chocolate trifleThe Boyfriend sent me this link and now I can't close the browser tab. YES I DARE YOU TO CLICK ON IT and tell me how YOU'D deal with the situation.

Today contained me saying to a young man I'd just met: "If you take your pants off, we can get on with the next part of the program."

This does not usually happen.

Actually, we'd been helping a mutual friend move house, and he'd torn his trousers in the process, so I traded work with him - he'd help me schlep the bedframe I was buying of Madame Moving, and I would fix his trousers. So in context it makes sense, and he skulked modestly in the bathroom until they were done, but still. What a line, eh?

Shabbat featured chocolate trifle. Stale Oreos from a beach trip a couple of weeks back, some extremely indifferent peaches that'd been lurking in the fridge - add a packet of chocolate pudding, a packet of frozen raspberries, and a pint of whipped cream, and this yumminess resulted. I think it could have used some alcohol, but otherwise it was very good.
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Greengrocer's cart: Big fat ripe tomatoes; big fat ripe cherries; big fat ripe peaches.
Subway music: pianist at 42nd St (Beethoven); break-dancers at Union Square (joyous); violinist at 14th St (Vivaldi). (All male. Where are the women?)
Rain: warm, sprinkly, sporadic.
Breeze: cool, delicious.

Such that one doesn't want to go to bed, but wants to sit on the fire-escape in the gorgeous breeze eating gorgeous fruit and reading, all night long.
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Poor Sofer Boyfriend. Visiting for Shabbat (the bread turned out SO perfect, my goodness; I'd give you the recipe if I could, but it was rather along the lines of "chuck a bit more flour in...hmm...yeah...bit more...okay, that feels about right - do they look baked yet? GO POPPY SEEDS)...

...anyway, visiting for Shabbat, and afflicted by Horrible Allergies, red eyes, sneezing - I mean, I knew he got sick whenever he left Manhattan, but this is Riverdale, it's practically Manhattan, and anyway he's been here before...

...anyway, we decided he must be allergic to the cats; lots of people have cat allergies.

Course, I don't have cats, but when did that stop us? The solution was obviously to get rid of the cats. So (after Boyfriend had gone off to Steven's, where he was sleeping), I opened the window (the door had been open all evening, as it is whenever Boyfriend is here; perhaps that is how the cats got in?), and after a while the cats must have left, because at some point there were certainly no cats in the apartment.

I think the cats must have gone down onto the fire escape and had a furniture-building party, because Mr Downstairs was afflicted by banging and hammering in the middle of the night. He let me know about this in no uncertain fashion this morning, which is how I know. The flaw in this line of reasoning is that there is no furniture on the fire-escape this morning.

Poor Sofer Boyfriend was also afflicted at Steven's, though. Steven theoretically doesn't have cats either, so perhaps the cats from the fire escape went and visited Steven after they were done waking up Mr Downstairs.

This all leaves poor Boyfriend with an Ambiguous Allergy, thus - we have used logic and reasoning to diagnose a Fantastical Cat Allergy. That is to say, a (Fantastical Cat) Allergy, not a Fantastical (Cat Allergy). He will have to remember to take quantities of parentheses around with him, as well as Benadryl.
hatam_soferet: (Default)
( Jun. 10th, 2010 09:02 pm)
11-hour day working on the Non-Ketubah of Yumminess (it's for a wedding, but it isn't a ketubah). Not for deadline reasons either, just because working on it is utter joy. Had breakfast at lunchtime - bread and cheese and fruit, very bohemian - and lunch? or is it supper? just now, macaroni cheese left over from last Friday. Art Triumphs over Cooking And Food Preparation, apparently.

To finish the piece most beautifully, I want a .3mm felt pen; I will get one at the art shop tomorrow. It's a good thing I don't have one here, because if I did, I would probably be working on this until midnight or beyond, and it's good to e.g. go outside now and again.

Yes, there will be pictures. Later. In the meantime, I have a moral tale for you, thus: my green paint was drying up in the tube, so I poked at it with the end of my paintbrush until it was loose enough to come out. Then I forgot to wipe the end of the brush. The green paint sat there until I was engrossed in painting twiddly gold bits, when my ear started itching, so I scratched the itch with the end of my brush, and lo! now my ear is full of green paint.
hatam_soferet: (Default)
( Jun. 1st, 2010 12:09 am)
I am entirely, utterly, staying-up-past-bedtime captivated by Look Around You, a cross between the Schools Television of my youth and 1066 And All That.

They're all on YouTube. Oh, am I happy.
New York woke me up in the middle of the night with some truly impressive rain. Really, it must take a lot of effort to drop that much water out of the sky.

I was going to try and take a picture for you, but by the time it was light and I'd showered (why did I bother doing that? I could have just sat on the fire escape for a bit) and stuff, the rain had slacked off.

When it started raining (in the middle of the night, of course) I got out of bed and closed the windows, because I have bits of a Torah on my various tables, all too close to the windows for irresponsible sleeping through rainstorms. Okay, they're all at least a metre away from the windows and it would take some REALLY determined rain to get that far in, but you try sleeping through a rainstorm with open windows and bits of a Torah on your tables, and I bet you wouldn't make much of it either.

Oh, re: tables - that'd be one writing-desk, and one dining-table, which is temporarily serving as a Torah Corrections Zone (that sounds a lot more borstalian than it actually is), so meals are eaten on the balcony fire escape during fine weather and on the couch otherwise. Lest you should think that la vie soferet involves sumptuous drawing-rooms, or something.

Anyway, I'm off to Hadar today. Cheerio.
hatam_soferet: (Default)
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:D

( Apr. 27th, 2010 10:47 pm)
My boyfriend tells me bedtime stories* about biblical grammar. Isn't that lovely?




* Not in my bed, that is to say. On Gchat, at bedtime.

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hatam_soferet: (Default)
( Apr. 25th, 2010 09:33 am)
Riverdale to WaHi: three miles
WaHi to Old Broadway: three miles
Break for shul
Old Broadway back to WaHi: three miles, obviously.

That makes a Hefty Amount of Shabbat Walking, which was really just what I needed after having a super-intense week Torah-writing. And it was a lovely day for it, just the right amount of Warm Yet Breezy.
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hatam_soferet: (Default)
( Apr. 13th, 2010 09:23 pm)
The offices of Dr Robert Morrow, of Riverdale, are staffed by idiots who can't follow simple instructions.

Since January of 2008, we've been having the following conversation:

Me: My insurance is XYZ. Bill them for this visit.

Them: We billed Insurance 123 and they will not pay. You owe us $100.

Me: That is because my insurance is XYZ, not 123. Bill insurance XYZ.

Them: Oh, okay. The last girl who worked here was a bit of a ditz.

Months pass.

Them: We billed Insurance 123 and they will not pay. You owe us $100.

Me: That is because my insurance is XYZ, not 123. Bill insurance XYZ.

Them: Oh, okay.

Months pass.

Them: We billed Insurance 123 and they will not pay. You seriously owe us $100. Pay up or we will set the dogs debt collectors on you.

Me: What part of "bill XYZ not 123" do you not understand?

Them: Oh, we need to bill XYZ? Sorry, the last girl who worked here was a bit of a ditz.

Months pass.

Them: We billed Insurance 123 and they will not pay. You owe us $100.

Me:...

Insurance: Claim denied. Reason: Claim Not Filed By Filing Deadline.

It infuriates me - INFURIATES ME - that I pay $370 a month in health insurance plus office visit fees to enable this kind of idiocy.

Is there an adult way of saying to the office "Don't even THINK about trying to bill me for this. This is COMPLETELY YOUR OWN FUCKING FAULT and if you try to lay this one on me I am probably going to come up to your stupid office and scream and throw things"?

So yeah. Dr Morrow of Riverdale. Office of fools. You'll probably go in for antibiotics and he'll cut your foot off. Steer clear.
hatam_soferet: (Default)
( Feb. 7th, 2010 10:41 pm)
Dropped computer. Power socket tragically bent. Limited battery life. Expect reduced posting, correspondence, and birthday presents, until such time as it is fixed.

In other news, McCormick's tome on the origins of the European economy is really really interesting and making me bounce a lot.
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I use ringbritain.com to call home. This is a cheer for them, following fantastically efficient customer service experience this morning. Really remarkably efficient. And it's a pretty decent service, on the whole - sensible user-friendly setup, low rates. Sometimes the calls drop or fail to connect, but for low rates I'm willing to put up with that now and again.

Recommended.
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hatam_soferet: (Default)
( Jan. 11th, 2010 12:26 pm)
Writing Shelach Lecha, the bit where the spies are about to go check out the land of Canaan.

They list the names of the people who are going on the trip.

I like playing with the names.

Best of all I like גדי בן סוסי, Goaty-baby ben Horsie. Of course, then you run into problems with גדיאל, Goaty-god, but hey. We make up for it with מכיאל, SMITEY-GOD, and his friend גאיאל בן מכי, Gooey-el ben Mucky. And ופסי, Vaffsy, who seems to have wandered in here from a Wagner epic, gets culturally bemused in company with Amiel ben Gimli, visiting from a Tolkien epic. What're they doing here? Who knows, but it brightens up the morning.
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hatam_soferet: (toothpaste)
( Jan. 3rd, 2010 07:19 pm)
thank you for the sympathy, people

I can almost approach the sink without shuddering now.
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hatam_soferet: (toothpaste)
( Jan. 2nd, 2010 06:58 pm)
cos I'd finished the dishes and wiped the dishpan and then I went to empty the little basket thingie over the drain, as you do, and the water still wasn't draining properly so I fished around in the plughole and got a handful. of.

DEAD ROACH.

HUGE DEAD ROACH


In my FINGERS.

HOLDING A SOGGY DEAD ROACH IN MY HAND.

Musta climbed up the sodding drain. Eugh.
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