New Project... Well, Not Exactly NEW, But Another Stab At It...

So I joined a new Meetup group.  It was initially named 2 Pages, but has since changed to 5 Pages, allowing participants to read more than that each week.  Essentially, it's a group of writers getting together to read a few pages of a piece on which they're currently working for comments and  (hopefully) helpful criticism.  I've been for the past couple weeks, and there were three of us who were there both weeks.  There's the organizer, Kevin, who is an amateur writer who intends to submit fiction for publication but has yet to do so. There's also Zoe, who is an Italian-born immigrant working on her second novel.  Her first novel is written, but she wants to have a second book ready to go because, she told us, publishers like to know that a writer will have more than one book to publish.  When I mentioned this to Peter, he surmised that new authors typically don't sell very many copies of their first book, but, after developing a following, their subsequent books sell much better.  He used the example of the Harry Potter books.  JK Rowling sold very few (relatively speaking) of the first run of The Sorcerer's Stone, and it wasn't until she developed a following through word of mouth that her subsequent books experienced their phenomenal sales, leading to greater sales for the earlier books, as well.

Yes, so my "new" project, or at least a project that I've been kicking around in my head for about the last decade, looks like fiction.  Fiction, yes, or more accurately, reality-inspired fiction.  I'm injecting a bit more phantasy than I would allow myself if I were to aim for a memoir.  When Peter read the first few pages, he commented that it looks like the names of the innocent have been changed, but the guilty characters all remain, notably my sister, though that might change in future drafts.  I've already changed the name of her husband, so it's not unlikely that I'll end up changing the character who is loosely based on her, as well. Giving the characters based on them their own names rather than stealing their names from existing people would aid in allowing me to create and not merely report.  Peter also said that upon first reading, he couldn't tell who the author was, since I had sent it to him as an email attachment without appropriation.  His comment actually pleased me, because it meant that the voice I was using came across as genuine.

One thing I've noticed about the Meetup group so far, and remember, I've only been twice, is that the writers who come either have a strong command of the English language, including proper grammar, or they really don't.  It looks like the vast majority of people who aspire to the "writing life" are woefully inadequate at the basics of English grammar.  Am I'm being just way too judgmental and picky?   The refrain that irks me to no end is "Well, you understood what I meant, right?  That's the point!"  And my answer is, "No!  The point is that I don't know what you mean because you're not expressing it clearly!  You shouldn't expect your readers to make leaps and bounds to understand you!"  Language is meant to convey meaning, and one does not do that by failing to understand how to use language...

I know perfectly well that I'm not the paragon of grammar, but I aspire to be a good grammarian, nonetheless.  It appears that some people don't even try...  One woman used an adjective where an adverb was required, and to me, it is either sloppy writing or a sign of an uneducated writer.  That's just how such writing comes across to me.  I won't apologize for judging her writing on such minutiae because I make the effort to avoid such mistakes, and I expect no less from others who expect me to respect them and their writing.

Okay, so what was originally intended to be merely a report of my activities has turned into a rant.  I shan't apologize it.  But what I will include is a recipe for cashew-coconut cookies that I made the other day:

Coconut-Cashew Cookies

1 c	coconut powder (this I bought at the Indian grocery)
1 c	cashew meal (I took some roasted cashews and chopped them in my processor)
¼ c	egg whites, scant
½ t	vanilla extract (be liberal)
1/8 t	salt
¼ c	coconut oil

Mix coconut powder and cashew meal throughly, mashing all lumps to create a consistent texture.

Blend wet ingredients, then pour into dry ingredients and incorporate thoroughly. The mixture will be thick. Allow mixture to stand for ten minutes to allow the moisture to distribute more evenly.  

Scoop by liberal quarter-cup measures onto a baking sheet lined with either a silicone mat or parchment paper.

Bake at 325°F for 20-25 minutes until they start to brown on top.

This recipe will produce about 6 large cookies.

I may start putting some of my "novel" here in serial form, at least to try to elicit comments and constructive criticism.  Right now, however, I'm still feeling a tad less than confident.  I'd love to hear any words of encouragement anyone may have to offer.  I could surely use it.

Jury Duty - "We thank you for your service"

Yesterday morning, earlier than is really decent, I was awakened at the insistence of my alarm clock-radio, and stumbled to the bathroom, where I performed my regular morning ablutions quickly.  I decided to wear my glasses - I'd be spending a lot of time looking at my computer - and dress lightly, for I was expecting a warm, if not hot, sunny San Diego Spring day.  I had planned to walk to the transit center to catch the bus, but realized after I'd already crossed the street and was halfway down the block that I'd left my phone at home, so I walked back to fetch it.  By that time, I'd used up my walking time, and so I drove the mile.  The Miramar College Transit Center is a big bus stop, with no trolleys, trains, or planes passing through.  I parked at the nearby shopping center because I didn't know if the transit center's parking structure charged a fee, and I wasn't in the mood to feed The Machine any more than necessary.  I actually saw a bus pull in and subsequently leave before I reached it, so I waited for the next one, which wasn't terribly long in coming.

The bus moved surprisingly quickly down the freeway once it reached it, and soon the bus was coming into the Downtown area.  The bus stop was only a couple blocks from the courthouse, so I walked the rest of the way.  Someone else on the bus had asked how far the courthouse was, and the driver answered, so I knew which way to go and how far it'd be.

When I arrived, there were already a few people standing on the front plaza.  The front door was open, and a guard stood outside.  He directed me to the building on the next block for reporting for jury duty.  It wasn't quite light out when I entered the Hall of Justice (god - and therefore, nobody - knows why it's called what is a misnomer at best) and went through the metal detector, for which I removed my belt and phone from my person before passing through.  I collected my things at the other end and walked to the Jury Lounge, where there were rows and rows of chairs separated by a central aisle.  I looked around and saw the tables Peter'd told me about, and the row of chairs against the wall, which had a few electrical outlets.  I sat at a table which already had one person at it.  The woman turned out to be an employee of the parent company that owns Jack-in-the-Box.  For almost the entire morning, only the two of us sat there as the room filled with people.

A welcoming announcement was made, during which jurors were thanked for answering the call to their duty as citizens.  Then we waited.  I worked on a piece I've been writing for the past several days.  People around me drank coffee, chatted, and read, mostly.  I had expected, but didn't hear, anyone talking on their phone.  Luckily, there's wifi in the building, so I logged in and surfed for a bit before settling down to the task of writing and editing. my piece.   Since it's around 5 pages or so, it took me a while to reread it, editing it as I went along.  I fleshed out some portions of it, then realized that other, later parts of it needed to be rehashed because of the additional information already given in the added portion.

The first group of jurors was called.  It was a long list, but I was not on it.  Those people filed out.   A young-looking man joined us at our table just before lunchtime.  He told us about his past service, a case on which he'd served, and what he thought of the verdict.  It was an interesting case because one of the defendants was McDonald's (the corporation), as well as the franchisee.  The McDonald's defense team hired a private detective who followed one of the witnesses after the initial hearing was held, and the case turned out to be fraud, essentially a Nobody trying to exact a lot of money from a large corporation. That trial lasted seven days, I think he said.  We lamented the use of their child in their fraud attempt.  What kind of lesson does that teach the child?  When you want/need money, come up with some story and sue someone.  Nice parenting, guys.

We were sent out for a two hour lunch break.

I walked around the Downtown area, not venturing very far from the courthouse and Hall of Justice, but far enough to get some sun.  I managed to get a new transit ID card, which cost $7, and had it registered in case I should lose it so that I can be issued a new one to replace it without losing any balance I already had on it.  I walked past the location of the hat shop where I'd bought my first hat in San Diego, HatWorks, located just to the east of Horton Plaza.  The entire building looked like it was being gutted & refurbished.  The hat shop was gone.  I wondered if it'll reopen after the construction.

When I returned to the Jury Lounge, the other seats at the table had been taken by others, so I sat in an aisle seat in one of the rows toward the rear of the room.  At about four o'clock, most of us thought we'd be done for the day, but then another list of jurors was read out, and I was on this one.  We went, en masse, to Department 46, a courtroom where a hearing was already underway.  We waited outside and chatted among ourselves.  We were called in a specific seating order into the courtroom, and were referred to by our juror number.  I was juror number 25.  There were thirty potential jurors.

It was a criminal case.  The defendant was a youngish-looking man.  The prosecutor looked not much older.  The judge had a neatly trimmed beard, and the defense attorney had long, dark, curly hair.  We each stood and gave basic information about ourselves, including our names, the number and identities of the people in our households, and whether we believed we could be just and fair.  Of course, nobody recused themselves at that point, although two courthouse employees were in the pool.  They were both preemptorily dismissed during that stage of the hearing.  I was preemptorily dismissed, as well, which was just fine with me.  I said something that made the defense attorney realize that I was already leaning against her client, who was, or had intended to be, a customer at the "gentleman's club," located in Kearny Mesa which I'd passed many times while riding the bus to and from Pacific Beach during my early days in San Diego.  I don't know anything more about the case, but my impression is that the guy came into the bar, started acting either drunken and/or became belligerent, and was told to leave, which he refused to do.  The ensuing mêlée caused the police to become involved, and this trial was the next step in the relationship between the defendant and the criminal justice system.

I was able to catch an express bus back to Mira Mesa, and had forgotten that I'd driven to the transit center.  I boarded another bus at the transit center, intending to just take it the few stops home when I realized, soon after boarding, that I'd my car there!  I got off at the next stop and walked to my car, which sat, unmolested, in the parking lot.

I drove to pick up my CSA share and then came home.  We got strawberries this week.  I think I might visit the supermarket to see about blueberries.  The blueberry-strawberry tart I'd made with the last box of strawberries, in which I also used a box and a half of fresh blueberries, was well-received.

For dinner, I prepared:

Carrot Soup with Parsley and Orange

1 small bunch carrots, sliced (about a pound)
1 medium-sized orange (I used one of the bloods from our share)
1 small bunch parsley
3 tsp. vegetable soup base concentrate (I use "Better Than Bouillon")
7 c water
a few cranks of nutmeg (from my nutmeg shaver)
4-5 stalks fresh chives, chopped
1 T unsalted butter

Melt the butter in a large soup pot (this is a one pot meal) and add carrots, sautéing them lightly until they become fragrant.  Add chopped chives, and stir to combine.  Cook for a few more minutes.  Add water, soup base concentrate, nutmeg, and orange zest.  Bring to a boil, then lower temperature to simmering, and simmer for thirty minutes.

Check the carrots to make sure they're softened, then use a wand blender to blend the soup, in the pot, until mostly smooth.  A few lumps are acceptable.  Add parsley, then scoop the soup into bowls.

Serve with a dollop of creme fraîche.

Yum.

I'm also considering making an apple tart, since we got more apples in our share this week, as well, and there are enough of them to bake into either a pie or tart.  Pie might just be easier, though it'll depend on what kind of crust I feel like making...

Back from SF

We returned from San Francisco Friday night, and went to La Jolla Shores for a morning dive on Saturday.  Of course, in order to do this, we had to:
1.  get my car to carry our dive gear (Peter's car is too small to carry all of my gear in addition to his);
2.  drive up to his place to pick up our gear;
3. pack up all the gear and pack it into the back of my car;
4.  return to my place, since there was no way we were getting up early enough to get ourselves set up and leave his house ready to be shown to potential buyers;
5.  eat dinner; and
6.  get a modicum of sleep.

We managed to get it all done, though we did rise later than desired and did not eat anything (though we did have two cups of black tea) before heading to the Shores for a morning dive.  It was not the most technically perfect dive on my part, but the visibility was good and the surf practically nonexistent.  We separated for the evening (I attended Barbara's Bunch with Kat in the evening and played games until almost 10:30, when I thought it appropriate enough to say goodnight).

This afternoon, Peter came to our flat with our gear (which he'd rinsed last night after coming home), ready for a mid-afternoon dip in the ocean.  Kat walked with us from the flagpole to the far end of the concrete walk and back.  Virginia Hatter was nowhere to be seen, so Peter texted her, telling her we'd baked - each of us - in preparation for the picnic potluck.  But it was not to be, so Peter and I prepared and made our dive starting near Vallecitos Point, swimming to the South Wall and exploring a little around its crags and shelves.  Found a family of lobster hiding underneath a canyon edge, but the bright lights from Peter's camera strobes caused them to retreat into their crevice.

By the time we'd returned to our flat, it was getting dark.  Peter headed home in his truck, and I walked up with Kat to our flat to organize laundry and for me to collect gear to take back to Peter's for rinsing.  Since it was dark by the time I arrived at Peter's, we've decided to postpone rinsing the gear until the morning, as it's much easier to do with natural light than in the cold dark night.  The only thing is that we'll need to do this early, since I'm attending a Meetup at ten in the morning.

That means it's time for bed, doesn't it?

Yes, it does.

GDC This Week

Tomorrow afternoon, Peter and I will be flying up to San Francisco for this year's Game Developers' Conference at the Moscone Center.  Once again, I will have the luxury of traipsing through the city district between Nob Hill, Chinatown, the Ferry Building, and I-80.   I may venture out of this region, depending on how 1.  adventurous I feel;  and a.  how much I feel like walking...

I'll have access to the district's branch of my gym, where I will sweat it out as much as I choose.  This will be a great relief, for I've been laid up this past week with a cold that I'd caught from Peter last weekend.  It'll feel good to return to a regular exercise regimen, even if it'll be adjusted to accommodate what will likely be slightly different equipment.

As part of his work, Peter will, once again, be making press announcements and giving interviews during the week.  I might luck into a day pass with which I may peruse the various vendors' installations, where I will see what kind of swag is on offer.  Last year, one vendor gave away large (say, around 16-20" diameter) purple latex spheres with handles.  They were essentially the same as what I remember as "Hippity-Hops" as a child.  Although they're cute, they're not exactly packable as given, and I didn't see an easy way to compress or deflate one without permanently damaging it.  Also, I'm using a smaller suitcase this year, as well.  Peter'd purchased two small carryon-sized suitcases.  Both can fit into the boot of his car, meaning we can take his car to the airport and leave it for the week while we're away.  Last year, we'd taken a taxi because he was departing for London directly from GDC while I was returning to San Diego.  This year, we'll be returning together. [insert smiley face]

Tonight, we will dine on beef and mushroom pies that he'd made last night, with some rosemary roasted potatoes, accompanied by a nice Tempranillo which we'd first tried during our December trip to England.

Enough for now.