Weekly Journal 8.3.26
Reading
From the virtual bookshelf, I am still reading a copy of my friend's unpublished novel. It's the kind of story I might not finish, ordinarily, but I'd like to be able to tell him that I read and enjoyed his book. The enjoyment is a fact.
Cheryl Strayed published an essay this week called The Grief Iceberg, sharing her state of mind a few months after her husband died unexpectedly. She's a beautiful writer and it's nice to hear from her again.
Watching
I've been enjoying How to Get to Heaven From Belfast, about a group of Irish women trying to unravel a mystery about their missing childhood friend. It mixes real intrigue with irreverent humor and relatable characters. A terrible side effect is that after I watch an episode, my inner thoughts start arranging themselves into an Irish accent that I struggle to suppress in my speech. It wouldn't be good for anyone to hear that.
Under the watching/listening category, I just saw the filmed stage production of Hadestown and loved it. I went into the theater in a strange mood. I had been watching wildfire smoke start to blow into the Willamette Valley and thinking about the millions of acres burning and a friend in Spokane having to evacuate. I was thinking about the world getting stupider in all kinds of ways that are bound to bite humanity in the ass someday. I was lamenting my child's future. Then I immersed myself in a musical that spoke about everything it means to be human: desire, sin, love, tyranny, fate, collective action, despair, tragedy, and resilience. In these times I need to remember that there are still—and always will be—people who create art even while the world burns. I'm writing this while the sky outside turns orange. What choice do I have?
Cooking
The pie to beat all pies is strawberry-rhubarb. I bought a half flat of strawberries from my local co-op buying club with such a pie (maybe several) in mind. I sliced and froze the strawberries, then read Sally's recipe and noticed that she was adamant that the pie wouldn't work with frozen fruit. Well, I couldn't undo what was already frozen, so I gleaned ideas from a couple other recipes and made an adapted version of Sally's pie. The first adaptation, which I'd planned, was replacing some of the rhubarb with frozen raspberries, since I was a little short on rhubarb. The second was cooking the filling for about 15 minutes on the stovetop. I almost always pre-cook a fruit pie filling anyway, but this time I made sure the fruit was all heated through and had a glossy look from the cornstarch. I also followed Sally's instruction to reduce the juices that remained after scooping the filling from the pot with a slotted spoon. This made a delicious jam to spread over the rest of the mixture inside the pie shell.
I shortened the baking time just slightly since I pre-cooked the filling. The outcome was perfect—no soggy bottoms with my cast iron pie tin.
Doing
I literally dusted off my bicycle, pumped up the rear tire, and took it for a ride downtown to meet my friend for a drink. It was my first ride since going to physical therapy for IT band problems, which had made it painful to bend my knee more than 90 degrees. My exercises and stretches have made a big difference; I was able to bike without pain.
Listening
Qobuz recommended me a playlist of hits from 1991 and I thought, "Why not?" There was some good stuff on there. I don't believe I'd ever heard Throwing Muses, but I enjoyed this song and think I should check out the whole album: