Lincoln and the Union Christmas Dinner. They didn't have Tofurkey because Lincoln was Republican.

I had originally written an impressionistic post that was just bragging about our Christmas Eve and the dinner we had going on. I’ve since decided that that was kind of jerky, and to share this masterpiece with the world. A little context here: We couldn’t leave to see M’s family since we’ve been snowed in with what’s being described as the worst snowstorm Vancouver has had in 25 years, so we put on all our gear and hauled up to Capers in the cavalcade of last minute shopping and about 2′ of wet snow. Our mandate was, if you saw anything you wanted [croissants, pie, ice cream, chocolate, fruit, smoked salmon &c.] it went in the basket, and Capers is now part of Whole Foods [a.k.a. Whole Paycheck] so it was quite the lavish treat. We even got imported organic wild cranberry sauce and avoided the traditionally revered, yet repellent, “stshtshstshthtshthup” of the canned stuff. This was a combined effort, but you can do it yourself if needed. Feeds 2 people twice [Christmas Eve and Christmas Day] or 4 people once!! All recipes below the fold.
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One of my favourite teachers used to say that if your belly was unhappy, you were unhappy. I submit that this, while true, is incomplete: unhappy feet will also result in an unhappy human. Maybe this is why we spend so much time setting our foundations in asana class.

Dark purple is 150 cm or over.

As we approach a FULL DAY’s worth of snow here in Vancouver, some appalling and extraordinary accumulation, I am pleased to report that I have some proper snow boots. I weary of seeing women mincing around in impossible footwear, plummetting down the brick sidewalk of Helmcken, incurring snowy bottoms on their way to Glowbal or wherever, and while I never was one for really impossible shoes [although my brown velvet Fluevog platform mules are still kicking around somewhere], I am happiest when my feet are happy.

It was the Great Teva Revolution of ‘08 that did it for me. M was always on me to get Tevas, but an adolescence of dudes in hairbraids and rainsticks had turned me off the aesthetics of Tevas in a big way. Of course, M is invariably right when it comes to practicalities and my Tevas have proven to be the finest footwear for my grubby and DIY lifestyle. They’re totally worth the constant mockery my friends subject me to.

I may go so far as to claim, on this solstice night, that this is the Best Christmas Evar™©®. Driving across the US of A last year was good fun, and time spent with family is always great, but this year I feel like I’m doing what I should be doing with my life. My metier if you like. Which makes pretty much every experience better. And almost all of the Conditions have been met:

- a fridge full of pickles and cheese

Me on 7th, trundling along

- giant haul from Superstore: tin of mixed cookies, cashews, truffles [various], Ferrero Rocher, olives, wooden case of clementines

- tiny fake Christmas tree resurrected for the 6th year running, redone with tiny disco balls from Yaletown dollar store

- ficus tree draped in Canadian Tire twinkling fairy lights [analog, none of that LED bushwa]

- fingers incredibly calloused from testing outdoor mini icicle lights and conjuring up one full thread from 3 formerly dead threads, only to have M short them all out trying to put some of the old-timey outdoor lights at one end

- Velcro has tried to eat as many tiny tinsel stars as he can find and has to be forcefully discouraged from same to prevent TinselButt

- Canada Post is actually COMING UP THE STAIRS TO THE APARTMENT [!! it's like a doctor doing house calls] to deliver various packages, about every second day now, and some of them are genuine surprises i.e. I have no idea what they are.

I’ve tried to have these hardcore yogic Christmasses where I just eat steamed greens and order San Pellegrino everywhere I go and get up early and sneer at the rampant consumerism. It’s entirely unsatisfying. I vow henceforth to go as whole-hog as I can into this season that I love, in the hopes that each subsequent year will be a candidate for Best Christmas Evar™©®.

UPDATE: Just snowshoed [new boots were excellent @ snowshoeing] across the park to M’s brother’s where we had a dram of Glenlivet out of his ceremonial little Celtic fancy-Scotch-dram-drinking two-handled silver cup and made a snow R2-D2 on the lawn.

What was really great about this is that none of us needed help visualizing R2D2, or any of his structural details. NERDS.

We wanted to make a robot but the snow’s not really packing snow so much as that pearly sugar-cookie snow, so the only feasible robot was R2-D2. We made a big pile of snow, henceforth to be known as a “snobelisk”, and rendered him from there. He has a beer bottle eye, an antenna, and a full array of maintenance panels and similar. We also tried to push some poor dude in a Honda Civic w/front wheel drive and all-season tires out of the back alleyway; he had to go to work, and by some mysterious juju managed to wend his way up the steep incline from the underground parking lot, but couldn’t get down the alley. I think he’s still there. God speed, Honda Civic Guy and R2…God speed.

Guitar solo!!11!

Yes, it’s true: this Friday December 19 @ 4 will be the last Big Rock Friday of this year, and potentially the last rock-only Friday for a while as I try out other genres and concepts. If you have any requests, let me know in comments; or if I know you in meatspace, shout them out loud.

…there was the word. Word.

I couldn't resist

I just love language: its textures, contours, nuance, peaks and valleys. I love the most extravagant high-minded pretention, and I love “dude…wait, what?”. This is like Grade 9 English, but each word has multiple layers of significance: its basic sound divorced from meaning, its barest and least embellished meaning, its etymology or history, its homonyms, and my personal fave, its connotative meaning. That’s the entire catalogue of what the word evokes in its reader or listener. Lately I’ve been enjoying using connotations to pop culture, song lyrics and advertising, not least because there are so darn many of them. Sure, some tweedy prof somewhere thinks that this is just winking in-jokes, but come on: tell me that the combination of “palm+olive” stands in connotative isolation from the brand name? Not possible. How about “word” itself? It’s a colloquial statement of solidarity or agreement, it’s software, it’s a dessert topping AND a floor wax! [See what I did there?]

DFW mentioned this embarrassment of intertextual riches w/r/t television in “E Unibus Pluram: Television and U.S. Fiction”, and he also talked about the tweedy resistance to making pop-culture reference, and he ALSO discussed how easily this can devolve into a series of weird little coded in-jokes, so basically this whole post is cribbed from this essay, but I’m-a spin it my way [I hope].

The coded in-joke part I find particularly interesting, because the reason I talk and write this way is to INCLUDE, not to exclude. Let me see if I can come up with an example:

A.“In your practice, you will cultivate increased physical strength and mental agility, but we are served well by B.K.S. Iyengar’s admonition in his classic “Light On Yoga” where he describes the relationship between the sisya or disciple, and his guru. Iyengar writes: ‘Power without humility breeds arrogance and tyranny. The true sisya learns from his Guru about a power that will never leave him, as he returns to the Primeval One, the Source of His Being.’ Please sit in meditation and offer the fruits of your practice to this Great Source.”

B.” In your practice, you will cultivate increased physical strength and mental agility, and I’d be no kind of teacher if I didn’t encourage you to think seriously about what you’ll do with all this increased energy. The best advice I’ve heard on the subject is when Peter Parker, who you might know better as Spider-Man†, is starting to get a bit cocky what with the walking up the walls and swinging from buildings thing, and his Uncle Ben lets him know that ‘With great power comes great responsibility’. Arguably Uncle Ben’s words encourage Peter to become the hero that he is destined to be. Let’s sit together and think about our responsibilities, and how this powerful practice might serve them better”.

Yes, I know that not everybody has seen “Spider-Man”. But not everybody has read “Light On Yoga” either. Both of my little examples here are saying similar things, and although one is obviously more stuffy than the other, which one do you think people would connect to? Which one did you connect to? How many people have watched The Simpsons? More, or less than have read the Hatha Yoga Pradipika‡?

I guess it comes down to whether you really believe this yoga stuff is meant to be shared or to be exclusive. It makes you feel pretty darn clever and fancy to learn something esoteric and strange, but is that the purpose of the teaching? It’s been exclusive for many hundreds of years. Has this exclusivity served our species and our world?

Anyway, back to the words. As much as I enjoy a big florid, arcane passage in the Pratyabhijna Hrdayam, if I can’t translate it into love song lyrics or an episode of “Friends” in about 25 seconds I know that I either don’t get it or it’s not relevant to my students [most likely the former at this point, but that's the trick; if I don't get it, I certainly can't teach it]. I’m exaggerating a bit, but honestly, the way I want to choose my words is to connect and integrate, not remove these teachings from our reality. And our reality is a world of syndicated sitcoms and DVD extras and the Safeway and traffic and season premieres and finales. The Word is sat+cit+ananda, not just cit+ananda; it’s not how much I know that will take me to bliss, it’s what is REALLY around us as the ground of these teachings.

†Desiree Rumbaugh actually used the Spider-Man thing when she was here; great minds and all that.
‡ Yes, I know several intransigent Luddite hippies who scorn TV and similar. Not just “don’t have a TV”, which I sort of admire in the same way that I admire pro athletes, but actively harsh on the whole project. Don’t worry, you can always wear a tinfoil hat to protect yourself from the US government’s mind-control program. Luckily they are so intransigent and Ludditic they won’t get on the Internet. This calls for a

A bit fuzzy, but just imagine you have a mild fever.

Pretty remarkable for the Left Coast!  And this is proper snow, too, not those big clotted slushballs that Vancouver tries to pass off as snow.

I’m home with a bit of a cold and while I didn’t particularly want to have to give up a days’ work, or feel like a big bag of gross, I couldn’t have chosen a more picturesque day to be sick.  I have that sneaky staying-home-from-school feeling.  I’m eating cranberry muffins and black cherry yogurt and doing the dishes.

Actually, that reminded me of something else I wanted to write about:  Whence comes this desperate need to justify time off, and/or do as much as possible when staying home?  Is it some kind of hideous Calvinist hangover?  “Sorry, I just couldn’t make it in today, my lungs are outside of my body and my extremities are bloody stumps; can I telecommute until the weekend?”  “Yeah, I’m home sick.  My sarcoidosis is acting up again.  It’s all right though, I made 40 lbs. of almond brittle, gave the cat a bath, wrote the Great Canadian Novel, waxed the tub and did my hammered dulcimer practice.  I’m so lazy today; I think I’m going to go lie down.”  This might be related to one of my many anti-free-market rants, but I’ll just leave it at that for now…

If you can stand to look at the background without getting an optical migraine, you are qualified to listen to MGMT

I may be drifting into “You kids get off my lawn!” territory, but very rarely do I hear some new or even newish music that I really like.  This goes for yer more conventional pop but even more so for what might be charitably termed “hipster” music; in fact, I usually find I like the pop music better.  The hipster stuff is so darn sad.

MGMT more than makes up for it.  I’m in the phase right now where I can really only listen to one song over and over again, and it makes me so happy I involuntarily jump around.  My practice today consisted of listening to MGMT, jumping around and giggling, doing some handstands, and then jumping around some more.

The last time I got this excited about newish music was Shad.  He still gets my music motor running, but MGMT has prevailed.

M and I have been basically honing our soup recipes to gleaming shines over the last several years and this is the best of our recipes combined into one, super-powerful Voltronesque power soup. Our contributions are as follows:

HIS: Mushrooms including porcini, saffron
HERS: Flat-leaf parsley, leeks, russet potatoes, and the hella nostalgic egg noodles.

You can't really see the saffron in this picture; trust me, though

This recipe would make up great with proper “chicken” seitan [I suppose it would make up well with actual chicken if that's how you roll] but we used the Yves faux-chicken tenders and they’re just fine.

3 tbsp olive oil
sea salt and pepper…plenty
1 cooking onion, diced
2 stalks celery, diced
1 carrot, diced
1 lb white mushrooms, cut into 1/3 inch cubes
1 bunch flat-leaf parsley; finely chop about 5 sprigs, set aside the rest for finishing and garnish
½ tsp dried dill
½ tsp dried oregano
3 cloves garlic, minced finely
1 leek, topped tailed chopped and rinsed [for Leek ProTips click here]
2 russet potatoes, cut into 1/3 inch cubes
3 or 4 dried porcini mushrooms, soaked in ¼ cup water just off the boil for about 10 minutes; finely dice the soaked mushrooms and set aside the soaking liquid to let the grit settle
Couple saffron “sprigs”, bloomed in about a tbsp of water just off the boil
5 vegetarian “chicken” bouillon cubes
4 or 5 squirts of Bragg’s
1 pack “chicken” tenders, chopped coarsely
1 bag broad egg noodles [it will make up fine with any kind of noodle, if vegan or needing to substitute]
1 packet frozen chopped spinach

In a simply enormous soup pot, heat olive oil over medium heat; add a couple shakes of salt and pepper, and when oil is hot add onion, carrot, celery, mushroom, parsley and dried herbs. Saute, stirring often, until onion is translucent and the mushrooms have released their juices. Add the leek, garlic, and a little more salt. Continue to heat, stirring often until leek is cooked through and wilted. Add potatoes and stir to cover. Saute another couple of minutes or until pan bottom is relatively dry when scraped with a spoon. Add porcini and the soaking liquid [leave the bottom centimetre or so to dodge the grit], the saffron and its soaking liquid; add water to about 1” short of the pot rim, boullion cubes and Bragg’s. Bring to boil. Add “chicken” and noodles†. Bring heat back up to boiling and cook for about 5 minutes or until noodles are tender. Add spinach, stirring well. This is a good time to taste it before it settles in for its final rendering, which can last for about 15 or 20 minutes, although it is edible once the spinach is all stirred in.

†I used a whole bag of egg noodles cause I’m a bit of a noodleholic; if you prefer a brothier soup, just put in half or 2/3.

This one was inspired by some of the many “You know what you should play? The Troggs/Boston/Dokken/Warrant &c. &c.” comments I’ve gotten after class.

Queen, “Forever”

Jimi, “May This Be Love”

Stones, “Gimme Shelter” [That moment where her voice breaks a little bit and you can hear somebody in the band whoop in the background: that's a great moment]

Guns’n'Roses, “Sweet Child Of Mine”

It's only Big Rock Friday, but he likes it.

KISS, “Shout It Out Loud”

Deep Purple, “Smoke On The Water” ["Sloooow motion Wallllter, THE FIRE ENGINE GUY"]

Big Wreck, “That Song”

Beatles, “Come Together”

Journey, “Send Her My Love”

Temple of the Dog, “Say Hello To Heaven”

Jimi, “Born Under A Bad Sign”

Beatles, “Across the Universe”

Beatles, “Sun King”

Hall & Oates, “Sara Smile”

Queen, “Who Wants to Live Forever”

Evvie and her brother from another mother, Velcro (this was taken shortly after she flew in to Van)

To the tune of Hall & Oates’ “You Make My Dreams”†

Well you track around a metric tonne of litter
You’re a filthy little critter
You mess up my happy home
There were times I thought I’d make you into a sweater
Now wouldn’t that be better
But then I’d be alone, aw yeah

Because you, you are my Evvie Loo [Loo loo, loo, loo, looloo, loo, loo]
Well, well well, you, aw yeah, you are my Evvie Loo [Loo loo, loo, loo, looloo, loo.]

There are times when you are yelping in the hallway

Evvie as a baby, and Mr. Goodtimes (ne Ian Goodhue)

I think you do things the hard way
You could wait until the dawn
But your tone’s so sweet, you make us laugh and snicker
And I suppose that your way’s quicker
To get your dinner on, oh yeah, I said

you, you are my Evvie Loo [Loo loo, loo, loo, looloo, loo, loo]
Well, well well, you, aw yeah, you are my Evvie Loo [Loo loo, loo, loo, looloo, loo.]

EVELYN SOLO:

Listen to this! Brrrrrrrang? Braaaaaang? Breeeow?

ME:

You soundlike a caaaaar alarm, but you don’t have any lips, it’s okay….

Heck yes! you, you are my Evvie Loo [Loo loo, loo, loo, looloo, loo, loo]
Well, well well, you, all night, you are my Evvie Loo [Loo loo, loo, loo, looloo, loo.]

Heh, I always say that and then end up idling around the Net Loft looking at boutique paper products and imported textiles, then in a mad dash to try and wend my way through the other 4,000,000 people who all said the same thing.  This one was a bit easier though.  The city is definitely not as busy this year.  The meal itself was simple and tasty.  To veganize, use dried pasta and omit Reggiano.

400 grams fresh spaghettini

Hits the spot

About 2 cups of the best fresh tomatoes you can find† cut into bite-sized pieces

A bag of fresh basil that the Italian vendors always seem to have, even in December, chiffonaded [sp.?  Sliced thinly.]

1 shallot, diced

2 cloves garlic, finely diced

the juice of half a lemon

extra-virgin olive oil

dried parsley

sea salt and ground black pepper

Freshly grated Reggiano for garnishing and general goodness

Put a large pot of salted water on high for the noodles.  Just before it comes to a boil, heat 3 tbsp of olive oil on medium in a heavy-bottomed saucepan.  Add shallot and garlic, and a couple shakes of salt and pepper.  Saute until shallot is translucent.  You can probably put the noodles in at some point in here…Add 3/4 of the basil and stir, and then the tomatoes and dried parsley.  REDUCE heat. The fresh noodles will not take too long [5 minutes if that].  Heat the tomatoes through, but don’t let them burst or turn into sauce.  Turn off the heat and add the lemon juice.  Stir to combine and let rest while the noodles cook.

When the noodles have been drained, toss w/tomato+basil mixture and stir thoroughly, then ladle into bowls and garnish with the remaining basil, Reggiano, black pepper and a lemon wedge.  Serves 2, unlike my usual recipes which serve the offensive line of the Dallas Cowboys.

†At this point you may be wondering:  “Sjanz, this is obviously a summer recipe; what in the world were you thinking?”  We have these lovely little hydroponically grown tomatoes here and the basil, although pepperier in the wintertime, is not bad at all.  Caveat, uh, madidor.