Ombailamos

the least objectionable solution

There is an interesting discussion happening on Get Rich Slowly, prompted by a post of J.D.'s concerning the ridiculous obstacle course that is Health Insurance in the U.S.A. I've learned a few things from the comments, including that joining AARP - and insuring through them - may actually be a good solution for me and Mr. P. It's certainly something to look into, since my employer's health plans are not exactly cause for celebration.

Read the article and discussion: http://www.getrichslowly.org/blog/2012/04/30/hunting-for-health-insurance/

Just for clarification, and surely no surprise to any more-than-occasional reader, I support the Affordable Care Act as the best attempt yet to rationalize the American system of buying health insurance. It's certainly not the perfect solution, as it leaves a great deal unattended-to, but no previous administration has been able to pass anything that addressed as many aspects of the problem.

If it were possible for a single person (or heck, for a single committee) to sit down and figure out all the variables and account for all the contingencies of health insurance and health services, and to then say "this is what the New Deal is going to look like," and to apply it impartially across all states, no doubt we could do much better.

But since we don't have a single Benevolent Dictator and are coping with 1000 fractious elected officials instead, this may be the best we can do for now.

Given that every state has its own set of laws and that in many cases state laws don't apply to insurers - who may be governed not by the laws of the states in which they operate but by the laws of the states in which the insurance companies' headquarters reside, or by Federal laws - I do tend to think that a top-down solution would be more, and more swiftly, efficacious than the multi-decade slog we will be in for if the ACA is not allowed to stand.

I for one know several people who are waiting to see if certain provisions survive until their activation date in 2014. If these provisions DO survive, some of these people may be able to get health insurance for the first time in their adult lives.

Once we work out the worst of the health insurance conundrum, maybe we'll have a little mental agility left to address the health services problem.

Just for kicks, here's a bit of historical perspective on health-insurance mandates. http://www.tnr.com/article/politics/102620/individual-mandate-history-affordable-care-act 

And here is an in-depth look at what, exactly, the ACA sets out to do. http://www.reddit.com/r/explainlikeimfive/comments/vb8vs/eli5_what_exactly_is_obamacare_and_what_did_it/c530lfx

things I used to do

and things I've done just once or twice ... and that was enough.

Renaissance Festival! The SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism) used to put these on every year near Atlanta, and I went several times. There's a big one out here in California, too, and I've never gone - in part because it's inland in the summer, which is a place and time that I do not want to be. (HOT.) I appreciate the historical re-enactment enthusiasts on a performance-art level, but if you're not involved yourself, I think a little goes a long way.

• Rock Climbing! Mr. P and his gang of extreme athletes (a varied assortment of UCLA-based smarty-pants types who liked mountain biking, mountain climbing, camping in the snow, and other such nonsense) took me along to Point Dume early in our relationship. So I climbed up the rock at the south end of the beach. And at the top I saw a trail that clearly goes back down to the beach via a route that allows the use of only two extremities. I like being in high places, but if there's a trail ... I'll take the trail, thank you very much.

Dragon Con! This was a big fantasy and science-fiction convention, also in Atlanta, and I went once for sure (in costume) and maybe twice. Can't honestly recall. I am one of those poor benighted souls too young to have watched Star Trek when it originally aired; I didn't discover it until grad school and cable TV; but read dozens of SF and fantasy novels between ages 15 and 30. Several of the friends who were into the Renn Fest were also into Dragon Con. One of my friends had a truly awesome replica sword that went with his costume. I think there is a picture somewhere of me in my warrior princess regalia and that sword. I don't think I will post it here.

Labyrinth of Jareth! This was fun, a giant masquerade fantasy performance art musical extravaganza, but like the Renn Fest, if you're not part of the show it gets old pretty fast.

• Bookhounding! Fossicking in the shelves of a used-book store used to be my primary entertainment. You may think that is an exaggeration but it isn't. One of my first jobs in Atlanta was at a rare-books dealer called C. Dickens, and I could spend hours at Oxford Books. Moving to California was most of the cure - I didn't find a store even remotely equivalent for a while, and that store was actually in Anaheim. There is another one out in North Hollywood, but by the time I found it I was kind of over the book-collecting thing.

Riding a bike! When I was a kid and young teenager, I had a bike. I rode it a little. When I was ten we moved out to the country and the dirt road we lived on wasn't exactly primo bike-riding surface, and the adjacent road was a fairly high-speed rural highway with no shoulder. So it's safe to say it's been more than thirty years since I've successfully ridden a bike. Mr. P tried, early on. He put me on his landlady's son's bike, which A) was too tall for me B) was too heavy C) had bad brakes. Establishing myself in the saddle was a painful and embarrassing process. He then led an expedition down a precipitous twisty street in Santa Monica, across PCH, and onto the strand where I was faced with Rollerblades, skateboards, joggers, and hate-filled pedestrians. At the end of that stretch of hell, we took the bikes over the pedestrian bridge and CARRIED THEM up the staircase to the park. It is actually kind of a miracle that this relationship survived that outing. I must really love him.

• Scuba! I've actually never done this. Mr. P (again!) paid for a scuba-school two-weekend course for me the summer before our wedding. We were going to Hawaii for our honeymoon, he was Padi-certified, and sweetly thought it would be great if we could dive on our trip. ... As with bicycles, swimming is something I've done very little of since moving out of a house with a pool when I was, oh, EIGHT YEARS OLD. I can swim. I don't really swim. I had never even snorkeled.

The class was huge, the training pool was small, the wetsuit tore most of the skin off my knuckles, the second-weekend dive boat was vilely diesel-fumed, a swell threw me into a bulkhead and gave me a bone bruise that took nearly a year to heal, and the weight belt was too heavy and hurt my back and nearly sank me. After my overweighted panic attack was over, I got back on the boat and did not go back in the water. My snorkel-equipped kelp crawl had gone all right and I would have been happy to spend time dog-paddling with the seals, but since that wasn't an option I was given (because they had too few instructors supervising the enormous class), I stayed in the sun.

I learned, subsequently, that most of the best underwater viewing is done at snorkel depth. Think I'll stick with the equipment that won't kill me if things go wrong.

Generally speaking, I'm not a fan of activities that require much gear. That's one reason I love dancing, I guess. I only need a pair of shoes.

"rambunctious garden"

I recently finished reading this new book by Emma Marris, and I can really whole-heartedly recommend it.

"Rambunctious Garden" definitely speaks to my own view of nature, and how humans can (should) interact with it (i.e. as much as possible). In brief, I agree with Ms. Marris' central thesis that conservation should not be viewed as simply protecting unspoiled wilderness, or even protection + rehabilitation. Conservation should also be viewed in terms of creating more nature - whenever and wherever we can.

I have nature-lovers in the family, so I've seen just how effective habitat creation can be even on the small scale of an urban backyard. Heck, I've seen it at very close quarters in the repeat performance of hummingbird nests on my apartment patio. So I surely do believe that if you build it, they will come.

My one quibble with this book - which is well-written, exhaustively researched, and an energetically quick read - is very minor and petty. It is the use of the word "rambunctious," which to me is best employed as a polite way to describe ill-behaved children.

It doesn't really jibe - to me, at least - with the ideas of natural gardening, abandonment of over-cultivation, and restoration of vacant land to something approaching a life-sustaining habitat.

But like I said: that is both a minor objection and a petty one. I won't use the word "rambunctious" to describe my messy meadow, my brush pile, my rain garden, my henhouse, my organic orchard, or any of the other food-producing, wildlife-attracting elements I hope to have when/if Mr. P and I get our shack in the country.

However, the impulse of conservation that is at the core of how I'd like to live is definitely at one with Ms. Marris' well-presented argument that we can, and should, make more nature if it's possible.

Where could you make some nature? It's not always obvious until you start looking around. Even in the urban jungle, there are places where nature is doing its best to persist. Just check out the weeds growing through cracks in the concrete boulevard medians. Why not jackhammer out the concrete pads - leave the curbs, of course, to bounce bad drivers back into their lanes - and let the weeds have that center area?

Or, if your neighborhood has a "must have lawn" ordinance, why not work on getting that changed? Lawn isn't natural habitat for much of anything. Maybe your city would help put in shade trees along your street, or reclaim a vacant lot as a community garden. These are simple things that can go a long way to creating more green in the world of asphalt that so many of us live in.

Just because you plant it, in other words, doesn't make it less "natural."

that's entertainment

Among the many blogs I read is Television Without Pity. (I usually only read their pieces about shows that I actually watch, but there are occasional slow days when I am basically reading the whole Internet. You know what I mean. If you're not related to me, that's probably why you're on this page.)

ANYWAY. The blogger (Kim) who handles "Dancing with the Stars" has been fun to follow; she has learned quite a lot about dancing over the years. So, yay for that show: see, it IS educational!

The other blog I'm particularly enjoying is Sara's treatment of "Smash." I hate to say it, but the recaps are often more entertaining than the actual show.

I was very pleased to see a show about Broadway hit the airwaves, but it's been a disappointment - too much soap opera, not enough "Noises Off." Which, incidentally, anyone who is enjoying the actual theatre storyline on "Smash" would almost certainly love - it's rarely on the stage, but there is a truly funny movie version.* You should also see "Curtains" if it comes to your area on tour. But I digress.

My sense is that "Smash" will not be coming back next year. If it does, can we please dispense with the Julia character, unless she gets a personality transplant, and focus on Tom (who, as played by Christian Borle, is a pure pleasure) and a new writing partner?

I would really like to see more of the frustrated-thespian aspect of writing for the stage. "Tom's" stand-in performance on Monday's episode was definitely a standout, in terms of total performance quality. Speaking as someone with more talent as a writer than as a performer, I can totally relate to wanting to be the one on stage, and at the same time knowing it is best for the show if I'm not.

Dancing is actually the one performance art where I feel I bring something noteworthy. I'm not the best technician by any means, nor the best choreographer, and I still don't know how to generate certain types of movement that effectively convey certain meanings, but I believe I have something worth working with. On the other hand, as a singer and pianist (in my youth) I was competent but nothing special. And as an actor, I'm a great stage manager.

I'd really like to see a show - or a movie, I'm not fussy - that digs into the difficult process of accepting what you're good at even when that acceptance means giving up something you are really attached to. We can't all be good at everything, but most of us can be good at ONE thing, if we just focus. And work, of course.

*Currently available on Amazon for less than $9. I promise you will get your money's worth! http://www.amazon.com/Noises-Off-Michael-Caine/dp/B0000DZTOM/ref=sr_1_1?s=movies-tv&ie=UTF8&qid=1334254464&sr=1-1

cabbage with braised oxtail

The Return of the Cabbage (I would rather get a cabbage in my produce box than just about any other nominally-leafy green vegetable) was celebrated with red onion, gorgonzola, and braised oxtail. It all started with the oxtail: I'd found some at the market, a really big package that was pretty obviously the whole tail, all neatly separated.

It had been in the freezer for a while but I had a notion of something to do with it - something that involved a greatly-supplemented presentation of Stouffer's frozen steak gorgonzola pasta dish, which has way too much sauce and too little protein (or vegetable) content in its unadulterated state ... but the sauce is verrry tasty.

ANYWAY, the oxtail. I put all the pieces in my slow cooker with three bay leaves, about a tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce, and a healthy application of Penzey's Prime Rib Rub spice mix. Did my usual thing of heating through on High for an hour, then turned it down to Low and left the building for close to ten hours.

My experience with cooking meat from bony bits of the animal is: the longer the better. After spending this long in the cooker, the oxtail meat was ready to be separated from the bones, with little effort. I then placed it in a storage container and put it in the fridge.

One reason to let something like this chill before using is: when it's completely cold (our fridge is set at 36 degrees), the fat that has risen to the top becomes solid, and is very easy to remove in chunks. Why mess around with a fat separator? Let temperature do the work for you.

What is left is tender meat, and a gelatinized broth tasting of concentrated beef. (The gelatin is from the cooking-down of the cartilage.) Because the package I found was so big, there was about 1.25 pounds of meat + gelatin.

So, there was my oxtail meat. I used about a third of it in the frozen pasta concoction. The rest went into a pan of cabbage, sauteed in a tablespoon of bacon fat with red onion.

One whole green cabbage, one whole onion, chopped into forkable bits and cooked (covered) on medium heat for about 25 minutes, stirring occasionally. Added the oxtail to heat completely, and then mixed in the crumbled gorgonzola* right before serving.

Nutritious, starch-free, packed with protein and fiber. And really tasty. Served two, twice - so it would serve four easily.

 

*could be swiss or parmesan or just about any cheese you like, or leave it out entirely if you don't like cheese. weirdo.

getting better at this

Dealing with Stuff has been a long, strange trip.

As an acquisitive materialistic person, I have long had a tendency to collect things. But a few years ago I started feeling oppressed by Stuff and began a conscious process of divesting. Some areas have never been a real challenge - like clothes; others have been a major challenge - particularly books.

But something really interesting has happened in my brain over the past year. Along with the very rapid evolution of reading from something one does only on paper to something one can do in several ways (and with the non-paper ways very rapidly growing to include "cloud" storage and instant wireless access to material) my need to have physical books has been waning.

Early this year I divested an entire collection of entertaining mystery novels by an author I respect. I did feel a slight pang when dropping these off at the library's donation bin. But almost immediately I started scanning my shelves for another group I could divest.

I have chosen a large collection which I expect to re-read, and then donate, in May/June; and a smaller one that will probably go later in the summer. I am even planning to give away my "reading copies" of a couple of Dick Francis novels (though still strongly attached to my finer copies).

As I do this it opens up shelf space in the bedroom bookcases, and I transfer books from the living room. I am down to one "open" bookcase now; all my others are closed cabinets, mostly with glass fronts, which allow me to enjoy my collections (non-book items as well) without the constant fight against DUST. My goal is to empty that open bookcase by the end of this year.

My Kindle has, of course, made this all much less painful - since most of the material I have divested I can now read again electronically if I should ever feel the need. It's also given me the freedom to buy things that I probably wouldn't have before, like the collection of Tarzan novels or the set of classic detective fiction. I mean really - those two items would have meant well over 120 physical books to accommodate before. Now they await my pleasure as pristine bits of electronic data.

And our home is gradually becoming ever less cluttered. Even though we have not really reduced the total number of pieces of furniture, for example, we are replacing large open pieces with smaller closed pieces. The result is more visually tidy and harmonious (quite apart from being easier to keep clean).

The less stuff we have, overall, the less space we will "need" to live in. Right now that's not a huge consideration because we really don't want to move out of our big old expensive apartment. But in ten years or so we will be ready to move. Not just out of this apartment, but out of this city. And we won't be moving someplace bigger unless the best piece of property we can find comes with a large house.

I'm hoping to have at least as much empty space in our future home as we have now - preferably more. So I'm glad to be working through this process of detachment well in advance. It's a good skill to have.