The Dreaming

Halloween is almost upon us, and I find myself involved in the Little Red Studio's Halloween show entitled The Dreaming: An Erotic Haunted House. Now, despite the title, it's not actually a haunted house in the more traditional sense. It's a performance, and the space is certainly haunted, but...well, here's the write up:

"Step quietly inside a young woman's dream and experience the erotic through her eyes. Seductive and surprising, sweet and terrifying, The Dreaming is Halloween as only Little Red Studio can offer. Join us for Little Red Studio's 2nd Annual presentation of Seattle's only erotic Haunted House."

My role in this production is that of a ghost - I decided on a Hollywood Golden Age starlet who had od'ed on martinis and sleeping pills. I stagger about in a white satin night gown and matching robe, my martini glass still in my hand, drunkenly berating the pretty guests and flirting with every decently attractive male that passes by. It's by far too much fun. I wish there had been enough time and resources to construct a second outfit for the show - I would enjoy switching up characters. I may still attempt to dig through my closet and find something, though I have an issue with white. As one may well imagine, I don't own much white. My first ghost costume was pieced together over the past few weeks by raiding every Goodwill in a ten mile radius and ordering from clearance sales online. As I told a friend, I don't even own white underwear!

Well, my wardrobe aside, it's a fantastic show, and if you're anywhere in the Seattle area, or even western Washington, I highly recommend seeing it. The Dreaming will run every night through to Halloween, two shows a night.

- Sway

Other People's Children (And the problems they present)

So earlier today I stood on the sidewalk at 5th and Walnut, impatiently waiting for my daughter to get home from school. I figured it would be your average day - she and her friend Didi would bounce off the bus, run ahead, and Didi would steer the conversation towards boys while Fiona would just be happy to have a friend to talk with. Imagine my surprise when instead, a sobbing child ran off the bus into my arms, clinging to me with miserable desperation. Didi followed her off the bus murmuring, "Fiona, I'm sorry." My daughter just continued to cling to me, and we walked back towards my car.

Once her friend had left, Fiona tearfully informed me that Didi had scared her by yelling at her. Wanting to be reasonable, I asked why, and couldn't get more than a choked "I don't know" in response.

My daughter is young for her age, very sensitive. She's so much like her mother that my heart breaks for her. I remember those years of my life - crushed by even the slightest rejection or disappointment. I still cry in the face of significant disappointment (I've just learned enough self control to do it when no one's looking). My first impulse is to tell her that she shouldn't talk to Didi anymore, but I know that's not right. They need to work out whatever this is on their own. I can't protect her from every slight, and I shouldn't. The girls are at the age where children really start to pick up on casual cruelty, and I can't very well tell Fiona to avoid all the other children in her school to avoid getting her feelings hurt.

I do intend to tell her that she doesn't have to put up with it - she doesn't have to boycott her friend, but she does need to say that she won't let Didi treat her that way. I hope I can present it in a way that sticks.

This would be why, with maybe three exceptions, I don't like other people's children.

Oh. My. Cod.

I wanted to begin this with some clever Captain Hook reference, but I just wasn't feeling as inspired as one would have liked.

This is actually a combination of two or three other recipes. I took what I liked, discarded what sounded boring. And here we go!

3/4 cup white miso
3 tbsp sugar
1/3 cup mirin
3 tbsp unseasoned rice vinegar
1 1/2 tsp grated ginger
2 tsp sesame oil

2 lbs cod fillets or fillet pieces

Combine all ingredients (except the cod) in a small saucepan. Whisk together on medium heat until well blended and sugar dissolves. Remove from heat, allow to cool. Refridgerate for a couple hours to make sure it's cold, then add the cod. Marinate for 24 to 48 hours.

Scrape excess marinade from the cod fillets, and arrange on a greased, foil-lined baking sheet. Broil six inches from heat for 7-10 minutes until browned.

I served this with sugar snap peas and udon noodles tossed with no more than a teaspoon of sesame oil. I encourage you to be creative.

Enjoy!

- Sway

The Novel Month Cometh

Good evening, gentle reader. Tomorrow will be a day of fantastic foods. I have two recipes for the weekend - one that I'm serving tomorrow night, and one that will be marinating until Monday evening. But that is a story for another day.

Today, lurking in my Inbox, was an email from the Seattle Municipal Liaison reminding me that National Novel Writing Month was a mere twenty-two days away. This will be my third attempted NaNoWriMo. The first I didn't really put much into. The second began well, but was pushed aside in favor of my first ever paying gig as an event planner. So here we are, hoping that "third time's a charm" is more than just an old adage.

I have a story idea that I am considering heavily for this project. Not too long ago, a friend of mine charged me with the task to "make vampires interesting again". She accompanied this task with a small sketch she had done some time ago, and the images in the sketch brought to mind what I feel are some rather brilliant takes on vampires and mythos. I hope I'm right.

I'm not certain if making an outline or anything of the sort would help. I have a bad habit of beginning a story, knowing where I want it to go, and not being able to get it there. I just lose my momentum. It's unfortunate, and very frustrating. I know NaNoWriMo is hard, but with the circumstances in my life right now I have no excuse not to succeed. Particularly if I really am as gifted a writer as everyone likes to tell me I am.

- Sway

The time of the Blood Moon

I beg your pardon, gentle reader. I promised more and have delivered so little. Well, time we improved things then.

I will admit that I haven't been feeling quite my best lately. I cam into my moon time a little late this cycle, and as such it is wreaking unholy vengeance on me for daring to allow the stress and tension I was carrying from moving and school starting to hold it back. I have muscle aches from my mid back down into my upper thighs, as I have had all day, and I feel vaguely like I've been run over. Even the dulcet tones of Jack Skellington singing in the background doesn't seem to be cheering me. A dismal day indeed.

Does anyone else recall the days of Health Class when they're going over the human body and reproductive cycles, and they tell you brightly and cheerfully that a woman's period should only run 3 - 5 days, and that anything more severe than "mild discomfort from abdominal cramping" is unusual? Has anyone else longed for one of these text book periods? Why are we continuing to lie to our daughters about what they will go through? It's outrageous, really.

Well, enough about that. I'm off to make a cup of tea and see if we have any decent chocolate hiding in the pantry. And take another muscle relaxant. I haven't had a day like this in some time.

Bringing inner beauty to the surface

So when I ventured out this morning to escort my son to the bus stop, I noticed the distinct tang of brine in the air. I am, for the first time in my life, living close enough to the sea that I can smell it. That makes me smile.

But that's not actually what I wish to discuss with you today. Not long ago I was talking with a woman whom I'm coming to be more and more fond of. We were discussing appearance, and self-image. She told me that a while back when she was really having issues with how she looked she came across an article in a magazine. She can't remember which celebrity said it, but there was a quote off to one side - If I can't look at myself in the mirror and say "Yeah, I'd fuck that" then I don't leave the house.

This particular phrase really struck a chord for her, even though there are people in her life who thought that was a horrible philosophy. I suspect that this is because it is very much in opposition to the you're-fine-the-way-you-are mantra that is being so heavily embraced in certain communities these days. But I digress.

This phrase strikes a chord in myself as well. I whine a little too often about how I don't measure up to common standards of beauty, particularly my own. Yet, despite my dissatisfaction, I don't seem to be doing an awful lot about it. I'm not just talking about working out and getting back into shape. While this most certainly needs to be done, I'm not going to hide away until I'm a size 12.

"You're not a 12?"
"No, I'm not, stop being distracting."

I don't put enough into my appearance. Most days I don't care enough to, and that bothers me. Let's face it - what begins as just not wanting to take the time to see to it ends with staring at the other women around me and wondering why I don't look like them. Well, it's in part because I didn't take the extra five minutes to apply foundation before leaving the house.

Now, I'm not saying I'll become one of those women that get up an hour early to do their hair and make-up. I will never be that woman. I'm not that woman even when I'm getting ready to go out - the only reason it takes me an hour to put my face on is because no one ever leaves me alone long enough to get it done. Uninterrupted, I can be ready for the club in fifteen minutes. But it wouldn't kill me to get up an extra ten minutes early, or maybe even lay my clothes out the night before so that if I insist on sleeping longer it will be easier for me to put myself together in the morning.

The challenge that now remains is actually going through with any of these bright ideas. Something needs to be done, though - I'm sick and tired of constantly feeling "unadorned".

Kielbasa Potato Soup

I have decided that weekends are the perfect time for sharing recipes with the world. I have more time to experiment on the weekend.

This soup is actually one my mother makes with some frequency. I picked up a few pounds of kielbasa from the store the other day, and decided to devote half of it to this soup. It keeps well, and like most soups and stews the flavor improves after it's had a day or two to sit. I'm taking my mother's recipe and tweaking it a wee bit. Let us begin!

Start with 1 - 2 large onions. Dice, and saute in butter until translucent along with 1 clove of garlic (minced). Set aside.

Peel and cube 6 - 8 potatoes. Boil until tender, then drain.

Fill a soup pot 1/3 of the way with water (use more or less water depending on the consistency you want for the soup). Add vegetable bullion for extra flavor if you like, but it's not necessary. Combine potatoes and onion in pot. Bring to a boil, then turn down to simmer. Add salt, pepper, rosemary, and a pinch of sage. Be sure to crush the rosemary between your palms before adding it.

Dice up the kielbasa and add it to the pot. Let everything simmer together for a while until the flavors combine. And that's it!

Baw się dobrze!

- Sway

And the Author said, "Let there be words..."

So I sit here in my new apartment, looking out the window at the sliver of Puget Sound that I can see between trees and buildings. A new place, a new school year just started, and a sense of promise and anticipation begins to seep back into the sepia tones of my life, bringing with it color and vivacity. My reality has been shaken like a Magic 8 Ball, and Fortuna smiles as the purple haze thins to reveal "All signs point to yes".

What better way to celebrate this tingle of potential than with a new blog? Well, perhaps there are better ways. Several better ways. Oh, stop raining on my parade.

I decided to collect my ramblings to a more centralized location. This will be it. I'm not going to promise to update daily - not yet at least - but I'll at least make an attempt at regularly. Rants, recipes, club reviews, art critiques, music news, all this and more shall be filtering its way through my words and out into the primordial ooze that is the internet. What shall be born of this? Best not to speculate.

But, gentle reader, let me assure you that whatever my warblings come to, it will be a most magnificent journey.

- Sway