(Diamond is also not that smart. She doesn’t like to be around the other cats, but she doesn’t know they are right behind her so she’s fine.)

 

Here’s the house from the front. You can see the tiny driveway with our Toyota in it, and the tiny garage. The new garage/addition will be about four feet wider than the existing structure. As you can see, grading and retaining walls are going to be a big part of the project, and a big expense. There are also some trees – overgrown shrubberies actually – that will have to go. I’ll be a little sad about that since we enjoy the privacy, shade, and visiting birds. But c’est la vie. We really should be discouraging birds from visiting our place, anyway.

We also need to replace the old roof, and the addition will continue the existing roofline, so we will need a full tear-off of the old roof, and original cedar shakes underneath, and then a new roof all the way across. I don’t know yet if we’ll go with another Sheriff Goslin or something else. A metal roof mimicking the original cedar shake would be sweet, but is probably not in the budget. (Actual cedar shake can be had, but is hideously flammable and therefore not really a good idea.)

By the way, you can see one of our major frustrations with the arrangement. With a car in the driveway, we can’t wheel our bins to the street. Garbage day at our house always involves auto-musical chairs at 7 AM.

Here’s the inside of the enclosed porch, progressing towards emptiness. The window you can see is the front window. There’s a lot of pristine original redwood siding inside that has never been touched by weather that we’ll be salvaging for the new exterior. Our options for matching siding to the existing exterior siding are limited. We’ll probably have no choice but to pay the high price of new cedar siding, since there doesn’t seem to be a non-wood product that matches what we already have.

Here’s the porch from the back. The addition will extend about six feet further back, and will wrap around somewhat to the left to accommodate a new bathroom. Since the new ridgeline will be continuous to the old one, the extension in back will have its own little dormer at the second story level. There will be a double sliding door on the ground level, where the large window is currently. We’re also hoping to be able to splurge on some floor-to-ceiling glass windows on the second floor in back for plants and a little bit of solar gain in the summer.

This just shows how crowded our existing master bedroom is, particularly with the huge dog crate. The window thing behind the dog crate is actually a door leading to the balcony. We’ll be blocking off that door, and putting a new interior door in the adjoining guest bedroom/office. That room will be an annex off the master bedroom that I’ll be using as an office, but could also be a cute nursery or sitting room.

The old master bedroom will either be a guest room or new teen cave, depending on the preferences of the teen.

And here is a random photo op of the treehouse with Chewie in it. Due to budget restrictions, we won’t be able to add the jacuzzi tub, motorcycle lift, and electric water canons to it this year.

I felt like I barely survived the ride, but the captains said we did well. Our family was the only group that joined the ride, probably because it was raining slightly, but they said because it is an entry-level ride, many people are starting from absolute zero and have more trouble with it than we did.

In addition, I’ve kept up with twice weekly bikram yoga, and we finally massaged the schedule in such a way that we can walk the dogs every day. On non-yoga days, they get a very long walk, nearly two miles. This causes them to keel over and sleep the whole rest of the day. It’s awesome, and it’s a non-trivial workout for me, too. Also makes for good conversation with the spouse.

In summary, I have endorphin poisoning and am probably insufferable and unfit for the company of normal writers with all of my cheerfulness.

I’m still on my diet/exercise plan, and have been on a plateau for about six weeks, now. You can’t believe this phenomenon until you’ve lived it. It defies the laws of physics. When I added the extra exercise in, I actually gained two pounds and then re-plateau’d at that level.

Yes, I know “muscle weighs more than fat” and blah blah blah. I have indeed lost some inches. But at some point in the slimming down process, the scale really *must” register a lower weight. The weight I am at now would be too high even for a very muscular man of my same height. There is no scenario where I can get back into a size 6 without losing some actual mass. Hence my confusion and impatience and daily yelling at my Tanita, “Oh come on!”

(This is not a request for diet advice. There are 5407 weight reducing diets out there, and everyone has a favorite. My switching to your favorite will not solve this problem. Time and patience will solve it.)

So, a big thing is happening at our house. I’ve been meaning to take some photos and do a big introduction post, but it’s not happening, so I’ll include the short version for now and hopefully the photos will come.

We are doing a major home renovation. Yaaaaaay! *Kermit flail*

This thing has been in the works for over a year. In fact, for record keeping purposes, I looked back at the first payment we made to the designer/builder, and it was over a year ago.

Our home is a 3 br/1 bath colonial built in 1924. It’s a wonderful house, with all of the charm you would expect of a house of that vintage. It’s built into the side of a steep hill, so it has a subterranean garage on one side, and a porch that’s been converted to a three-season-room above the garage.

We’ve found the house awkward to live in because of the driveway/garage/porch situation. The driveway is a narrow chute with rock retaining walls on both sides, probably built with a Model A in mind, and the garage is also very narrow. We were able to park our minivan in it at one point, but you can barely open the doors. All of our cars have scratches and chips in the paint from the rock retaining walls.

It goes without saying that the tiny garage does not have any space for storage, power tools, bikes, etc.

The porch is a nice idea. French doors lead from the living room to the porch. However, the flat roof leaks, in spite of the fact that we’ve repaired it once already, and it’s drafty as hell. When we moved in, there was in fact no actual lock preventing someone from walking into the house through the porch. I’m not kidding! We moved into the house in 2001. The porch had a flimsy storm door only, and the french doors leading into the living room were theoretically lockable with skeleton keys. You know, the universal kind you can buy in any antique store? One of the first things we did was install a proper exterior door on the porch so that we could lock it.

However, the whole porch thing has driven me crazy ever since. It’s a tantalizing space that seems like it could be wonderful living/storage space. In reality, it’s a junk magnet that is unpleasantly drafty in the cold season, and overly hot in the summer season. I could go on and on about the porch.

So, in our remodel, we are tearing out the garage and porch completely. (Aiyee!) We will be putting in a new, wider driveway, and a larger garage. On the main floor of the house, where the old porch was, we’ll have a family room that matches the garage footprint, with (oh god yes) a MAIN FLOOR BATHROOM. *more Kermit flailing*

I’m really excited about that bathroom. As our son just turned into a teenager, with all of the increased grooming that implies, Brent and I are slowly losing access to the house’s single bathroom. Many peepee dances ensue The first floor bathroom will have a large shower stall instead of a tub. This will give us a way to wash dogs without dragging them upstairs. It will also be handicapper accessable, so the whole area can be turned into a convalescent suite if one of us should become bedridden or if we need to provide care for an older family member. We’ve been through elder care already, with the world’s least accessible house, so we’re very conscious of how difficult that can be. (My mother fell down our stairs not once but twice when she was living with us. I have huge regrets over not choosing a ranch-style house back in 2001. So many problems we had in her care would have been solved by living in a one story home.)

On the second floor of the house, above the family room, we’re putting in a master suite. There will be yet another bathroom. (Three bathrooms, OMG!) The room will also be big enough for a queen-sized bed AND reasonable furniture and closet space for storing clothes. (I don’t know where these 1924 people put their dresser and chest of drawers. Half of my clothes live in the guest bedroom/office.)

So, that’s how our summer is shaping up. The past couple of months have involved many design meetings with the builder (in process), figuring out financing (done), applying for permits (done), cleaning out the garage and porch (in process), storing or divesting excess items (in process), and pre-shopping for materials and finishes (a never ending task). Brent is only working part time, and he will be GC on the project, and will be working as part of the crew for the demolition and framing.

We already have major challenges in the initial phase with our hilltop site–where to put the dumpster? How to get materials in and out? The sequence of tasks needs to be carefully planned because of access limitations. Brent and the builder are working on those problems together. We also have some potential surprises waiting for us when we get stuff torn up and dug out. We don’t actually know where some of the utilities come in and connect to the house, because the city’s records for 1924 are sketchy. Apparently, it’s also not clear at this point how the plumbing for the new house will connect to the old house. The plumber will have to figure it out later, when things have been exposed and the framing is in.

However, the plans are approved, and we are braced for “known unknowns” and budget overruns, so we are going to cross our fingers and take the plunge. We’ll probably be breaking ground in about two weeks.

It’s very exciting, but will probably also keep us busy and stressed for the whole summer. That’s where endorphin poisoning can be very helpful. Yay, endorphin poisoning! Pass the checkbook. Whee!

A whole lot of action thriller and SFnal conspiracy packed surprisingly into a short piece. Nicely sketched characterization, with a slyly humorous tone.

 

It’s a double issue and I share the TOC with pal and fellow MAFIA member Rick Lovett.

[MAFIA = "making appearances frequently in Analog"]

I still don’t think any of the scientific studies that I’ve seen, including the survey of the ethnic distribution of cilantro-hating or the twin study, provide a shred of proof that it’s genetic. In addition, although I do hear people who are saying that their loathing of cilantro is something other and different from loathing of an ordinary food, I remain unconvinced that the strength of food loathing is evidence that anything other than food loathing is going on. The reason for that is that human beings eat some pretty strongly flavored stuff the world over, and there are many foods I could think of that would inspire a strong response of revulsion, either by their flavor alone, or by the idea of them. I still remember my first taste of lemon grass. I was in college, and I felt like I’d been served a soup of furniture polish. It tasted like chemicals to me, not food, and I couldn’t imagine how anyone could eat it. My husband was with me at the time, and he also had not had lemon grass before, but he enjoyed the soup.

However, I have had a couple of folks send me a link to an anecdote that is kind of convincing.

For background, in email, I wrote:

It would be very easy to prove this scientifically. All you would have to do is isolate and characterize all of the flavor compounds in the cilantro (there’s a good chance it’s been done and is in the literature already), and then feed it to haters and non-haters to see if there’s something the haters can taste that the non-haters can’t taste. I could do this experiment in my basement if I had a basic organic chemistry lab and a gas chromatograph.

 

The thing about all of this is that I couldn’t understand why someone hadn’t already done the obvious gas chromatograph thing. There’s one in every organic chem/biochem laboratory, and plenty of curious/drunk/bored/argumentative scientists out there who would have the same debates going about cilantro, so why not get some real answers, rather than going around asking twins if they like cilantro, which gives you pretty much nothing.

Well, it turns out someone has tried this. Reporter Josh Kurz wanted to learn more about why the herb was so offensive to him, he ended up doing a “supersmeller” test with a gas chromatograph. Since the flavor that bothered him so much in cilantro was something he could also smell, he theorized that there was an aroma that he was picking up that cilantro-lovers were not.

I put my supersmelling nose to the test and at 20 minutes, I identify the evil smell.

“They’re all unsaturated aldahydes,” Dr. George Preti explains. There we have it, the compound that ruins every dish and makes me think of soap.

Ten minutes later, Wysocki and Preti identify the unmistakable smell of cilantro that they love. I, however, smell nothing.

This, it turns out, is the real problem. My whole life I’ve been unable to pick up on the scent that is so overwhelmingly good for cilantro lovers that it trumps any possible bad. I come to a disappointing realization: I am not an X-Man with superkeen sensory abilities. I am a sensory dud who’s missing the true nature of cilantro.

 

I’m not sure if this new theory is sufficient to quell the cilantro wars, or only to heat them up further. Earlier in the article, Kurz cops to the attitude that bugs me so much about internet cilantro warriors:

My quest for answers began with the Internet. It was there that I learned (from questionable sources) that our hatred arises from the fact that we are supertasters. Gifted (or burdened) with a “supersensitive palate,” we are some of the rare beings who are tuned into the true nature of this nasty green beast.

 

It’s the idea that people who hate cilantro have some kind of genetic gift that gives them insight into a food while the rest of us mindless sheep happily chow it down that grates on my nerves. When Kurz learns he is not a supertaster, by sampling a strip of paper soaked with propylthiouracil, he posits that perhaps he is a supersmeller, and finally learns the disappointing truth that he may in fact have a cilantro-related disability.

I have to give him props for his humorous treatment of this bizarrely inflammatory subject.

By the way, I’ve been pretty confused by the supertaster concept. At one point, I tried to determine if I was a supertaster by counting the fungiform papillae on my tongue. Maybe I’m specially challenged, but I’m not sure counting one’s own fungiform papillae is a doable activity for most people. However, if it is defined as people who strongly sense the taste of PTU, I am so there. I’m like an ultrasupertaster. We did that experiment in high school, and, yep, it’s nasty.

Let me tell you, being a supertaster is a really disappointing superpower to have. How often in a fight with a supervillain do you think he gets close enough to let you taste him? I’d trade it any day for flying or invisibility.

The study authors called cilantro “the most polarizing” food. I disagree that it’s polarizing. Actually, I think online cilantro-haters are a bunch of whiny assholes. Lots of people have foods they hate, and they can and do hate them passionately. Some people can’t bear the taste of onion. Some people hate the flavor of all vegetables. Some people hate coffee. Etc. Etc.

People who hate cilantro, however, are the only group that seems to think it is somehow special.

Now, it is remotely possible that there’s some chemical in cilantro that can be perceived by some people and not others, but I doubt it’s the case. People who hate cilantro say it tastes like soap or dirt, and I agree. Cilantro does taste like soap – enchantingly delicious soap. There’s is also an earthy, “dirty” taste to it. I like that, as well.

Nothing in the strength of people’s dislike for cilantro, or in the nature of their descriptions, suggests this is any different from not liking onions or garlic or coffee. Different strokes for different folks.

When we are babies, we come programmed for one basic taste: mother’s milk. As our parents introduce new foods to us, we mostly don’t like them at first. Check out a baby trying a new food for the first time. It invariably comes right back out with a highly amusing “ick” face. (Yes, I know that some babies like trying new foods.) Over time, as we’re exposed to foods again and again, the taste is gradually less off-putting until our brains finally figure out it is food and has nutrition in it. Then it crosses over from being something yucky to something delicious.

A lot of people don’t understand the process of developing a taste for a new food, and think if they hate it the first time they try it, they will always hate it. It’s just not true. This is why it’s best not to push vegetables onto little kids. It truly will make them gag and throw up if they go from zero to broccoli in one meal. But if they see it, see their parents eating it, and try it a time or two or fifteen, their brain will eventually stop objecting to the flavor.

I think most of this cilantro hate is just unfamiliarity. I can’t comment on the twin study, but I will note that separating identical twins in adoption went out of style in the 1950′s, so it’s unlikely that the twins in the study grew up in different homes, unless they are about 70. Twins probably tend to share preferences about cilantro, because, duh, same house same family.

None of this is to say that cilantro-haters, or haters of any other particular food, need to get over it. Far from it. We all have a right to our preferences. I don’t like capers! I never understood why those icky little sour things so frequently show up to spoil a perfectly nice sauce or whatever.

I just think people need to get over thinking they’re special if they don’t like cilantro. In fact, since cilantro comes from cuisines of Latin America, the Middle East, and Asia, and is gaining popularity rapidly in the U.S., the exceedingly vocal resistance to it strikes me as a little bit racist.

One thing we used to do a lot of, back in the 80′s, was writing in regular paper journals. Not blogs. Just paper. Private, handwritten journals are great for all of the things that blogs are not great at. You can write about your actual problems, you can keep your to-do lists, you can dabble in poetry, you can doodle. There are many things worth writing about that could not and should not be shared on the internet. I also find that writing by hand feels like a different activity, and activates a different part of my writing brain.

Lately, I’ve been keeping two journals. In one, at the end of the day, I write down what I’ve done. I started doing this because I was having a lot of days that seemed to get sucked into a vortex, and I would wonder where the time went and feel bad that I had not gotten more done. So now, when I get things done, I celebrate by noting it in my journal. If I cleaned the bathroom, I take credit for it. If I scoop the litterboxes, score! It just makes me feel better. I also try to note something about the day, particularly positive things. It’s just nice. I also write down all of those really cool story ideas that come to me when Writer Brain gets stuck on the novel and doesn’t want to do it anymore. Putting them some place I can find them again is a good compromise with the Writer Brain. I don’t journal in it every single day. I seem to go in spates.

My other journal is a moleskine where I keep writing related notes and doodles. Since reading Steal Like an Artist, I’ve been stealing a little something every day. Every day has something I can save and use later. One day, I wrote out the lyrics to a pop song. Another day, I copied out a descriptive scene from a book I was reading that worked well for me, and wrote some notes on why I liked it. Yet another day, I took plot notes from a book I was reading that I thought I could adapt for a different project, later. I expect I will also find opportunities to steal from life. People-watching at a cafe could give me some good character sketches (particularly in Ann Arbor!). I sometimes overhear conversations that are funny or suprising. Memories, too, can be “stolen” for use in stories. In short, there’s really no excuse not to engage in some kind of creative larceny each and every day in order to build up a dragon’s hoard of material for possible later use.

At the top of each page, I write in large capital letters what it is I’m stealing. DESCRIPTION. CHARACTER. FIGHT SCENE. And so forth. That will help me find my stolen treasure later when I might need it. Obviously, I don’t intend to copy the stolen property directly. But it’s very helpful to have something similar to look at when you’re writing a challenging bit of story. If I can flip through my notebook and review a couple of fight scenes, I can use them to decide how to block out my own fight scene, and remember what works for me and what doesn’t.

I think a lot of writers do this consciously or unconsciously with their memory. My memory doesn’t work that way. I’ve never known if it’s a bug or a feature, but when I read a book or watch a movie, the details go away as soon as it’s over. Very often, upon rewatch, I can’t remember how the story ends. On the one hand, it lets me enjoy my favorites over and over again. On the other hand, I am at a handicap compared to other writers who have easily memorized the stories, scenes, and much of the dialogue from their favorite stuff, and when they write a fight scene, they can easily call up examples. I can’t do it. Instead, most of what I write is reinventing the wheel. No wonder I’m so slow.

This notebook feels like something I’ve been waiting for my whole life. I only wish I’d thought of it sooner.

Considering the fact that I ALSO blog, AND keep a record of all of my food and exercise in my cell phone, my life is extremely well documented. Future Historians, you’re welcome!

Here is the response I received on May 15:

From: richard
Subject: whites only?

Hi Catherine,

Sorry to see you go. I’ve marked your account for deletion and an admin will take care of it ASAP.

Best,
Dick

I sent the following reply immediately:

What about the Whites Only group? I’ve blogged about this with some screen caps of the offending material, and my readers are curious what Fitocracy’s response will be? Will you allow Fitocracy to be a gathering place for white supremicists?

 

Catherine Shaffer

As of today, I’ve received no reply to that second query from Fitocracy. They deleted my account quite swiftly and are done with me, and apparently have no intention of addressing this concern. It’s disappointing because, as a number of people have pointed out, Fitocracy is a place where you can track workouts socially without becoming drawn into a weight loss program, and for some people it’s been a really great tool. It’s really too bad that they’ve decided not to make the minimal required effort to remove egregiously offensive material from their servers.

Craft first: I read Steal Like an Artist, by Austin Kleon, and felt very enlightened and inspired. It’s a quick read, only about 45 pages, and I thought it was well worth the $9.99 download to my ereader. I will probably read it again from time to time in the future when I’m getting discouraged.

Steal Like an Artist brings together a set of ideas that I’ve been working on for a while, but had not expressed coherently before, not even to myself. Kleon’s basic message is to embrace your influences. That art is made by building on other art, and that your best work will be done by consciously copying other artists.

I’m not sure where or how it happens, but most of us who are destined for a career as writers have at one time or another internalized the idea that our work is worthless if it is even vaguely derivitive of another writer’s work, much less a conscious copy.

Ironically, it’s been in my nonfiction work that I’ve broken through that barrier. As a nonfiction writer, everything I do is heavily sourced and derivitive. It has to be. I can’t just come up with a bunch of facts and ideas and not say where they came from and how I got them. The entire value of a nonfiction piece is based on its sources and how skillfully they are knitted together by the writer.

And yet in fiction we somehow expect to come up with fully formed stories, even novels, that show no influence, no source.

With my last book, I decided that was bullshit, and I started consciously using ideas and techniques from other sources. I’ve kept track of those because they’re valuable to me, because I want to acknowledge them, and because I realize that no matter how slavishly I copy another writer’s work, I will inevitably come up with my own unique treatment.

I knew all of this, but before reading Steal Like An Artist, I would have been reluctant to admit all of it, because it still felt slightly sketchy. I’m pleased to have found something that both validates what I’m already doing, and is full of tips on how to do it better.

Moreover, I think it’s a very interesting alternate way of looking at the craft of writing. Just about every book on writing you can think of focuses on methods and ingredients–a sort of bottom-up approach that suggests that new works can be created using a generic recipe of plot, setting, structure, style, characterization, etc. Volumes have been written about what all of those actually are, and what the right and wrong way is to create them, but it’s a very bottom-up approach.

Stealing is top-down, and it’s not a way we often look at writing. In painting and sculpture, it is a centuries-old tradition to learn by copying the masters. I’m going to enjoy thinking about this more.

My second epiphany has to do with process and writing schedules. I’m at a point in revising my work in progress where there’s not a lot of momentum to carry me forward. I want to be done with it and start something shiny and new, and having to continue working on it is bumming me out.

Heretofore, my schedule has been to do fiction writing MWF mornings before 10 AM, when my dayjob starts. On TTh, I go to a morning yoga class. Then weekends are catch as catch can. It’s not bad, but I wasn’t satisfied with it. It’s much easier to stick to a schedule if you do the same thing every day. Switching out my morning routine every day was making every morning an act of willpower. I need to be on automatic.

So I started doing a new thing. My friend Jim Hines has definitively proved that you can write a lot of books within the confines of a regular work lunch hour. I’ve not used his schedule before for two reasons. One, I feel like morning is the ideal time for me to write. Two, in the past my freelance writing has made it tough to have a consistent lunch hour. What if I needed to interview someone and they were only available during the time I planned for lunch? Plus, for a long time I’ve also tried to fit some yoga/exercise in during lunch hour.

I finally decided to go full-on Jim Hines. Mornings will be for yoga and other exercise. And now that my work schedule is very consistent, it’s not that hard to carve out a regular lunch hour. It might only be 30 minutes some days, but that is plenty of time to get some fiction words written.

Today was my first day. I did the yoga at 8 AM. I worked from 10 to 12. At noon, I turned off my wifi and forced myself to work on the novel. I squelched approximately 97 impulses to surf the web or pursue other distractions. After about 20 minutes of fidgeting, I set to and got a good chunk of writing done.

When I turned my wifi back on, I had a new plan for the day. It didn’t discombobulate me nearly as much as it might have, because I already had my yoga and my daily fiction done. No need to rush and try to squeeze it in at the end of the day. I like it!

However, that’s not what I’m hear to complain about. Fitocracy has groups you can join, like Facebook. There are groups for different sports, for weight loss, for just about anything you could think of. Oh…like…maybe…WHITE SUPREMACY?

Yep, check out.

I guess this group somehow scrolled past my attention at the exact time I was looking at groups yesterday, or something, because apparently not very many people know about it. On first glance, I was a bit shocked. I clicked through and saw the picture of the egg whites, and thought, for a second, that perhaps it was a body-building diet group, dedicated to eating lots of high protein, low fat foods like egg whites, and that the title was just an unfortunate mistake.

That charitable impulse lasted about five seconds, because nothing that reads “whites only” is an unfortunate mistake. The subtitle for the group “we don’t take kindly to yolks around here,” is frankly chilling.

Here’s a picture of the group leader’s profile.

Why, yes, that is a cute little doggie, WEARING A WHITE SHEET. I’ll note the group leader is only 18, which explains why he seems to think he can fool us by pretending the group has something to do with eggs.

Seeing this group made me very angry, and put me off Fitocracy much more forcefully than my initial difficulties understanding and navigating the site. I filed a complaint immediately, using their help email, info@fitocracy.com. No response thus far, but it’s only been a day.

If you have thoughts to share with them about their hosting of white supremicist bullshit, feel free. I’m all for sharing thoughts. I would caution against joining for the purpose of engaging on this, because I haven’t figured out yet how to delete my profile, and I would hate to see Fitocracy’s user numbers increase because of this.

[Update: Fitocracy responded to my complaint by deleting my account, as requested, with no answer or comment on the Whites Only group. Here's a link to a full update.]