I’ve started to read comic books. Ahem. Graphic novels. A friend of mine, Lord English from the Stately English Manor, got me into it. I read an interview with Alan Moore on Salon, and enjoyed his V for Vendetta comic book from the 80s. I just finished the first Swamp Thing book by Alan Moore and really loved it. I was never into comic books as a kid, mostly because it was too overwhelming a genre. Where to start? Well, Swamp Thing is a great place to start. Since I’m a comics newbie, I didn’t realize there’s a whole onomatopoeia lexicon for comics. You don’t just say “Ow!” when you’re hurt, you say “Unngrappp…shleeeef..puh” I suppose all the flesh-ripping and offal-squirting noises make sense, but I spend time mouthing out the sounds and thinking, “What does a femur sound like when it’s ripped from the leg like an oven-roasted drumstick?”
The past few days has been a floury flurry (take THAT, line editor!) of bread-making. There was heavenly sandwich bread for Po, another batch of Irish soda bread for a party at the Stately English Manor, and some naan made on impulse late Thursday night. What I’ve learned from naan:
- Oven. HOTTER. I want to see heat shimmering off the oven door and the tiles behind the stove melting to molten ceramic. Then make it hotter.
- Thinner. My naan came out okay, but didn’t have that thin, tear-apart browned goodness of real tandoori-baked naan.
- More side-to-side head wagging.
This weekend I also moved a washer and dryer with the help of Lord English. We finally calculated, after several hernia-potential squat thrusts, that the washer is easily double the weight of the dryer. What the h#ll? Is this thing full of wet clothes? I managed to get our old appliances out to the garage and the new ones in place and hooked up on Saturday night while Po was out at a party. She: noshing on cheese and crackers. Me: grunting (shhhrunk! Splat!) while I muscle a forty-ton washer up five patio stairs using only a dolly, a plastic washbasin, and 180 pounds of pure Soutowood beefcake. Oh, and I ended up with some odd red marks on my shoulder, a few burst blood vessels, and a mild stabbing pain in my lung when I breathe deeply. But we have clean dry clothes!
Since the dryer doesn’t work, it will be posted on Craig’s List and picked up by one of the people that trawls the list for free appliances. We will reserve the top-load washer as a low-budget teacup ride for Baby Harbat. Sorry, gotta go, Child Protective Services is on the phone. Wonder what they’re calling about?
Writer, architect, father, husband.