inked

I have two tattoos.

This is my first one. "In medias res" is a phrase that means "into the middle of things", which is a writing technique that starts a story in the middle of the action. It is placed just over my hip and my dad has a matching one on his shoulder.

My second tattoo contains a quote from the novel Jane Eyre.

The vast majority of the times that people ask about me about my tattoos and I explain their meanings, there are two different reactions:
1)    Confused silence followed by a long, drawn-out “okay”
2)    “So you’re like a librarian or something?”

Despite the years of deliberation and meaning I put behind them, all people go away with is the fact that I like books. But since I like you guys, I’m going to share a story about one of my tattoos that I hope will stay with you and prevent you from making some stupid, stupid mistakes like I have done.

After waiting a week for my tattoo artist to draw the final design and gain my approval, my dad, my boyfriend, and I went in to the parlor to have it inked on my skin. The design was beautiful, my boyfriend and my dad looked it over and agreed it was perfect. I quickly signed off on all the paperwork that the design was exactly what I wanted and got ready to endure my session. Halfway through getting it tattooed, the artist suddenly stopped and yelled “Fuck!”. After a minute of being convinced that he had hit a vein that would lead to me slowly and painfully bleeding to death, I found out that there was a misspelling on the quote that none of us, including my English Professor father, had noticed until then. The “C” in “obscure” had been left out and I now had “obsu” emblazoned on my shoulder. He wound up putting witch-hazel into the mistake with the tattoo gun and had me do the opposite of all the care tips for tattoos in that one small area. After a week of contorting to poke and offend that spot, the layer of dead skin with the mistake came off and I was able to return to finish the design.

And that is how I learned a valuable lesson about proofreading.

For your entertainment, my father captured the essence of getting my "in media res" tattoo.

much love,
hedgie

eating like an author: vladimir nabokov edition

Vladimir Nabokov’s Eggs à la Nabocoque-

This month's recipe deals with eggs.

Quote:
"Boil water in a saucepan (bubbles mean it is boiling!). Take two eggs (for one person) out of the refrigerator. Hold them under the hot tap water to make them ready for what awaits them.
Place each in a pan, one after the other, and let them slip soundlessly into the (boiling) water. Consult your wristwatch. Stand over them with a spoon preventing them (they are apt to roll) from knocking against the damned side of the pan.
If, however, an egg cracks in the water (now bubbling like mad) and starts to disgorge a cloud of white stuff like a medium in an old fashioned seance, fish it out and throw it away. Take another and be more careful.
After 200 seconds have passed, or, say, 240 (taking interruptions into account), start scooping the eggs out. Place them, round end up, in two egg cups. With a small spoon tap-tap in a circle and hen pry open the lid of the shell. Have some salt and buttered bread (white) ready. Eat."

Ingredients:
Eggs

Steps:
1) Boil eggs.

2) You're done!

3) No, really.

Vladimir Nabokov is many things, but a gourmet chef is not one of them.


much love,
hedgie

PUPPY and some other things

Unfortunately, this is another blog post to make excuses for why I haven't had a chance to write lately. Here's what has happened in the past week.

I ate this:

A peanut butter and jelly bacon burger with ice cream. It actually worked somehow.

I moved from Encinitas to Carlsbad:

Nick ordered this:

A Slater's burger with EVERYTHING on it.

Th chefs admiring their work.

Friends admiring the weight.

The "Hate it Orlove it Burger" compared to a normal one.

We did this:

We got to see Steam Powered Giraffe in concert:

We adopted this:

According to the people who worked there, Addie is a shepherd mix. At three months, she is somehow potty trained already and can figure out how to get into her dog bed, but not how to get out.

Despite a dog bed, a crate, and carpet, her favorite place to sleep is here.

And Jr does not like being an older brother:

Hopefully, next week, I will fail a little less on this whole writing thing.


much love,
hedgie