Caren Gussoff writer. geek. bon vivant. dot com

Granted, he was not responsible for being named Paul Atreides, but here are the top five reasons I have begun to suspect that OUR boy* CAT MAY BE A GEEK:

1. He always has crumbs of food on his chin.
2. He’s not always very conscientious about his hair or hygiene.
3. He enjoys playing games that involve lasers or chasing cursors on a screen.
4. He’s a little awkward in social situations.
5. He lives at home and has no job**.

A classy geek portrait:

*our girl cat, Molly Bloom, is a totally different story, for another time.

**OK, OK, a joke!

It’s not just because she is a close friend of mine. I swear. Lady is a whiz bang writer and editor, gonna be super famous vry soon, and a kind and thoughtful teacher.

She’s teaching a speculative fiction writing class at Field’s End, and if you’ve been dipping your toes into SFF–or are even wading waist deep–I can’t recommend you consider taking this course strongly enough.

Here’s the description:

“The field of speculative fiction allows writers to play with talking objects, spaceships, and transformations of the unlikely to the unlikelier. In this workshop, we’ll discuss the basics of story writing and how the considerations of speculative fiction do (and don’t) alter those basics. We’ll also discuss how to build convincing worlds and cultures. In-class writing exercises will focus on sparking creativity, establishing characters, and plotting. Light refreshments will be available during the half-hour lunch break, but a brown-bag lunch is suggested.

I was staring out the bus window this afternoon, staring harder than usual. I’d forgotten my earphones, so I was trying to drown out the cacophony of naked humanity—Seattle’s bus system can be, let’s politely say, gritty and colorful, especially on an unseasonably warm February Saturday. As I started, I counted the number of luxury condominium complexes that have sprung up in the past few years, noting how almost all of them—no, shit, all of them–were now advertising specials, leasing, rentals, specials, move in nao plz! banners and signs, and it was worrying me. Not because of the poor investment and development companies who, due to greed, stupidity, and plain old bad timing, decided to develop overpriced housing in a country about to belly flop into recession, but for what it portends for my city.

Then I realized. My city. I was worrying about the health and welfare of my city.

After I graduated high school, I started moving around. I lived in Vermont for a time, then Florida, then a stint in Colorado for my BA, Chicago for my masters, and 2 years in Portland, Oregon. I’ve been in Seattle now for 10 years—the longest tenure in one place in my adult life—long enough to see it change. Some good changes, some bad changes, some changes that to me herald hardships to come, but I’ve lived here long enough to see change. And long enough to give a shit about these changes.

I never really expected to have civic pride. And I feel a little like a sports fan, pledging my allegiance to a thing that will never care about me, yet depends on me for its success.
Seattle’s a weird city. People are friendly and intelligent, but a little cold and stand-offish. Passive aggressiveness is de rigueur. The weather temperate and either way wetter or far less wet than you expect. The politicians are especially idiotic. Traffic is abysmal. It’s not super-duper diverse. We don’t have a particularly hopping nightlife. There are tons of bookstores but the libraries are on reduced hours. The attitude is both sophisticated and provincial. There isn’t a shitload of violent crime, but we lost like 7 policemen inside 6 weeks to shootings.

Seattle’s given me a lot: my husband, some good friends. Access to a stubbornly thriving literary community, an appreciation for wool socks and wild blackberries. A wealth of treasures discovered in people’s garbage, really scenic vistas, a habit of thanking the bus driver as I disembark, Norwescon, really good Thai food on every corner, a wicked coffee habit. The ability to never, ever-ever-ever again have to wear pantyhose if I don’t feel like it. A weird peace when I realize this weird-ass city is my home.

My weird city.

I have has a few publications this year that are eligible for Nebula and Hugo nominations, if you were, you know, feeling the spirit.

Also, Brain Harvest is eligible to be nommed for a Hugo semiprozine, and Eden, Shane, and I are ripe for the editors short form category.

Just sayin’. You know. *kicks some gravel*

I need a Hindi or Urdu speaker. Do you know one?

Love,
Caren

“Simplicity is the most difficult thing to secure in this world; it is the last limit of experience and the last effort of genius.” –George Sand

Why can’t I learn this lesson once, instead of once a month?

What lessons do you learn over and over again?

Of all the states I have ever lived in, Washington may be the most kind-hearted—and the most misguided.
One of the first bills to hit the docket in the 2010 state’s legislature was a proposal by the honorable Democratic State Sen. Rosa Franklin of Tacoma to change the language the state uses when referring to at-risk youth…to “at hope” youth.
Seriously. Read about it here:
“Democratic State Sen. Rosa Franklin, South Tacoma, says negative labels are hurting kids’ chances for success and she’s not a bit concerned that people will be confused by her proposed rewrite of the 54 places in state law where words like “at risk” and “disadvantaged” are used.”
OK, fine. We play nice. We change the wording in 54 places throughout state documents to the tune of $3500.
$3500.
This made me rant and rave and scream for a bit. Then my palms started sweating. In my mind, this nice, kind-hearted lady wants, truly, to help these kids. I know that her intentions are kind. But in my mind, rather than waste legislature time (which costs money) and waste $3500 on changing wording in documents no one ever reads—take that 3500, purchase 10 rebuilt computers from rePC or another local reseller, and start up a computer program at a community center, teaching kids the computer skills they would need to go to college or become more competitive in the workplace. 10 rebuilt computers in a community center open for 4 hours after school 5 days a week could serve ~10 – 30 students per session, up to 150 students per week.
I dare someone to tell me that this would not do more for assisting at risk, disadvantaged youth more than talking about them in sweet innuendos.
Help people by HELPING people. Get the resources into the community, not the dusty documents that refer to the community—which will do nothing other that maybe earn this nice, kindly older lady another term representing Tacoma.
I was at risk, disadvantaged. I didn’t care what you called me, what the state called me. If I was even AWARE of what they called me, that is—which I pretty am well sure I had no clue. I cared what my mentors called me and I cared when my parents were involved and encouraging. I cared when someone took the time to help me build my skills and my self esteem. That’s what got me through high school, to college, then even into graduate school. Then, ultimately, into a life where this seems SO OBVIOUS.

Muchly for my own ref, but maybe you like to geek out about speculative numbers, too:

“How Many People Have Ever Lived on Earth?“

Now that the glow of the holidays is starting to blow away like so much marine fog, and the tins and tins of holiday cookies are making me fatter and malnourished, it’s time to start cooking again.

My last post on this topic urged y’all to learn to or start cooking yourself. But I realized that I’ve left out one of my most treasured and hard-won-through-mass-experimentation (trying to figure out what to cook for a vegan) cooking tip: how to use the cans of stuff I know you have in your pantry.

For some reason or another, just about everyone winds up with some combination of the following cans, stuck in the back of their kitchen cabinets: green beans, peas, beets, tomatoes, asparagus, beans (usually red kidney, although sometimes black), and pumpkin. I bet you do too. Right? The stuff no one eats because it’s all mushy, bland, or leftover from more exciting things (like pie).

So, here’s what you do. Make soup. Get down your trusty blender and whip some of these cans of stuff that no one eats but everyone has into a flavorful (and somewhat creamy feeling base) for soup.  It’s great for vegans who miss the thickness of a chowder, really good for “hiding” veggies for veggie-haters (whoever they are), and a really nice way to throw together a delicious, fresh soup on the fly for cheap (or free, really).

Trust me.

Take the can of peas, asparagus, and green beans, drain the liquid, dump them all into a blender and whip until you have a smooth, turtle green slop. Put in a pot; add onions, garlic, other veggies, salt, and pepper. Thin it down with broth, bouillon cubes, water, milk, or soy milk.

Take the canned pumpkin and whip it with some drained kidney or black beans and some canned tomatoes. Again, add onions, garlic, salt, and pepper, then thin down (tastes awe-some, even if you don’t love pumpkin. I have served this to many guests, with fresh veggies tossed in).

Beets + tomatoes. Peas + beans. Green beans + pumpkin. Asparagus all by itself. You’re really only limited by whatever you have gathering dust in your cabinets.

On a similar note, I use the same process with random cans of fruit (especially fruit cocktail). I blend the crap out of it, then use it instead of applesauce or pears in quick breads (I use the pear bread recipe from the Joy of Cooking). That makes a really nice, light fruity bread that’s kind of dreamy for breakfast.

Enjoy.