Ever since I announced that I was seeking representation for my novel, my wonderful, caring, well-meaning friends have been asking when the movie version of the book will be coming out.
Whoa there.
Partly to keep everyone on the same page, and partly as an exercise in writing out what I've learned about the publishing world in the past six months, I'm going to talk today about how publishing works. I also know that several readers of this blog are also amateur writers, and if you've ever kicked around the idea of trying to get published, you can benefit from all the work I've done learning about the field. Leeches.
Step 1, before we get into this, is that your novel must be completed before you try to have it published. Non-fiction works a bit differently, in that you can have just part of the manuscript done, submit a proposal, and if that proposal is accepted, you use the advance to write the rest of the book. (I've read that memoirs tend to work like fiction - they have to be done before you look for a book contract). If you're hung up on step 1, here's how to do it.
And I mean the book had better be done, done. Not first draft done. Polished, edited, ready to go. If the book is accepted by a publisher, it will still go through revisions. But agents and editors expect manuscripts to be already of publishable quality before they get to them. Fix your homophones and format your dialog. Delete most of your adverbs and change most of your weird dialog tags to 'said'. That's right, I said change "he expostulated daringly" to "he said".
Once that's done, we're on to step 2: find an agent.
I am currently on step 2. A good agent helps you make your manuscript better and submits it to publishers for you, works to keep you safe through all the legalities of the contract negotiations, and then takes 15% of your pay. I'd say that 15% is an acceptable fee for doing all those things that I have no idea how to do.
Question: can you bypass the agent and submit manuscripts directly to publishers?
Answer: sometimes, but once you submit your manuscript to any publisher within a company, and it gets rejected (most of the time that's when, not if), you are not allowed to re-submit the manuscript to a different editor within the same company. Even if you later get an agent, and she thinks that your manuscript would be perfect for editor X in company Y, if you've already sent the manuscript to editor Q in company Y, your agent can't resubmit to X. You can really shoot yourself in the foot this way.
Lesson: some authors are published by sending their manuscript directly to publishers, but it is more likely that you will be published through an agent.
There are literally hundreds of literary agents (ha! sort-of-pun). Wanna be authors like me have several internet tools at our disposal in order to figure out which ones might be interested in our work. See, every agent doesn't represent every type of novel. Sites like AgentQuery have listings of agents along with what they're looking for. I've combed through this site and others and am working my way through the list of agents that represent the kind of book I've written. In addition to looking on AgentQuery, I check out the agency website as well as the agent's personal website or blog (if they have them). This helps me further ensure that the agent represents authors like me, that they're accepting queries, and often gives me tips about what kind of communication to send to them. I do my research.
When contacting an agent, there is a specific format the communication should take: the dreaded query letter (dum dum duuummm). A query letter is about 250 words long and sounds very much like the text on the back of a paperback novel. It is the "hook" - a brief summary of the novel's contents that will make someone want to read the whole thing. It's no secret that these are hard to write. The trick is that the query isn't about the whole book, it's just about the first 30 pages or so - the "exciting incident" that kicks off the rest of the plot.
Examples online are plentiful. Several agents have written about what kind of queries they are looking for, and some even host query workshops. The indomitable Query Shark is the best place to start. Queries have lots of dos (do write in the same tone as the rest of the novel, do put the name of the novel IN CAPS) and don'ts (don't use 1st person, don't include dialog from the book, don't end the query with a question).
Now, this should come without saying, but apparently it needs to be said. When you send a query, don't be rude. Duh. You want to work with these people, don't you? It's not a huge industry, and even if you get rejected, an agent may be interested in your second novel.
Which leads me to that unpleasant topic... rejections. Often, during the querying process, rejections are silent. Many agents just don't respond to queries they aren't interested in pursuing. At first glance, that might sound rude, but how many seconds does it take for a writer to fire off an email? An agent receives 50-100 new queries every day. They can't take the time to send a detailed response to each one, because they have to take care of the clients they already have.
Out of those 10,000 queries, an agent might sign a handful of new clients every year. Those are not great odds, and remember that many agents acquire clients through references from other agents, meetings at literary conferences, and the like. I have already been through one round of queries, and just sent off a second round. Yes, I've had rejections. They hurt. But honestly, everyone who wants to be a writer has to learn to deal with rejections, bad reviews, and people who just don't like your work. That's life.
As I've dealt with rejections, I've continued to write. I've changed my query letter - if agents aren't interested, it may be because the query letter isn't selling the project.
Thousands of people want to be writers, and most of them will never realize this dream. That isn't because they all suck (only some of them suck). Most of them will just give up. If an exquisitely talented writer queries 10 agents and then gives up, they will never be published. If a mediocre writer matches the right query to the right agent, and then that agent sends the manuscript to the right publisher - that's all it takes. Talent is important. Luck is important. But persistence is probably the most important.
As Nathan Bradsford says, "Didn't find an agent? Keep writing. Book didn't sell? Keep writing. Book sold? Keep writing. OMG an asteroid is going to crash into Earth and enshroud the planet in ten feet of ash? Keep writing. People will need something to read in the resulting permanent winter."
After my first round of rejections, I did get a nice little boost when I found out that I was a finalist in All Things Considered's Three Minute Fiction contest. I didn't win, but it was neat to have an audience of strangers for basically the first time ever. It was fun to see people analyze the story (especially when they went off into realms I had never even considered). I also got some great constructive comments, including a kick in the pants about my lamentable habit of using passive voice.
The novel that I'm querying is about a woman with magic powers on a quest to stop the genocide of her people (hook!). It's fantasy - specifically high fantasy with some elements of sword and sorcery. This is a niche market with a lot of competition, and I'm thinking that the query I have now makes the story sound too formulaic. Honestly, I'm not sure how to change that. I think that the richness and uniqueness in my story is because of the characters and the cultures they live in. That's hard to get across in a short query, but I will continue to work on it.
I may make it through my entire list of agents and not get a single bite on the hook, no matter how I change the query. That's why I'm writing the next book. My new novel is urban fantasy, which is HUGE right now (thanks, Twilight, though honestly the genre was growing in popularity even before Twilight hit). Plus I think the plot is pretty cool. The new book is about a woman who smuggles contraband through a demon-infested universe parallel to the real world (hook!), and I'm having a lot of fun writing it. And IF I get an agent based on the strength of the new book, I'll have the old book to whip out as well. Look, another manuscript already completed! Can't hurt.
Question: why don't you work on the sequel to the book you're currently querying?
Answer: actually, I've got a very rough first draft of the sequel already done. I did it while I was waiting for my beta readers to finish the manuscript of the finished book. However, I'm not going any further down that road for now, because if you can't sell the first book in the series, you sure can't sell the second.
Lesson: your best bet is to work on something that you can query when it's completed.
We have to take a brief moment here at the end to mention self publishing. As in, why don't you self publish? 15 years ago the answer to that question would be: "because self-publishing is a vanity project that will cost more than it makes, and isn't taken seriously by anyone in the business". The internet has changed that answer dramatically. Print sales are declining and the e-book business is beginning to soar. With the popularity of Kindles and similar e-readers, self publishing is becoming more and more of a viable option for writers.
Still, becoming a rich and successful self-published author is difficult. You have to do everything yourself - or pay other people to do things for you. Editing your manuscript, creating cover art, printing physical copies of the book, these all usually cost money. You also have to pay to have the book formatted into a version that Amazon and others will recognize, and you often have to pay to have your book reviewed. Not to mention, you need to spend a lot of time and effort self-promoting your work.
The big news over the past couple of week was that popular thriller writer Barry Eisler turned down an offer of $500,000 for two books, and is instead self-publishing them. He has a ready fan base who will buy these books. Conversely, internet self-publishing phenom Amanda Hocking has just accepted a $2 million dollar book contract with St. Martin's Press. Amanda recently became the poster child for self-publishing when her series sold 450,000 copies in January alone. According to people who've run the numbers, an author can make more money from self publishing. Yet, there's something to be said for traditional publishing as well.
So will I self publish? It's something that I will consider. Part of me feels like I need the feedback from folks in the industry before considering self-publishing as an option. If my book can't make it the traditional way, perhaps that says something about what the public wants to read.
I love to write. I have hundreds of stories competing for attention in my head, and after I finish my dark fantasy, I know which book I'll write next. And which after that. And which after that. I have to believe that with persistence and patience, I will become published eventually. Just don't look for that movie to come out any time real soon.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Meet Prince, and then I make fun of novice DJs.
We have a new foster dog! His name is Prince and he's some kind of a little Terrier mix - chihuahua and Boston terrier, maybe? He is 15 lbs of energy. He's three years old, and was given up by his owner because she was having a baby. We're taking care of him because he was not cool with being in the shelter. He hid in the back of his run the entire time, you couldn't even tell there was a dog in there.
Staring at bees... those sneaky bees.
Prince was shy with me for five minutes, and then he became permanently attached to my leg. He still growls at Leland. Leland has decided that he's really a cat person.
In addition to his shyness, Prince also has separation anxiety. At first, he would whine pitifully if I was in a different room of the house than he was, and he cried for an hour in his crate on the first night until we moved the crate into our bedroom. He's slowly getting better with this, but really, I might have some separation anxiety too if I was left at the shelter.
Look how cute I am with my enormous bat-like ears!
You can watch Prince chase bees on our back porch here (he's a bit obsessed), and see his dinner time dance here. Dinner is his favorite time of the day. I'm beginning to think we aren't feeding him enough, or something. Trust and Nova have both lost weight since coming to our house (though to be frank, I don't think it's hurting Nova any). Hmmm. Perhaps it's time to up everyone's meal allotment?
And now for something completely different.
Living in a college town always has the advantage of the college radio station. In Columbus I listened to OHIO.FM, and nothing can surpass the incredible Radio K out of Minneapolis, run by students from OSU and the U of M, respectively. Campus stations provide a wider array of music than the standard stations, and keep you updated on what's going on in town. And WZMB Greenville is no different.
Well, it's a little different.
I usually listen to NPR, but when I'm bored of learning things, I switch over to WZMB for my daily dose of awkward novice DJ. You see, at larger schools the radio stations have a big pool of talent to choose from, especially if the school has a strong media department. And at a larger school, new DJs would be relegated to the shifts that no one listens to, like 6-8am on Saturday mornings. That's how you get experience.
Apparently WZMB is hurting for experienced DJs. But I don't mind, because I love to listen to the ridiculous things that the DJs at WZMB say on air. All examples below are really things I've heard on air. The ridiculosity comes in several varieties:
1. Mistakes
Ah, mistakes. Mispronunciations, attributing something to the wrong person, long seconds of dead air, all of these things happen to even the most experienced on-air personalities. My favorite mistakes, however, spring from clear ignorance.
Example: "The blood drive is sponsored by the Pa... Pal..." (by this time I'm shouting, "sound it out honey, you can do it!") "Pam-il-i-co County Chamber of Commerce."
Oooh. So close. I'm gonna ignore the fact that the word Pamlico is about as straightforward as you can get, no tricky pronunciations or silent letters. The Pamlico river is a major river that begins a half hour's drive from Greenville. Also a neighboring county. Lesson for new DJs - learn the local geography.
2. Bizarre Shout-Outs
I can imagine what's going through the young DJ's mind. I have to say something! Anything! I've already stretched a 15 second anecdote out for five minutes! Oh God, what can I say? What can I say? And then it comes to them... shout-outs. Everyone likes a shout-out, right? Everyone likes to feel included. But what if you don't have anyone to shout-out to?
Examples:
"I wanna give a shout-out to everyone who's in a relationship. And everyone who isn't in a relationship. ...So that's everyone, I guess."
(after reading the weather report) "Shout-out to everyone who dressed appropriately for the weather today!"
Um - thanks? That's sweet, but really, you can just go back to playing music.
3. Wet Behind the Ears
I suppose at some point I'll stop feeling smug about making fun of kids these days and start feeling old, instead, but from the lofty perspective of 26, college students seem so adorably young. This sometimes comes out in a DJ's innocent patter.
Example: "this next group I didn't really know about until I came to college two years ago. I think they're bigger in the south than they are in the north. They're called Coldplay."
4. Stoned Out of Mind
This one's fairly obvious. The best example comes from the gentleman who runs the "World Music" show. (Apropos of nothing, WZMB also has a reggae show that runs for two hours every day. Only on a college station, dude.)
Example: "what is world music, anyway? I mean, we're all on the world. So, like, any music could be world music. Did I just blow your mind?"
The DJ then proceeded to play a French rap song, a choral piece from the Red Army Choir, and a 13 minute long piano piece with lots of bells ringing in the background.
Dude, you just blew my mind.
Staring at bees... those sneaky bees.Prince was shy with me for five minutes, and then he became permanently attached to my leg. He still growls at Leland. Leland has decided that he's really a cat person.
In addition to his shyness, Prince also has separation anxiety. At first, he would whine pitifully if I was in a different room of the house than he was, and he cried for an hour in his crate on the first night until we moved the crate into our bedroom. He's slowly getting better with this, but really, I might have some separation anxiety too if I was left at the shelter.
Look how cute I am with my enormous bat-like ears!You can watch Prince chase bees on our back porch here (he's a bit obsessed), and see his dinner time dance here. Dinner is his favorite time of the day. I'm beginning to think we aren't feeding him enough, or something. Trust and Nova have both lost weight since coming to our house (though to be frank, I don't think it's hurting Nova any). Hmmm. Perhaps it's time to up everyone's meal allotment?
And now for something completely different.
Living in a college town always has the advantage of the college radio station. In Columbus I listened to OHIO.FM, and nothing can surpass the incredible Radio K out of Minneapolis, run by students from OSU and the U of M, respectively. Campus stations provide a wider array of music than the standard stations, and keep you updated on what's going on in town. And WZMB Greenville is no different.
Well, it's a little different.
I usually listen to NPR, but when I'm bored of learning things, I switch over to WZMB for my daily dose of awkward novice DJ. You see, at larger schools the radio stations have a big pool of talent to choose from, especially if the school has a strong media department. And at a larger school, new DJs would be relegated to the shifts that no one listens to, like 6-8am on Saturday mornings. That's how you get experience.
Apparently WZMB is hurting for experienced DJs. But I don't mind, because I love to listen to the ridiculous things that the DJs at WZMB say on air. All examples below are really things I've heard on air. The ridiculosity comes in several varieties:
1. Mistakes
Ah, mistakes. Mispronunciations, attributing something to the wrong person, long seconds of dead air, all of these things happen to even the most experienced on-air personalities. My favorite mistakes, however, spring from clear ignorance.
Example: "The blood drive is sponsored by the Pa... Pal..." (by this time I'm shouting, "sound it out honey, you can do it!") "Pam-il-i-co County Chamber of Commerce."
Oooh. So close. I'm gonna ignore the fact that the word Pamlico is about as straightforward as you can get, no tricky pronunciations or silent letters. The Pamlico river is a major river that begins a half hour's drive from Greenville. Also a neighboring county. Lesson for new DJs - learn the local geography.
2. Bizarre Shout-Outs
I can imagine what's going through the young DJ's mind. I have to say something! Anything! I've already stretched a 15 second anecdote out for five minutes! Oh God, what can I say? What can I say? And then it comes to them... shout-outs. Everyone likes a shout-out, right? Everyone likes to feel included. But what if you don't have anyone to shout-out to?
Examples:
"I wanna give a shout-out to everyone who's in a relationship. And everyone who isn't in a relationship. ...So that's everyone, I guess."
(after reading the weather report) "Shout-out to everyone who dressed appropriately for the weather today!"
Um - thanks? That's sweet, but really, you can just go back to playing music.
3. Wet Behind the Ears
I suppose at some point I'll stop feeling smug about making fun of kids these days and start feeling old, instead, but from the lofty perspective of 26, college students seem so adorably young. This sometimes comes out in a DJ's innocent patter.
Example: "this next group I didn't really know about until I came to college two years ago. I think they're bigger in the south than they are in the north. They're called Coldplay."
4. Stoned Out of Mind
This one's fairly obvious. The best example comes from the gentleman who runs the "World Music" show. (Apropos of nothing, WZMB also has a reggae show that runs for two hours every day. Only on a college station, dude.)
Example: "what is world music, anyway? I mean, we're all on the world. So, like, any music could be world music. Did I just blow your mind?"
The DJ then proceeded to play a French rap song, a choral piece from the Red Army Choir, and a 13 minute long piano piece with lots of bells ringing in the background.
Dude, you just blew my mind.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
My Trust Man!
Aww, my little Trust.
When I was playing the video back on the computer, Trust came running over. I think he knows his name now!
When I was playing the video back on the computer, Trust came running over. I think he knows his name now!
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
The Thing That Nova Is Most Scared Of, Ever, In The World
*Adoption update* Meadow's last kitten, Chicory, was adopted the other day. This just leaves Mama Meadow at the facility. She is a beautiful, loving, fearless cat, and I know that whoever adopts her will be lucky to have her.
We had some exciting news last week. If all goes according to plan, we will be welcoming another foster dog into the house. His name is Prince and he's an all-black Boston Terrier mix. According to Wikipedia, Boston Terriers have awesome personalities and aren't true terriers, having "lost most of its ruthless desire for mayhem". Having known several Jack Russells, I can indeed attest that "ruthless desire for mayhem" is an appropriate description of the breed, so it's nice that Bostons aren't like that. Nothing is 100% yet, but we're excited.
I was thinking recently about the things our animals are afraid of, as an enormous thunderclap sent Nova and Fletcher under the bed while Trust dashed about the yard in terror. Fear is such a motivating emotion for animals and can cause many of their behavioral quirks. Nova has proven to be unexpectedly fearful, and we suspect she wasn't socialized very well. In this post we'll examine the root of fearful behaviors and - no, just kidding. Maybe we'll do that another time. In this post, we'll mostly make fun of my pets.
Fletcher is pretty difficult to scare, mostly because he's been living with Leland since he was two months old.
Exhibits A, B, and C
Anomalous thunder aside, there is only one thing that really scares Fletcher:
Plastic bags.
Scary!
You can dangle Fletcher upside down, jump out at him from behind corners, or even bring out the dreaded cat carrier, but the only thing guaranteed to send him flying in panic from the room is the rustle of a plastic bag. Most effective when shaken right in his face. I have no idea where this fear originates - perhaps the sight of all that cat poo carried out in plastic bags has somehow scarred him.
(Fletcher is also afraid of vacuum cleaners and big scary neighborhood cats, but hey, he's not a superhero.)
Trust - well, it's easier to list things that Trust isn't afraid of. Trust is NOT afraid of
- the safety corner
Safety!
- the ducky toy
These are my ducky toys
- socks.
Mmm, tasty and non-threatening socks
The safety corner is the second location in the house where Trust felt relatively safe, after his crate. It's well guarded by the bookshelf and the trunk. When he was first with us, Trust would stand in the safety corner until he couldn't keep his eyes open, and then he would slowly slide down the wall as he fell asleep. It was tragically hilarious. He has now branched out to sleeping in many places throughout the house, but he still returns to the safety corner so often that he created a black smudge against the white paint. (Which I totally cleaned off, Mr. Landlord.)
The ducky toy is pretty self explanatory, and also a triumph considering that when he got here, he wouldn't look twice at a toy. Now he and Nova are engaged in a passive-aggressive cold war over the two ducky toys, which involves one of them stealing both duckies when the other one isn't looking, and hoarding the duckies in their crates until a human re-distributes the wealth.
Socks - ah, socks. Now, I'm not exactly the neatest of girls (shocker), and I seem to end up with piles of clothes about the bedroom no matter how many earnest resolutions I make to keep things neat. Well, now I have an extra incentive, because Trust loves to steal socks and underwear and chew holes in them. Or leave them festively draped around the house. Just the other day the landlord was here (full story below). Our landlord is a very nice old man with a nearly impenetrable southern accent. Just after he left I discovered that Trust had deposited a pair of my underwear in the middle of the hall, right where the landlord was working.
Thanks, buddy.
All other animals, Leland, and everything in the house right down to the linoleum floor, is capable of giving Trust quite the scare. Especially Leland. For whatever reason, Trust is still not warming up to Leland. Trust continues to make progress with me - he put his front paws up on the bed to give me kisses the other day! - but Leland is too big, loud, and scary so far.
(Leland? Big, loud and scary? How unbelievable!)
Even I still scare Trust about 10,000 times a day. He wants to come over and get affection, but something is getting in the way. He's torn between his fear and his desire for affection. Don't get me wrong, he has made HUGE strides since he's been with us, every one a rewarding triumph. Eventually he'll be a fairly normal pet, but it will be difficult for him to make up the ground that he's lost.
And then there's just Nova. Like I said, I don't think Nova was socialized very well as a puppy, because she's quite unsure or scared of new things. Nova is scared of the vet. Nova is scared of new people (though she's getting over that one). Nova was scared of the grill. Nova is scared when you come towards her with something in your hand (hmmm...). But nothing could prepare us for the Thing That Nova Is Most Scared Of, Ever, In The World.
And we inadvertently brought this thing into her lives. How young we were back then (Sunday), and how foolish.
The story begins on a quiet Sunday morning. Leland and I are sitting quietly on the couch watching TV and doing work. Nova is sleeping quietly on the floor.
And then one of the windows quietly loses its battle with gravity, and plunges inward to shatter on the ground.
Whoops.
On closer inspection, we discovered that this window had those little tabs you can slide in if you want to tilt the window inwards in order to clean the outside pane of glass. These little tabs were insufficiently broad to hold the window into the frame, and it had finally given up.
Nova was terrified. Now, this is not The Thing That Nova Is Most Scared Of, Ever, In The World. Also, it isn't irrational to be scared of a window (especially one that you often like to lie beneath in a cozy patch of sun) plummeting inwards and then shattering dramatically. We were only grateful that Trust hadn't been in the room, he might have exploded into many tiny fear-pieces. We barred the animals from the area, cleaned up, called the landlord (hence, why he was in the house the next day and witnessed my undies lying all over the place), and moved on.
It was then that we decided to go get Nova a treat to help her recover from her challenging morning. HAD WE BUT KNOWN.
Brief story interlude here, before I get to the Thing that you have been waiting so patiently for. Nova always goes into her crate to eat dinner. We recently moved her crate to another part of the kitchen. The crate has her blanket, with her smell on it, and we patiently showed her the new crate location (all of ten feet from the old location), walked her inside, gave her lots of treats, and so on. We thought we were solid on the whole crate moving issue. But then, for the next several days, when we yelled "crate time!" in preparation for handing out dinner, Nova went to the spot where the crate used to be.
What elevates this to hilarity is that she not only went to the old spot, she actually went to it as if she was still walking through the place where the door of the crate would have been. She didn't just go stand in the spot. She walked through an invisible door.
Clearly we are not dealing with a genius here.
Anyway, back to the Thing (you've been very patient). Our vet thinks Nova might be a chocolate lab / Australian shepherd mix. We knew about the lab, obviously, but didn't have any idea bout the shepherd. Something about her eyes, her fur, her tail, her size, her play behavior - seems likely. So we decided that we would see if Nova was interested in herding toys. Shepherds were bred for herding and have lots of energy, and they will often herd other pets, small children, toys, or even rocks into piles.
Doesn't that look like fun?
But we didn't want to spend tons of money on a herding toy we didn't know if she would like (wise choice, as it turned out). We decided instead to go buy something that was similar but cheaper - big plastic bouncy balls from Target.
I think you can see where I'm going with this.
We brought home three big balls, and set them out in the yard. We then opened the door, full of glee and anticipation that Nova would like her new toy.
Nope.
Turns out, you see, that big plastic bouncy balls from Target are The Thing That Nova Is Most Scared Of, Ever, In the World.
Careful! It'll eat you!
She ran out, took one look at the balls innocently sitting there, and came tearing right back in the house. Then she refused to go outside again. Not while those things were out there. We got her outside eventually and she would not go near them. Tail tucked, cringing stance, lip licking, all the classic signs of fear. We then let Trust out with her. The funny thing is that Trust wasn't scared of the balls. I mean, he was scared of them, but at the same level that he's scared of everything. He actually made Nova less afraid to be around them.
Ironic.
We tried some desensitizing stuff, having someone hold the balls while giving the dogs treats, etc. It was going fairly well - I actually had Nova licking peanut butter off one of the balls - but then Fletcher sealed everyone's fate. Fletcher has been discovering that it's fun and easy to get the dogs riled up. He now jumps out of bushes at them, scares them, chases them across the yard, and then flees up a tree once the dogs realize that the thing that is chasing them is a cat 1/4 of their size.
As Nova was relaxing with the peanut-butter smeared ball, Fletcher snuck across the yard and then jumped out at her from behind the ball.
Mass chaos.
Ok, that's it. I bought these toys to make my life easier, and clearly it's going to take a lot of work for the dogs to even want to be in the same room as the balls, much less play with them. And once back in the house, Nova was refusing to go outside to pee. Not worth it. I carried the balls inside the house and secured them in Leland's office. I showed Nova where the balls were and then shut the door.
Nova spent the next two days skulking around the house. She cautiously poked her nose out of the door to survey for possible ball attack before going outside. She slunk nervously in front of the door to the room where the balls were clearly just biding their time before unleashing their dog-killing powers. I have to say, the temptation to jump out from behind a corner and just whip the balls at her head was almost irresistible. I mean, they're plastic balls. They were not going to hurt her. Maybe the forceful application of the balls to her skull would convince her of that fact.
No, we did not DO that. We are good people. We even washed the balls before we returned them to Target.
And that is the tale of how some innocuous looking bouncy balls almost KILLED OUR DOG.
We had some exciting news last week. If all goes according to plan, we will be welcoming another foster dog into the house. His name is Prince and he's an all-black Boston Terrier mix. According to Wikipedia, Boston Terriers have awesome personalities and aren't true terriers, having "lost most of its ruthless desire for mayhem". Having known several Jack Russells, I can indeed attest that "ruthless desire for mayhem" is an appropriate description of the breed, so it's nice that Bostons aren't like that. Nothing is 100% yet, but we're excited.
I was thinking recently about the things our animals are afraid of, as an enormous thunderclap sent Nova and Fletcher under the bed while Trust dashed about the yard in terror. Fear is such a motivating emotion for animals and can cause many of their behavioral quirks. Nova has proven to be unexpectedly fearful, and we suspect she wasn't socialized very well. In this post we'll examine the root of fearful behaviors and - no, just kidding. Maybe we'll do that another time. In this post, we'll mostly make fun of my pets.
Fletcher is pretty difficult to scare, mostly because he's been living with Leland since he was two months old.
Exhibits A, B, and CAnomalous thunder aside, there is only one thing that really scares Fletcher:
Plastic bags.
Scary!You can dangle Fletcher upside down, jump out at him from behind corners, or even bring out the dreaded cat carrier, but the only thing guaranteed to send him flying in panic from the room is the rustle of a plastic bag. Most effective when shaken right in his face. I have no idea where this fear originates - perhaps the sight of all that cat poo carried out in plastic bags has somehow scarred him.
(Fletcher is also afraid of vacuum cleaners and big scary neighborhood cats, but hey, he's not a superhero.)
Trust - well, it's easier to list things that Trust isn't afraid of. Trust is NOT afraid of
- the safety corner
Safety!- the ducky toy
These are my ducky toys- socks.
Mmm, tasty and non-threatening socksThe safety corner is the second location in the house where Trust felt relatively safe, after his crate. It's well guarded by the bookshelf and the trunk. When he was first with us, Trust would stand in the safety corner until he couldn't keep his eyes open, and then he would slowly slide down the wall as he fell asleep. It was tragically hilarious. He has now branched out to sleeping in many places throughout the house, but he still returns to the safety corner so often that he created a black smudge against the white paint. (Which I totally cleaned off, Mr. Landlord.)
The ducky toy is pretty self explanatory, and also a triumph considering that when he got here, he wouldn't look twice at a toy. Now he and Nova are engaged in a passive-aggressive cold war over the two ducky toys, which involves one of them stealing both duckies when the other one isn't looking, and hoarding the duckies in their crates until a human re-distributes the wealth.
Socks - ah, socks. Now, I'm not exactly the neatest of girls (shocker), and I seem to end up with piles of clothes about the bedroom no matter how many earnest resolutions I make to keep things neat. Well, now I have an extra incentive, because Trust loves to steal socks and underwear and chew holes in them. Or leave them festively draped around the house. Just the other day the landlord was here (full story below). Our landlord is a very nice old man with a nearly impenetrable southern accent. Just after he left I discovered that Trust had deposited a pair of my underwear in the middle of the hall, right where the landlord was working.
Thanks, buddy.
All other animals, Leland, and everything in the house right down to the linoleum floor, is capable of giving Trust quite the scare. Especially Leland. For whatever reason, Trust is still not warming up to Leland. Trust continues to make progress with me - he put his front paws up on the bed to give me kisses the other day! - but Leland is too big, loud, and scary so far.
(Leland? Big, loud and scary? How unbelievable!)
Even I still scare Trust about 10,000 times a day. He wants to come over and get affection, but something is getting in the way. He's torn between his fear and his desire for affection. Don't get me wrong, he has made HUGE strides since he's been with us, every one a rewarding triumph. Eventually he'll be a fairly normal pet, but it will be difficult for him to make up the ground that he's lost.
And then there's just Nova. Like I said, I don't think Nova was socialized very well as a puppy, because she's quite unsure or scared of new things. Nova is scared of the vet. Nova is scared of new people (though she's getting over that one). Nova was scared of the grill. Nova is scared when you come towards her with something in your hand (hmmm...). But nothing could prepare us for the Thing That Nova Is Most Scared Of, Ever, In The World.
And we inadvertently brought this thing into her lives. How young we were back then (Sunday), and how foolish.
The story begins on a quiet Sunday morning. Leland and I are sitting quietly on the couch watching TV and doing work. Nova is sleeping quietly on the floor.
And then one of the windows quietly loses its battle with gravity, and plunges inward to shatter on the ground.
Whoops.On closer inspection, we discovered that this window had those little tabs you can slide in if you want to tilt the window inwards in order to clean the outside pane of glass. These little tabs were insufficiently broad to hold the window into the frame, and it had finally given up.
Nova was terrified. Now, this is not The Thing That Nova Is Most Scared Of, Ever, In The World. Also, it isn't irrational to be scared of a window (especially one that you often like to lie beneath in a cozy patch of sun) plummeting inwards and then shattering dramatically. We were only grateful that Trust hadn't been in the room, he might have exploded into many tiny fear-pieces. We barred the animals from the area, cleaned up, called the landlord (hence, why he was in the house the next day and witnessed my undies lying all over the place), and moved on.
It was then that we decided to go get Nova a treat to help her recover from her challenging morning. HAD WE BUT KNOWN.
Brief story interlude here, before I get to the Thing that you have been waiting so patiently for. Nova always goes into her crate to eat dinner. We recently moved her crate to another part of the kitchen. The crate has her blanket, with her smell on it, and we patiently showed her the new crate location (all of ten feet from the old location), walked her inside, gave her lots of treats, and so on. We thought we were solid on the whole crate moving issue. But then, for the next several days, when we yelled "crate time!" in preparation for handing out dinner, Nova went to the spot where the crate used to be.
What elevates this to hilarity is that she not only went to the old spot, she actually went to it as if she was still walking through the place where the door of the crate would have been. She didn't just go stand in the spot. She walked through an invisible door.
Clearly we are not dealing with a genius here.
Anyway, back to the Thing (you've been very patient). Our vet thinks Nova might be a chocolate lab / Australian shepherd mix. We knew about the lab, obviously, but didn't have any idea bout the shepherd. Something about her eyes, her fur, her tail, her size, her play behavior - seems likely. So we decided that we would see if Nova was interested in herding toys. Shepherds were bred for herding and have lots of energy, and they will often herd other pets, small children, toys, or even rocks into piles.
Doesn't that look like fun?I think you can see where I'm going with this.
We brought home three big balls, and set them out in the yard. We then opened the door, full of glee and anticipation that Nova would like her new toy.
Nope.
Turns out, you see, that big plastic bouncy balls from Target are The Thing That Nova Is Most Scared Of, Ever, In the World.
Careful! It'll eat you!She ran out, took one look at the balls innocently sitting there, and came tearing right back in the house. Then she refused to go outside again. Not while those things were out there. We got her outside eventually and she would not go near them. Tail tucked, cringing stance, lip licking, all the classic signs of fear. We then let Trust out with her. The funny thing is that Trust wasn't scared of the balls. I mean, he was scared of them, but at the same level that he's scared of everything. He actually made Nova less afraid to be around them.
Ironic.
We tried some desensitizing stuff, having someone hold the balls while giving the dogs treats, etc. It was going fairly well - I actually had Nova licking peanut butter off one of the balls - but then Fletcher sealed everyone's fate. Fletcher has been discovering that it's fun and easy to get the dogs riled up. He now jumps out of bushes at them, scares them, chases them across the yard, and then flees up a tree once the dogs realize that the thing that is chasing them is a cat 1/4 of their size.
As Nova was relaxing with the peanut-butter smeared ball, Fletcher snuck across the yard and then jumped out at her from behind the ball.
Mass chaos.
Ok, that's it. I bought these toys to make my life easier, and clearly it's going to take a lot of work for the dogs to even want to be in the same room as the balls, much less play with them. And once back in the house, Nova was refusing to go outside to pee. Not worth it. I carried the balls inside the house and secured them in Leland's office. I showed Nova where the balls were and then shut the door.
Nova spent the next two days skulking around the house. She cautiously poked her nose out of the door to survey for possible ball attack before going outside. She slunk nervously in front of the door to the room where the balls were clearly just biding their time before unleashing their dog-killing powers. I have to say, the temptation to jump out from behind a corner and just whip the balls at her head was almost irresistible. I mean, they're plastic balls. They were not going to hurt her. Maybe the forceful application of the balls to her skull would convince her of that fact.
No, we did not DO that. We are good people. We even washed the balls before we returned them to Target.
And that is the tale of how some innocuous looking bouncy balls almost KILLED OUR DOG.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Yoga - hurts so good
*disqualifier - none of the people in these pictures is me.*
I am not a gym person. I have spent more time in gyms than I care to remember, and whether working on the weight machines, running on the treadmill, or climbing endless flights of imaginary stairs, I was always bored, exhausted, and ready to go home. I know that you're supposed to exercise to, like, live longer and junk, but if one hour of gym time gives you one more hour of life, that doesn't exactly seem worth it to me.
Trade one hour of bad times for one hour of good times! Or you could just skip the bad times and get the good times anyway! See what I mean?
Gym kitteh.
Plus gym people kind of freak me out. I love the little gym that I currently belong to, and everyone who works there and works out there is really nice, including the owner. But he is ALWAYS EXCITED in the manner of gym people. I do not understand having that much energy. Take a seat, read a book, at least blink once in a while. You do not seem to be blinking as much as you should be. (The parking lot of this gym is shared with a dentist, and the dentist has a Hummer with the personalized license plate NOVOCN. Leland thinks this is awesome. I think this is terrifying.)
Luckily for me, there is one gym thing that I not only enjoy, I crave. Yoga. And not just because Yoga teachers are rarely of the Jack Russell Terrier / Small Child on a Sugar Rush energy level. Yoga is like exercise, stress release, and therapy all rolled up into one.
I've had a sad break of almost six months in my yoga practice, but in late December I returned (with a vengance - dum dum dummmm) when I used some Christmas money for a gym membership. Currently the gym offers classes only twice a week, but there is an enthusiastic yoga community there and the gym owner promised me that they were at least moving up to three times a week. When I lived in Minnesota I belonged to a gym with classes every day, and I did usually go 5-6 times per week.
The instructor at my new gym, A, is probably the best instructor I've ever had. She's my age, tiny, blond, pretty, and from California, and she speaks in this calm, husky voice. It's a waste of time to hate, but you know, when A first came into the room, I thought, "I hate her". I can't help it! My culture has programmed me to constantly evaluate my own body in comparison to other women! But you can't hate A, even though she is better at everything than you. She's too awesome, and too great of a teacher.
This brings me to one of the Great Rules of Yoga, something you hear over and over when you practice. "Yoga is not a competition." This is something I often have problems with. I am very competitive, so competitive that competition isn't even fun for me because I take losing so hard. Most people don't realize that I'm competitive because I try not to place myself in situations where I need to compete. If I'm not competing with the person next to me, I try to compete with myself. This is very stupid in yoga, because then I get annoyed when the person next to me seems to have no connective tissue. I fail to realize how well I'm doing with what I've been given in my own body, and I push too hard.
No amount of over-competitiveness will ever make me able to do this.
If I would try, I'd look like this.
Being over-competitive makes me miss all of the great results. And yoga gives you great results.
I am extremely inflexible - or I was, especially in my hips and legs. I took ballet for ten years as a child, and I remember my teacher pushing on my back in frustration, trying to get me to set my forehead on my stretched out legs. I remember her saying, "you're not trying!" when in fact I was in a lot of pain. When I began yoga, I hated doing any kind of forward bend because I was so stiff. I could sit at a 90 degree angle, and that was it. Now, while I still can't rest my forehead on my knees, it is a manageable goal that I know I will reach within the next few months. Just the other day, a yoga newbie in my class told me that I was "very flexible". False, but I will take your praise!
Once I could only do this.
Now I can do this!
Yoga is a whole body workout, and there are naturally some things that we are better at and some things that we need to work on. Of course, I always want to do the things I'm already awesome at, but according to my teacher, that's not a good idea. I did get an immediate boost in yoga from my wonderfully flexible back. I also have broad shoulders and am easily able to build muscle in my arms and back. I was inordinately pleased the other day when Leland said, "I can see new definition in your forearms". Forget this stupid trope that girls shouldn't have muscles. I want Michelle Obama arms!
I can do this. Because I am awesome.
When I started yoga, I didn't really like it. I kept going because I had already paid for several classes and I was going with a friend. While doing yoga, I felt (in no particular order) weak, fat, confused, frustrated, uncoordinated, and uncomfortable.
After the class was over, I kept going mostly out of stubbornness and the fact that it was still better than the treadmill (where I felt weak, fat, and about to die). I had several DVDs, which I used without any real conviction. I briefly went to classes in England, which was a horrible experience. The teacher called out the poses like a drill instructor, then actually yelled at me for modifying a pose because I was uncomfortable, and called me a wimp in front of about 30 other people in the class.
I can't imagine any one of the other teachers I've had being so cruel. Or ineffectual! One of the other Great Rules of Yoga is that you need to listen to your own body and move at your own pace. I am stubborn and determined and I push myself harder than I probably should. If the teacher says, "you can stay here or..." I'm going to shoot for the "or" option if it kills me. If I am modifying a pose, it's for a reason.
So I was disenchanted with yoga. Then I met Shiva Rea. Well, I didn't meet her, I bought her DVD. And she taught me to love yoga. The DVD is neat in that there are many different little segments which you can stitch together in any order you want to create probably 50 different "classes" depending on what you're interested in working on. No DVD is as good as a real-life instructor, but doing this DVD everyday built up my strength and convinced me to return to an actual class.
Shiva Rea, Yogi extraordinaire
Day to day, yoga is about listening really hard to what the teacher is saying and being mindful of every inch of your body. Where is your weight centered? What are your toes doing? Is your hip tucked enough? Is your face relaxed? And, for me, Are you hyperextending your joints? It's when you have this control and mindfulness that you are able to make those wonderful connections. With the simplest shift, a pose moves from unimaginable to possible, from uncomfortable to natural.
TA-DA!! My arms were strong enough! Instant self-esteem booster! And every time I do this transition, lowering myself slowly into chaturanga, I feel like He-man.
... to chaturanga.
A few months later I had another success when I worked out that crow pose is mostly about where your weight is centered over your body, and less about your arm strength. Suddenly I was balancing my legs on my own arms.
I still can't believe that I can do this. It just seems so unlikely.
Another great moment was the first time I lifted myself into wheel pose (which on the playground we used to call bridge, but that's another yoga pose - confusing. Also A hates calling it wheel pose and always uses the Sanskrit name but I can't remember it). A went through the set-up for the pose with me about ten times, but I couldn't make the final push into the position. Finally, I moved my hands just a bit closer to my ears, and then lifted myself right off the ground.
Further evidence of my awesomeness.
Every day in class I see the disbelieving faces of new students when they encounter certain poses. There is no way, they think, that my body will ever do that. I always try and tell new students to stick with yoga until they begin to see results, because I know how many great things await them if they are patient and persistent. I know they don't believe me yet, but soon they'll understand.
Namaste.
I am not a gym person. I have spent more time in gyms than I care to remember, and whether working on the weight machines, running on the treadmill, or climbing endless flights of imaginary stairs, I was always bored, exhausted, and ready to go home. I know that you're supposed to exercise to, like, live longer and junk, but if one hour of gym time gives you one more hour of life, that doesn't exactly seem worth it to me.
Trade one hour of bad times for one hour of good times! Or you could just skip the bad times and get the good times anyway! See what I mean?
Gym kitteh.Plus gym people kind of freak me out. I love the little gym that I currently belong to, and everyone who works there and works out there is really nice, including the owner. But he is ALWAYS EXCITED in the manner of gym people. I do not understand having that much energy. Take a seat, read a book, at least blink once in a while. You do not seem to be blinking as much as you should be. (The parking lot of this gym is shared with a dentist, and the dentist has a Hummer with the personalized license plate NOVOCN. Leland thinks this is awesome. I think this is terrifying.)
Luckily for me, there is one gym thing that I not only enjoy, I crave. Yoga. And not just because Yoga teachers are rarely of the Jack Russell Terrier / Small Child on a Sugar Rush energy level. Yoga is like exercise, stress release, and therapy all rolled up into one.
I've had a sad break of almost six months in my yoga practice, but in late December I returned (with a vengance - dum dum dummmm) when I used some Christmas money for a gym membership. Currently the gym offers classes only twice a week, but there is an enthusiastic yoga community there and the gym owner promised me that they were at least moving up to three times a week. When I lived in Minnesota I belonged to a gym with classes every day, and I did usually go 5-6 times per week.
The instructor at my new gym, A, is probably the best instructor I've ever had. She's my age, tiny, blond, pretty, and from California, and she speaks in this calm, husky voice. It's a waste of time to hate, but you know, when A first came into the room, I thought, "I hate her". I can't help it! My culture has programmed me to constantly evaluate my own body in comparison to other women! But you can't hate A, even though she is better at everything than you. She's too awesome, and too great of a teacher.
This brings me to one of the Great Rules of Yoga, something you hear over and over when you practice. "Yoga is not a competition." This is something I often have problems with. I am very competitive, so competitive that competition isn't even fun for me because I take losing so hard. Most people don't realize that I'm competitive because I try not to place myself in situations where I need to compete. If I'm not competing with the person next to me, I try to compete with myself. This is very stupid in yoga, because then I get annoyed when the person next to me seems to have no connective tissue. I fail to realize how well I'm doing with what I've been given in my own body, and I push too hard.
No amount of over-competitiveness will ever make me able to do this.
If I would try, I'd look like this.Being over-competitive makes me miss all of the great results. And yoga gives you great results.
I am extremely inflexible - or I was, especially in my hips and legs. I took ballet for ten years as a child, and I remember my teacher pushing on my back in frustration, trying to get me to set my forehead on my stretched out legs. I remember her saying, "you're not trying!" when in fact I was in a lot of pain. When I began yoga, I hated doing any kind of forward bend because I was so stiff. I could sit at a 90 degree angle, and that was it. Now, while I still can't rest my forehead on my knees, it is a manageable goal that I know I will reach within the next few months. Just the other day, a yoga newbie in my class told me that I was "very flexible". False, but I will take your praise!
Once I could only do this.
Now I can do this!Yoga is a whole body workout, and there are naturally some things that we are better at and some things that we need to work on. Of course, I always want to do the things I'm already awesome at, but according to my teacher, that's not a good idea. I did get an immediate boost in yoga from my wonderfully flexible back. I also have broad shoulders and am easily able to build muscle in my arms and back. I was inordinately pleased the other day when Leland said, "I can see new definition in your forearms". Forget this stupid trope that girls shouldn't have muscles. I want Michelle Obama arms!
I can do this. Because I am awesome.When I started yoga, I didn't really like it. I kept going because I had already paid for several classes and I was going with a friend. While doing yoga, I felt (in no particular order) weak, fat, confused, frustrated, uncoordinated, and uncomfortable.
After the class was over, I kept going mostly out of stubbornness and the fact that it was still better than the treadmill (where I felt weak, fat, and about to die). I had several DVDs, which I used without any real conviction. I briefly went to classes in England, which was a horrible experience. The teacher called out the poses like a drill instructor, then actually yelled at me for modifying a pose because I was uncomfortable, and called me a wimp in front of about 30 other people in the class.
I can't imagine any one of the other teachers I've had being so cruel. Or ineffectual! One of the other Great Rules of Yoga is that you need to listen to your own body and move at your own pace. I am stubborn and determined and I push myself harder than I probably should. If the teacher says, "you can stay here or..." I'm going to shoot for the "or" option if it kills me. If I am modifying a pose, it's for a reason.
So I was disenchanted with yoga. Then I met Shiva Rea. Well, I didn't meet her, I bought her DVD. And she taught me to love yoga. The DVD is neat in that there are many different little segments which you can stitch together in any order you want to create probably 50 different "classes" depending on what you're interested in working on. No DVD is as good as a real-life instructor, but doing this DVD everyday built up my strength and convinced me to return to an actual class.
Shiva Rea, Yogi extraordinaireDay to day, yoga is about listening really hard to what the teacher is saying and being mindful of every inch of your body. Where is your weight centered? What are your toes doing? Is your hip tucked enough? Is your face relaxed? And, for me, Are you hyperextending your joints? It's when you have this control and mindfulness that you are able to make those wonderful connections. With the simplest shift, a pose moves from unimaginable to possible, from uncomfortable to natural.
I still remember the first breakthrough I ever had. It came in the transition between plank pose and chaturanga, where you slowly and with control lower your body with your arms, like a very slow reverse push-up. I plopped right from plank to the ground, every time. I thought, this is impossible. I saw everyone around me doing it and I just couldn't. Then the teacher said, "tuck your elbows tightly against your chest."
From plank...
TA-DA!! My arms were strong enough! Instant self-esteem booster! And every time I do this transition, lowering myself slowly into chaturanga, I feel like He-man.
... to chaturanga.A few months later I had another success when I worked out that crow pose is mostly about where your weight is centered over your body, and less about your arm strength. Suddenly I was balancing my legs on my own arms.
I still can't believe that I can do this. It just seems so unlikely.Another great moment was the first time I lifted myself into wheel pose (which on the playground we used to call bridge, but that's another yoga pose - confusing. Also A hates calling it wheel pose and always uses the Sanskrit name but I can't remember it). A went through the set-up for the pose with me about ten times, but I couldn't make the final push into the position. Finally, I moved my hands just a bit closer to my ears, and then lifted myself right off the ground.
Further evidence of my awesomeness.Every day in class I see the disbelieving faces of new students when they encounter certain poses. There is no way, they think, that my body will ever do that. I always try and tell new students to stick with yoga until they begin to see results, because I know how many great things await them if they are patient and persistent. I know they don't believe me yet, but soon they'll understand.
Namaste.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
How to Make Smiley Cookies
I started this blog because we were mobile and constantly doing interesting(ish) new things and being in new places. Now we're sedentary, at least for a couple years, so I've been thinking about the directions I want to take the blog in. I'd like to add more of the things that I actually do for fun - movie and book critiques, posts about yoga and dance, restaurant reviews, and posts about recipes and food we make at home. Hopefully this will get us away from the all-animals-all-the-time rut.
Hey Trust!
Who, me?
They are super cute though. In one brief bit of animal news, our former foster Butternut AND the orange kitten Thistle have been adopted. Trust's sister Hope has also been adopted. Big virtual high-fives for all of them!
Less happy news is that our dog Nova had a seizure on Thursday. It was terrifying, I think the world actually sort of collapsed around her like that special effect in horror movies. I picked her up while she was still seizing and drove to the vet. The episode ended during the drive and she was suddenly fine and super-excited to be in the car. She may have epilepsy, she may need medication, or she might never have a seizure again. Epilepsy is a common condition in dogs, so I've learned, and usually very controllable.
But onward to the meat of the post: it's Super Bowl Sunday! And the Steelers are playing the Packers. Not only am I required by marital law to support the Steelers, as a Minnesota native I must root for whoever is playing against the Packers.
Then there is the obligatory Super Bowl party with the friends and other nice people, and of course we need to bring something. So on a whim, I decided to make smiley cookies, beloved dessert of the chain restaurant Eat n' Park, which began in Pittsburgh and has locations throughout the area. They are a true icon of the region and Eat n' Park always makes Steelers Smiley Cookies during football season.
To begin, you need cooled sugar cookies, lots of powdered sugar, milk, and food coloring. I'm not going to include my sugar cookie recipe because I think that would break some copyright laws, but it's the sugar cookie recipe from Baking Illustrated by America's Test Kitchen. I'm pretty lazy and I usually don't do anything that seems slightly optional in recipes (like rotating the cookie sheets halfway through cooking), but I slavishly do everything in an America's Test Kitchen recipe because they are The. Best. Ever.
They will tell you how to do everything and why you should do it that way. It's great!
Making the Cookies:
Two years ago I tried a Smiley Cookies recipe I found online that was supposed to mimic the Eat n Park recipe. Don't do that. It was tremendously disappointing. Just use your favorite sugar cookies recipe. Your sugar cookies should be large and soft in the middle. Probably you will need to make a double batch of whatever recipe you use, because most cookies are not intended to be as large as SCs. If you're like me, you always make cookies too large anyway. I'm always having this conversation with myself: "this recipe is supposed to make 30 cookies?! It only made six (om nom nom), uh, five!"
Cooking time and temperature needs to be adjusted accordingly. I found I needed to put the temp about 10 degrees lower than the recipe called for and needed to bake 2 minutes less.
Dip your hands in cool water, then take a fistful of dough (literally). Roll the dough into a ball then press gently down into a circle. The water will keep the dough from sticking to your hands.
Scale! With slight perspective problems because I was trying to hold the camera with one hand!
That thing the cookies are on is called a silpat and they are freaking sweet. You lay them over your cookie sheets and nothing sticks to them - no greasing or spraying required. Your dough may spread or rise or not spread or not rise depending on the recipe. Cookies will spread more if the dough has been sitting out, so put the dough in the fridge while the first batch is baking.
Tower of cookies!
(By the way, if anyone is thinking about birthday or Christmas presents for me, you can get me cooling racks. I have one. This is insufficient.)
Cookies must be cool before you ice them. Don't be a jerk and start icing too early!
Making the Icing
This is a very simple, utilitarian icing. Put some powdered sugar in a bowl. You know, some. A cup or so. Then put in a slosh of milk. A little slosh. Start with a tablespoon or thereabouts. Stir it in with a fork. I'm warning you to start with just a tiny bit of milk because you only need a little bit. The icing shouldn't be too runny, it should be a bit difficult to stir. You can add more sugar or more water as needed. If you want to get all crazy put in a drop of vanilla, almond extract, peppermint extract, or anything really. (But don't you do this if you're making Smiley Cookies! Unless you are not a Smiley Cookie Purist!)
Then comes the fun part, making the colors. The traditional SC has a white background with colored features. For our Steelers and Packers cookies we need four colors: Steelers yellow, Packers yellow, Packers green, and black.
Steelers yellow: lots of yellow food coloring. One SINGLE drop of red. I mean it, just one. And then add more yellow to keep it from going too orange.
Packers yellow: lots of yellow food coloring and that's it.
Packers green: lots of green food coloring. Two drops of red, two drops of blue. This will give you a nice dark green that is still bright.
black: the hardest color to screw up. Just keep adding colors! Start out with equal parts green, blue, and red. If it looks too green, add more red. Too blue, add more green. Just keep going. If you're desperate, add yellow. If the icing gets too runny from all the liquid, add more sugar and then more of all the other colors. If it's too gray, double all the colors. It's hard to get a true-looking black, but you can come close.
Ok, now it's time to run out to the store, because you didn't believe me when I told you you'd need a lot of powdered sugar. A LOT. Maybe your roommate or significant other will go for you, but probably they'll just whine about how you never go to the store for them when they run out of something. You could try threatening this person by telling them you'll withhold cookies from them, but this is a largely empty threat unless you're a true jerk.
Woo-hoo, icing time!
Oh crap, icing is harder than it looks.
Lay down parchment paper first, cause things are about to get MESSY. Put the foundation color (white for standard, Steelers yellow, or Packers yellow) into a sandwich baggie and cut off a SMALL corner to make your own icing bag. To get down the foundation color, put a bunch in the very center of the cookie and use an angled spatula to spread out to the edges.
Now is when you'll find out if your icing is too runny. If it is, oh well. Your friends are going to eat them anyway.
After you're done spreading the base layer, WAIT. I mean it, take a nap, clean the kitchen, go do something else for at least a half an hour. You're giving the bottom layer time to set up a bit and get a little hard so that the eyes, nose, and smile will sit on top of the icing instead of sinking into it.
See? This looks dumb! I told you to wait.
Now you may proceed. Don't worry, you'll finally get the hang of it by the last cookie.
The single good-looking one.
Look, he has a head injury. Two differently sized pupils. And some kind of skin condition (those are just cookie crumbs, I SWEAR).
90% of the cookies will look like a kindergartner's craft project. Whatever. They're still cookies. How often does someone make and decorate homemade cookies for you? Not very often. Your friends will still eat them, and they'll think its adorable that you brought them all your stupid looking cookies.
And that's it!
Go Steelers!
Hey Trust!
Who, me?They are super cute though. In one brief bit of animal news, our former foster Butternut AND the orange kitten Thistle have been adopted. Trust's sister Hope has also been adopted. Big virtual high-fives for all of them!
Less happy news is that our dog Nova had a seizure on Thursday. It was terrifying, I think the world actually sort of collapsed around her like that special effect in horror movies. I picked her up while she was still seizing and drove to the vet. The episode ended during the drive and she was suddenly fine and super-excited to be in the car. She may have epilepsy, she may need medication, or she might never have a seizure again. Epilepsy is a common condition in dogs, so I've learned, and usually very controllable.
But onward to the meat of the post: it's Super Bowl Sunday! And the Steelers are playing the Packers. Not only am I required by marital law to support the Steelers, as a Minnesota native I must root for whoever is playing against the Packers.
Then there is the obligatory Super Bowl party with the friends and other nice people, and of course we need to bring something. So on a whim, I decided to make smiley cookies, beloved dessert of the chain restaurant Eat n' Park, which began in Pittsburgh and has locations throughout the area. They are a true icon of the region and Eat n' Park always makes Steelers Smiley Cookies during football season.
This is our goal, people.
To begin, you need cooled sugar cookies, lots of powdered sugar, milk, and food coloring. I'm not going to include my sugar cookie recipe because I think that would break some copyright laws, but it's the sugar cookie recipe from Baking Illustrated by America's Test Kitchen. I'm pretty lazy and I usually don't do anything that seems slightly optional in recipes (like rotating the cookie sheets halfway through cooking), but I slavishly do everything in an America's Test Kitchen recipe because they are The. Best. Ever.
They will tell you how to do everything and why you should do it that way. It's great!
Making the Cookies:
Two years ago I tried a Smiley Cookies recipe I found online that was supposed to mimic the Eat n Park recipe. Don't do that. It was tremendously disappointing. Just use your favorite sugar cookies recipe. Your sugar cookies should be large and soft in the middle. Probably you will need to make a double batch of whatever recipe you use, because most cookies are not intended to be as large as SCs. If you're like me, you always make cookies too large anyway. I'm always having this conversation with myself: "this recipe is supposed to make 30 cookies?! It only made six (om nom nom), uh, five!"
Cooking time and temperature needs to be adjusted accordingly. I found I needed to put the temp about 10 degrees lower than the recipe called for and needed to bake 2 minutes less.
Dip your hands in cool water, then take a fistful of dough (literally). Roll the dough into a ball then press gently down into a circle. The water will keep the dough from sticking to your hands.
Scale! With slight perspective problems because I was trying to hold the camera with one hand!That thing the cookies are on is called a silpat and they are freaking sweet. You lay them over your cookie sheets and nothing sticks to them - no greasing or spraying required. Your dough may spread or rise or not spread or not rise depending on the recipe. Cookies will spread more if the dough has been sitting out, so put the dough in the fridge while the first batch is baking.
Tower of cookies!(By the way, if anyone is thinking about birthday or Christmas presents for me, you can get me cooling racks. I have one. This is insufficient.)
Cookies must be cool before you ice them. Don't be a jerk and start icing too early!
Making the Icing
This is a very simple, utilitarian icing. Put some powdered sugar in a bowl. You know, some. A cup or so. Then put in a slosh of milk. A little slosh. Start with a tablespoon or thereabouts. Stir it in with a fork. I'm warning you to start with just a tiny bit of milk because you only need a little bit. The icing shouldn't be too runny, it should be a bit difficult to stir. You can add more sugar or more water as needed. If you want to get all crazy put in a drop of vanilla, almond extract, peppermint extract, or anything really. (But don't you do this if you're making Smiley Cookies! Unless you are not a Smiley Cookie Purist!)
Then comes the fun part, making the colors. The traditional SC has a white background with colored features. For our Steelers and Packers cookies we need four colors: Steelers yellow, Packers yellow, Packers green, and black.
Steelers yellow: lots of yellow food coloring. One SINGLE drop of red. I mean it, just one. And then add more yellow to keep it from going too orange.
Packers yellow: lots of yellow food coloring and that's it.
Packers green: lots of green food coloring. Two drops of red, two drops of blue. This will give you a nice dark green that is still bright.
black: the hardest color to screw up. Just keep adding colors! Start out with equal parts green, blue, and red. If it looks too green, add more red. Too blue, add more green. Just keep going. If you're desperate, add yellow. If the icing gets too runny from all the liquid, add more sugar and then more of all the other colors. If it's too gray, double all the colors. It's hard to get a true-looking black, but you can come close.
Ok, now it's time to run out to the store, because you didn't believe me when I told you you'd need a lot of powdered sugar. A LOT. Maybe your roommate or significant other will go for you, but probably they'll just whine about how you never go to the store for them when they run out of something. You could try threatening this person by telling them you'll withhold cookies from them, but this is a largely empty threat unless you're a true jerk.
Woo-hoo, icing time!
Oh crap, icing is harder than it looks.
Lay down parchment paper first, cause things are about to get MESSY. Put the foundation color (white for standard, Steelers yellow, or Packers yellow) into a sandwich baggie and cut off a SMALL corner to make your own icing bag. To get down the foundation color, put a bunch in the very center of the cookie and use an angled spatula to spread out to the edges.
Now is when you'll find out if your icing is too runny. If it is, oh well. Your friends are going to eat them anyway.After you're done spreading the base layer, WAIT. I mean it, take a nap, clean the kitchen, go do something else for at least a half an hour. You're giving the bottom layer time to set up a bit and get a little hard so that the eyes, nose, and smile will sit on top of the icing instead of sinking into it.
See? This looks dumb! I told you to wait.Now you may proceed. Don't worry, you'll finally get the hang of it by the last cookie.
The single good-looking one.
Look, he has a head injury. Two differently sized pupils. And some kind of skin condition (those are just cookie crumbs, I SWEAR).90% of the cookies will look like a kindergartner's craft project. Whatever. They're still cookies. How often does someone make and decorate homemade cookies for you? Not very often. Your friends will still eat them, and they'll think its adorable that you brought them all your stupid looking cookies.
And that's it!
Go Steelers!
Sunday, January 16, 2011
A Few Words on Bicycle Repair & Diddling
Hello Everyone! This is Leland and I'm doing a little guest posting. This blog has become less about the Adventures of Anna and Leland and more about the Emotions of Anna in Regards to Cute Animals. So I'm going to talk a little about my recent forays into the world of bicycle repair and diddling.
Like most people my age, I grew up riding bikes of the great age of generic mountain bikes, often referred to as MTBs. I believe it was in the 1980's when the movement started and continued throughout the 1990's. I think most people my age (and their parents) would easily recognize something like this as a very standard bike (this, by the way, is not mine, but something from the interwebs):
Well, life goes on and in the later years of college, bike riding went by the wayside and it wasn't until Anna and I were living with her parents that I pursued the road bike dream. Anna's parents are pretty avid cyclists and Jim had a crusty old machine hanging from the rafters in his garage. After some discussion, we went through the effort of bringing it down and assessing its viability. It turns out this bicycle was bought second-hand by Jim in the 1980's and he rode it until the early-mid 2000's at which point he got himself a shiny new machine. Anyway, he said I was welcome to have it. So I had it. I took it to the local bike shop (a pretty sweet place) and had them do a little sprucing up. I was thrilled and as soon as most of the snow melted, Jim and I hit the trails and had a good time.
I was interested in the history of the bike and did some checking out. Though I haven't nailed down an exact year, it is a late 1970's Lotus Excelle, of Japanese origins. Originally built as a racing bike, it certainly seems outdated compared to modern speedsters the likes of which the Manx Missile rides:
Anyway, as close as I can tell, my Lotus originally looked a little bit like the following. Unfortunately, I never took any pictures of it before I started tinkering, so I have to show another internet-begotten picture:
Those of you out there interested enough, my Lotus has a sweet set of components. It's got Shimano 600 series downtube friction shifters and derailleurs, 500 series brakes, a sweet crank, chainrings, and cassette. Well, all of that was a great bike, but it needed some care and I was in the mood for tinkering.....and badness ensued. After moving here to flat eastern North Carolina, I noticed that I rarely shifted gears and so it occurred to me that turning it into a single speed was a very real option. So I went about doing this and it proved very difficult, challenging and ultimately a pretty rewarding and interesting experience. Here's a few shots of my makeshift bike shop. Wine always helps:
So just this morning I finally finished the transformation and I'm very excited to use it. I striped off the old paint and repainted it white; removed the rear brake; shortened and flipped the handlebars; added classic cork handlebar tape (in Bianchi celeste blue!); repositioned the front brake; and the most struggling of all, redid the chainrings and cassette to make a single speed. The Lotus has vertical dropouts, so the rear wheel is incapable of being moved horizontally. This is opposed to the horizontal dropouts that most purpose-built single speeds employ in order to obtain proper chain tension. Since I did not have this luxury, there was much messing with different gear ratios, chain lengths, swearing and throwing. Finally, Jim suggested that I file the dropouts a bit to the rear in order to gain the proper distance between chainrings and cassette. What do you know, it worked! Worked beautifully. So, I present to you the new Lotus, loving christened Indefatigable (in honor of the Royal Navy frigate and the fact that this bike just keeps going):
I'm pretty happy with the way things turned out. It certainly could have been better, and it could have been a little more professional. But this was my first attempt, and I don't think things turned out too badly. I will use Indy as a runabout/commuter type of deal that I'll use mostly for going back and forth to school. This brings me to my next project, the aforementioned Schwinn. She will become, what I hope, a touring bike. I've taken every single piece apart from this guy and am in the process of stripping the paint. It's not too hard of a task, but time consuming. This project will also be one of length because it will be more costly than the Lotus. But, the steel frame is a great start. Once I'm done, it will look mostly like a road bike, but have little larger tires and be capable of carrying me and my gear as I drink my way through Belgium (muhahahaha!). I've got the new handle bar and will slowly bring this guy back to life. Here's a shot of the not-yet-totally-stipped-of-paint frame:
I hopefully will have the constitution to kept everyone updated as this project continues.
Which, brings me to my next project. The Miyata. This beautiful bike I acquired FREE OF CHARGE from my department at ECU. It had been in the basement literally for decades and a professor knowledgeable of my interests suggested I ask the director (who just happens to be the father of the owner of the bike shop I frequent) if I could have it. Well, things went swimmingly and I now am the owner of what I think is an early 1980's Japanese made Miyata. My plan for this bike to do as minimal sprucing up as possible, mostly cleaning and replacing a few bits like cables, breaks and maybe a new set of ergonomic handlebars and turn this thing into my distance bike. I'm really excited about this one because it doesn't seem like it will take a lot to fix it up. It certainly needs help, but even if it only lasts for a few years, it was free! Check it out:
I love the smell of Chromoly in the morning!
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