I'm oddly dislocated in time. It's 5:45 here, but feels much later; I can't tell why. I dozed in the car coming back from the mall. I also appear to have regressed at least seven years -- I'm basing this estimate on how my parents treat me. Hopefully time will spring back to normal when I return to California.
We had a nice dinner with Tasos (another U of C mathematician who has sold out to Wall Street), at Pongri, a Thai restaurant across the street from Alex's apartment. Excellent food, though I'm surprised by how difficult it is to find restaurants with shumai (crab dumplings, an appetizer). All the Thai restaurants in Hyde Park had them, and I got mildly addicted (so you tell me -- why does Hyde Park have five Thai restaurants and only one Indian (which is half Cajun, of all things!)?), but I can't seem to find it outside Hyde Park. Weird. I have been assured that somewhere in the Bay Area are restaurants that serve shumai, but until I see them...just call me doubting Thomas.
Today was mellow and slow. Lingering breakfast at a diner, with lots of relationship conversation. Alex is one of those people that I go to when I'm really confused; he's good at helping to sort out my thoughts. Karina's good at it too; I'm looking forward to seeing her in January (there's only so much you can do in e-mail). Then we went to see Boogie Nights. I was curious about this movie (focused on the porn industry of the 70's and 80's), after the mouthorgan and Susie Bright columns. It was more of a downer than I expected, actually, though it did have its funny and charming moments. Afterwards, as instructed, I went out and sampled New York pizza. Eh. Not bad, but Chicago pizza clearly rules. And despite what you may think, I have not found Chicago pizza in any of the supposedly Chicago-style pizza places outside Illinois.
We have a couple of hours left before I get on the train for Connecticut. I'm savoring this time; it's so sad that the old fellowship is scattered over the globe this way. Even when we're not talking, it's so nice just being in the same room with Alex. He's on the phone with Roshani right now, and we did see Tasos last night; I can almost pretend that we're all here, the way we used to be. Jordan's off at some job in downtown Chicago; he's lost touch with most of us. Alex and Tasos and Greg in New York, me in California, Kevin and Bryan in Chicago but both graduating with their Ph.D.'s this spring, Roshani in Chicago, but probably off to med school next year -- all scattering. Well, there's a chance that Kevin and I will be in New York next fall. It'd be nice to be near Alex and Tasos for a couple of years, and Naomi and Manny are here...I suppose if I make enough friends, there will be a few in every city. :-) Not quite the same, of course, but for someone with such rambling feet, perhaps the best I can hope for...
Sorry, nostalgia attack. :-) Perhaps I'm simply trying not to think about being in Connecticut this evening; it'll be wonderful seeing my family, but stressful too. I'm nervous. Hopefully we can keep from fighting too much this trip. I haven't seen them in over a year, and I miss them.
I should go back a few days, though. Little exciting happened on the 17th; after David drove me to the airport, it was mostly just dozing and reading on airplanes. I read with pleasure a used copy of Buffalo Gals by Le Guin that I had happened to pick up in at Half-Price Books a few days before; oddly, I had thought I had read it, but I totally hadn't. Just had assumed so because I thought I had read everything by Le Guin. If you like animal stories (or have the good taste to enjoy Le Guin), I strongly recommend this book. The title story was heart-wrenching.
(Another good anthology I read recently was Octavia Butler's Bloodchild. I had read and loved the title story (a shuddering little tale about love and family) before, but there was several new (to me) short stories in the anthology, along with fascinating afterwords by the author. Butler is one of the most brilliant voices in sf today (and not just in sf, actually). When I had to pick between attending Clarion East with her this summer and Clarion West with Chip Delany, it was a tough choice. (Seattle, however, is not plagued with mosquitoes the way East Lansing, Michigan is, and since I'm allergic to mosquitoes, that was a strong factor in the decision). I also picked up a copy of Bill's Blood Sport in the airport bookstore, which I'm still reading. (So far, my impression is that if you like tough-guy Hemingway-esque stories, you'll probably like this. I'm enjoying it.)
Anyway, after various and sundry delays (they lost power at the St. Louis control tower for two hours, and you can just imagine what that did to the incoming/outgoing flights), I did eventually get to Alex's place in New York. (Flying into Newark, taking the bus to Port Authority in NY and then catching a cab ('cause my bags were *heavy*) to Alex's was much simpler than I expected, which was good, 'cause after fourteen hours of travel my brain wasn't working too well.) He arrived soon after, and we chatted for a while. It was very odd seeing him in a suit; I think of Alex as a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy, the way he dressed in his mathematician days. Not any more! Jeans and t-shirt still don't fly on Wall Street (affectionately referred to as The Street by the arrogant bums who work there, or so Alex informs me), no matter how many Silicon Valley computer companies have seen the light and abandoned their ties forever. (Not that I'm entirely against ties; the advantage of a three piece suit is that you have lots of layers you can take off slowly...that's a lot harder to do with a t-shirt and jeans. I'm just speaking theoretically, of course.)
Friday morning I met Shannon (home for the holidays) and her mom at Penn Station, and we took the subway up to the Cloisters. Before I address the Cloisters, may I just put in a plug for the New York subway system? I realize it may not be entirely safe at night, but boy, it's fast. And efficient. And it goes useful places (unlike much of the Bay Area BART system). Also unlike BART, it's reasonably priced; $1.50 to go as far as you want, as opposed to BART's zoned scale. BART is better than nothing, of course, but it could still learn a lot from the MTA. (On the other hand, Toronto's system is cleaner than anything I've seen in the States (Chicago, Philly, Bay Area, New York), and Hong Kong's, I hear, actually manages to turn a profit. What are we doing wrong?).
The Cloisters were stunning. A branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, this medieval monastery-style building perches atop a small hill, overlooking water and numerous scenic views. The paths and parks surrounding the building would be lovely places to take picnics in the summer, I imagine. They're justly famous for housing the Unicorn Tapestries, which were surprisingly resplendent despite the centuries of wear, but also contain a multitude of replicated rooms, chapels, gardens, in addition to scads of lovely art pieces. Much of it is of a Christian nature, unsurprisingly, but I think even the most anti-Christian visitor would have to admire the sheer beauty of the workmanship that went into many altar-pieces, reliquaries, fonts and chapel doors and pilasters, and even a few surviving copes and chasubles. My personal favorites included the stained glass in the chapel housing several sarcophagi, the tapestries, and the small rock crystal container inscribed with a motto exhorting the readers to enjoy their wine (undoubtedly all that prevented it from becoming a reliquary as so many of the others were). Also lovely was the indoor garden, whose glassed-in winter walkways were lined with herbs and flowers, including Poet's Jessamine (jasmine).
Shannon, her mother and I are all rather chattery people, but we were very quiet for the hours we wandered the Cloisters. There was a definite sense of peace that pervaded, despite the hordes of school groups moving from room to room. In the monks' meeting room, I could close my eyes and imagine the monks filing in, quietly taking their places on the benches surrounding, discussing the herbs in the garden, and Brother Francis's success with dinner the night before. Even in the simplest carvings there was such beauty; a coherent beauty that is sometimes hard to find these days. One piece of stonework, brought from Europe, bore a simple sign, "Fragile Stone -- Please Don't Touch". Fragile stone; it almost seemed oxymoronic, yet it was in keeping with the sense of preserved peace there. I'd like to go back someday.
Friday afternoon
I went to Alex's office and met him there. When he'd finished, we went for a walk, through the World Financial Center, and down to Battery Park. He claims that he had timed it perfectly so that we would see the sun setting over the water; whether it was intentional timing or not, it was certainly lovely; a very dramatic sunset, in golds and crimsons. A ferry leaves from there; I think it takes people over into New Jersey? A nice way to commute to work, though a little cold in winter, I imagine.
Then we took the subway to Naomi's (Clarion classmate and U Chicago friend) for Sabbat dinner. I think I'd only been to one before, many years ago, with Manny. I hadn't remembered much of it, but Naomi explained the simple ritual as we went along. I admit; I caught myself kind of wishing I could bring my kids up Jewish just so they'd get to sing lovely Hebrew songs at dinner. Okay, I'm being silly, I know. It was a good dinner, though -- drunken chicken and wine and challah (I knew we should have gotten Naomi to cook more in Seattle), and lots of conversation about old friends and science fiction and writing. She's thinking about starting a journal; if she does, I'll point you guys to her. Fascinating woman, and so smart. I'm so glad Manny and she found each other again (third time's the charm, right?)
This morning Alex and I set out in search of a New York bagel. I had been solemnly informed, by various expatriate New Yorkers, that if I came home without having had a New York bagel, I would be taken out and gutted. Or some such. So I set out on my anxious quest. Alex, fortunately enough, had a friend, Katya, who worked at Bagel Baron, who directed us to the freshest, warmest bagels (sesame) and the best lox (Scottish). With some plain cream cheese and a little Bermuda onion -- heaven! Honestly, I've always liked bagels with lox and cream cheese and onion, and I admit that the bagel did taste different -- a little..umm...chewier? Less chewy? Hard to pin down -- but I'm not so convinced yet that it was ecstatically better, the way I'd been instructed to expect. Maybe I simply don't have an educated enough palate. Alex had a sesame bagel with a really odd cream cheese (green onion and tofu). He said it was good, but I have my doubts.
Eventually we escaped the bagel shop and wandered a bit through Central Park. We didn't have time to get to any of the interesting bits, however, as we had 2 o'clock tickets to see Miss Saigon on Broadway. Maybe we'll wander deeper tomorrow. Miss Saigon was as resplendent as I remembered (I'd seen it perhaps five years previous with Kevin), and despite knowing what to expect, I was sobbing by the end. Alex too. It was a...different experience, seeing it with another immigrant. It felt like various aspects of the show resonated differently; that I was more aware of them with Alex there. (Funny, how even though I came to the U.S. as a two-year-old, and haven't had to deal with many typical immigrant problems (language difficulties, utter poverty, etc.), I still identify as an immigrant. Or first-generation. Depending on the situation). Despite some silly moments, the authors really did a good job interweaving the politics and sociology of the piece with the love story and humanity of it. I'm very glad we saw it.
Now it's a quiet time at Alex's apartment, waiting for Tasos to join us so we can go to dinner, and waiting for Alex to finish reading through the 11K words of my new book. Once I finish this entry, I'll have to ask him what he thought of it. A bit nervous, so I'll chatter at you guys just a little longer.
New York is fascinating. It's not as dirty as I remembered it from my visits as a child; and I'm so aware of the energy just pulsing through the streets. From Alex's window there's a gorgeous view of the city and its lights; looking out there is both thrilling and a bit intimidating. So many people -- while, as a visitor, I'm exhilarated by all the throbbing life of it, I can understand how it could also be isolating, frightening, lonely. I don't know if I'd want to live here. Maybe. Right now I'm happy in the Bay Area; it's a little slower, friendlier. (So far, nobody here has been as appallingly rude as I was led to expect, however). You guys know the relevant quote, right?
The smart and ambitious go to New York, the smart go to San Francisco, and the merely ambitious go to L.A.
With that, I'll leave you and see what Alex had to say about my new work.
I was going to do another anniversary journal entry today, a little early -- soon it'll be the two year anniversary of this journal. But David (my 4:30 a.m. ride; everyone bless David's kind heart) is looking impatient and he is undoubtedly correct to do so (I'm afraid I slept through my alarm, unusually, and thus we are running a little late). So perhaps I'll wait to do that entry, and perhaps we can combine it with a start of the New Year entry; that seems appropriate.
In the meantime, have a wonderful holiday, everyone -- I hope these holiday times, whatever your religion or lack thereof, are peaceful, joyful and heartening. Despite potential tension and perhaps inevitable battles ahead, I'm looking forward to seeing the biological part of my family very much. May you also be with those who love and appreciate you.
See you soon...
I just added a lovely new poem that one of you sent me some time ago to the Yeats page, "When You Are Old". I'm not sure I understand the third stanza, but it's so lovely, that I don't mind. Especially the second stanza, last line.
Last night was odd. Jed came by and we watched Shadowlands. I don't know if you're familiar with that movie; it's about C.S. Lewis's life; a true story. That was all I had known about it beforehand; Jed had heard that it was about Lewis falling in love. Which it is, but more immediately, it is about pain and cancer and God and faith and doubt and joy. We talked for a long time afterwards, about some of the ideas the movie brought up. I recommend it highly.
If we take as a given that we can move through pain to strength, the question still remains of whether that is the only way. Is the sorrow necessary to the joy? Is true beauty only to be found in the ephemeral? I don't know. I find myself thinking of a scene in a Diane Duane Star Trek novel (I don't know if I've discussed this here before, so if I have forgive me, and if you haven't read _The Wounded Sky_ you may want to skip the rest of this paragraph), where they're in the process of basically awakening/creating a universe. McCoy asks K't'lk (the channel, I suppose would be the best word; the shaper), "Do we have to give them death?" And she answers that death is the only way that we know to potentially step out of the box, the game, to join with a larger Self. And then he asks, "Well, can we at least spare them pain?" He's a doctor, you know. Kirk is thinking at this moment that all McCoy wants is to know that some place in all the universes he'll be forever out of a job. And she shakes her crystal head sorrowfully, and says that she doesn't know that it's safe to meddle with that process either.
I find myself aching for McCoy (and yes, I know he's just a character in a book, but that's never stopped me before; I've wept buckets for characters in books, and fallen in love with them...), yet I know what she means. What would we replace it with, after all? What mechanism for learning would we put in? If it were all effortless, easy, joyous even -- would it still have such value? I don't know.
Heavy thoughts for a light and lovely morning. I think I'd best get back to my pies. Have a good weekend, everyone.
One of my Clarion classmates has a new book out! If you like the hard-core sf stuff, you might want to check out Bill Burkett's new novel, Blood Sport. It's not out in bookstores yet, but it's easily available on-line.
Anyone know what the postage is for a Christmas card to England from the U.S.? How about France? And here's an interesting factoid. If you want to know what gets me *really* excited...
QUANTUM TELEPORTATION has been experimentally demonstrated by physicists at the University of Innsbruck (Anton Zeilinger, 011-43-676-305-8608, anton.zeilinger@ uibk.ac.at; Dik Bouwmeester, Dik.Bouwmeester@uibk.ac.at). First proposed in 1993 by Charles Bennett of IBM (914-945-3118), quantum teleportation allow physicists to take a photon (or any other quantum-scale particle, such as an atom), and transfer its properties (such as its polarization) to another photon--even if the two photons are on opposite sides of the galaxy. Note that this scheme transports the particle's properties to the remote location and not the particle itself. And as with Star Trek's Captain Kirk, whose body is destroyed at the teleporter and reconstructed at his destination, the state of the original photon must be destroyed to create an exact reconstruction at the other end. In the Innsbruck experiment, the researchers create a pair of photons A and B that are quantum mechanically "entangled": the polarization of each photon is in a fuzzy, undetermined state, yet the two photons have a precisely defined interrelationship. If one photon is later measured to have, say, a horizontal polarization, then the other photon must "collapse" into the complementary state of vertical polarization. In the experiment, one of the entangled photons A arrives at an optical device at the exact time as a "message" photon M whose polarization state is to be teleported. These two photons enter a device where they become indistinguishable, thus effacing our knowledge of M's polarization (the equivalent of destroying Kirk).What the researchers have verified is that by ensuring that M's polarization is complementary to A's, then B's polarization would now have to assume the same value as M's. In other words, although M and B have never been in contact, B has been imprinted with M's polarization value, across the whole galaxy, instantaneously. This does not mean that faster-than-light information transfer has occurred. The people at the sending station must still convey the fact that teleportation had been successful by making a phone call or using some other light-speed or sub-light-speed means of communication. While physicists don't foresee the possibility of teleporting large-scale objects like humans, this scheme will have uses in quantum computing and cryptography. (D. Bouwmeester et al., Nature, 11 Dec 1997; see also www.aip.org/physnews/graphics)
I did watch a surprisingly charming movie, "My Best Friend's Wedding". I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about it -- it really surprised me. I don't want to say too much, in case some of you haven't seen it yet and wanted to, so I'll just say that I'm a bit surprised Hollywood got away with it. Oh, and it's got one of the best editors in the world in this movie. All editors should watch it and take notes. Publishers too. Hear that, Cecelia? Dale?
By the way, for those who were worried about me after the rather downer of an entry last week, I'm doing a fair bit better. Academics being done for a month and a half is a big help. :-) And I'm slowly getting my other work done. Still to do, hopefully before I leave for Xmas:
She finally figured it out: she's a smoker, and before getting intimate with him, she had gone to the bathroom to "freshen up." Not having a toothbrush, she crunched on about four Altoids and then got busy. Apparently things went amazingly.
So she passed this little tidbit on to another female sales weasel, who immediately tried it out on *her* fiance. Apparently this guy has never, ever been into oral sex, but liked the mint sensation so much that he asked her to stop and chew another Altoid mid-blow job. He is now a fellatio gourmand.
This news has been going around our office. Having a box of Altoids on your desk is now like being part of the Secret Blowjob Goddess Society [SBJGS]. It's the equivalent of having the hottest car or coolest computer. News spread like crazy among the females, who all went out at lunch to Walgreens to buy a box of Altoids (about $2 for 100 or so), and their partners across the city tonight are getting one hell of a corporate blow job. As far as company-wide morale boosting events, it doesn't get much better.
Some of the men found out, too -- they went out after work to buy them for their wives. They strategized on how to get their wives to eat them. And people wonder why I work in technology.
(For what it's worth -- it really does work! It leaves a lasting tingle that is apparently quite exquisite.)"
AP JAN 25, 1996 - The Energizer Bunny, known best for "going and going and going..." passed away last evening at 12:42am.
Upon completion of the autopsy early this morning, the chief medical examiner ruled that the death was caused by acute cardiac arrest, induced by sexual over-stimulation.
Apparently, someone put the battery in backwards and the bunny kept coming and coming and coming...
Foul play has not been ruled out.
Until then, my brain is fried, so I'll talk to y'all properly later. This was just a checking in note.
I had to write a self-evaluation for my Fiction class; in lieu of a real journal entry, I offer it to you. I've also sent out two new stories, "Alan's Story" and "Minh-Ha's Story" (totally different from the version you saw before) to the first readers list.
Listening to Carole Maso gave me some ideas for Part II. For some reason, I've recently started envisioning the book in three parts, though at 11000 words currently, it's more like a fifth done. The first section feels to me as if it deals with really pivotal moments in the stories. Pivotal moments for the characters, that is -- moments where perhaps they realized something important about themselves and their desires. Those moments have been largely joyful, although Steve's was more bittersweet. (I'm concerned about Steve's section, actually; some people find it romantic/touching/powerful, but others find him merely pathetic. I'm not aiming for pathetic. I don't think he's pathetic. I'm not sure what to do about that.) I think in Part II we'll move more towards pain. I'm also interested in dialogue here. At times I think I'll have a series of dialogues between the narrator and these others -- yet that seems difficult to maintain for an entire section. Perhaps more alternations; dialogue/story/dialogue/story and so on. I'm thinking now about what the dialogues should be about; sexuality? desire? love? Should they be about anything? Not sure. This is all feeling still somewhat amorphous, yet I'm not panicked anymore. I think somewhere in the back of my head this is all jelling.
I have written various other bobbles and snippets in the second part of this semester, but nothing important. The only really significant thing I've done otherwise is revise "Interruptions" (motivated by application for the Stegner Fellowship). I'm happy with it, or happier, I think. Sometimes I feel that I won't be finished with that story for another fifteen or twenty years. Perspective lacking. The mother is still not sympathetic enough, or the boyfriend character, though I think both are better. The class's advice to cut the conference scene was right on target, I think, and I'm pretty sure the new dispersal of that information works much better.
On the whole, I'm really pleased with how my writing has progressed this semester. I'm falling in love with my new book, and the people who populate it.
In other news, today I spend some time taking snapshots of San Francisco to go with a short article I wrote for Puritan (SF - Delightful, Debauched Days :-). I'm no photographer, but I warned him so it's okay. Then dinner with Jed, which should be pleasant.
Otherwise today and tomorrow are fairly devoted to writing more on the book. I'm setting a personal goal of at least 10,000 solid words (15K would be better) by Monday (when I have to hand in what I have for class). I definitely want 15K by the following Monday, when I send it off to Richard Kasak to see if he wants to publish it. Meep. I'm trying to convince myself not to get discouraged if Richard doesn't want it, especially if he doesn't want it 'cause it's too literary -- it's just barely possible that a mainstream publisher will want it, and maybe even pay me lots more money for it. We'll see.
Then this weekend I put together the survey on on-line workshops and write that paper which is due Tuesday. And I go Christmas shopping with Thida on Saturday. And host the monthly poly group on Sunday. I did finish my reading logs for Theories and Strategies of Teaching Writing -- I'm considering adding them to these pages. A bit of work -- we'll see.
All of this insanity should be done by Tuesday, and then it's just writing 'til Monday the 15th, and then Kevin is back in town again, and then I leave on the 18th for New York.
Rather than go on endlessly about the minutiae of my life, I'll share with you a delicious quote from Pat Califia:
"This is, of course, in wild opposition to our present system."
[Pat Califia, from the introduction to Macho Sluts
So I had fifteen minutes or so to kill in the morning, and I picked up a book. I only have one bookshelf in my room; the rest are scattered around the house. The one in my room houses the writing books, the mysteries, and the children's books. I have rather a lot of children's books, primarily sf/f, and primarily of a young adolescent reading level. I find them comforting to reread. So it wasn't surprising that when I was feeling stressed yesterday, I reached out for one of them.
I picked up _Dragonsinger_. That's a novel by Anne McCaffrey, one of three in the Harper Hall of Pern series. It chronicles the adventures of Menolly, a young musician girl in a country where women generally aren't musicians. A girl from a family that is even more conservative than the rest of the land. A girl who runs away because her parents won't let her play music. A girl with an amazing talent. (You can see why I identified with her as a kid. :-)
So I read a little, and felt better, and put it down. Then last night, I got home, was too tired to work on academics, and picked up another book. Now, keep in mind that I have about seventy children's books on this bookshelf. The other book I picked up was Robin McKinley's _The Blue Sword_. A story about a young woman who cannot live by the conventions of her cultures. A young woman who has a greater, harder destiny. A woman whose family doesn't understand her. I'm about halfway through re-reading it again, and it's fully as wonderful as I remembered it. It's also intensely comforting.
I didn't plan this. I didn't say to myself, "I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing with my life; I'm not sure my family isn't right; I'll read some books that'll tell me it's all okay." And of course, the books aren't telling me it's all okay; the answers aren't that easy. But I think it's funny, and interesting, that subconsciously I knew that these were the books I needed to read to calm myself down, to get myself to a place where I could think rationally about all this again. Patterns laid down in childhood, I suppose; these were the books that held me up when I felt like I was drowning.
This is why I want to someday write at least one children's book. So I can give back a little of what authors like McCaffrey and McKinley and Alexander, and Cooper and Duane and Engdahl and LeGuin and L'Engle and Lewis and Norton and Tolkien and Yolen gave me. There are others too, that I didn't discover until I was older but who were undoubtedly brightening others' lives -- Aiken and Boston and Christopher and Eager and Ende and Jacques and Jones and Nesbit and Pierce and White. More than anything else, these writers seem to share a sense of the possibilities inherent in a child's life, of the potentials that need encouragement.
*smile* My parents sometimes wonder where I got this stubborn independent streak, this raving individuality. Well, it's undoubtedly mostly inborn, but the children's books certainly didn't hurt. A quiet subversion they practice, these authors. I almost feel guilty exposing them this way; perhaps some parent reading this will panic and keep their kids from reading at all. I rather doubt it, though. And perhaps some of you who haven't read these books will be inspired to go out and find them. They taught me so much about life and love and strength and honor and choices and responsibility and truth and beauty. Children's authors get dismissed so often, but they take on the big questions, the issues of real importance. I wish I could command a round of applause, right now.
7:05. Well, feeling somewhat better. Would be hard not to, with all the nice e-mail I've been getting from y'all. You guys are wonderful, you know that? Really lifted my spirits for a little while...
I need to get back to work, but first I wanted to share this lovely tidbit that one of you sent me. There's hope in the home country after all...
Colombo, Sri Lanka.
Women-only shows sold out for film on Indian sex manual.
Women packed a Sri Lankan theater after it barred men from certain shows of kama Sutra - a film based on the fourth centuary Indian sex manual.
"Since all of us were women, there was no embarrassment to watch some of the very sensual scenes," said one patron, Sujatha de Silva.
David Joseph, manager of the Savoy theater in Colombo, had to seek permission from the government to discriminate against men for one show a day last week.
Almost all of the Savoy's 948 seats were full for the women-only shows.
3 Eggs, Beaten
1/2 cup Sugar
1 cup Caro Dark Syrup
1/2 Teaspoon Salt
1 Teaspoon Vanilla
1/4 cup Melted Butter
1 cup Pecans
1 Pie Shell
Cooking Instructions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees
Mix: Eggs, Sugar, Syrup, Salt, Vanilla, and Butter
Spread Pecans in bottom of Pie Shell
Pour in Mixed Ingredients
Bake 1 Hour @ 350 Degrees
Hint: Heat butter and Syrup in microwave prior to mixing (this helps melt the sugar).
In other good news, after a four day sort of hiatus (I did do about half of my exercises one day), I'm back to exercising. I even went up today, when I was afraid I'd have lost so much momentum/tone, that I'd have to ease up. And while I did gain back a pound over Thanksgiving, it could have been much, much worse. :-)
Also finished "Ramesh's Story", and am sending it out.