Caren Gussoff writer. geek. bon vivant. dot com

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.

“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?

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.

Happy holidays, everyone. I hope this day finds you surrounded by people you love with easily-cured heartburn caused by delicious food.

I didn’t do a holiday letter this year. I meant to. Consider this my holiday letter to all of you.

This year was a year filled with financial hardship and great kindnesses. I learned some good lessons about how to be an adult, how to ask for help, and how to accept help I’ve asked for. I’ve made some strangers into friends, and I hope they know how much I have begun to treasure them.

(I hope I taught some lessons too: how to endure, how to take risks, and how to start again, again. I’m pretty good at all that.)

There were also some triumphs—a few good publications, awards, and wins; the start of a new novel; the birth of Brain Harvest; Chris’ first school transcript showing all As.

I am often terrible at keeping in touch; even worse at regularly blogging interesting things. But I thank you for bearing with me and continuing to take this ride.

Here’s to 2010 kicking metric fucktons of ass.

Following up on my first set of personal tips and advice on saving money in a brutally dismal economy–which, for the artsy types that avoid 9-5, may last longer than the rest of y’all–is my spiel on saving money on food/grocery bills (which was the most requested topic via email). Remember, this is all from personal experience and some of this, I realize, may seem a bit extreme or–even, yes–wacko. YMMV.

• The very best tip I can give you is to learn to cook. Not only that, learn to like to cook.  But, if your repertoire pretty much involves toast and boiling water for pasta, start by learning to cook, at least. Take out some basic cookbooks from the library or keep an eye out for free cooking classes at local Whole Foods (and places like that). Experiment–but not too much at first. Wait until you’ve made a few dishes following recipes exactly, with success, and you understand the basic chemistry of how foods cook and what tastes good with what.
• Play the grocery game. I’ve never played the Grocery Game, but I do know quite a few people who have. This works well, from what I am told, if you have a family to shop for. Essentially, the GG, for a few bucks a week, consolidates every special, coupon, and rebate for products you buy at major chain grocery stores. I’ve heard of people who use the GG to wind up with a $200 cart of groceries for less than $20 out the door.
• Do what everyone else tell you: clip coupons, shop the perimeter of the store (avoiding frozen and packaged foods), plan meals in advance, don’t shop hungry, etc. You can find articles on this everywhere. It’s all usually good advice.
• Build up your basics pantry. Your basics pantry are the ingredients (aside from spices) you use often and can combine to make other things. In our house, our basics pantry includes eggs, flour, butter, milk, canned black beans, canned tomatoes, sugar, and unsweetened baking chocolate. If we have these ingredients, I can usually use them–along with whatever else we happen to have–to make some sort of meal. Your basics pantry will probably contain different things based on your taste. But once you’ve figured out what those are, always try and keep them on hand.
• The most extreme, but personally interesting  tip is to go freegatarian. That’s right. Freegatarian. Also known as freeganism, freegatarians try and, well, salvage all the good stuff that would be, otherwise, thrown away. Tons of food are simply tossed because they’ve passed their aesthetic prime–rather than because they’ve become inconsumable. Finding food that would otherwise go to waste is remarkably easy. Sometimes you can ask the folks that work at restaurants and grocery stores, although that usually only flies at Trader Joes and organic markets (they are the most receptive). There’s also lots of info on the internet from other freegatarians who are very generous with sharing their intelligence about where to find things (including where and when to visit the alley behind Theo Chocolates or Top Pot Donuts, yum).  The most challenging and fun thing about freeganism is that you have to be open to happy surprises, coming home with 3 pounds of slightly bruised gala apples one day (pie!) or packages of just wilting fresh herbs the next (which can be air dried for later use*. If you have a good basics pantry, you can usually figure out something to make with your prize (Allrecipes.com has a lovely search feature where you can search by ingredient for recipe ideas).
• Get a garden or a P-Patch and grow your own food. Last summer was my first year doing this and I am so excited to do this again. I didn’t plant some things early enough and I lost all my pumpkins to blight, but we had fresh herbs, garlic, peppers and chard all summer (and well into fall). This next season, I’m going to add more tomatoes and do strawberries (which do well in the PNW summers). Getting started can take a small investment, but I used mostly found containers (lots of coffee cans) and have been keeping a compost bin (we go through coffee like madpeople and coffee grounds make for excellent compost), so my only expense will be some fresh soil and seeds–and really, if I had my crap together, I’d get in on all the seed swaps that happen both locally and on the internet to get a good seed store together for even less money.
• And finally, scavenge your neighborhood. You’d be shocked at the food that grows wild and local all over the place. Within one block in my neighborhood, there’s a field filled with dandelion greens and at least 3 lots where blackberries take over**. I keep my husband in blackberry pie all season that way, and nothing beats fresh berries that are twice the size of what you find at the market. Also, look for neighbors who have more bounty than they can handle (and ask before taking). Our neighbor has a fig tree that always bears more than she could ever hope to eat…so, voila. Fresh mission figs for us.

 
*For those of you in the back row freaking out about “dirty” food, freegatarians wash their finds. Wash them well–just like you should be doing even if you buy your food at Safeway. Think for a second how many people fondle each piece of produce in the grocery store before you get it home.
**Again, a good wash/rinse and they are just fine. Delicious.

All around me, the economy is showing. Friends and family are eating up their savings cushions. Writers and editors I know are in low level panic. Etc. Etc.

I was laid off from my last full time gig two months ago, but really, I haven’t worked a day job with any regularity since I went to Clarion West in summer 08. My husband, Chris, an artist, has recently returned to school to upgrade his day job skills. Having been raised poor myself, and living in a house of two relatively creative people, we’ve managed, thus far, to continue living.

I usually speak in broad strokes here in this blog, but I’m starting to feel obligated to try and share some of the tips and tricks we use here in the Gussoff-Sumption camp to stay afloat (and by afloat, I mean bobbing around the surface getting occasional gasps of air, not racing across in a honking and luxurious yacht. These are not get rich tips. These are staying fed and clothed tips with the electricity on).

Today, I’ll share three internet sites that have helped us get by. If these are interesting to you and seem helpful, let me know by commenting or by sending me an email. I’m happy to go on to cover keeping your fridge filled, scaring up health care, and so forth, if folks are interested.

–Go to the content mills, or “work for hire.” There’s always a lot of poorly paying gigs out there. Suck it up and take one. You won’t be writing art. So what? Use a pen name if it bothers you (I don’t, but really, do people care? Half the time my content mill articles don’t give bylines, and when they do, whatever). A place I have direct experience with is Demand Studios (who’ve gotten a lot of mixed press lately). The pay is relatively low, but the articles can be, well, interesting (I’ve written articles on making chicken manure tea, using Hoyer lifts, making plaid pants for punks, knitting hats, using Suboxone, getting diagnosed with psoriasis…) and once you get the hang of what they want, you can make 30 bucks an hour. They pay twice a week, they pay on time, and they will now be offering health insurance (!!!!!!!) for freelancers who average 30 articles/month for more than 3 consecutive months. The application process is straightforward. The work is steady. I’ve worked with them on and off for 2 years, and they’ve never screwed me. They’re honest about what they want, how they want it, and when they want it. Right now, they are my main source of income. If you’re a broke writer or editor, I can’t encourage you strongly enough to go apply already.

–Low paying content mill jobs require lots of internet searches. Get free stuff to treat yourself with while you have to search anyway. There are lots of “reward” sites out there (they seem to come and go), but the one I use right now is swagbucks (which has been around for awhile). I really don’t ever promote this kind of stuff, but swagbucks is easy and free.
You use their search engine (which uses Google, only with more sponsored links) and you earn “swagbucks” which you can then trade in for a variety of stuff–most notably and interestingly, Amazon gift cards. The prizes are real and actually show up, the site is legit, and they don’t spam you. The search results are pretty diluted, so reserve your serious searches for Google straight up. But for causal searching, you may as well get free stuff. In fact, I’m pretty close to getting a $50 Amazon gift card, which will be one of my husband’s holiday gifts. If you sign up, I’d appreciate you using my referral link, but you don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable.

–Join Freecycle. I’ve gotten great stuff from local folks who were trying to declutter, including the office chairs Chris and I are sitting on right now and a breadmaker that I use at least once a week. I’ve been able to give people stuff we didn’t need, including an extra toaster, a bathroom scale, and a gigantic sack of yarn scraps–all to folks that can use them. It’s awesome. Really. Not just because it kept the stuff out of landfills, but because, hey, you know, free stuff we/they needed. There’s a Freecycle group in just about every metropolitan area and most have email lists or newsletters that list stuff people are looking for or are giving away.

Last week was International Blog Against Racism Week, and there were lots of great posts going up all over.
I started writing this last week as part of the IBARW, but then my week got away from me—in some good and related ways, including attending the final party of the 2009 Clarion West season, where there was the ceremony officially “crowning” this year’s Octavia E. Butler scholar (as awarded by the Carl Brandon Society). The scholarship pays tuition for a selected writer of color to attend Clarion or Clarion West, and comes with a beautiful necklace that is cast from a molding Octavia herself commissioned. I was the recipient last year, so seeing the ceremony this year was really emotional. I got to fasten the necklace around this year’s winner–Rochita Loenen-Ruiz. Chita, as she was known to her class, is a talented Philippine writer from the Netherlands (and just a really, really nice woman).

Anyway, better late than never. Here’s what I started writing last week:
I have a vested interest, of course, in all the posts and discussions going up this week as part of IBARW, especially within my home genre, speculative fiction. I became a spec fic writer because, first and foremost, I’m a geek.
I’m many other things, of course, but most pertinent to this discussion here is that I’m half Kalderash Romani. A Gypsy.

I’ve read the experiences of other women of color—in and out of genre—particularly those women of African American, Asian, or native people background—who intelligently discuss the ABSENCE of like women in any media, as characters—and that when they are present, they often are shaped and pressed to fit  very specific , stereotyped—and secondary—roles.

Yup. I see it. Get it. And I feel it too.

IF there’s a Gypsy in anything, they’re the “gypsy”: happy wanderer, romantic adventurer wise fortuneteller, ragged thief—wrapped in scarves, dangling earrings, dancing around the local county renaissance faire—comic relief or scapegoat in high fantasy novels—the source of horror movie premises with  their curses and their direct access to the gates of hell—baby stealing, caravan trains of godless, pagan, primitive criminals.

*waves* Yo.

I’ll turn around slowly. No head scarf. No earrings. Your wallet is still in your pocket, just where you left it. I have no idea what will happen to you tomorrow—I can barely stay on top of my laundry. I’ve tried the “curse” thing, and never been able to get it to work (“How’s that curse I cursed you with, Curs-ty?” –The Simpsons: Treehouse of Horor XII).

All in all, I’m not only law-abiding; I’m pretty bleeding heart when it comes to common courtesy and helping out my fellow man.

My experiences have encompassed none of the stereotypes attributed to Romani.  Now, I’m willing to put forth that some of these stereotypes are our own fault—we’ve got a history of violence, racism, and oppression that encouraged the culturizaton of  secrecy and separation—often encouraging these stereotypes as a way to keep  safe distance. This “safe distance” is a formal thing for many Romani, supported by a seemingly (to outsiders) complicated set of conventions that govern how to remain clean of outside influences while remaining clandestine in nature.  But even to those that follow tradition, the stereotypes are a source of pain.

So, who can speak for the Gypsies? Me? Not exactly. There are lots of us (in fact, we’re predicted to become the largest ethnic minority group in Europe) Romani, but what Romani means is different to everyone I’ve ever met or read about. The Romani encompass a very heterogeneous culture of folks who’ve grown up in different ways. The Romani people vary in language, religion, and values. Many have, like mine, married out, settled down, acculturated, and raised/are raising generations outside the Romani cultural “gates,” inside Western culture—and these folks are now taking visible roles in their communities.  This is another source of pain—there’s a pretty good-sized schism within the culture about whether acculturated, outspoken folks like me are a good thing or not (and in the view of many, Romani blood or no, I’m gadje, not Romany, because I’m of mixed blood—a didkai—and should even speak for any Romani at all).

It’s taken me a long time to understand that I don’t need anyone’s permission to exist, inside or outside the culture. Regardless of how I’m perceived, it’s part of who I am, how I act in the world, and what I think about. It’s also taken me a long time to understand what my role in all this can be. I can’t be the Gypsy mouthpiece—I can be a mouthpiece who happens to be Romani, who tells Romani stories from her Romani point of view, who creates Romani characters as rich and full as possible. All I can do is write one voice and hope that my existence serves as an open invitation for others to join in.

I’ve had the same, basic conversation multiple times lately, all prompted by longing glances at friend’s and co-worker’s new iPhone.
Here’s an approximation of how they went:
“Are you going to get one?” they asked, looking up at me briefly, before hunching back over the glossy, sexy little thing and poking their fingers to launch some new app.
I decidedly shook my head no. “I’m waiting for a good competitor,” I said, politely.
They smiled at that. “You should get one.”
“Nah,” I replied.
“They’re so great,” they said.
This exchange went on in almost every instance until I would realize I had to reveal my dirty secret, else we’d be stuck in this loop forever. I never wanted to say this out loud, for lots of reasons–that it makes me an anomaly among my arty-minded pals and colleagues and that I can’t ever just leave it at the reveal, but am instead compelled to launch into a five minute rant that always leaves ‘em glassy-eyed.
“I don’t really like Macs,” I’d say. Then, like a car backing over a neighborhood puppy, I bowled over their look of shock, and started in.
It wasn’t usually this erudite or organized, but if it had been, this is how it would have sounded:

I don’t really like Macs. I do, however, love my Mac-using friends.
Airbooks are beautiful. I have a Shuffle my pop bought me as a gift. I drool over the iPhones. But I won’t buy one.
I won’t buy a Mac product again. I was suckered in early on by the first generation iPods, and that experience alone soured me entirely on the brand–and then all their subsequent advertising and marketing moments have done nothing but cement the fact that I don’t want one.

1. It’s a waste. IMHO, there is little-to-nothing green about creating hardware that relatively savvy consumers are trapped by. The best way to void your Mac warranty is to crack it open to change the battery, much less install new memory or increase its speed. Even a geek lite should be insulted.
2. Six months after you buy a Mac, your chances that your model is no longer being supported is at least 50%.
3. It’s often, at the point in which your Mac device starts acting wonky, cheaper for you to just buy a whole new device rather than repair or upgrade your current hardware, which is still wicked expensive. With non-Mac products, I could, hypothetically, upgrade my memory, processor, battery, and whatnot for peanuts.
4. You have to make a freaking appointment with a Mac “genius” at a local shop in order to get straight answers about a product, which usually include the words, “You could just buy the new generation of ___ Mac.” Thank you, genius.
5. Macs look nice. So? Two weeks of being lugged around in my bag, getting used, would make *any* pretty baby look rode hard and put away wet.
6. The marketing ploy that you only have two choices: a PC or a Mac, and PCs are for tight-assed corporate types, while Macs are for smart, cool, young, lefty, hipsters. I’m neither of those things, and don’t really care, anyway, what advertising tells me I should own based on my level of awesomeness. My favorite machine is a web book that runs Ubuntu Linux, Open Office, GIMPs, and all open source software.
7. Irritation over the myth that Macs are better for producing art/they have better graphics programs/etc. OK, maybe 15 years ago. But really now, all those programs have versions supported by most OS’s, including Linux (to which I am partial. In fact, there are plenty of really decent open source/shareware graphics programs out there these days)
8. Lord AT&T and his reign of terror over iPhoneland. Enough said.
9. Too bad, of all the apps iPhone users can download, they can’t get one that makes the phone part work correctly, well, or consistently.
10. iTunes. That horrible DRM-containing, proprietary file format the songs come in. The fact that you almost have to sacrifice your firstborn, even now, to transfer your library from one iPod to another.
11. Yeah, OK, PCs are vulnerable to viral attacks. Get antiviral software. There’s even good, freeware/shareware ones out there. Plus, it’s just overblown–I’ve used Windows based PCs at work, in huge corporate networks, for years, and I have not once had a virus attack. Then again, I don’t open questionable files, surf blindly, or click pop-ups.

So, there. I’m out now, publically. And until the day that a clone appears, suitably priced and with carrier choices, I will tap out my sad texts on my so 3 years ago Razr keypad, have to use an actual laser level to hang shelves, and jot down where we parked on my hand.
And, of course, look with longing at your iPhone.

Wow, the weekend’s over already.
I’ve mostly avoided the internet. Barely checked email, did not twitter (twat?), no Facebook.  I did almost no writing, either.
Instead, I celebrated Frank’s birthday, ate salted caramel ice cream, hung out with Jamie, watched movies, hung out with my husnamd, read, ate pizza, hung out with my dad, knitted, read, walked around, started a volunteer job with the Puget Sound Blood Bank, and did some vital and painful deep cleaning.
By upbringing, I’m a bargain shopper and a hoarder. By nature, I am a purger. This causes an interesting internal, semi-annual struggle.
I am very talented at shopping. It is something I am very, very, very good at.
But for a long time, I’ve dreamt a pretty simple dream: only own things I like, use, and that fit me.
I mean, I’m not an ascetic. I so want to own more than a sarong and a rice bowl.
It should be pretty simple, right? Don’t buy or accumulate anything that I don’t like, will use, or that doesn’t fit.
But, this is not how my life has worked at all.
I buy or accumulate things I am unsure of, think I might need, or for some mysterious reason, find too great a deal to walk away from. Then these things never get used, and twice a year, those same things get bagged, tagged, and sent back out into the world. It’s stupid and wasteful. It stresses me right the fuck out.
But I did a mini search and destroy in the bedroom and chest of drawers. So far, I’ve tossed out/placed into thrift store pile/recycled:
• a makeup bag full of makeup, some dating back to when I retired from burlesque dancing…in 2004. Ugh
• a lawn sized garbage bag full of stretched out/faded/worn through/incorrect size, shape, color clothing, beyond even being downgraded to pajama status
• a drawer full of expired medicine–an entire drawer. Seriously
• a stack of books I will never read again (I buy a lot of used books and take out from the library. My home bookshelves are really misleadingly empty. I try and only keep books I love, refer to, are signed, special to me, or know I will read again)
• 3 good sized trash cans of paper–drafts, junk mail, who knows
• and at least 2 candles made more of dust and cat hair than paraffin. I think they were candles. Maybe they were soap. Ick

Now, I also indulged in today’s thrift store 50% off madness, but I did only buy a few things I actually needed: jeans, a tee shirt, a pair of very sensible ballet flats, some books…except for a very strange, very heavy, 70s copper pendant that has a creepy mermaid on one side and a creepier Viking ship on the other. But it’s really small. I swear.

*sigh*

And here comes Tuesday.