Monthly Archives: September 2009

Max? Whose Side Are You On, Anyway?

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I haven’t written about politics in a while, but this health reform debate is making me froth at the mouth. I’ve called Baucus’s office so many times that I think I’m on the “crazy lady” list.

First off, the idea that we’re going to have a public mandate with no public option is insane. Why on earth should we give huge subsidies of public money to the insurance companies who have done nothing but openly rip us all off for decades? A public mandate with no public option to keep them in check is simple collusion. Thanks Max. I guess we know now why they gave you all that money.

Second, this is Montana. I don’t know anyone (including myself at this point) who has insurance through a job. Wait, my friend Jennifer is a public schoolteacher. She gets insurance. Other than that everyone else I know is self-employed: writers, artists, carpenters, fishing guides, small business owners, ranchers. None of us can get anything other than the crappiest, high-deductible, won’t-cover-you-if-you-do-get-sick insurance. One writer friend of mine bankrupted himself last year paying for his girlfriend’s care as she died of cancer. She had insurance, but that 80/20 deductible, well there wasn’t any cap on the 20%. I’ve got power of attorney for my mother, who has nothing, who lives on social security, and who is still getting hounded by a hospital for a 10 year old surgical emergency (that coincided with her boss dropping insurance for the employees of his small company). Baucus clearly doesn’t give a rats ass about his actual constituents, but why should he when all of his campaign money comes from insurance companies and big Pharma?

I’ve never been one of those people who dismiss politicians by saying “they’re all bought and paid for …” but I have to say, Baucus’s behavior on this matter has nearly pushed me to that edge. I’ve called and called and called and all I ever get is a mealy-mouthed form letter. He was in the state for almost six weeks this summer and refused to meet with his constituents. He’s totally sold us out.

I hate to say it, but if the Republicans run anyone even remotely reasonable against Max next time, I might have to cast my first Republican vote ever.

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Lasagne!

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IMG 0186 300x225 Lasagne!

Lasagne!

Hi folks — the heat finally broke and since my sweetheart has been longing for a Lasagne! for a while, and since yesterday I had a big pot of brand spanking new tomato sauce on the stove, I took a flyer at it.

This lovely lasagne was brought to you not by any of the many authentic Italian cookbooks I have on my shelf, not by Mario or Marcella or even Patricia Wells (Trattoria), or even by my beloved Dom DeLuise (Eat This .. It’ll Make You Feel Better). No, this gorgeous, gooey, wavy lasagne that is all brown on top — this lasagne was brought to you by the recipe on the back of the Barilla Lasagne noodle box.

Yes folks, here is another recipe like the Toll House Cookie recipe. One you’ll never have to remember because there it is, right on the back of the box. I did fiddle with it a little bit — I added some finely chopped parsley, oregano and basil from the garden to the egg-ricotta-cheese filling mixture. But that was it. I just followed the recipe.

The other thing you need to know about this fabulous recipe, is that it’s specifically designed for noodles you don’t cook beforehand. I was skeptical, I must admit. I thought it would be weird, or leathery, or just bad. But this is a great recipe. Easy. Delicious. Infinitely variable.

And it makes a lasagne so yummy that your sweetheart will come up and kiss you, and thank you for making lasagne, and eat another hefty portion for breakfast the next day, and leave for a day of work a happy man. Good all around. Lasagne!

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Food Poisoning!

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Ugh. So Saturday afternoon I thawed out some of last year’s antelope, marinated it, and made some skewers with a few onions out of the garden (for Chuck) and with onions and tomatoes and zucchini for me. Three in the morning and my sweetheart is not well. I’m a little rumbly in the tummy, but he is Not A Well Man. It was very very sad. And a long night.

Morning strikes and he is still Sick Like Dog. He sits in the living room watching football and ignoring a cup of black tea while I go out back and feverishly enclose the vegetable garden in bird netting. Sometime during the Long Night, I decided that it must have been the onions. The chickens have been in that bed a lot, and because I was afraid of overcooking the very lean antelope, the onions weren’t as cooked as I’d have liked. They were crunchy. All night I had visions of germy chicken feet, and contaminated onions and so, despite Chuck’s conviction that it was the antelope, I went out and banished the chickens from the garden.

In the spring, when the ground is soft, I’ll have to continue the copper-pipe trellis I have around the perimeter of the other beds, but for now I have a very loving-hands-at-home bamboo fence covered  in bird netting. And a “gate” made from a couple of old pieces of green epoxy-coated wire fence. It’s not pretty, but it works. Two days and no chickens in the garden. And I kind of like the enclosure — it’s sweet in there. Like the Secret Garden. I did find a sparrow caught in the bird netting this afternoon, but I got him out and tucked away the stray piece in which he’d caught himself.

And by this morning, the tide of unpleasantness seems to have subsided. But I feel terrible. Here I am, so-called food blogger, and I poisoned my beloved! My grandmother gave me food poisoning so many times as a kid that I think I’ve got pretty good antibodies, but really, I’ve never actually given anyone food poisoning before. I feel terrible. I don’t know if it was those germy chickens, but it can’t hurt to fence them out of the food crops. Sheesh. Tonight I think it’s going to be something plain, like pork chops and rice (and ripe tomato salad for me, the one who eats vegetables).

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Sharp Knives

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There’s a knife-sharpener guy who has been sitting out by the side of the road near the grocery store for a couple of months now. Every time I drive past Mountain Man Knife Sharpening, I think I should take my knives to him, and yesterday, when I saw he was in his truck, I turned around, went home, and got my horribly dull knives.

Patrick used to sharpen my knives for me, and even though I’ve got a stone, and the oil, I never got around to it. So they’ve gotten progressively more useless.

Well, for three bucks a piece, Mr. Mountain Man sharpened them all right up. Now all I want to do is cut tomatoes all day long. They’re so wonderful. No wonder I used to like those knives.

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Full Circle

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Well that was lovely — Monday was my official “last day” at Cisco (the severance was odd — 2 months as an employee but not working, then a big parting gift payment that is coming in the mail). Anyhow, so there it was, my official last day and I got pinged on Facebook in the morning — two of my favorite Cisco people were visiting Yellowstone, and wanted to know if I’d have dinner with them.

So I drove down to Gardiner and had dinner with Joy, who was my manager for about six weeks my first year, and Patty who worked with me in my last group, and Joy’s lovely husband Dennis. It was nice to have some Cisco people to discuss the situation with, because even though I’m a pretty happy camper, and I think this freelance thing might work out okay, there were still some very upsetting aspects to being voted off the island. And working remotely like I do, well, let’s just say I only know one person in Livingston who has ever even been a tech writer (hi Lynn!) and most of my friends have never even had real corporate jobs. It just made for a nice exit, having a chance to talk the situation over with people who never questioned my competance, and who I really liked, and in Joy’s case, who are really happy to have retired and to be doing something else. Plus, they were on vacation, having a lovely time in Yellowstone, and it was nice to share my “neighborhood” with them.

It was an interesting chapter, my ten years in corporate America. I worked with so many really terrific people — and in particular I loved that Cisco is so very multicultural. I worked with people in Galway, Ireland and Israel and Belgrade, Serbia (as opposed to Belgrade, Montana, where the Bozeman airport is). I worked with people who were Italian and Chinese and Indian and Philippino and Korean and French and Swiss and Spanish. That part was great, as were the many terrific people I worked with over the years. The last year, not so much fun, but as a writer I think I’m going to be very glad to have had that long side trip into not only high-tech, but a sort of regular middle-class America that I hadn’t had that much experience with — but for the moment at least, I’m glad to be back out here with the artsy, outdoorsy weirdos. My people. The ones who are perfectly happy to not make much money if we have a lot of time to write or paint or go outside.

I might regret it. I know I’ll miss the steady income and the security. And of course, if my ridiculous Senator has his way, I’m really going to miss the health insurance when I’m forced to pay 13% of my income to some for-profit insurance company that has no interest in covering my health care needs. But for the moment, it was a job I couldn’t afford to quit, where they gave me a very generous severance package, a severance package that just might make it possible for me to build the freelance career I’ve wanted for so long. And, to top it all off, I got to have a lovely good-bye dinner with some of my favorite people from that job. It was the best part, all the kind, smart, interesting people I worked with, and while I won’t miss the job, I’ll miss them a lot.

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