies the speech of your loved ones.

If you mumble or if you've ever tried to tell me something from behind my back, you have some experience with my charming hearing loss. In fact, if you mumble, you probably hate me because I laughed that time you told me your cat died, or whatever. I'm not that good at compensating for not hearing whispered things. I do a lot of nodding and intent staring. Sometimes I manage to piece together meaning 30 seconds later, and jump inappropriately into the conversation. This makes me unpopular.

Once in a blue moon, I'll end up in a situation where I really can't hear a thing, and then I'll think, Damn, I need to go to an audiologist and just get a backup hearing aid. This happened in the nineties, when I was called to jury duty in Newark and had no idea what the hell was going on in the courtroom. I think it was even a murder trial, so I was freaking out a bit. The lawyers mumbled (who knew lawyers could mumble?) and the acoustics were terrible -- the words just evaporated into the air. Thankfully, I was picked off by one of the lawyers, but that experience, along with a few other equally traumatizing ones, finally sent me in the direction of an audiologist two years ago.

Audiologist's offices seem like doctor's offices. They are tucked away in office buildings with other medical offices, there's a receptionist's desk, and you fill out an insurance form. Once inside, there are framed diplomas and white walls and such. There is a booth for the hearing test (an agonizing place, since I'm competitive and it kills me that I can't ace the test), and there's medical gear lying around. You have a test and a consultation, and then you expect to be told something about the hearing aids available.

This is where it all goes horribly wrong. Your audiologist will tell you that you want and need Brand X, for such and such technical details. You nod. What you don't know, and what won't dawn on you until you leave or go to another audiologist, is that audiologists are like car salesman. They've sold their souls to one major company, and they'll sell that company over any other to patients. Their "diagnosis" leads nicely into a sales pitch. During the pitch, you start to notice that the diplomas on the wall aren't really medical.

My father (also near-deaf and a valiant crusader against hearing aids, until recently) gave me a lecture about this a while back, which I semi-ignored. I figured that I just had to find the right one, who would show me all sorts of hearing aids and discuss their merits in a non-biased way.

The first audiologist I saw seemed pleasant, and recommended a type of hearing aid that seemed perfect, although horribly expensive. I was very happy with it, since it doesn't have the cotton-ear effect, but I couldn't get much information about other/cheaper brands.

Today, I went to another guy in the hope of the non-biased experience and something cheaper. No go. The guy even looked like a used car salesman -- kind of round, and pushy about the sale. His shirt made me dizzy. And he offered only one recommended product (a different one). At the end of the appointment, in a very un-doctorly way, he asked me, "Just for my own reference, I've given you the full refund option (read: No money down!!), now WHY are you leaving this office today without purchasing a hearing aid?" ARGH. At least he enunciated well and spoke at a comfortable volume, so I didn't miss a minute of the sales pitch. I think I need to start an advocacy group. Or maybe learn sign language and force all of my friends and family to do the same?

Update: Thanks to Rose for the links. Also, I forgot to mention my biggest gripe about this whole thing: Insurance plans don't cover hearing aids! And they're not cheap. Hence the whole sales-oriented doctor thing.

Posted by csageday at 10:28 PM | Comments (4)

September 12, 2006

Beware the Peppercorn, uh, I mean, Pepper

About ten minutes ago, I was grinding pepper over a bunch of destined-to-be-grilled vegetables. I may have been generous with the pepper. Then, I thought for a moment that something nearby smelled awfully bad, so I leaned over and smelled the veggies to make sure it wasn't one of them. It didn't seem to be, so I put them in the oven and went off to unpack the laundry. A few minutes into it, my right nostril felt a little...twinge. I rubbed my nose. The twinge turned into a boiling furnace, and I realize that when I got a good whiff of the vegetables, I must also have inhaled a good bit of ground pepper, and it must now be lodged in some inaccessible place up my nose. I've since tried to clean out my nose with water and a tissue, and I've tried to blow my nose many times, but my entire nose now feels like it's been rubbed with the seeds of a jalapeno pepper. It's burning. My snot is hotter than tabasco. I'm sure things will drain out eventually -- hopefully my nose will return to a normal color tomorrow -- but I wanted to warn any fresh-pepper-using cooking people to BEWARE THE PEPPERCORN. It's dangerous, people.

Update: Ignore me. I'm feeling just a tiny bit dumb now. It wasn't the peppercorn (didn't that seem far fetched, anyway?). It was a spicy red pepper. In the roasted vegetable mix were red peppers deemed "SWEET red peppers" by the sign in above them in the co-op. Some brilliant co-op member must have stocked the wrong peppers, or thrown a hot pepper in with the sweet ones for kicks. I know this because I just tried to eat the roasted vegetable mix and my mouth feels like my nose. Oh -- and I wasn't far off with the jalapeno analogy, no? I must have had pepper oil on my hands. So, uh, beware spotty stocking of peppers at the co-op. Really.

Posted by csageday at 09:34 PM | Comments (1)

September 11, 2006

It's probably related to all the good eating I've been doing...

Sorry, sorry sorry. I do want to share blog-worthy anecdotes and such, but I'm not feeling very bloggish. I've also developed a physical ailment, so I'll use that as an excuse -- it's some sort of jaw or tooth or ear problem (possibly TMJ, which I've just read is "the most vague area in dentistry," hurrah!). I'm supposed to avoid bagels (oops) and yawning (how?) and press warm compresses on my face and eat half a bottle of Advil a day (since Advil tastes like candy, this last bit isn't hard at all). I hope this goes away soon.

Despite my ailing jaw or head or tooth or ear, we rode the G and 7 trains for five hours today to get ourselves to the U.S. Open, so we could meet up with my brother and take advantage of the $5 grounds passes. The only remaining tennis events included in the pass were the juniors and wheelchair finals (the main event, the men's final, was not included and is astronomically priced, but with this pass you can pretend that you're going). We mainly went so we could enjoy the day, watch any tennis we could, and picnic outside while watching the men's final on the big screens. D and I amused ourselves by counting brand-name polo shirts and sweaters tied at the neck. We also rooted for juniors doubles teams with slightly mismatched outfits. I'm actually very glad we went, since I enjoy watching tennis and the atmosphere at the Open is pleasant. I usually miss it every year because it coincides with trips upstate. I was glad to learn about this pseudo-attendance option (thanks, Nick!) -- the Tennis Center grounds are really nice, the tennis was good, and the preppiness of the scene is quite entertaining.

Since posting may continue to be lame and sporadic, here is a food-related offering. While eating at Little D last night (Little Dishes renamed because somebody owns the trademark for "Dishes"(!)), we had a lovely chocolate cake. I recognized it as very similar to something I made years ago -- Asian Five Spice Chocolate Cake from Epicurious. It's wonderfully dense and chocolatey and decadent. And if I can make it, anyone can. So go click on that and try it the next time you need a kitchen project.

(By they way, we had a lovely dinner at Little D. The specials -- a fresh pea soup and an heirloom tomato salad -- were lovely, and I liked the scallops. It's becoming a regular dinner spot of ours, despite my earlier doubts.)

Finally, I thought I probably wouldn't ever use the Honeydew Melon Lime Popsicle recipe that came in my Gourmet swag bag, but I had a super-ripe melon sitting on the counter the other day and some spare time, so I did. Pushing the blended melon, lime, and simple syrup mixture through a sieve wasn't fun, but the resulting pops were great (and really, that was the only annoying part of a pretty simple recipe). Since I ran out of popsicle holders (only four in the free mold), I poured the rest in an ice cube tray. When they were slightly frozen, I stick toothpicks in to make mini-melon-pops, and these have made great little snacks.

Posted by csageday at 12:04 AM | Comments (5)