magical internet, magical commenter, magic workweeks? November 16, 2008

WOW! All my weird feelings about blogging are completely erased—blogging is magical! Commentariat Leah has totally done me a solid–she found the mystical, magical, and heretofore mythical pink and yellow truffle cups that I have been searching for for years! Yay!!!!!! Leah, your Googling skills are wide and deep, and I am in awe. The trick seems to have been searching under alternative search terms (”petite four [sic] cups”!) that had never occurred to me. Leah’s crazy skills led to an Amazon site selling the cups. I bought all that were available, and worried that they were discontinued cups available in limited amounts. When the cups came (perfect size, perfect color, PERFECTION!) they bore the name of a website I will not give to anyone even under severest torture. This beautiful website is selling the cups as if they are a regular product, albeit in pathetic 50-cup packs. I am in talks with them vis-à-vis quantity discounts/how many they have on hand/long-term availability, etc.

But I have a good stash for now, and it is with great pleasure that I can send Leah the promised five free truffle boxes! Leah, please email me (lagusta at lagusta.com) with which boxes you’d like and I will send them out this week! (I am assuming you are a stranger Leah and not my former tenant Leah, or myself-using-my-Hebrew-name Leah, or my first grade b.f.f. [not really the last "f" though] Leah, but if you are any of these, let me know!)

In other work news, my busiest two weeks of the year are just gearing up, and I am full of energy and up for the mountain that is Thanksgiving meals and truffles. If I get a moment to catch my breath, I will show you some amazing pictures of a beet that just might give you nightmares—seriously! Watch for it!

In the meantime, though I constantly mock my slipshod hippie childhood, I sometimes can’t stop myself from believing in ultra-hippie concepts my parents instilled in me. Declaring one’s intentions to the universe in the hopes that the universe will respond is one of those bits of ridiculousness. Whenever we wanted something as kids we were directed to send out “vibes to the universe” in order to get it. It didn’t really work with things like bikes for Christmas/Hanukkah, but I have to admit that I like the idea of making your hopes and intentions public in order to scoot them a little closer to reality. I try to pretend my little notes to myself on my work chalkboard are just that, reminders to myself, but deep down I know I’m sending a message to the cosmos. Atheists can believe in the power of good vibes, right?

Let’s do it!

let’s trade! November 14, 2008

So much to blog about, yet so many opportunities to pay off student loans and mortgages this holiday season! I guess I should be an adult and forgo the former in order to rock the latter, so it might be a little quiet on the blog for a while.

Since you’ll have nothing to read, do you want to do a trade? Here’s the deal, and I’m just going to tell it like it is, OK?

I’ve had a longstanding barter relationship with a pal of mine: website work in exchange for meals and truffles. It’s worked out fairly well. She’s a great designer, but is primarily an artist. And I’m OK with that, I understand the artistic temperament, I am deeply patient. And because I am so insanely organized I know to ask her way in advance for things because, you know, artists are so insanely slow with everything. But when someone tells someone in, oh, JUNE, that they need to have a bunch of website changes made by, oh SEPTEMBER, you would think that would give said artist enough time to summon the HTML muse and get cracking, right? Apparently not. Tonight I got a text message saying my beloved barterer was on her way to India for a month to get a yoga teacher certification, and she just couldn’t get to the website. And since I have a feeling yoga-teachers-to-be are discouraged from spending their downtime squinting at code, and because I am not willing to wait another month for my changes, the barter is officially over.

Thus it is with excitement that I am announcing that I am in the market for a new barter pal! I have excellent bartering references and will lavish food, chocolate, and any combination thereof on you in exchange for top-quality websitey skillz. I don’t need anything major done—though I have dreams and hopes and wishlists for my website that we could perhaps discuss later, but what I need now are just some basic fix-ups for things I’ve screwed up with my mediocre homegrown HTML skills.

I usually do a straight trade: you tell me what you charge per hour and I give you that much in food and/or chocolates. I generally hold to the rule that no cash should change hands with barters, so any shipping and/or delivery costs that I would charge my clients and customers  will be included in the trade. It would be best if you’re in the NYC or upstate NY area so you could get meal deliveries, but if you’re a giant chocolate lover and want to do the trade in exchange for a huge amount of truffles (and in January I will be rolling out a new chocolate line, don’t forget!) you can be anywhere in these here states of the union.

If you are interested, send me an email (lagusta at lagusta dot com) and be sure to include links to sites you’ve done. Not to be snobby, but only top-quality website-makers need apply! In an ideal world you would be a vegan lady who is super reliable, but really anyone who is not flaky would work out just great.

Forward freely!

the sky opened wide like the tide November 11, 2008

(stolen from here, a blog that no longer exists)

There is a rhythm to walking in cities, and craving this rhythm is one reason why I sometimes crave being in cities. There is a rhythm to being in a long-distance relationship, too, but it’s an enforced one that I never crave.

Manhattan on a rainy Saturday afternoon. The bus into the city: college kids going to city clubs, reverse weekenders. I read food magazines and stare out the window, and soon enough, just when I’m starting to feel car sick, we round the turn over the Hudson, that gray view I’ve seen hundreds of times that always brings up that mix of anxiety, boredom, and exhaustion I associate with my years in the city. Then we’re inside and through and under the Hudson, and before I can even think of bombs and cracks in the tunnel and rushing water we’re there: the bowels of Port Authority, gathering up bags and climbing up the stairs and not making eye contact.

And then: the motion of the crowd pushes me onto Eighth Avenue, and I am striding through the streets on long legs, dodging obstacles, ducking around people, hustling to make the lights. I have my system: it should take one minute to walk one street. Maintaining a rhythm is essential to continued light-making. Tourists, strollers, giant umbrellas, all must be dispensed with swiftly in order to keep the rhythm. Twelve blocks and three avenues to go, walk walk walk. I like to push myself, I like efficiency. I like walking alone in the city, my bag tucked neatly under my arm. It is a train-like rhythm, chugging along.

Along the way I pass my personal landmarks: the junk souvenir shop where I got my passport picture taken after September 11, 2001 so I could flee the city; the apartments of two of my clients and someone I used to do private cooking for; an old Burritoville location (RIP); the corner where I once ran into my high school nemesis and she told me that we were the only ones from our high school to leave the state; Esca, where my old office once had a holiday party; and Lexus of Manhattan, former employer (before she fled town) of the client I had to sue because she stole $800 of food and containers from me, way back when I was nice and believed people (for four weeks!) when they said they would “pay next week.” A pretty blah neighborhood, with pretty blah memories to match. Walk walk walk.

Then I’m there, or at least I think I am: I’ve never been the this venue, but the kids with asymmetrical haircuts sitting outside are my unerring landmark. I call you and you walk me inside, into the warm, dark, cavernous room filled with “check one two three” and swirling lights being tested out and a few hipsters meandering around aimlessly, looking like they need a shower.

I will go backstage and get a bottle of water, say my hellos then watch soundcheck. You’ll show me your new soundboard and all the fancy computerized things it can do, and Brent the monitor engineer will ask if that’s me out there from his world on the side of the stage, and I’ll talk into the microphone at the sound board and say yeah, listening to my thin voice bounce off the walls. After soundcheck we’ll go get dinner then ice cream, and we’ll hold hands under the table at dinner while we wait for the check, looking into each others’ sad eyes.

Then, that’s it.

I know it’s silly to go to the city just to have dinner with you, but I’ve seen the show before and I have to cook tomorrow, so you will walk me back to Port Authority and I will get on the bus. I think about taking the 11:30 bus and watching a bit of the show—I love standing next to you, watching your brain work and training my ear so that I am expecting you to turn the snare down slightly when it starts sounding tinny, putting on earphones for my favorite songs and turning the volume up and down with the one knob on the sound board I know how to use: “headphone volume.” But getting home super late is no fun, so I let go of your hand and climb onto the bus.

I’ll cook tomorrow and the next day, then my mom will come visit for 4 days, then I’ll cook again, and make truffles, and prepare for the Thanksgiving onslaught, then Thanksgiving cooking at Bloodroot, then you’ll be home again. You’ll say it will only be two weeks, but it’s two and a half, and we’ll laugh about how you always underestimate.

That’s how the rhythm goes, and it’s important to stay with it—plan these little day trips when we can, night trips when possible. We can’t have a dog because of it, and house projects are always on hold because of it, but we aren’t selling our souls for our jobs, and we make it work. Tonight on the bus I willl be almost unbearably sad, but tomorrow I will wake up and go to the kitchen, and IM you and call you and videoconference with you, and the rhythm will just go on.

the pink box: promo email November 11, 2008

Hello, organic and fair-trade truffle lovers! Happy America! Well, here it is, our newest baby: the Pink Box! Oh my gosh, this is so exciting. Originally this was going to be the Hudson Valley Box and it was going to contain truffles made with local ingredients from our neighborhood, the Hudson Valley of New York. But once we paired our brand new local-beet truffle with our brand new local-apple truffle, we couldn’t resist adding our bestselling, beloved (albeit not particularly local) pomegranate truffle with a rose petal garnish to the box — and the Pink Box was born. I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I think you’re going to adore it, just like we do. Here are the details on the new box: 3 Fennel-Apple truffles: Freshly-ground fennel seeds are combined with fennel pollen (what’s fennel pollen?) and local apple brandy and rolled in pulverized organic apples grown by my friend, sweet farmer Billiam at Liberty View Farm. 3 Coriander-Beet truffles: It’s not weird, I promise! A coriander-flavored interior is rolled in pulverized organic beets grown with care right down the road from our kitchen by my farmer pal Jessica. 2 Pomegranate truffles: With rose petal garnish. A little tartness compliments the chocolate nicely - this one is a flavor bomb. Click here to order The Pink Box! Oh, and don’t forget about our new and improved ginger truffle! She’s all grown up into Ms. Ginger-Lime with the addition of delicious lime oil and organic lime zest. Check her out in the Wild Box. Yours in mind-blowing chocolate, Lagusta

my heart is an empty room: notes on family November 11, 2008

What are the ramifications of not believing in unconditional love?

I have to admit it: it’s just not a concept I can get behind. I’m trying to decide exactly how horrible of a person that makes me.

Related:

Is it possible to love someone but not respect them? I can’t decide. I can’t decide if I think it’s possible at all for anyone, and if it is, if it’s possible for me. The rate at which my heart closes down is directly related to how much I respect someone, I know that. It’s hard to keep my heart open when the respect isn’t there. I think this is where unconditional love should come in.

Related:

When someone is deeply hard-edged person at their core, and another person is deeply soft, can these two ever have anything but a surface friendship? Exactly how much deep down bedrocky stuff do two people need to have in common in order to have a deep bond?

My relationship with a close friend is shifting under my feet. We used to be in one place, and as the years have passed I’ve opened my eyes, and now I see that we’re somewhere else, somewhere a little dangerous.

I’m trying to be really smart and wise about it, trying to stay openhearted and gently skate over this delicate unknown patch until we find ourselves on terra firma again. It’s achingly hard, but I’m up for the work.

winners and losers part two: homophobia wins, misogyny loses (also, my cat looks like a mouse) November 5, 2008

Seriously, doesn’t she?

But oh, even with mouse cats, I’m just so heartsick about the gay marriage bans that passed last night. I know you know about them, but Feministing has a good post that delves into it all, as well as the anti-choice initiatives around the country (which all failed!). Gay couples can’t adopt or foster children in Arkansas—wow. And you fucking wonder why people hate the south? On the other hand, California is full of homophobes too, it turns out! What the hell was going on with California yesterday? They hated the gays, were smart about choice, approved a measure to stop sickening confinement on factory farms, and were stupid about drug policy reform (man, prop. 5 was so great!). California continues to be the most complex and bizarre state I can stand (unlike states I fucking hate, Arkansas, I speak of thee).

And, per last nights’s posts, Arizona did indeed end up going to McCain, and Omaha too. But you tried hard, Arizona and Conor, and that’s worth something, for sure.

Two more things:

-I really like this Evan Handler dude, and this was particularly lovely.

-Back to my little local election for Town Board: Brittany wrote a wonderful email summing up the whole thing, I’ll leave you with it:

Winners and losers November 5, 2008

Well, Brittany lost. I knew it was a long shot going into it, and I’m proud of our one week campaign. The town Democrats will hate us and the lefty Democrats will blame us for helping to get the middling Democrat elected instead of the lefty one, but I’m not in the business of helping Democrats win elections, so that doesn’t bother me.

This campaign was part of a great push for Greens to have a larger role in shaping the future of New Paltz, and that momentum will continue.

But, oh but: when I got Brittany’s text telling me she got trounced, I was sitting in a car driving to Boston, listening to NPR (wishing it was Democracy Now, for the zillionth time) and weeping, WEEPING I tell you, at the prospect of an African-American president named Barack Obama leading this country. Not at the prospect of this specific Barack Obama, you know what I mean, see previous posts, blah blah, I’m a proud Green, but as my globe-trotting sweetheart put it: “For the first time in eight years, I won’t have to say I’m from Canada when I’m abroad.”

Fuckin’ a. Four years ago we were driving home from doing election work in Pennsylvania and weeping for quite a different reason. It’s been such a terribly painful four years for us as a country.

I’m in the car, about to spend a day in Boston and a day in Northampton, those most American of cities. I’m going to take it easy tomorrow, maybe go to an art museum, watch the Conor Oberst show that is the reason I’m in town, and enjoy my country for the first time in eight long, long, LONG years.

Oh, speaking of Conor: I’ve never been more proud that my sweetheart works for him than tonight, when it looks like he single-handedly might get a nice electoral vote or two for Barack. His support seems to be helping his hometown, Omaha, Nebraska, go blue (and because Nebraska splits it’s electoral votes, it actually makes a difference!).

I typed this entire thing on my phone!!!!

you’ve got more than mountains, Az: you’ve got balls! November 4, 2008

I’ve never been proud of my home state—I escaped it as soon as I turned eighteen and never looked back. I dislike it so much that I try hard to never even mention it on the blog, always just saying I’m from the Southwest because even writing the word “Arizona” causes me some pain. Much of Arizona is beautiful, yes, but much is total crap. Especially and including my relatives who are still there.

But! Grand Canyon State, you just might do me proud tonight. A state with balls enough to vote against its hometown boy for President—you just might make me a little less ashamed to tell people where I’m from.

(Update: as usual, Az, you let me down. And your homophobia sickens me. Back to hating on my home state!)

Meanwhile, safely ensconced in my solidly blue state, I had a great election day. My sweetheart came home from tour for exactly 24 hours to vote and rock the SUNY New Paltz (our local state school) vote for Brittany Turner, and we spent the whole day handing out pencils, fliers and exuberance to already exuberant college kids who were excited to vote in this giant election.

How cute were Brittany’s signs?

Her campaign was, without a doubt, the sparkliest, pinkest campaign New Paltz had ever seen, and I’m so happy to have been a part of it.

Jacob was a trooper for sharpening pencils by hand, too:

Did she win? I’ll let you know tomorrow!

Meanwhile, America, I’m kinda in love with you tonight.

Am I the only one not drinking the kool-aid? November 2, 2008

Here’s a letter I just sent off to the New Paltz Green Party list I’m on:

Dearest Green Partiers,
Yesterday I ran into a lovely fellow Green wearing an Obama shirt who informed me that he just “proudly” voted for Obama. While I would like to apologize to you, lovely fellow Green, for knee-jerkily calling that decision “dumb,” I have given the matter more thought and would like to expand that position.

Even with more thought, I have come to the conclusion that, yes, it’s dumb to vote for Obama if you’re a Green in New York State. I know I should probably shut my mouth about it for three more days, but that’s just not my style.

The facts, as we all know, are these:

• Obama is going to win in NYS.
• Cynthia McKinney (The Green Party presidential candidate) is not going to become our next president, so even if you don’t like her per se, voting for her will give the Green Party a better chance of getting federal funding (if she gets 5% of votes, the GP will be eligible for millions of dollars in federal matching funding). This will significantly help us as a party.
• The Democrats (locally and nationally) really dislike us Greens and try to thwart our efforts to bring about a more just and sustainable world at every turn–why do we keep sucking up to them by voting for their candidates, especially when doing so actively shoots ourselves in the foot?

The other night while out and about on Halloween, I chatted with so many Democrats who were gushingly unable to hide their Obama lust. It didn’t exactly surprise me—that’s what Democrats do. Democrats are great at ignoring the facts and pretending that their candidate is going to save the world. History shows that not to be the case, but Democrats are boring and lack imagination and the ability to dream big, so they just keep on voting for the same old blah Democrats. We all know this. This is not what we do! We are free thinkers, investigators, instigators, rabble-rousers—we don’t fall in line. So what’s with Greens voting for Obama in NY State?

That said, I think Obama is going to be a great president, within the sad, small, shallow confines of what constitutes a “great president” in our downtrodden little pathetic crap democracy. Obama is a real person, a statesman, someone with a big brain and maybe even a bit of a heart underneath the politician veneer. This is good. But let’s not kid ourselves: Obama is not going to stand up for what we, Greens, believe in.

I’ve been keeping a list of reasons why I won’t vote for Obama, aside from the obvious one about voting for the GP to help get funding for us. Here it is, please add your own reasons also, I’d love to hear them.

• Obama is pro-death penalty even though he admits that it “does little to deter crime.” He supports capital punishment in cases “so heinous, so beyond the pale, that the community is justified in expressing the full measure of its outrage by meting out the ultimate punishment.” (source: Washington Post). I’m not sure I could ever vote for someone who thinks two wrongs make a right.
• He voted to reauthorize the PATRIOT Act.
• He is anti-gay marriage (I know in other ways he is supportive of GLBT rights, and I know he most likely wouldn’t win if he was in favor of gay marriage, but what do I care? I can’t vote for someone who doesn’t believe that all people should have the right to marry. And if he believes in gay marriage but won’t admit it for political reasons, that’s another reason not to vote for him. I’m an idealist, I know.).
• He is pro-war in Afghanistan (it’s my understanding that he wants to escalate it)
• He voted to fund the Iraq war.
• He recently told an audience in Nashville: “We’re going to have to explore new ways to get more oil, and that includes offshore drilling.” (!!!)
• One of his top donors is Exelon, a nuclear power company.
• He has taken enormous amounts of corporate money - so much for clean elections! As well, after becoming the nominee he opted out of the public financing system, making him the first major-party candidate since the system was created to decline taxpayers’ money for the general election.

(I don’t have time to add links to prove all these points - Google them!)

I’m not sure in what universe Barack Obama constitutes someone a Green should be “proud” to vote for.

livin’ la vida west wing, aching for candy, counting down the hours November 2, 2008

Three days until the madness stops, and I am holding my breath, surviving on West Wing DVDs and chocolate.

Number of times in the past two days I have used the West Wing-stolen phrase “the government should be an instrument of good in the world”: five.

Number of people who have referred me to this NYT article pointing out how, I guess, the West Wing is the reason BO and JMC are running: three.

Number of people I have had to tell that I am only up to season four of WW and please PLEASE do not talk to me about season six!!!: three. (Yes, I linked to that article without reading a word of it).

While we wait for it all of end (this political season, not The West Wing, whose end I can already tell is going to find me in a puddle of bittersweet tears), I’ve been working hard on new truffle flavors and the new chocolate line. My awesome colleague Allison of Allison’s Gourmet is also working hard: look at these insanely-rad-looking newish toffee and caramels she’s selling! I haven’t tasted them, but the ingredient list (coconut milk and oil, wooo for the coconut revolution!) and Allison’s mad skillz tell me that they are amazing. We once did a trade of my truffles for her lovely cookies and brownies, and I can see another trade in our future…