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Better Living Through Chemistry
Sep. 11th, 2016 06:37 pmI've been back at work since last Tuesday. I'm doing a gradual return to work, which means three-day weeks for three weeks, then a four day week, then a five day week, and then back to my usual rotating shifts. Last week was four hours a day, this coming week will be six hours, then eight hours a day until I'm back on shift for my usual twelve hours.
For those of you who are confused, I normally work twelve-hour rotating shifts, on a schedule that repeats every four weeks. I've found a blank calendar template online, because sometimes seeing it on "paper" is more helpful. So when I start whining about my work schedule, this is what I'm talking about. Shifts start at 5:30 and finish at 5:30 regardless of whether it's a night shift or a day shift.
( Calendar behind the cut )
( Mental health stuff behind this cut )
I had a really full week, apart from work and the psychiatry appointment. It was my father's 75th birthday on Thursday, and we had two parties for him. The first was here at my house, where it was just me, him, and my mother. A low-key affair, where we went to see the exhibit of Elizabeth Louise Vigée-Lebrun, which was a really fascinating peek into the politics of the time, as told through portraits. The woman had an extraordinary talent, and because she was a favourite of Marie Antoinette, she was able, like no other woman of her time, to gain acceptance to the Académie Royale de peinture et sculpture. It's most notable because the Académie was both super stuffy and conservative, and being a woman made you automatically ineligible. Because patriarchy.
I made my parents dinner on my new-to-me barbecue, and I wowed them. It's sometimes really heartwarming to see how my parents think that every little thing I do is magic. I did, however, make a fan-fucking-tastic meal. I'm a novice barbecuer, so I was rather worried about how things would turn out, but everything cooked to perfection, including the t-bone steaks I had bought and very lightly seasoned for the occasion. I also grilled portobello mushrooms, which had been marinaded for a few minutes in garlic, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar (next time I am going to halve the amount of vinegar, because I felt it overwhelmed the delicate taste of the mushrooms), corn on the cob, green and yellow zucchini, and a variety of peppers. It was a feast, and we capped it off with a homemade chocolate cake.
The chocolate cake was a bit of an adventure. I am not a skilled baker, and I nearly broke one of the cake layers while cooling it, and the icing (which should be a simple process) had more drama than I would have liked. The first thing I did wrong was ignore my instincts, which told me to melt the chocolate in a double boiler, and tried to melt it in the microwave. BIG mistake. Chocoloate is super delicate, burns like a motherfucker, and smells terrible. So I started over with a double boiler, then dumped the ingredients into a bowl before realising that I was supposed to do them in a specific order. Oops. Not to worry, I thought, it's just buttercream icing, I'm sure it'll be fine if I blend it as is. I then tried to add 1 tsp of vanilla extract from my brand-new bottle. It had a convenient squeezy-top thing to allow me to carefully measure out the vanilla without spilling, which was a great idea—right up until the squeezy-top thing popped off and literally 3/4 of a cup of vanilla gushed into the bowl. I quickly donned my superhero cape and managed to drain most of the vanilla into the sink without sacrificing the other ingredients, and managed to salvage the whole mess, but let's just say that the icing tasted way more of vanilla than it did of chocolate.
Luckily the cake still turned out okay, if slightly lopsided, because I still don't know how to level or tort a cake.
When I'm done with my dog training course, I may sign up for a Wilton cake decorating class. It would be nice to know how to make a cake that doesn't look like it narrowly escaped a harrowing death. ;)
For posterity, here are a few other highlights of that evening's dinner:( Birthday photos! )
On Friday I drove to Montreal for the second party, which was a surprise party. My party was a decoy, so that my father wouldn't know there was a surprise party for him. He was, for the record, very surprised, and quite touched. All but one of his brothers and sisters were there (one sister lives in France and is having health issues), and we had a sumptuous dinner that my mother cooked (I went up early and helped her). I don't particularly like my father's family (they range from bigots to self-important blowhards to unpleasant cynics), but I can put a good game face on and so can they, and so we all made an effort and it went really well overall. My father is incredibly loyal to his family (and slightly blind to their faults), so he was incredibly moved that we'd all gone to such lengths for his birthday.
In short, a really busy, but good week.
Oh, and before I forget, today was also my first day of dog training classes. I was late because I misunderstood the time, but as it was the first course I didn't miss much. It was all introductions and whatnot. I'll have a better idea of things next week, I think.SaveSaveSaveSave
For those of you who are confused, I normally work twelve-hour rotating shifts, on a schedule that repeats every four weeks. I've found a blank calendar template online, because sometimes seeing it on "paper" is more helpful. So when I start whining about my work schedule, this is what I'm talking about. Shifts start at 5:30 and finish at 5:30 regardless of whether it's a night shift or a day shift.
( Calendar behind the cut )
( Mental health stuff behind this cut )
I had a really full week, apart from work and the psychiatry appointment. It was my father's 75th birthday on Thursday, and we had two parties for him. The first was here at my house, where it was just me, him, and my mother. A low-key affair, where we went to see the exhibit of Elizabeth Louise Vigée-Lebrun, which was a really fascinating peek into the politics of the time, as told through portraits. The woman had an extraordinary talent, and because she was a favourite of Marie Antoinette, she was able, like no other woman of her time, to gain acceptance to the Académie Royale de peinture et sculpture. It's most notable because the Académie was both super stuffy and conservative, and being a woman made you automatically ineligible. Because patriarchy.
I made my parents dinner on my new-to-me barbecue, and I wowed them. It's sometimes really heartwarming to see how my parents think that every little thing I do is magic. I did, however, make a fan-fucking-tastic meal. I'm a novice barbecuer, so I was rather worried about how things would turn out, but everything cooked to perfection, including the t-bone steaks I had bought and very lightly seasoned for the occasion. I also grilled portobello mushrooms, which had been marinaded for a few minutes in garlic, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar (next time I am going to halve the amount of vinegar, because I felt it overwhelmed the delicate taste of the mushrooms), corn on the cob, green and yellow zucchini, and a variety of peppers. It was a feast, and we capped it off with a homemade chocolate cake.
The chocolate cake was a bit of an adventure. I am not a skilled baker, and I nearly broke one of the cake layers while cooling it, and the icing (which should be a simple process) had more drama than I would have liked. The first thing I did wrong was ignore my instincts, which told me to melt the chocolate in a double boiler, and tried to melt it in the microwave. BIG mistake. Chocoloate is super delicate, burns like a motherfucker, and smells terrible. So I started over with a double boiler, then dumped the ingredients into a bowl before realising that I was supposed to do them in a specific order. Oops. Not to worry, I thought, it's just buttercream icing, I'm sure it'll be fine if I blend it as is. I then tried to add 1 tsp of vanilla extract from my brand-new bottle. It had a convenient squeezy-top thing to allow me to carefully measure out the vanilla without spilling, which was a great idea—right up until the squeezy-top thing popped off and literally 3/4 of a cup of vanilla gushed into the bowl. I quickly donned my superhero cape and managed to drain most of the vanilla into the sink without sacrificing the other ingredients, and managed to salvage the whole mess, but let's just say that the icing tasted way more of vanilla than it did of chocolate.
Luckily the cake still turned out okay, if slightly lopsided, because I still don't know how to level or tort a cake.
When I'm done with my dog training course, I may sign up for a Wilton cake decorating class. It would be nice to know how to make a cake that doesn't look like it narrowly escaped a harrowing death. ;)
For posterity, here are a few other highlights of that evening's dinner:
On Friday I drove to Montreal for the second party, which was a surprise party. My party was a decoy, so that my father wouldn't know there was a surprise party for him. He was, for the record, very surprised, and quite touched. All but one of his brothers and sisters were there (one sister lives in France and is having health issues), and we had a sumptuous dinner that my mother cooked (I went up early and helped her). I don't particularly like my father's family (they range from bigots to self-important blowhards to unpleasant cynics), but I can put a good game face on and so can they, and so we all made an effort and it went really well overall. My father is incredibly loyal to his family (and slightly blind to their faults), so he was incredibly moved that we'd all gone to such lengths for his birthday.
In short, a really busy, but good week.
Oh, and before I forget, today was also my first day of dog training classes. I was late because I misunderstood the time, but as it was the first course I didn't miss much. It was all introductions and whatnot. I'll have a better idea of things next week, I think.
