A rowdy herd of javelina wandered through our neighborhood last night.

I was in my office, immersed in my revision work for the first time in weeks, when I heard the sound of 'something' knocking over the recycling container and rustling through the contents.

Coyote or javelina, I wondered, or perhaps human?

Armed with only a flashlight, my husband ventured into the yard.

Over the building frenzy of barking from our excited small dog, I heard Gary say, "Go on now, get out of here."

Let me tell you, this was one BIG pig.

The fellow stood at the end of our driveway, watching Gary with one large wall-eye, 'come any closer buddy and you can kiss your kneecaps goodbye.' Other members of his gang grazed on vegetation in our neighbors' yards.

Shivering in my nightgown, aware that they could be anywhere and could decide, for whatever reason, to charge (say, for example, they were enticed or annoyed by the barking in the house behind me), I watched my husband gather the recyling and move it inside the porch.

Reluctantly, I pushed aside the images of roving javelina and returned to my laptop.

It would be hours before I could sleep.

The Cake Report

With the holidays upon us, now is probably not the best time to experiment with dessert for the big family gathering tomorrow, but why miss an opportunity for adventure?

Angel Food Cake, from scratch. (Apparently my grandmother used to make this for her Christmas babies: Joseph Emanuel and Ann Carroll.)

I found a recipe nestled in a column of cake recipes my mother sent me a few years ago--Betty Crocker, circa 1950.

My mother gave me some tips: use extra fine granulated sugar and add it gradually. Advice from a woman who used to make these cakes with the power of her own strong arm; I not only listened, I took notes. She telephoned later to warn me that she consulted two cookbooks and found the following suggestion listed under Angel Food Cake: USE MIX.

I proceeded with great care--separating, beating, sifting.

Alas, instead of reaching lofty heights, my cake resembled a dense bundt cake. I suspect I overbeat the egg whites and they were too tired to rise (I know I'm starting to feel that way).

Round Two.

I washed the cake pan (always the most difficult task), dumped the contents of the back-up boxed mix into the mixing bowl, added the required water, mixed and baked.

It smells good. I'm cautiously optimistic, knowing that so many other things can still go wrong. Hopefully I can avoid burning it and tearing chunks loose when I remove it from the pan.

peace,
patrice

Hollywood appears to be releasing a number of entertaining and intriguing movies over the holidays. I'd love to see THE PRODUCERS, THE FAMILY STONE, MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA, RUMOR HAS IT, WALK THE LINE, and the latest Harry Potter installment.

We don't make it to the theater too often so when we go, we try to pick a movie that needs the BIG screen.

When my husband expressed his interest in seeing KING KONG, repeatedly, I did my best to subdue my groans.

When Celtic Dan mentioned that the movie was three, count 'em, THREE hours long, I figured, hey, my husband asks for so little, I can endure this.

When I overheard some mention that Jack Black was in the film, I was actually relieved. (He did a wonderful job; his character added a welcome touch of humor, portraying elements of desperation, ego, and creative perseverance.)

With the exception of a couple of scenes that I would have deleted about midway through the film (an abundance of antagonists), this was an amazing production. The sets and costumes were lush and vivid. I was surprised to see the literary allusions to Joseph Conrad's HEART OF DARKNESS, and, okay, perhaps this was a little heavy handed, but seemed to fit well with the themes.

The theater complex was showing the film every hour throughout the day, which resulted in a large room with few occupants, bonus, but seating that was in need of an upgrade.

All in all, it was lovely treat with an amazing ape.

If you are commuting to or from New York today, ack. Good luck and best wishes and hope you stay warm.

Were there any indicators that a transit strike was imminent? (Or were the rumbles pushed aside to cover the tedious and endless debate of George Bush?) Seems like one of those things that may have had some advanced notice, or, reaching here, but perhaps could have been avoided? Cheers to a speedy and effective resolution.

I've reached that bone weary point of the year. Not sure if it is the programming of previous years (where I would finish grading that last bunch of final exams, total grades, then pick up some Chinese food and a movie and collapse in a heap in my apartment), or the whole traveling carnival atmosphere of our lives right now (plus a mysterious and obnoxious gastrointestinal extravaganza that put in an appearance last week).

After carry Arthur Golden's MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA from place to place for a few months, I finally wandered into it and thoroughly enjoyed the journey. The movie looks to be a technicolor feast for the senses. There is also a a sumptuous book available that focuses on the filming of the movie, Peggy Mulloy's MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA: A PORTRAIT OF THE FILM, with lush photographs by David James.

I mentioned the novel to my mother and I'm fairly certain that she gasped. She remembered servicemen mentioning geishas following WWII and she equated the name with prostitutes. I think she might enjoy the novel, different perspective and all.

We finally watched the acclaimed MARCH OF THE PENGUINS, which was fascinating and heart-breaking all in one. I'd like to know more about how they managed to film it.

Wishing you peace and joy over the holidays.

Oh for the love of . . . !

After hours of formatting I discover that what looks just peachie-keen on my computer looks completely skewed on another system.

I seem to be cursed with goofy margins. Could this perhaps be some obscure metaphor regarding some aspect of my life?

It's different, it's new and improved. It's frustrating.

I KNEW I should have done a status check earlier in the process.

Bit by bit, step by step, letter by letter . . .

Tune in tomorrow to see what wild and wacky variations I'll come up with next.

Okay, now I've tried THAT.

Thanks to the suggestion of one (of many) with greater technical aptitude than I, I've just uploaded several revised pages utilizing a different approach to textboxes.

Sure, it's not quite the look I was going for and the background is probably too dark to read with ease, but I'm hoping it's an improvement.

Meanwhile, still wrangling with the 'out of control' margins . . .

Coming soon, or maybe in a week, a blog that contains no whining about my website issues.

I have been reading, and writing, and sending cards and wrapping presents and fa-la-la-la-la-ing when possible.

Aaarrrgghhhhh!

Moving boxes and margins and colors,
oh my.

Note: if you've dropped by the website today you may have discovered that, once again, I'm attempting to overhaul some of the formatting.

It's putting up a bit of a fight. No matter how I set the margins, the nonfiction demands to cover the entire page and on the author page my photo still refuses to load properly.

I want to add some photos, but that probably won't happen until I hire someone to HELP ME.

Right now some of the links aren't working, which I hope to resolve in the near future, unless I succumb to an almost overwhelming urge to go read.

Well, that didn't work.

I just wasted a chunk of time attempting to reformat a handful of pages on my website. What looked uniform in the process turned out to be anything but when uploaded, more like another visual test: locate the text box.

Next.

When I called my mother for a cookie recipe this week I mentioned how I was using a lightweight hand mixer. She warned me about resting it against the side of the bowl and having the bowl tip over. She didn't mention anything about unplugging it before attempting to eject the beaters.

So that's what it feels like to get a thumb tangled in a moving beater.

Much as I try to blame the poor design of the mixer, I mean, come on, the eject button was the same for the power . . . it reminds me of all of those times my parents warned us to make sure we unplugged the toaster before poking a knife in there to remove stuck toast.

This message has been brought to you by a sore but functioning thumb.

Have a safe holiday season.

After a week of hauling a laptop computer around, asking questions, wading through voicemails systems, talking to a competent technician in India (a very polite and lengthy conversation where we both repeated the words "what?" and "thank you" numerous times), lassoing any computer competent people in the immediate area, yesterday, with assistance, I was able to resolve the current challenge.

And so, in the interest of helping others who may encounter this particular situation, here's what to do:

If you are using a laptop in a home with a cable modem (A), and you travel with that laptop to another home and hook up to another cable modem (B), and then you return to the first home (A) and connot connect to the internet and receive a message box that says "limited or no connectivity," I suggest that you 1) do not interpret this statement as a commentary on your isolated lifestyle, and 2) with the computer and modem shut off, unplug the modem from the electical source, plug it back in, get on with your life.

Yep, sometimes it is that easy.

I am relieved and humbled.