The devil's food

Alas, I fear I am addicted to ice cream. I've always liked ice cream -- who doesn't like ice cream -- but it was never that big a deal to me. Except for the old-fashioned, everybody-takes-a-turn-at-the-churn homemade stuff. That, I always absolutely adored (especially peach), and when exposed to it would eat a sinfully large amount. But I don't think I've been exposed to it since I left home at 18.

In the last few months I've noticed that even unspectacular, supermarket ice cream has become quite a big deal to me. As in, I find myself wanting to have some every night of my life...and frequently having some. And not just a little bowl. I've caught myself eating half a small carton in one evening, and then finishing it off the following evening. Like somebody finishing off a bottle of scotch in two nights!

This is definitely not a positive development, for a number of reasons. It's very fattening, and this girl who was as thin as Twiggy in her youth, has been about 30 pounds overweight for...five years? All sorts of wearing apparel no longer fit. The last thing I need to be doing is adding weight.

Also, I'm hypoglycemic, which means I'm supposed to avoid sugar. I have tried eating no-sugar-added ice cream, but besides not being as satisfying, it's full of sugar alcohols, and I'm not sure that that's so much better. And milk does not really set well with me: the combin-ation of sugar and milk almost always produces unfortunate internal consequences within a few days.

So why have I suddenly become addicted to this thing that is not good for me? Well, why does anybody become addicted to something that isn't good for them? Because it gives them something they need. Alcohol makes a lot of people feel like they are cool, clever, can do anything. Cigarettes initially make people feel cool, properly rebel-lious, part of the in-crowd; later the damn things help them keep their nerves under control, keep them, as a smoking friend of mine said, from killing people. Drugs enable people, however briefly, to escape their wretched or boring and empty lives.

With ice cream, well, it's undeniably comfort food. When you're eating it, nothing makes you feel happier. And I reckon I've been craving a little comforting. Or maybe, a whole lot of comforting. My life is so very far from being what I'd hoped it would be, and in the last couple of years I've had to face the fact that circumstances and my own limitations will probably keep me from making it the way I'd hope it would be. Jezze, you've got to have a little respite from that thought. I've never been into drugs, or excessive use of alcohol. Or shopping -- another escape-from-unpleasant-reality for some people Let's see, what else is there? Ah, yes, Ben and Jerry's Vanilla Caramel Fudge ice cream. Or their Cherry Garcia. Or Haagen Dazs's French Vanilla.

But don't blame me. The devil made me do it.

Ka-boom!

I just watched a fascinating and exciting program on NOVA, Mount St. Helen's: Back from the Dead. All about how Nature reasserted herself after the devastating eruption of May, 1980.

Part of the program had to do with the eruption itself, and with the smaller eruptions that took place over the next few years (of which I was unaware -- I don't think the media was paying much attention, since those weren't cataclysmic eruptions). Although I already had a general idea of the mechanics of a volcanic eruption -- magma being pushed up from deep underground by pressure, until the pressure is so great the magma escapes through the surface, becoming lava once it reaches the surface -- it was interesting to learn that what provides the umph to the kind of eruption at Mt. St. Helen's is water in the magma, that has becomes gas as the result of the intense heat. Actually, it seems incredible that there could be water down there in the first place...wouldn't it be too hot, I'm thinking? And where would water be coming from, 62 miles down?

The program didn't go into either question, but the good ol' Internet has informed me that water arrives deep underground when (for example) the Pacific tectonic plate is pushed under the North American plate, taking with it the water that was on top of and in the interior of the layers that are pushed down. As soon as that water hits the high temperatures of the lower depths, it becomes gas, moving up with the magma toward the surface, miles above, and contributing mightily to the ultimate bang when the surface breaks open. You could say the volcano is breaking wind!

The geologist manque in me finds all this fascinating. But what really gets me is the idea that the earth is just going about its business of evolving, just as it always has. Plates moving -- accompanied by earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions -- causing land masses to move, inch by inch (looking at a world map you can see so clearly where South America at one time fit into the crook of Africa). These things have always happened, but now human beings are witness to their happening, thanks to the fact that there are now so many of us, living absolutely everywhere, and thanks to instant communication and satellite pictures. And because there are now so many of us, living absolutely everywhere, we are often inconvenienced by these happenings -- witness the devastation caused by the 2004 tsunami in southeast Asia, the recent earthquakes in Haiti and Chili, witness the massive shutdown of air transport with the eruption of the unpro-nounceable volcano in Iceland. But that is not the earth's concern; it is simply following the laws of its nature. As far as the earth is con-cerned we might as well not be here. And we mites (as humanoids are thought of by an alien entity in a Star Trek book I read recently) on its surface just have to run for cover when necessary. (And praying to the gods to keep the volcano from erupting ain't gonna help, either.)

There was again seismic activity at Mount St. Helen's in 2004. No eruption, no lava flow, but what the geologists call "spines" of lava were pushed up through the floor of the crater. This was truly fascinating, since in a very short period of time they were able to see these huge rock formations appear where none had existed before. But the gas that produces an explosive eruption has apparently dissipated. Until the next batch of gas-laden magma makes it slow but sure way to the surface...in 200 years? A thousand?

The earth is a hard taskmaster, but it certainly is interesting.

Jambalaya and a crawfish pie...

Last Saturday when I went into downtown Augusta to look for curtain material, I found hunger striking just as I was parking. I managed to get through my errand at Cozy Cottage Fabrics o.k., but knew I needed to eat as soon as possible. I had been wanting to go back to the Riverfront Barbeque and Grill, also located on Water Street, where I had eaten once before, with one of my staff and her mother. I had been favorably impressed with the food that time -- had had the blackened haddock, which came with one of the best restaurant cole slaws I've ever had (not too sweet, not awash with mayonnaise) as well as a tasty jalapeno cornbread -- and wanted to see if the place would stand up to a second visit.

It did. This time I had the seafood and sausage jambalaya, again accompanied by the cole slaw and cornbread, which seems to come with everything. The jambalaya was excellent, although one would definitely need to like spicy food to enjoy it. The seafood part was shrimp, small but plentiful, and two crab claws. Oh, crab meat is so delicious. I found the dish properly authentic tasting -- it could easily have been produced by some little hole in the wall in southern Louisiana. Indeed, the restaurant itself could easily sit on some corner in New Orleans' French Quarter: Big, dark wood bar, high, stamped tin ceiling painted a dark chocolate brown, a nice contrast to the vanilla-colored walls, very roomy, dark wood booths all around the walls; in the middle of the room a few small tables along a strip of highly polished black-and-white checked floor that I could see serving as a dance floor. Good blues playing on the sound system.

I have yet to try the barbeque, which comes in all guises, but I know that Barb really likes their barbeque ribs. The place isn't cheap -- my meal cost me $20 with the tip, and I had only water to drink -- but I didn't feel ripped off. As tired as I get of having to eat so often, as much as I dislike to cook -- and as bored as I get with my own cooking -- I do enjoy having a good meal at a nice restaurant. There is a real dearth of good restaurants in the Augusta area -- Slates, just around the corner from my little library in Hallowell, being one of the few -- so I'm pleased to discover another one, that I can recommend to people, and take visitors to.

Now all I need is some visitors.

Let there be light

The other night I watched a PBS program on telescopes, with a large part of it featuring the Hubble Telescope, and the wonders of the universe that it has revealed. It was pointed out that astrophysicists have discovered, thanks to telescopes, that there's a huge amount of what they call "dark matter" out in space; indeed, they believe about 23% of the universe is made up of dark matter, another 73% something they call dark energy, 3.6% intergalactic gas, while only .4% is "ordinary matter" (stars, planets, galaxies).*

And here's the thought that occurred to me as I was listening to all this. Maybe the dark matter and the dark energy are the body of God. Maybe the universe is God, with all the planets and stars and galaxies sort of appendages to that body. Maybe originally, just as it says in the Christian Bible, there was only a dark universe, that is, God, eternal and everywhere, but without form or light. And the Consciousness, the Intelligence that was God got bored, felt like making something happen, decided to try a little experiment, said (or thought) "Let there be light," and there was a Big Bang, and a jillion particles were hurled outward on a long, long journey, during which they coalesced, became stars, planets, galaxies. And God watched, with interest, what was happening, watched the evolution of worlds, of species on those worlds, of cultures among those species. He didn't necessarily take care of any of these results of his experiment -- he let them play themselves out, "naturally," according to the laws that had been set in motion with his first action. But they were all a part of Him.

I could almost accept this idea of God. I have not been able to accept the all-knowing, all-loving God I was brought up to believe in -- have seen too much evidence of an uncaring universe at work -- but such a scenario as I have described would cover the evidence that our sciences have found for evolution, and for the formation of the "ordinary matter" of the universe, while also explaining the sense of God, the ancient sense that there is a God, that all peoples of this world, at least, have had. And it would account for all that mysterious dark matter and dark energy out there!

It's a thought.



*Craig, Matthew and Sara Schultz. Invisible Galaxies: The Story of Dark Matter. The Universe in the Classroom, No. 7, Summer 2007. http://www.astrosociety.org/education/publications/tnl/72/darkmatter.html

Spring is bustin' out all over

While I know many parts of the country have been enjoying spring for some time now (in Louisiana and southern California it comes in February!), here in central Maine it's been slipping in just over the past couple of weeks, which is actually a little early. Temperatures in the upper 50s/lower 60s, a decent but not depressing amount of rain making the grass start to grow again (Oh, no! Now I have to start worrying about how to keep it cut again!), blossoming trees breaking out their white and pastel colors overnight, sunshine yellow forsythia and brilliant fuchsia-colored azalea bushes making such a stark contrast with what was still a basically winter-brown background. But fat green buds were beginning to appear on all the branches, and today, for the first time, many trees were sporting a faint green haze.

I suspect that for most Mainers autumn is their favorite season (it is mine), but spring has its own special delights, and thanks to our normally long and snowy winters (though not this year -- we had no real snow storms after the first week of February!), Mainers are always so delighted to see it. Today when I went out to do some errands I saw that the rail trail running through Gardiner/Farming-dale/Hallowell/Augusta was crowded with folks jogging, biking, pushing baby carriages, walking dogs, and just strolling. Out enjoying the beautiful day.

One of my errands was unusually domestic, for me. I had decided I needed a new bathroom window curtain. What I've been using as a curtain for the two years that I've been in this house is one panel of some curtains my stepmother made for me years ago, to match the multi-colored blanket she had knitted for me. Those curtains hung in the windows of several tiny efficiency apartments that I lived in during my 19-year sojourn in Boston. But because they are consider-ably longer than my small bathroom window, I had taken just one panel and draped it up over the curtain rod. I always liked those curtains, mainly because they're so colorful -- bright aqua and blue, hot pink and red, with a small amount of black/white/gold thrown in -- but the pattern is very modern. All those colors appear in stripes of different widths, making it look rather like a painting by Mondrian. Not really appropriate for my conventional little bathroom with the wallpaper of tiny green garlands with cranberry-colored berries.

No, I needed real curtains, that fit properly, of a color that would go with my towels, and the tiny green garlands. And the brown woodwork.

So I drove into downtown Augusta, which basically is one street -- Water Street -- running for several blocks along the river. Augusta, for all that it is the capital city of Maine, really is just an overgrown small town. The numerous empty storefronts along Water Street testify to the fact that the old downtown has been supplanted, as in small towns throughout the country, by a huge shopping center at the northern edge of the city. It isn't a mall, because the stores are not connected, but there's a Walmart (the only store in the area open 24 hours), a Kohl's, a Home Depot, a Pier 21, all the usual suspects. Around the corner from all of this is a Sam's, a Staples (office supplies), a Barnes & Noble bookstore, the local multi-screen movie theatre. All your shopping in one convenient spot.

But I went to one of the businesses still doing business on Augusta's "Main St." The woman who owns the Cozy Cottage Fabrics and Rustic Furniture (how's that for a combination?) relined one of my coats this winter, and did a beautiful job. Even went the extra mile by driving all the way to Portland to get a green satin-like fabric, as she could find none in Augusta (including in her own fabric shop), and still she charged me only $45. So I figured she might just be able to produce a suitable bathroom curtain. I had already looked at Bed, Bath and Beyond, and found that the standard-sized curtains available are too long; and the woman I spoke with there said she'd never seen 30-inch long curtains for sale, anywhere. So it really seemed like custom-made was the only way to go.

I was disappointed that none of the fabrics on display came close to what I'd envisioned, but I finally settled on something I thought was really pretty -- a pattern called Stonehenge, which looks absolutely nothing like the pre-historic site, demonstrating that the people who name fabric patterns are as determinedly creative as the ones who name colors, (e.g., Sea Foam for green) -- and I thought it should go with everything it has to go with. Since I got back home and took another look at the bathroom, I'm having second thoughts, but the die is cast. The very pleasant and helpful woman who waited on me said it should be a couple of weeks...

And my next spring-induced activity? I may just buy a lawn mower!

Burnt peas and...

O.k., I've burned up another sauce pan. So many I've destroyed over the years, by going off to do something else while something was cooking, and forgetting all about that something until I suddenly smelled burning steel. Have also burned a large number of tea kettles over the years. It's all part of my I Hate-to-Cook Syndrome. I can't just stand there waiting for the water to boil, or the whatever it is to finish cooking; my God, I've got more interesting, important stuff to do. Although I suppose the loss of all those pots could also be attributed to my I-Don't-Remember Anything-for-Longer-Than-Thirty-Seconds-Unless-I-Write-Myself-a-LARGE-Note-About-It Syndrome.

At any rate, I do get tired of having to go out and buy another $24 pot. Oh, for a cook. Which I have said for most of my adult life. Any takers?

Neighbor Update

The latest on the neighbors with the noisy trucks and yapping dogs. (See Notes of July 3 and 9, 2008, June 13 and Nov. 28, 2009). They're moving out! Actually, what they're moving is their stuff, since they themselves have been gone for virtually all of the past eleven months. I said in my note of Nov. 28 that they were back in residence, but that proved to be true for only a short time. The mysterious white trailer remained in the driveway, but they were elsewhere, except for the very occasional appearance, usually to snowblow the driveway.

A couple of weeks ago the roaring trucks began appearing every few days, and there was much activity in the house and the yard. Eventually there were others with Matt and Patty, loading up the white trailer, which had proved to be, when opened...empty! Ach, what a disappointment. No mysterious experiments going on, no little house-on-wheels, not even a couple of motor cycles or -- much more likely in Maine -- All-Terrain Vehicles. They had an empty trailer sitting in their driveway for all these months, apparently waiting for spring weather to come so they could pack up and move out.

While they've been moving out, the presence of one of the obnoxious trucks -- the one with the license plate FIDDLER (Patty plays the violin -- how about that, a violin-playing truck driver) -- has reminded me of just how lucky I was that they were living elsewhere for most of the past year. So goddamn loud, that truck, like a locomotive idling. I got over my vague feelings of loneliness -- from not having neighbors on that side -- long ago; and it really was so wonderful not to be awakened, or kept from getting to sleep, by that damn roaring.

I keep wishing I had the physical and psychic energy to press for laws -- that were enforced -- against this kind of noise pollution. I honestly believe cars driving around with the bass on their radios tuned so loud you can hear it blocks away, and cars and pickups that are intention-ally made noisier than they need to be, are a modern scourge that negatively impacts people, whether they realize it or not. I believe our lives are made less gracious, less civilized, more nerve-wracking and stressful, by this kind of noise pollution.

What I have to hope for now is that it will take Matt and Patty a while to sell the house -- in the current market, a good possibility -- and that whoever they do sell it to will not be into stereo music with the bass turned extra loud, but will have ordinary, quiet vehicles, and cats.