Soda Bread

I traveled abroad for the first time when I was in sixth grade. My dad and I took a trip to England. We stayed in a Holiday Inn Express just down the street from Victoria Station, we saw the British Museum, Harrod's, Stonehenge, Bath, Dover, York, Leeds, and went to a dinner show at the court of Henry VIII near St. Katherine's quay. It was the first of four trips I would make to England. I was homeschooled from fifth grade through graduating high school and was lucky enough to have many opportunities for travel, particularly foreign travel.

That first trip introduced me to the cuisine of the United Kingdom. Sparkling water is more common than still, meat pasties are more common than sandwiches, and if you do have a sandwich it probably has prawns on it. Strong black tea is a staple not a luxury, biscuits are cookies, and shortbread is divine. I loved it and I love it still. Maybe it's the Irish in me but despite traveling through Europe and Asia, a meat pastie and a hot cup of tea still makes my mouth water more than anything else.

At the moment, my fascination is focused on baking the perfect loaf of soda bread. I've made three loaves in the past week, trying to get the right balance of crisp crust and soft interior. It's actually quite the challenge. Yeast and heavy grains were not common in Ireland so the rise in bread had to be gained by activating baking soda with buttermilk. You have to work quickly to mix the dough because if you let it sit too long the process runs its course and the dough toughens. Anyway, I think I'm almost there. I do better baking the dough as a large loaf in the oven, rather than baking it as farls on the stove-top. I still have a ways to go. I would like to achieve a softer crust. I'm getting another pint of buttermilk tomorrow to make more. I think Buddy Holly might be growing weary of soda bread.

The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

Hester Barrow mansplains mansplaining:

Any governess, after the few hours I have had in this house, would have a full and clear picture of the task awaiting her, but he is a man, hence cannot see how tiresome it is to have explained at length what one has already fully understood. (pg. 319)

The Tea Rose

This isn't a review, snarky movie reviews are my deal. If you want a review, check out A Reader of Fictions review here. But I had one of the strangest experiences reading Jennifer Donnelly's The Tea Rose and I've got to write about it.

So, this book is massive. Not literally, I mean it is also fairly hefty size-wise but the story itself is vast. It covers a little over a decade and recounts everything from docker strikes in the East End of London to dining with the Astors in New York, from Jack the Ripper to stock takeovers. I don't want to give too much away, I'm going to do my best to not include too many spoilers but it will be inevitable. If you plan on reading this book you may want to wait to read this post.

Normal Woody Harrelson

Have I told you that I'm going to the midnight premiere of The Hunger Games? Because of course I am. Have I told you that I'm dressing up as Effie Trinket? Because why wouldn't I? And have I told you that I'm making my husband dress up too? It's only rational. When I was first putting my costume together he had not yet begun reading the books and asked if Effie had a counterpart. I told him Haymitch was the closest thing she had to a counterpart. Later, when he'd gotten into the first book this happened:

Buddy Holly: Did you suggest that I go as Haymitch?

Me: What?

Buddy Holly: For the movie, did you suggest that I go as the drunkard?

Me: No, no, no. You asked if Effie had a counterpart, which Haymitch is the closest thing to. I did not suggest you go as drunk Woody Harrelson. Which is pretty much normal Woody Harrelson.

He'll probably go as Haymitch. There will probably be pictures.

Spidey-senses tingling

So, Spiderman 3 came out during my college years and, despite it being finals week, a group of my friends decided to go to the midnight premiere. We had a thing for midnight showings then. For some asinine reason, that I can't remember but was probably lamely responsible, I decided not to go. I regretted it, all that night, all the next day and on through the years following. In fact, until last night, I had never seen Spiderman 3. It was like this elusive treasure that I could never quite reach. But I finally did and it turned out to be made of pyrite.

Seriously, I have no more regrets. That movie was freaking ridiculous and I'm so glad I didn't pay eight dollars to see it in the theatre. I probably got a better grade on whatever final was the next day because I missed that movie. If not that, I at least saved myself excessive eye rolling for two hours. What the hell? Have you seen that movie? Terrible, just terrible.

First off, these movies are made infinitely more difficult by this man and his stupid face.

Then there's the obvious, the very obvious, emo-Peter Parker scenes. The hair and the clothes and the finger pistols, good God. That entire scene in the jazz club, where he's dancing and spazzing, I couldn't help but be reminded of Ron Burgundy playing jazz flute in Anchorman.

 But it doesn't stop there because this happens:

And dear Mary Jane, who always ends up dangling from someone's sticky web emission by the end of the movie, nearly falls about ten times and is nearly crushed to death another twenty times after that. Only one other person seems to have this many recurring mishaps.

And maybe I missed Tobey McGuire gaining a few pounds but where did the double chin come from? It's just embarrassing, really.

So, in conclusion, Spiderman 3...

Conversations with my husband, Sunday edition

Our church has beautiful modern stained glass windows. By modern, I mean they don't have people. The subjects of the windows are Christian symbols, like a baptismal shell, crosses, communion chalice, rather than Biblical scenes. Which I appreciate because I always think stained glass window people look kind of silly, unless they're iconized (no, that is not a word) or made to look more like cartoons. Anyway, during service on Sunday, Buddy Holly was trying to decipher the meanings of the symbols and running them by me.
Buddy Holly: Okay, that one has a crown and INRI was the plaque nailed to the top of the cross. I get that. And the one next to it has a PX, which has something do with peace.
Me: Yes, "pax" means peace in Latin.
Buddy Holly: And then there's the dove, which is a symbol of peace throughout the Bible. And, what the hell is the last one? An albatross descending into hell?
Me: An albatross? Really?
Buddy Holly: Yeah, you just can't see the guy.
Me: The guy?
Buddy Holly: Yeah, the guy killed the albatross and is wearing it on the end of a necklace around his neck, and the albatross is dragging the guy into hell.
Me: That's a phoenix. You know, rising from the flames. Resurrection.
Buddy Holly: Well that's not Christian. I mean, resurrection is but the phoenix is not a Christian symbol. Obviously, that's an albatross dragging a guy into hell.
Me: I think you need to reread the Bible and The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner.
Buddy Holly: I'm pretty sure The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner is a book of the Bible.

I love a husband who mixes his literature and theology.

Conversations with my husband, Saturday edition

I just finished reading The Hunger Games this weekend, because who isn't reading The Hunger Games? I don't normally go for things when they're at their height. I waited years to read Harry Potter and, if you've seen my King's Speech post, you know that I'm not always on the edge of incoming media. I probably wouldn't have gotten to Hunger Games for a while were it not that my book club is reading them. But I am glad that I have read them and I'm desperate for Buddy Holly to read them so that I can talk to him about them.

He's all like: "Well, talk to me about it anyway and then I'll read them."
And I'm all like: "No! That's spoils it. I don't want to ruin it because so much of this book is about following the flow of the story and wanting to know more."
And then I'm like: "Well, okay, so there's a love triangle and I was really worried they'd make the decision for the main character, make it easy. Which they kind of did but not in the way I thought. Like, I thought one of them was going to die, which didn't happen but there were substantial reasons given to take one of them out of the running. And the choice she made was the one she would have made anyway but it was just made so much easier for her and I'm kind of disappointed in that."
And he's like: "Okay."

If you've read the books, I think you know what I mean. Buddy Holly obviously didn't. Now, I just need to wait about a decade or so to see the movies.