Monday, May 5, 2008
Beating a...
I'm going to keep harping on this one. It's been a touchy issue for me for some time. I like horses. Horseracing can be a beautiful sport. It can also be an incredibly cruel sport, and is definitely in need of a major overhaul. Here's another article on the death of Derby filly Eight Belles. http://msn.foxsports.com/horseracing/story/8105724?MSNHPHCP>1=39002
Baking Tips
I stumbled on this one by accident when I wanted to bake cookies and realized that I had no baking soda in the house. If you like soft, chewy cookies, substitute cornstarch and baking powder for the baking soda in the recipe. Replace up to 1/4 cup of the flour with cornstarch, and instead of 1tsp baking soda, use 1/2 tsp baking powder in conjunction with the cornstarch. For cookies that are soft through, replace up to half the butter with crisco. For cookies with soft middles and crispy edges use all unsalted butter. Margerine just won't cut it.
When making pie crust, put the butter in the freezer for a few hours before using so it gets really hard. Then grate it into your flour with a cheese grater for guaranteed flaky goodness. What makes pie crust flaky is when particles of butter are coated with flour. During baking, the butter melts leaving butter-lined air pockets in the crust. Grating the butter in ensures a minimum of processing of the crust, making it easier to achieve these air pockets.
When making pie crust, put the butter in the freezer for a few hours before using so it gets really hard. Then grate it into your flour with a cheese grater for guaranteed flaky goodness. What makes pie crust flaky is when particles of butter are coated with flour. During baking, the butter melts leaving butter-lined air pockets in the crust. Grating the butter in ensures a minimum of processing of the crust, making it easier to achieve these air pockets.
PETA not so nuts
PETA, I feel, is often so extreme in its views as to cause backlash. This time, however, I agree with nearly all of their points. My comments are added in bold. Please link through to, and sign, the petition.
PETA demanding changes after Eight Belles' death
PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) has called for the suspension and investigation of Eight Belles jockey Gabriel Saez, and also has started an online petition to change the rules of thoroughbred racing.
Flatly ignoring PETA's suggestions could be risky for a sport where interest has steadily waned, and which is under siege after a succession of high-profile horses dying on the track.
PETA flexed considerable muscle in the sports world last year, raising the outrage about the Michael Vick dogfighting charges that sent the Atlanta Falcons quarterback to prison.
PETA's four demands are:
1) No racing or training for a thoroughbred until it turns 3 years old. The organization contends the animals' legs aren't fully developed until then. At least. I would say no training until three, no racing until four. Just as you wouldn't enter an eight year old child in the NYC marathon, baby horses shouldn't be running at the top of the game.
2) No more racing on dirt tracks. The group says the synthetic surfaces now used at Keeneland in Lexington, Ky., and at California tracks are far safer and result in fewer equine breakdowns and fatalities. Eh. Horses have been running on dirt and grass for eons. That said, it's worth looking into. Human athletes fare better on modern running surfaces, having run on dirt for ages, perhaps horses would too...
3) Cap the number of times a horse races each year. Indeed. In pursuit of the almighty dollar horses are run far more than they should be. True these are highly trained athletes, but even the best athletes need a rest. In the same vein, winning mares who have been retired from racing should also have a cap on the number of foals they are expected to produce in a 5-year period.
4) Ban whipping. PETA says that when jockeys flail horses with a riding crop the animals can be forced beyond their physical limits. I don't agree with this one. Riding crops are not designed to hurt the horses, more to make a popping noise to get their attention. That said, horses are smart. No amount of whipping is going to get a horse to do something he or she doesn't want to - I've seen horses reach around and bite their rider's leg rather than respond to unreasonable whipping. Perhaps there should be a ban on excessive whipping, but the occasional pop can be necessary to get a horse to focus. Eight Belles ran on her broken legs because running was in her blood. The only thing that might have stopped her is if the jockey felt she was off and forced her to pull up. And it's questionable if she would have let him do that. A horse who loves to run, or who is competitive will run herself into the ground of his or her own free will if he or she loves the sport and his rider doesn't know enough to pull him up. That said, Eight Belle's jockey should have felt she was off - if I could feel when my horse had so much as a pebble in her hoof, he should have felt her faltering when her legs broke.
The group also wants Eight Belles jockey Saez questioned.
"What we really want to know, did he feel anything along the way?" PETA spokeswoman Kathy Guillermo said. "If he didn't, then we can probably blame the fact that they're allowed to whip the horses mercilessly." If he didn't it's probably because he only rode Eight Belles when she was running. Her exercise rider is the one who spent the most time on her back, and is the one who would have been better attuned to nuances in her stride.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Ghost of Ruffian
Eight Belles could have - should have - had a long and brilliant career followed by several years of foaling out award-winning babies. Instead, she, like the filly Ruffian before her, lies dead on the infield after a beautiful, glorious, and ultimately tragic run for the roses. She is just the latest victim in a long line of great horses with lives and careers cut short by American racing standards. Remember Barbaro?
American races begin at two years old. This means that most American racehorses are under saddle and in training by the time they are 18 months. Horses are not fully matured until they reach 4,5 or even 6 years old. At 18 months they should be out to pasture just learning how to be a horse, perhaps being taught basic ground manners and farrier etiquette - not under saddle performing grueling workouts. The result of this schedule, as proved by Barbaro and Eight Belles, and Ruffian, are fragile growing legs shattering under incredible stress.
I had a pony once who had foundered before I got her. Foundering, or laminitis, is an inflammation of the connective tissue in the hoof. When a spell passes, some of that connective tissue dies, resulting in a tendency for the coffin bone - the central bone of the hoof - to rotate downward causing extreme pain and lameness. It also make the horse prone to repeated bouts of the disease, and consequently repeated damage. This rotation can be kept at bay with corrective shoeing and extreme hoof trimming, but often (as in the case of my pony and Barbaro) ultimately results in the horse being put down.
Because my pony was under near constant vet and farrier care trying to combat her laminitis, I got to learn quite a bit about the inner workings of horses' feet and legs. One farrier carried with him in his truck the coffin bone and lower leg bones of a racehorse put down at just four years old. The coffin bone was riddled with tiny holes, and the leg bones striated with stress marks. Compare this then, with the coffin bone and lower leg bones of a pony who died of old age at 32, hoof and leg bones still sturdy and smooth.
It is unfair and dangerous to both horse and rider to demand so much of what are ultimately, still babies. Horse racing is a grand sport - I don't object to racing per se. I object to horses being run to the ground before they have even had a chance to grow up. The average age of Olympic sport horses is 8-12; what makes racing stables believe that their colts and fillies are at the peak of their game when most of their energy should simply be put into growing up? I object to racing, because when they are started so young, so many fine horses wind up being auctioned off for meat before their eighth birthdays, when they should be just hitting the peak of their game. I object to racing for all the horses sold carelessly, lost easily in claiming stakes, and sent to questionable homes because they just aren't quite fast enough. So much in the industry is inhumane, in large part because it is just that -an industry - where chasing profit trumps the well-being of the lives in its care - both equine and human.
That said, I don't think racing should end, just be dramatically modified. In England, colts and fillies do not run until they are 4 or 5, giving them an extra year to grow and get strong. As a result, English tracks see far fewer injuries and deaths of horses and jockeys. Most racehorses have running in their blood. They run because it is what they must do. No great racehorse has ever been borne on speed alone. He or she must have the heart to charge forward into the scrum, to keep running when his heart is pounding and his nostrils flare with the effort. He must have the joy of speed, to love the feel of his hooves flying over the turf.
Eight Belles had that, and more. She stumbled in the first turn. It is believed that that was the moment her legs cracked. She went on to battle her way forward, only falling back after the last turn, and even then maintaining her second-place position behind one of the finest colts of her generation. This filly, a long shot both by virtue of both her sex and colour (the last filly to win was in 1988, and grey horses almost never win the Derby), ran the race of her life on two broken legs. She ran on heart alone. As soon as the race was finished she literally collapsed, unable even to stand. The equine ambulance was brought, but, perhaps with the memory of Barbaro's fight still fresh in their minds, the decision - and I believe the only humane decision - was made to put Eight Belles down. Thus the equine world lost what could and should have, been one of its shining lights, and the potential mother of a long line of winning babies.
Big Brown ran a great race. He deserves all the accolades coming to him, and I believe he can take the Triple crown. But this was Eight Belles' race. She proved some of what I love most about horses - their grace, their strength, and above all, their heart. I hope her death, following so closely on the heels of Barbaro's inspires necessary changes in the racing industry. I hope that Big Brown does not break down in what will certainly be a gruelling next few years. I hope that when the time comes, he is granted the years in green pastures and progeny that were denied his compatriot and so many other promising young horses. Above all I hope Eight Belles is remembered. She may not have won the Derby, but she proved, over and above any reason, her greatness.
American races begin at two years old. This means that most American racehorses are under saddle and in training by the time they are 18 months. Horses are not fully matured until they reach 4,5 or even 6 years old. At 18 months they should be out to pasture just learning how to be a horse, perhaps being taught basic ground manners and farrier etiquette - not under saddle performing grueling workouts. The result of this schedule, as proved by Barbaro and Eight Belles, and Ruffian, are fragile growing legs shattering under incredible stress.
I had a pony once who had foundered before I got her. Foundering, or laminitis, is an inflammation of the connective tissue in the hoof. When a spell passes, some of that connective tissue dies, resulting in a tendency for the coffin bone - the central bone of the hoof - to rotate downward causing extreme pain and lameness. It also make the horse prone to repeated bouts of the disease, and consequently repeated damage. This rotation can be kept at bay with corrective shoeing and extreme hoof trimming, but often (as in the case of my pony and Barbaro) ultimately results in the horse being put down.
Because my pony was under near constant vet and farrier care trying to combat her laminitis, I got to learn quite a bit about the inner workings of horses' feet and legs. One farrier carried with him in his truck the coffin bone and lower leg bones of a racehorse put down at just four years old. The coffin bone was riddled with tiny holes, and the leg bones striated with stress marks. Compare this then, with the coffin bone and lower leg bones of a pony who died of old age at 32, hoof and leg bones still sturdy and smooth.
It is unfair and dangerous to both horse and rider to demand so much of what are ultimately, still babies. Horse racing is a grand sport - I don't object to racing per se. I object to horses being run to the ground before they have even had a chance to grow up. The average age of Olympic sport horses is 8-12; what makes racing stables believe that their colts and fillies are at the peak of their game when most of their energy should simply be put into growing up? I object to racing, because when they are started so young, so many fine horses wind up being auctioned off for meat before their eighth birthdays, when they should be just hitting the peak of their game. I object to racing for all the horses sold carelessly, lost easily in claiming stakes, and sent to questionable homes because they just aren't quite fast enough. So much in the industry is inhumane, in large part because it is just that -an industry - where chasing profit trumps the well-being of the lives in its care - both equine and human.
That said, I don't think racing should end, just be dramatically modified. In England, colts and fillies do not run until they are 4 or 5, giving them an extra year to grow and get strong. As a result, English tracks see far fewer injuries and deaths of horses and jockeys. Most racehorses have running in their blood. They run because it is what they must do. No great racehorse has ever been borne on speed alone. He or she must have the heart to charge forward into the scrum, to keep running when his heart is pounding and his nostrils flare with the effort. He must have the joy of speed, to love the feel of his hooves flying over the turf.
Eight Belles had that, and more. She stumbled in the first turn. It is believed that that was the moment her legs cracked. She went on to battle her way forward, only falling back after the last turn, and even then maintaining her second-place position behind one of the finest colts of her generation. This filly, a long shot both by virtue of both her sex and colour (the last filly to win was in 1988, and grey horses almost never win the Derby), ran the race of her life on two broken legs. She ran on heart alone. As soon as the race was finished she literally collapsed, unable even to stand. The equine ambulance was brought, but, perhaps with the memory of Barbaro's fight still fresh in their minds, the decision - and I believe the only humane decision - was made to put Eight Belles down. Thus the equine world lost what could and should have, been one of its shining lights, and the potential mother of a long line of winning babies.
Big Brown ran a great race. He deserves all the accolades coming to him, and I believe he can take the Triple crown. But this was Eight Belles' race. She proved some of what I love most about horses - their grace, their strength, and above all, their heart. I hope her death, following so closely on the heels of Barbaro's inspires necessary changes in the racing industry. I hope that Big Brown does not break down in what will certainly be a gruelling next few years. I hope that when the time comes, he is granted the years in green pastures and progeny that were denied his compatriot and so many other promising young horses. Above all I hope Eight Belles is remembered. She may not have won the Derby, but she proved, over and above any reason, her greatness.
Monday, April 21, 2008
The Personal is Public in NYC
Everyone in NYC seems to believe that conversations on cell phones cannot be overheard no matter many people are around...
Hence this breakup was made dramatically public when she yelled into her phone at 149th and St Nicholas,
You don't FEED ME, F***K ME, or F'FILL ME!! We are DONE!!
We were all impressed with her succinct-ness.
Hence this breakup was made dramatically public when she yelled into her phone at 149th and St Nicholas,
You don't FEED ME, F***K ME, or F'FILL ME!! We are DONE!!
We were all impressed with her succinct-ness.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Outer Monologue
Sometimes on the subway, somebody's inner monologue goes outer. This is just an excerpt from Monday's dramatic adventure.
It began with a dramatised reading of the signs in the train.
Are you cool enough to be a child-protective specialist. Question Mark. Are you clear enough to be a child protective specialist. Question Mark? Question mark.
It moved on to theories about religion and drugs.
...Don't eat anything dead, man. That's the way to Heaven. You can eat anything good that God puts out there. Like corn, and, and, and ice cream... and rice, beans...But don't be eatin' nothin' dead man. It's rotting. You'll rot too. And drugs. Drugs. Don't be usin' it if God didn't put it on the Earth. If it comes from the leaf or grows on the vine, OK. But that crack cocaine, and that heroin...you don't see them comin' up from no leaf now, do you? Just stay away.
And sex.
I don't use no condoms when I make love. I just wash myself with soap and water. I'm pure man, nothin' but soap on me...Nothin' but soap....
I think he may have missed a few crucial lessons in sex ed...
Then it was storytime.
Let me tell you a story. There was a man, he was tall, as tall, as tall...um...as tall as this train is. And he had a sword. As big as, as big, big as one of these hangin' poles, but a sword, like, like with sharp edges down both sides. An' he was comin' down the street at my mama and me. An' I say "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus", and then he just goes away. And my mama say "Why didn't you use none ah that ka-rah-tay on him" and I say "shii-it, I didn't see you usin' no ka-rah-tay." *hee, hee*...
Dude, I love the subway.
It began with a dramatised reading of the signs in the train.
Are you cool enough to be a child-protective specialist. Question Mark. Are you clear enough to be a child protective specialist. Question Mark? Question mark.
It moved on to theories about religion and drugs.
...Don't eat anything dead, man. That's the way to Heaven. You can eat anything good that God puts out there. Like corn, and, and, and ice cream... and rice, beans...But don't be eatin' nothin' dead man. It's rotting. You'll rot too. And drugs. Drugs. Don't be usin' it if God didn't put it on the Earth. If it comes from the leaf or grows on the vine, OK. But that crack cocaine, and that heroin...you don't see them comin' up from no leaf now, do you? Just stay away.
And sex.
I don't use no condoms when I make love. I just wash myself with soap and water. I'm pure man, nothin' but soap on me...Nothin' but soap....
I think he may have missed a few crucial lessons in sex ed...
Then it was storytime.
Let me tell you a story. There was a man, he was tall, as tall, as tall...um...as tall as this train is. And he had a sword. As big as, as big, big as one of these hangin' poles, but a sword, like, like with sharp edges down both sides. An' he was comin' down the street at my mama and me. An' I say "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus", and then he just goes away. And my mama say "Why didn't you use none ah that ka-rah-tay on him" and I say "shii-it, I didn't see you usin' no ka-rah-tay." *hee, hee*...
Dude, I love the subway.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Writing Assignment
Write about something you see every day.
I suppose I could have written about a Big Issue, like homelessness, or gentrification, or otherwise not taken the project so literally. But it's an imaginary class, so I don't need to impress anyone, and besides, I do see the subway everyday, and it never fails to tickle me.*
The thing I see every day - NY Subway
Every time a train roars by, I can’t help thinking that it seems like some behemoth, alien caterpillar roaring through tunnels of its own devising - diving deep to unknown caverns, belly full of unsuspecting human food.
*Never fails to tickle me except at AM rush hour, especially at AM rush hour on Mondays when everyone (including me) is probably in a bad mood.
I suppose I could have written about a Big Issue, like homelessness, or gentrification, or otherwise not taken the project so literally. But it's an imaginary class, so I don't need to impress anyone, and besides, I do see the subway everyday, and it never fails to tickle me.*
The thing I see every day - NY Subway
Every time a train roars by, I can’t help thinking that it seems like some behemoth, alien caterpillar roaring through tunnels of its own devising - diving deep to unknown caverns, belly full of unsuspecting human food.
*Never fails to tickle me except at AM rush hour, especially at AM rush hour on Mondays when everyone (including me) is probably in a bad mood.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Asparagus Season
It is a well known fact that eating asparagus makes stinky pee. Early spring is the height of asparagus season. These two facts converge to make asparagus cheap and plentiful in the grocery, and to make public bathrooms even more unpleasant than usual.
And without further ado, here's my favourite way to get stinky pee.
Blanched Asparagus with Mustard Vinagrette Dipping Sauce
1 big bunch asparagus
Mustard
Vinegar of your choice - and this is just a small sampling - use whatever you find delicious.
sweet - rice vinegar, plum wine vinegar
medium - cider vinegar, white wine vinegar
sour - white vinegar, sukang maasim (white vinegar infused with hot peppers, garlic, and onion)
Oil of your choice
flavourful - dark sesame or virgin olive
light flavour - grapeseed
Powdered ginger
To blanch the asparagus
Using a pot large enough to drop stalks in whole, bring 3/4 pot of water to a rolling boil on high heat
While the water heats, trim woody bits from the bottoms of the stalks
When the water boils, drop in your asaparagus
Wait for the water to return to a boil
Cook about 30 seconds (I usually do less - 10s or so - I like my aspargus almost raw)
Drain and rinse in cold water to arrest cooking
For the sauce
In a non-metal container mix
Roughly 1Tbs mustard with
Enough vinegar of your choice to make runny
Add a dollop of oil of your choice
Add a pinch of powdered ginger
Stir thouroughly and taste.
Adjust ingredients as needed....
Or just buy a bottle of your favourite salad dressing.
Don't worry if you wind up with too much sauce. The leftover stores fine in the fridge, and can be used as a marinade or salad dressing later.
Dunk asparagus and enjoy. Double dip if you want - I won't tell. Hold your breath the next time you pee.
And without further ado, here's my favourite way to get stinky pee.
Blanched Asparagus with Mustard Vinagrette Dipping Sauce
1 big bunch asparagus
Mustard
Vinegar of your choice - and this is just a small sampling - use whatever you find delicious.
sweet - rice vinegar, plum wine vinegar
medium - cider vinegar, white wine vinegar
sour - white vinegar, sukang maasim (white vinegar infused with hot peppers, garlic, and onion)
Oil of your choice
flavourful - dark sesame or virgin olive
light flavour - grapeseed
Powdered ginger
To blanch the asparagus
Using a pot large enough to drop stalks in whole, bring 3/4 pot of water to a rolling boil on high heat
While the water heats, trim woody bits from the bottoms of the stalks
When the water boils, drop in your asaparagus
Wait for the water to return to a boil
Cook about 30 seconds (I usually do less - 10s or so - I like my aspargus almost raw)
Drain and rinse in cold water to arrest cooking
For the sauce
In a non-metal container mix
Roughly 1Tbs mustard with
Enough vinegar of your choice to make runny
Add a dollop of oil of your choice
Add a pinch of powdered ginger
Stir thouroughly and taste.
Adjust ingredients as needed....
Or just buy a bottle of your favourite salad dressing.
Don't worry if you wind up with too much sauce. The leftover stores fine in the fridge, and can be used as a marinade or salad dressing later.
Dunk asparagus and enjoy. Double dip if you want - I won't tell. Hold your breath the next time you pee.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Only in NY
The little girl can't be more than 3 years old. Muffled in a pink jacket with matching pink skirt and boots, she happily trots up and down the nearly empty train, spinning on each pole and singing nonsense to herself. As her stop draws near, Mom and Dad strap her into her stroller.
She is NOT pleased.
And, in that scream-yell voice that only children of a certain age seem able to produce, proceeds to holler...
"NO FAIR.!!!!!!!I WANT JUSTICE!!!!! I WANT JUSTICE!!!!! JUUUUUUUSTIIIIIIIIICE!!!
At least it was an articulate meltdown.
She is NOT pleased.
And, in that scream-yell voice that only children of a certain age seem able to produce, proceeds to holler...
"NO FAIR.!!!!!!!I WANT JUSTICE!!!!! I WANT JUSTICE!!!!! JUUUUUUUSTIIIIIIIIICE!!!
At least it was an articulate meltdown.
Monday, March 31, 2008
New Blog! New Project!
Since I've decided to try my hand at writing, I figured I should get a little practice in. I feel that most creative writing classes begin with projects which are far too ambitious, so in my imaginary class, the early 'assignments' will be far more modest in scope.
Also, because it turns out blogs are addictive, there will be some regular blog-type entries, recipes, navel-gazing, etc.
You are welcome to play along, either in the comment box, or in your own blog.
The first assignment: Describe a single object.
Also, because it turns out blogs are addictive, there will be some regular blog-type entries, recipes, navel-gazing, etc.
You are welcome to play along, either in the comment box, or in your own blog.
The first assignment: Describe a single object.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Easiest Fudge Ever
Compliments of Bakers baking chocolate.
2 8oz bars semi-sweet baking chocolate
1 14 oz can sweetened condensed milk
1/2 up to 1c whatever you like in fudge (nuts, peanut butter, marshmallows, crushed peppermints, dried fruit...)
1 tsp vanilla or 1/4 tsp almond flavouring
Microwave directions (easier, and the ones on the box)
melt chocolate in microwave-safe bowl on high for 2 minutes
stir until chocolate is fully melted
stir in everything else
spread in a greased 8"X 8" pan
OR
stovetop directions (better fudge)
melt chocolate over low heat or in a double boiler, stirring constantly
once chocolate is melted, add everything else except the flavouring extract
remove from heat and stir in the extract
spread in a greased 8" X 8" pan
For both methods, cool to room temperature before cutting. After cutting, keep in a cool, dry place. Fudge may be refrigerated, but not frozen.
I find this fudge to be a touch too sweet. For less-sweet fudge replace 1/2 square semi-sweet with 1/2 square bitter baking chocolate. Don't substitute with any more bitter though or it will affect the texture and be burnt-tasting.
2 8oz bars semi-sweet baking chocolate
1 14 oz can sweetened condensed milk
1/2 up to 1c whatever you like in fudge (nuts, peanut butter, marshmallows, crushed peppermints, dried fruit...)
1 tsp vanilla or 1/4 tsp almond flavouring
Microwave directions (easier, and the ones on the box)
melt chocolate in microwave-safe bowl on high for 2 minutes
stir until chocolate is fully melted
stir in everything else
spread in a greased 8"X 8" pan
OR
stovetop directions (better fudge)
melt chocolate over low heat or in a double boiler, stirring constantly
once chocolate is melted, add everything else except the flavouring extract
remove from heat and stir in the extract
spread in a greased 8" X 8" pan
For both methods, cool to room temperature before cutting. After cutting, keep in a cool, dry place. Fudge may be refrigerated, but not frozen.
I find this fudge to be a touch too sweet. For less-sweet fudge replace 1/2 square semi-sweet with 1/2 square bitter baking chocolate. Don't substitute with any more bitter though or it will affect the texture and be burnt-tasting.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Two Objects
Leaf - Central Park West between 73rd and 74th
Crooked and veined as an arthritic hand, a last-winter's leaf claws against the encroaching spring.
That leaf was the single object I intended to write about, but then the lasagna pan growled and tried to bite me when I went to get a glass of water. So...
Dirty Lasagna Pan - my kitchen sink
Scabbed and crusted with tomatoes and baked-on cheese, the lasagna pan sits in the sink. Three days ago it would have been easy enough to clean with a dash of Dawn and swipe of the sponge. Three days ago, I had things far more interesting to do than dishes.
Crooked and veined as an arthritic hand, a last-winter's leaf claws against the encroaching spring.
That leaf was the single object I intended to write about, but then the lasagna pan growled and tried to bite me when I went to get a glass of water. So...
Dirty Lasagna Pan - my kitchen sink
Scabbed and crusted with tomatoes and baked-on cheese, the lasagna pan sits in the sink. Three days ago it would have been easy enough to clean with a dash of Dawn and swipe of the sponge. Three days ago, I had things far more interesting to do than dishes.
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