Revenge of the fish song

Here are some excerpts from a little conversation we had this week with our CSA.

Me: Hi, the list for this week says we are getting a whole branzino fish. Um, does that mean the whole fish -- like, head, eyes, all that stuff?

CSA: Yes! You'll love the branzino. Each fish is about a pound, but of course you won't actually get a pound out of it to eat, if you know what we mean.

Me: So, there will be eyes.

CSA: Yes. But it's already gutted. Just the head is on. And tail. And fins.

Me: And the eyes.

CSA: Yes. Yes, there will be eyes.

Me: Two eyes. Dead ones.

CSA: Uh, yes, we anticipate there will be two eyes per fish. And the fish are definitely dead when they reach the customer.

Me: You don't, um, cut the eyes out first?

CSA: Nope, you can cook it right in the oven or in a pan on the stove just the way it is!

Me: I put it in my pan WITH THE HEAD ON??

CSA: It'll just need a little lemon and butter, and you're all set!

Me: There is a fish with dead eyes staring at me from my frying pan, and a little lemon and butter is supposed to FIX that??

CSA: Really, ma'am, it'll be fine. You'll love it. Let us know how it goes! (heh heh heh)

In an attempt to comfort the Princess (and himself) about cooking eye-infested fish, the Hero sent her this link. Now all she can do is hum the song. We are thinking of passing it along to the CSA people so they can hum it all day long, too.

Murder is afoot

The Princess has been reminded by a concerned reader that it has been quite some time since she has communicated via the blog. With deepest apologies, she promises to return soon, although possibly not real soon. She is deep in the throes (writers are always "in the throes") of learning the art of mystery writing, which has caused her to pretend she knows something about how to kill off characters. This is something that has never happened in the blog, of course, unless plants count as characters, in which case plenty of murder has occurred. Someday she might write a post about the plants getting their revenge. Stay tuned.

In pursuit of the Great American Mystery novel

The Princess has embarked on a quest to write the Great American Mystery novel, or failing that, to at least not embarrass herself in front of fellow students in her new mystery writing class online. And to not make the instructor fervently wish that she had chosen some other occupation, ANY occupation. Like maybe being a stunt double for a pregnant rhino.

Currently the class is focusing on developing characters, and also plot so that the characters are not bored. The students have learned that characters should be as believable as possible, and therefore they are often based on real people. Friends and associates of the Princess will be happy to know that they themselves may appear, at least in some version, in her writings during this class. They may be surprised, however, to find that they MIGHT not survive the story. This is, after all, a mystery writing class.

The Hero is solidly behind the Princess in her new endeavor, the better to keep an eye on her in case she should feel the need to try out some method of bumping off an unsuspecting victim. He has offered much helpful advice, most of which boils down to "Kill someone OTHER than the husband. Maybe there doesn't even NEED to be a husband in the story. That way he can't get hurt."

There are many ways of approaching a story, but the Princess seems, at this early date, to have settled into the following writing routine:

1) Gather as many writing books as possible and read through them for helpful direction.
2) Skip over the parts in the books that say, "Writing is hard work."
3) Search mind for inspiration. Failing that, search memory. Then last two months of news stories. Snoopy's Guide to Writing ("It was a dark and stormy night." "The."). Dove candy bar wrapper ("Take time to relax and pamper yourself." Ah! Some advice she actually finds useful).
4) Desperately order more inspirationally wrapped Dove candy bars from Mars Corporation. Several cases of a thousand would not be too many.
5) Finally, on the brink of lateness, turn in story idea that includes rabbits, aprons, rolling pins, and late rabbit husbands.

Clearly the world is not quite ready for the likes of whodunits according to the Princess, but she is determined to learn the craft of writing mysteries. She would prefer that there be no violence in her stories, a sentiment shared by a fellow student who admits that although he enjoys reading more "hard-core" crime stories (defined as stories with a firm ban on bunnies and rolling pins), he has no desire to write such stories. Hence, they both have consigned themselves to writing cozy mysteries, which are not nearly so scary as other mysteries because they usually involve an amateur sleuth who is just a normal, human being, such as you might live next door to, whose habit it is to encounter bodies of the previously living, who were themselves, in life, normal human beings such as might live next door to...the amateur sleuth.

See? Nothing scary there.

Some of the other students in the class shared that they sometimes get past their writer's block by getting out and "walking where their protagonist walks." They might visit a museum, a bar, a coffee shop. Talk to poodles or people wearing wigs. The Princess immediately began to plan a story that takes place in Hawaii, or possibly Fuji, and suggested to the Hero that if she was going to really succeed at this business of writing, she simply MUST walk where her characters walk. Beaches at sunset. Dormant volcanoes. Etc.

The Hero, ever supportive, is all for it. As long as someone else gets bumped off.

The January holidays

Welcome to January, the National Month of Guilt. This holiday is celebrated by many in remembrance of all the eggnog and gingerbread and fruitcake indulged in over the holiday season, and also in forgettance of all the new year's resolutions made just a few days ago -- indeed, in some case just a few moments ago.

This holiday is afforded an entire month because we, as Americans, do guilt. Big. A National DAY of Guilt would not be nearly enough to dwell on our individual and collective neglect of self-discipline and contentment. Many of us indulged for an entire month, and it is only fitting, we tell ourselves, that we should spend an entire month beating ourselves with the Stick of Guilt.

This year our daily newspaper evidently decided that its readers are not beating themselves hard enough with that stick. It ran an ad with a large headline declaring "New Year's Resolution #1: Eat healthier." What followed was not sensible ways to keep this resolution, or even an ad for health food. It was an ad for DOG food.

Apparently it is not enough that we should feel guilty for behavior that affects ourselves. Now we must feel a weighty responsibility for those dependent on us. Clearly, the newspaper was implying, we have dragged those least able to resist down with us into the morass of bad habits. We must pay not only on behalf of ourselves but also on behalf of our pets. More resolutions to make! More to go unfulfilled!

Fido, go fetch that Stick of Guilt. Looks like we're gonna need it.

There were shepherds abiding...along with GI Joe

During the Christmas season we browsed through the antique stores in our little historic town, more to see what kinds of free treats they were offering than for any actual interest in buying something. We saw numerous manger displays, and the Hero recalled with fondness that he had sometimes played with his family's manger when he was little.

I could see the young Hero being more into boisterous action figures than the solemn Mary and Joseph and Jesus and the shepherds. I couldn't help asking whether Superman had also visited the manger with him.

"No, I wasn't really into Superman," he said.

I took another guess. "How about GI Joe? Did HE play with Baby Jesus?"

He admitted that at times GI Joe had come along to play with Baby Jesus and the other figures in the manger. But he was always well behaved.

A coworker recalled that in her house, Baby Jesus did not appear in the manger scene until Christmas morning, which in some years caused her great concern in the days preceding this. Had someone taken Him? Had he gotten lost? Or worse, accidentally tossed in with her brothers' action figures? One year, unable to bear the thought of any of these possibilities, she added her doll to the manger scene as a stand-in. The doll being several times larger than the rest of the figures, the effect was of Gulliver in the land of Lilliput. But it relieved her mind, and on Christmas morning her doll mysteriously returned to her room. When she ran to the living room, lo, there was Baby Jesus in His rightful place in the creche.

GI Joe. An oversized doll. Misfits in the manger, to be sure. But aren't we all? And yet, we are all welcome there.

It's not easy being an elf

The Hero and Princess enjoyed seeing various other individuals in the kingdom over the holiday season, in far-flung places, and are very glad that none of those they visited were intimately connected with hospital emergency rooms, as was the case last Christmas. As the Hero made clear, their itinerary did NOT include such a visit this year. Of course, the itinerary last year did not include one either; it was just sort of a last-minute decision on the Princess's part. Fortunately, there were no unscheduled visits this year.

Now that Christmas is past -- at least until we start being bombarded with ads for NEXT Christmas, which should start anytime after Easter -- certain individuals can finally take a well-deserved break. These include elves, whose complex and sometimes stressful position I was only recently able to appreciate after being given a glimpse into their duties.

A coworker explained that, as the youngest in her family, she has the responsibility of the Elf, a very critical position without which there would be no opening of gifts on Christmas morning. Or, in her family's case, on the morning BEFORE Christmas. For reasons still unclear to me, they did not wait until Dec. 25 to open presents when she was growing up. But I digress.

The Elf is responsible for distributing all the gifts under the tree. This sounds easy enough, but in this particular family they open gifts one person at a time, which necessitates a certain strategy on the part of the Elf. She must arrange the gifts and present them in a timely manner to the correct recipients. Only one gift at a time may be presented, and there must be sufficient time between the presentation of gifts, but not TOO much time, as the giftees will become restless and may even start to heckle the Elf. "Mercilessly critique the elf," is how she describes it. "It's a lot of pressure," she admits.

So this year the Elf was counting on the assistance of two young Elves-in-Training, cousins, to help bear her burden. Specifically, she was counting on their cuteness -- at 2 1/2 and 4 1/2, they possessed a considerable amount of it -- to offset the possibility of heckling should the elf duties not be performed to expectations.

But choosing trainees is tricky, even for elves, and the Head Elf quickly realized that young elfins are subject to grumpiness when they are required to work well into the evening hours without a proper rest beforehand.

"It didn't work out so well," she sighed.

She took heart, however, from signs that the 4 1/2-year-old enjoys running things, which she feels bodes well for next Christmas. Perhaps by then the older child will even be able to maneuver the younger one to do her bidding, and the Head Elf will be able to sit back, relax, and maybe even become a Retired Elf. And perhaps even engage in a little gentle heckling.

Goodbye, Charlie Brown

In our last post we mentioned that we had adopted a Charlie Brown tree, that hapless and precarious, but lovable, bundle of sticks for which a single ornament is life-threatening. The tree was, sadly, with us for only a day before going back whence it had come. We admit that this was entirely due to our inability to be without a REAL tree -- that is, a fake tree that at least pretends to be the real thing. We exchanged Charlie Brown for a sleek, slim fir that is too tall for the room but which -- this is important -- can accommodate many presents underneath. But perhaps most important, all our ornaments fit on it, which allows us to avoid the effort of paring down our collection. Someday we might even post a photo of it.