What's the deal with squash?

So, just about this time of year . . . when the leaves start turning colors and there's a distinct nip in the air, I start getting hungry for some good ol' winter squash.

So I go to the co-op find a beautiful, medium-sized, organic, locally-produced buttercup squash. I take it home, lovingly hack it in half with an 8 inch chef's knife, and scrape out the seeds and gooey middle parts. Then I put some water in a 9x13 baking dish, put my cleaned squash halves cut side down into the pan and cover it tightly with foil. I put the pan into a 375 degree oven for about forty minutes and then take it out, remove the foil, put the squash on a cutting board, dump out the water, put the squash in the pan, cut side up now, fill the cavities with vegan margarine and brown sugar and baste the tops with the same mixture. I then put it back in the oven for another fifteen minutes to get all delicious and caramelized. When it's done I take one of the squash halves, scrape it out into a bowl, add some extra margarine and a drizzle of maple syrup, and have a taste. It's delicious! I take it back to my room, a whole bowl of hot, sweet, buttery squash all to myself. And then . . . after about four bites . . . I'm done with this whole squash thing.

Seriously . . . What the fuck?

This happens to me every time I make squash, too.

[annoyed face]

Finally Understanding Coffee Cake and how Al Franken stole my Sharpie

I finally understand coffee cake! I made a big ol' pan of coffee cake yesterday and was a bit disappointed with it. While it tasted really effing fantastic, it was dry and required large amounts of margarine to make it delicious (oh it's sooooo good with like half a pound of earth balance spread on top of it . . . but so bad for me).

Today, however, I went to the co op and bought some coffee. Peace Coffee--Twin Cities Blend . . . organic, shade grown, fair trade . . . you know, expensive, ethical coffee for liberal motherfuckers like me. Anyway. I brewed up a French press full of the stuff when I got home. The aroma was intoxicating . . . the brew, black and opaque, just the way I like my coffee. The roast is a little light for my tastes, but very well balanced. I'm getting off topic again. I filled my (liberal-motherfucker) KAXE mug and started sucking down the ethically grown toxins (tasty, tasty toxins). Then I had a thought . . . "hmm . . . I have coffee . . . and coffee cake . . . let's consume them together, shall we?"

Now . . . when you eat coffee cake by itself, it seems a bit dry. However, when you eat a bite of coffee cake and follow it with a swig of coffee, the liquid counteracts the dryness. Not only that, but the flavors compliment and counterbalance each other! The sweet, cinnamon spiced coffee cake juxtaposed against the bitter, smoky coffee create the perfect taste sensation!

Okay . . . yes . . . I know. I should have figured this out years ago. Seeing as how the stuff is called "coffee cake," it sort of dictates that one should eat it with coffee. But I never realized how PERFECTLY the tastes mesh.

Now. How Al Franken Stole my Sharpie . . .

I go to school at UMD. Right now the labor union for the whole University of Minnesota system, AFSCME, is on strike. It's about a 1% wage increase, or something like that . . . I'm not sure. But they've been picketing the campus for two weeks now.

Al Franken (whom I love) is running for Senate against Norm Coleman (whom I wish would be attacked by a flock of angry pigeons). Franken is a big supporter of labor unions and has a good bit of campaigning to do before next November, so he came out to speak to the strikers last Friday.

It was a frosty morning. I was standing in a group of about fifty people --strikers, students, and supporters-- at the main driveway of the campus. An SUV with two "Al Franken for Senate" bumper stickers pulled up across the street. Out stepped a red-headed handler from the front, and from the back, the grey-haired, glasses-wearing, future savior of the state of Minnesota's good name. He walked through the crowd, shaking hands and giving hugs.

He looked at me strangely . . . I thought. A look of familiarity or curiosity? I wasn't sure. Maybe he looks at everyone that way.

The crowd quieted down to listen to what he had to say. He spoke of labor unions --gave us his union cred, how he belongs to four himslef-- and the importance of higher education and the funding thereof. When he was finished, the crowd gathered around him, taking photos and shaking hands.

There was another girl standing next to me, waiting for our chance to meet Mr. Franken. We started talking and she mentioned that she wished she had a sharpie so she could get him to sign her protest sign: "WE SUPPORT U of M WORKERS." We both had one. I always carry a sharpie with me --at least one-- because you never know when you'll need it. I dug into my bag and pulled it out, handing it to the girl.

Just before Al was about to leave, we approached him. "Hi!" I said, smiling like a three-year old about to be given a cookie, "Can we ask you to do something really dorky and sign our signs?"

She handed him her sign and my marker. "Sign our signs," Al mocked me, giving me that same strange look and then gladly autographing her sign.

I gave him mine, next. As soon as he had written "Stay Strong! Al Franken" on it, a deluge of people crowded around him, handing him anything they could, asking him to sign his name, making their protest gear into souvenirs.

I stepped back, allowing others to have their chance, and distancing myself from the comedian turned politician while thinking" "What have I started . . . Yeah . . . I'm not getting that back, am I?"

I made a quick escape, walking off toward the library building. A strange smile on my face because I had a protest sign autographed by Al Franken . . . and because he had inadvertently stolen my sharpie.

Duluth Number One

I'm all moved in to my new apartment. I started living here about a week ago. It's nice, about a block away from Lake Superior. We can see the lake out the living room windows. I live with two roommates, Shannon and Brendon. They're nice people. I'm not sure how well we mesh, but we don't not get along. They're not the type of people I would usually hang out with, but they're nice folk.

I've been taking nice long walks almost every day. I've explored the shoreline, downtown, and some of the shadier neighborhoods . . . which, compared to Chicago, are tame.

I have a new friend, his name is Travis and he is also a vegan! YAY!!! He's a raw vegan, though. While I can't cook for him, our relationship does offer me some lovely advantages. He works at the natural food Co-Op, about four blocks away from my house. When we went shopping there yesterday, I got his employee discount! WOOT! That may be a one-time deal because the cashier who was ringing us up was quitting. Still . . . advantageous! And then today, Travis called me after his shift and told me that he was bringing me a bunch of deli food that they couldn't sell after today! WOOT! There were 9 boxes of this roasted tempeh/carrot/leek dish (tasty). A couple packages of a tofu-based dip called Midnight in Morocco (super tasty). And two pieces of blueberry chocolate cake (EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!). I did the math after he left, it was like $50 worth of deli food that I got for free!

Travis is a really sweet boy. He's a philosophy/poli sci major at University of Wisconsin Superior. But he lives in Duluth. He's smart, ambitious, vegan, and he treats me very well. I've only known him for two days and he brought me a giant sack o' food! I don't think anyone's ever been that nice to me. I mean . . . that's the kind of shit I do for people. People who aren't in my family don't do things like that for me . . . ever.

I dunno. Similar ethics I guess.

Also today, my mom and dad came to take me shopping and bring me some things from home. We went to the campus to pick up my textbooks and then to the mall so I could buy a date book at Barnes and Nobel, and so my mom could eat some lunch. Then Target, where I got a bunch of housewares stuff and some cleaning supplies. Finally to Cub Foods so I could stock my section of the pantry. I think I have everything I need to start cooking like I mean it again.

I miss Paul a lot. He's in Minneapolis now. We still talk . . . a lot. Today we had three separate phone conversations. I don't know how well he's dealing with being away from home yet. There's an adjustment period for everyone. I'm sure he'll be fine after a couple weeks, though. He's strong and adaptable.

I hope I am, too.

School starts the day after tomorrow.