Picoreview: Pacific Rim: does what it says on the tin. Okay, no, it doesn’t, because the tin says “Pacific Rim”, not “giant monsters fight giant robots!”, but close enough. I liked it. I didn’t love it, which I wanted to, but I liked it, and it certainly delivered what I wanted it to. The effects were (literally) tremendous, and there were a couple of moments where I squeeed happily at the way something monstered out. There was one scene in particular where I kind of just sat back and thought,…
In the near future, a visionary leader brings Ireland to the forefront of green technology while in Alaska, communities displaced by the rising seas struggle to rebuild without losing their sense of self. Disparate worlds collide when fracked-out gas fields in middle America collapse, finally destabilizing the last of the old-world power regime in The Last Days of Ancient Sunlight. Here begins a few weeks of probably-daily vote hounding, because I’ve applied for a grant which has a first step of reality-show-style popularity contest to it. Arthur Guinness Projects is…
I’m making up for four posts on Monday by not making any more posts the rest of this week, I guess. We’re not yet fully unpacked. I have faint, tired hopes of finishing this weekend. We’ll see. We did get the clothesline up, so I’ve been taking advantage of the major solar spill we’re experiencing to dry clothes outside. And I did wash the mattress pad, which had been on my list of thinks to do a couple of weeks ago. So that’s something. I also–through the good graces of…
French Vanilla Ice Cream 4 egg yolks 1/3 c sugar 1.5 c cream vanilla to taste pinch of salt Mix egg yolks and sugar at a high speed until they’ve thickened to a lovely light yellow and make ribbons when you draw the beaters out and across the surface of the mixture. Scald the cream. Remove from heat when a perfect scald is reached. Add salt and vanilla. (I judged the vanilla by the mixture’s smell, and would guess I used 2-3 tablespoons. But that’s a guess.) Drizzle the scalded…
When I was a kid, we used to go down to Homer for the 4th of July. Loads of us, extended theatre family types. Lots of kids, lots of adults, lots of mosquitoes. Fireworks you couldn’t see, because the sun doesn’t go down in Alaska in July. Wading in the slough and getting clay up to your knees and convincing each other that the mothers wouldn’t notice. Picking Alaska cotton and tickling each other with the fluff. Running up the solid mud road to the cousins who had running water,…