[Recipe] De Lanor Asian-inspired Soup

My adorable brother gave me a nice recipe for an actual Asian soup. Since I couldn't find all the ingredients, I adapted it, and the new version is so nice that I'm sharing it with you...

For my de Lanor Asian-inspired soup, you'll need:
* some veal stock (I used a brand that comes in 4 doses packs, and I used 2 doses)
* 1 onion
* 3 or 4 shiitake mushrooms
* 4 or 5 black mushrooms
* 100 gr enoki mushrooms
* 3 or 4 baby pak choi
* 2 or 3 chives
* some olive oil
* soy sauce
* salt
* some dried Asian noodles
* some tofu
* hoisin sauce

Prep & cooking time: about 30 minutes

Here's some of the "cast": baby pak choi, enoki, and chives

1 - Cut the pak choi approximately in two (mostly white and mostly green), and wash them.

2 - Cut the white part of the pak choi in thin slices.

3 - Wash and cut the white part of the chive.

4 - Cut the onion in thin slices.

Here's a plate of (mostly) white:

5 - Put some olive oil in a big pot, and sauté the onion, pak choi, and chive on medium-high heat. Add a spot of salt.
When they look tender, add one litre of water, the veal stock, and a few drops of soy sauce:

Let it simmer gently.

6 - Slice the black and shiitake mushrooms, and cut off the roots of the enoki mushrooms:

7 - Add the mushrooms to the soup:

8 - Cut the pak choi green leaves into smallish bits:

9 - Cut the green parts of the chives, and have them ready to be added when you'll serve the soup.

10 - Add the pak choi leaves and the noddles (the ones I chose are very thin and cook in about three minutes)

11 - [aka confession time: I bought the wrong kind of tofu, but my mistake ended up being delicious] I wanted to fry cubes of tofu, but the one I bought was too soft, and I ended up with scrambled tofu, which I generously coated with hoisin sauce.

12 - Pour a bit of everything from the pot into a bowl or plate; sprinkle with the cut chives, and add some scrambled, hoisin'ed tofu to the side.
There you go:

戴きます!

I Am [Somehow Like] Spock

I didn't become a trekkerie (that's what I call myself, since I'm a trekker and a trekkie. Deal with it) when I was a toddler, but once I started watching Star Trek, it took me two episodes to fall in love with everything in it.

I was am quite fond of Spock [Note to the world: the first to mention the pseudo-reboot gets introduced to my knee from up close], and it's rather recently that I understood why: I am Spock.

Well, I'm not a half-Vulcan man or a science genius, but my parents are as different as Sarek and Amanda Grayson.

My relatives treat me like a cultural mistake.

The Anglo-Italian side has been mostly ignoring me since long before my birth (there's a Sybok in my life, too).

The Franco-German side has always viewed me as a kind of useless addition to their prestigious lot (allow me to laugh at their stupidity and arrogance).

It took me a long time to build myself since I wasn't sure of anything about my roots (it's tough to build something when you don't have the blueprint or the background, and no one gives you the feeling that you belong), but I did it.

In the end, I got a little revenge: the two grandmothers, both matriarchs (in the ethnological sense, coz I had to be born into two pockets of true matriarchy in Europe), both ended up with only me as their only option to claim an heiress to both their lines...

What's that thing about karma and a beach? Something about 'and then you fry'?...

Cherry on my cake, I could have picked either of their surnames, but I decided to choose my own. It's healthier for me to have created something that has no link with either witch, and none of my relatives can say anything about me, because they don't know my new surname.

Strangely, the odd behaviour because I'm a "happy mix" (using "happy" loosely here) doesn't stop with my relatives. Some of the people with whom I work are treating me differently because they think I'm not the real McCoy (Look! Back to Star Trek!! Awful pun. Sorry!). We're all teaching languages, but they're using one language amongst themselves, and they switch to another one when I'm around. I understand both languages, but they sound as if I'm not worthy of being addressed in the other language - how delightful, guys (Oh! The Sarc font is on, methinks). That's grating on my nerves a bit, but I'm beginning to realize that they were probably raised in barns.

I think I'm going to start using another language to chat with them and wait and see how long it takes the penny to drop...

... I'm suddenly wondering if that plan makes me more "Romulan" than "human" (then again, it's not bad if I'm Saavik: she's the one who got Spock in the end).*insert impudent grin here* 

Cheerio!

I Must Be Fine Then

I really must have the Void at bay these days (which is awesome - for me).

There has to be something in the air - and I don't mean Christmas.

Ah... Christmas! I've got the feeling that I'm in a bad remake of an episode of Friends, as I know I'm getting something big for Christmas, and I know it's not to give me something big (I've never been interested in big, ostentatious gifts - I'd rather get the tiny thing that costs 50p, but that I really want... Been there, done that, didn't get the T-shirt), it's just to show off (and probably make me feel bad for not having that much money - and, by the way, the holidays are always too much "Oh, but you're wasting your life being a teacher/a writer. You could make so much money if only you <insert stupid idea #3 billion&2>").

But this is not about Christmas.

Nope.

This post is about the weirdness around me these days.

So, without further ado, and in no particular order:

- Neighbours have announcements to make, and I've got one of my own. They get notices on the message board... I don't (I can really feel the love /Sarc off).

- On an overcrowded bus, I keep moving backwards to allow an old lady (she could have been young, or be an XY, same issue: misplaced entitlement) to walk closer to the door as she was getting off at the next stop. At one point, I end up blocked by an old grumpy guy behind me. We reach the stop, and as I'm stuck until Grumpy frees me, the old lady barks at me to move. 

I froze a bit on that one... Wish I'd barked back that I wasn't made of paper and I knew no one who could blink me out and back in. Perhaps she was having a bad day, but mine took a nosedive because of her barking pettiness... Yea... That's the issue when the Void is hunting you: molehills end up looking and feeling like the Himalayas - dumped onto one's ribcage.

- I mention DIY projects to people I know, only to be told that the glue I plan to use is crap (I never mentioned the exact variety I'm planning to use, but, hey! How could I know anything?).

- I mention something I'm going to buy to renovate something in my flat, and I'm encouraged to have it delivered (that would just add a third of the price to the bill) as I'll be unable to carry such fragile and cumbersome items back to my flat in one piece (yea, I'm that clumsy in some people's mind - coz that wasn't out of kindness or concern for me. No... Plain old "That gal will never, ever be capable of doing that").

- Since depression doesn't show (no purple and/or green spots on my face spelling out what the issue is), I've been recently dealing with:

     * people who showed compassion for other people's psychological issues whilst totally ignoring mine ("Aren't you better yet?" Fuck, no. I wish I were, but there's still a sodding sword of Damocles in my life. Sorry to be such a bother, eh?).

     * people who said I should just stop taking the medication that's preventing me from blowing a fuse, coz (fasten your seat-belt! No. Really!) they've heard a doctor on telly say that too much St John's wort can become a poison. Gee! Thanks! Too much water's a poison, too. Should I turn to vodka then? (Mind you, that's beginning to sound like a reasonable option!)

I've got the feeling that whatever I say is going to be twisted, ignored, or belittled.

I'm currently disappointed and angry, but I've got one huge project ahead. That's a bit scary (*cough* Make that a lot!), but that's exciting, too... and you can bet that I won't talk about my project with the odd bipeds in my life, who've been, consciously or not, trying to bring me down.

With the amount of weirdness around, I really must be slightly better (I'd have been crying on a bridge, pointedly looking at the river, just last year).

I really hope I can keep keeping the Void at bay...

Once upon a... Bridge

How odd...

I was checking my photo folders (I've got folders that have sub-folders that have sub-sub-folders, etc...), and I found a little miracle. A collectable. A memory of a bitter-sweet past.

I give you, in the spring of the year 2008, the Pont des arts in romantic Paris:

Towards the Pont neuf ->

 Towards the Eiffel Tower ->

You'll spot a few locks on the first photo, but that was nothing compared with the mess it is today (just search for images for that bridge, and you'll get to see the extent of the damage [and I do mean damage because that idiotic fad of leaving a Love Lock is endangering the integrity of the structure, and the keys are polluting the river, but... hey! It's for lurrrve! /Sarc off ].

The pointless and dangerous locks are being removed, and a few sections have been covered with something that looks like plastic... and a few plonkers - in lurrrve - have used permanent markers to leave messages on those.

Since there's a big metal "X" in the centre of each section, I'd like to see those plastic-free (if you fall by stepping through those, you deserve to drown; that's active Darwinism), but it's certainly not going to happen because:

a - some brainless adults would try to step through those and either get stuck or fall into the river, and the Fire Brigade would have to intervene

b - some brainless pseudo-adults would be engrossed in taking a pseudo-romantic selfie, and their kids would fall into the river

That poor bridge is probably going to end up with plastic panels covered with graffiti.

It was such a lovely bridge...

... I bet the people who make locks, and the people who sell them, are laughing at the gullibility of the masses.

The people making and selling permanent markers are next in line for a good laugh, I fear.

*sigh*

Mind the Bucket

There are many variables in life...

How long will I stay in good health?

When am I going to get rheumatism?

With the unique DNA we all get, how tall will I be when I'm an adult?

Will my hair become lighter or turn darker when I'm over this or that age?

And so on, and so forth.

There's ONE thing we can all be sure of: one day, we're going to die.*

Now, my dear (superstitious, and scared of her own shadow) grandmother used to say that merely thinking about death wasn't going to make you die - and she had quite a point.

What brings this post on is that, today, I mentioned a tragedy where someone who died, at a young age and unexpectedly, had his wishes not respected by his parents because he'd left no will.

I said to someone that we are all going to die, one way or the other, that aneurysm is a silent killer that can be in all of us (and that's not taking into account the nutty cab driver behaving like a demented pilot in a bad Sci-Fi plot). That person looked at me as if I'd just predicted the day of his death when I recommended that he write a testament.

I can understand that fear... I'd like to go to sleep one night, and just drift into eternal peace, but that dream scenario might never happen, and I have a testament stating clearly what I expect after my death, and who should get my possessions (it's still in the black box, in my Tax folder).

I can understand the fear, but since we are all going to die, it's an act of love to unburden the people who will have to deal with everything once we've kicked the bucket: we plan things for them, and they don't have to think too much whilst dealing with the grief of our passing.

I'm probably unfair, but not planning for the future after our death has a kind of "playing ostrich" quality in my book. I've seen (or heard of) all kinds of tragedies, just in my family; just because male and female relatives lived as if they would live forever, as if they'd never, ever die - and when they did, their spouses and children were left to fend for themselves, and in a few cases things got really nasty. All that because someone played ostrich and refused to consider the possibility of death.

Then again, once they'd kicked the bucket, they no longer were with us to see the aftermath. That's one way of life

Be afraid all you like, but writing a testament, leaving your body to science, allowing your organs to be harvested, etc... These things don't take long, and once that's done, you don't have to think about it again.

There's nothing wrong with planning for a future that we're never going to see. To me, it was a way to try to leave some love around after I kick the bucket (which will happen someday - hopefully in about a hundred years... or more).

*: merely a statement. I'm fine these days (Void at bay for the moment). No need to worry.

Marketing Tips for Any Company

As a patron, allow me to give you some tips...

1 - In spite of what some strange study says (all right, it was supposed to be about sales in luxury stores, but I can think of one big department store where I live where the employees are taking this philosophy a step too far!), I want you to be nice. Perhaps some masochist answered a poll and declared that being treated like crap made them spend more money, but if you look at me as if I had the Plague, smelled like rotten eggs, and had just killed your favourite puppy because you work in that place, and you're sooooooooooooo important...

            a – I won’t buy anything from you

            b – I’ll never come back

          c – I’ll tell everybody (even complete strangers on the street) that you’re nasty people, and you’re to be avoided like the plonkers you are

2 - If I tell you that there's something I need, it's not your place to look down at me and patronize me by saying "We know better" / "We know what you need".

You're not a seer; you're not perfect, and if I tell you that I want "this" or "that"... Guess what? I do want "this" or "that".

If you don't listen to me, I'll go find someone else who'll give me what I want because, Cupcake, there will be another company ready to do exactly what I want.

3 - When you pay a company to launch an ad/commercial campaign to promote whatever you sell, ask a handful of real people what they think of the ads or the commercials.

I'll speak for myself, but if the ad or the commercial is sexist, racist, or just plain idiotic and/or patronizing, I'll growl, and I'll go see another company.

Now... think (if you can, that is). You should be charmers, not plonkers (see "Issue #1").

4 - You do not have to offer me any kind of discount (or anything), but I just bet that there are studies that prove that rewarding loyalty is a good thing for any company.
Whether it's a loyalty/rewards/points/advantage/whatever card or just giving away tiny free samples or a bookmark or a postcard, it can be a good thing for you to consider the option. Everybody likes unexpected gifts, and if so many companies are doing it, it has to mean that they've computed that it was a good call to do so.
Make your clients feel special (with tiny things). In spite of the study mentioned with Issue #1, most people like to be treated nicely, and a smile, a good service, quality products, and a reward for loyalty (or the promise of a discount for coming back) are all in your interest.
Make money by all means (that's your business), but don't be greedy. If you're greedy, you'll quickly forget that your patrons can go somewhere else, and you'll fail.

5 -  Last massive issue for today: Shipping&Handling.
Today, "handling" per se disappears in the cost of whatever we're buying.
Remains the issue of shipping.
Of course I've read articles about people who order something at 11pm and expect it to be delivered the next day before 10am - and they're ready to pay for that. Fine. Good for them.
Whilst I can understand the need, and I do approve it, you need to understand that some people do not care about slow delivery.
As well, international slow delivery should be an option. I mean, if I'm not ordering a pot of fresh butter, I don't care if what I ordered takes a month to reach me as long as shipping doesn't feel like a highway robbery.
The issue is all over the globe.
Let me give you two examples:
* I tried to order a packet of tea from an American company (I know, I know... Don't ask!). Packet price? About $10. Shipping in the US? About $4. Shipping to Europe? Over $40 because the only option was to have it airmailed. I didn't order it. I'll go buy a different tea here in town...
* I wanted to buy a Japanese book (I love the story, and I know it'd be a way to boost my reading skills: motivation by passion/addiction). Price of the book? Not even ¥600 (that's £3!). Compulsory airmail shipping? About ¥2000 (that's £11). I haven't bought the book.
I bet I'm not the only one not buying something when I see how expensive "shipping" is going to be.
Basically have the Apparition/Beaming delivery option (1), Standard delivery (2), and Snail-slow delivery (3). Then, you're sure to please everybody.
Every once in a while, for whatever reason (your anniversary, or the client's birthday), offer free shipping on one delivery. Not everyone's going to be tempted, but some people will indulge if there's no shipping.

6 - And then... Whatever you're selling me, remember that you must beg me to "Opt in" if you want me on a mailing list, or anything. I shouldn't have to write to you in order to "Opt out". "Yes, bug me, and sell my details to your friends" should never be the option by default.
If I have to tell you to leave me alone, the next letter shall be to send you packing.

There.
You have it.
Now, it's up to you to listen to me, but never forget that the competition is right next door, and nothing's keeping me from going to do business with them.
You're responsible for your marketing strategy...

Ukrainian Dinner (Training for Christmas)

The family's planning "unusual" (for us) dishes for the Christmas break.

I've found an old article about Ukrainian borscht, and I've decided to make that (I'm also in charge of the Christmas cake, and I'll look towards Japan then).

Since I'd never made borscht, I thought it'd be wise to train.

Here's my first borscht:

It needs a tad more pepper than the recipe said, but it works nicely. I'll just have to add onion and mushroom dumplings next months... ^_~

Interested in the full recipes and a step by step photo entry?

Instant Connection - The Anti-Spoiler Edition

Must.

Generate.

Clicks.

(You may replace "Clicks" by "Traffic", "Movement" or "See me, please! See me!")

I've just had the most unpleasant net experience (I can picture the average troll pointing out that I can write what's on my mind [because I can write, I own a computer, and I live in a country where I can publish what I think] and I don't live in a place where I'm bombed, shot at, abducted, or whatever, and so I shouldn't complain).

And I know I'm about to growl because of a bloody detail that's soooo "first world problem" - except that it's not that simple (because what happened  is an important part of my anti-depression safety net).

The thing is... traditional ways to fight against depression aren't working for me, and I had to DIY a way to not blow all my fuses.

A part of my coping technique involves having things (films, series, animes, etc...) to watch: I'm a squirrel for things to watch in the future. My line of thought is: 'If you want to know what happens in Series 2 of XYZ, you've got to be still alive to watch it.'

Incidentally, there are a few things that haven't been produced yet, but that we know will be produced, and these are my "You've got to be alive in 2016". I take one step at a time; I just know how quickly the Void can come back.

There are things I watch as soon as they're released because they're a treat and I need them to fuel my inner balance and make sure that I'll keep the Void at bay.

Now, be ready to pardon my French, but I fucking hate spoilers. It's "funny" because I was talking about spoilers just this week, and I was saying that stating that Hamlet dies at the end of the play isn't a spoiler because the story's been around for centuries and classics are off the potential spoiler list. However, last night's episode of anything is off the menu until people have had the opportunity to catch up - otherwise, you're Sheldon in The Big Bang Theory (the instant version).

Yet... some people seem to be unable to not blab about last night's episode once they have seen it (if you haven't, they cannot understand why you're upset that you were told about a major plot twist). 

And then, there are the media people. The ones who want to be the first ones to talk about the major plot twist because that's going to generate clicks on their links and have their websites get more traffic.

Consideration for the rest of the planet who hasn't seen last night's episode (and who won't be able to watch it for monthS, but who follows them, and thus will get to read the effing spoiler)? Nah... That's so 20^th century!

Now, they've got to behave like the worst tabloid around. 

Check the info before publishing anything? Nope. The info must be out there, from our site, and fuck the consequences.

Avoid publishing spoilers for a few hours (a day, maybe???)? Fuck that! We've watched the show, and everybody should have been in front of the telly then, as well.

That goes in the same twisted bag that wants you to be answering e-mails 24/7 (because sleep, cooking, walking the cat, and Real Life do not happen in today's world).

Just like people cannot let go of their mobiles even when they're dining with friends. If you're not on your phone, too, but are pissed off that the biped in front of you is ignoring you to chat with his cousin on the phone... basically, what's wrong with you?

I love today's technology. 

It's great to be able to phone home and say that the traffic is hellish and the bus is stuck so no one worries. 

It's fascinating to watch a rover land on Mars or watch a play, live from London or Los Angeles, online, or watch a press conference, live as well, from the White House.

It's bloody disappointing when someone behind a group (when it is not their topic of choice at all!), tweets about a spoiler in a series that was broadcast three hours ago - just because that puts their tweet "on the map".

As you can conclude, that just happened to me. I read my Twitter feed, and there I got the mother of all spoilers for tonight's episode (these past weeks, I'd caught the previous night's episode on the iPlayer the next day at breakfast; that was my treat). I'm still going to watch that only in the morning, but now I bloody know who is Missy in Doctor Who (I'm not going to name the happy bunch - probably just the one, though - of wankers that did that; I refuse to acknowledge them from now on).

I unfollowed them, but they won't even notice.

They're a perfect sign of the times: if you don't share the same philosophy about instant connection (and you don't have the same schedule when it comes to what they follow), you're screwed and they don't give a fuck.

Well, they're forever deleted from my world. And that Plonker Award goes to... *drops the trophy into the nastiest garbage can in sight*

**********

PS: I surfed Twitter a bit, and I spotted a few things:
* more idiots retweeting the spoiler just to be sure to not be late to the party
* bipeds inviting the world to watch the show as it's broadcast (promoting piracy, are we? Cos I'm quite sure my nonna couldn't watch it last night in Torino) or avoiding social media. I caught the spoiler on a feed that has NOTHING to do with the BBC, but since I'm a seer I should have known - or I should have turned Twitter off - basically, my friends cannot reach me by tweet so that some adolescent wanker can tweet a massive spoiler? That's giving a pass to uneducated plonkers and punishing the ones who couldn't watch the Beeb last night (sorry, I was working! My bad!)
* a few trolls/wankers rejoicing that the spoiler got out. What's Bedlam number again? I think they need to check a few miserable twats.

I am furious (understatement of the week - if not the month).

Bus Drivers - The Curate's Egg Edition

I've had a completely strange day going to and coming back from work today.

After my latest tube debacle (see prior post), I decided to wait for a bus to go to work today.

On my street, there's a stop with two different lines: the first takes me two streets away from work, and the other line has me taking another bus (and I've got two choices of lines when I change buses: one takes me near the stop of the first line from home, and the other stops at a ten-minute walk from work).

As I arrived at the stop where I take bus #2, the nicer bus had just left, but the other one was turning the street and driving my way...

And then... I met the nicest driver I've seen in a looooooooooooooooooooooooong time. I hopped on, and:

Me: Hello!

The Driver: Hello! Have a nice trip!

Me: (blink, pause) Thank you so much!

The Driver: You're very welcome. Have a great day!

Me: (properly flabbergasted) Thanks! You, too.

That man was kind with everybody. It's simple; by the time I reached my stop, I wanted to give him a hug.

Just before I left that nice bus, there was an odd noise below the bus. The nice driver stopped, went outside to check if we were losing bits of the vehicle (after joking with us and asking us to not steal his bus, leaving him stranded). He couldn't spot a thing, but he tried several manoeuvres, commenting on the results each time, and everything worked. We were all smiling.

I felt happy on my way to work, and I was smiling like a Cheshire-Cat high on something.

To head home, I walked to the stop where the direct bus takes me straight back to my street.

Different plot then...

The bus arrived, and I hopped on and said "Good evening!' to the driver who answered kindly, and then... the Hulk got out. Traffic was hellish, and he drove as fast as he could when there were no cars in front of him; he honked to make cars move (because he was in a hurry), and he even used his lights at a red light to make a car get out of his way (because honking hadn't worked).

Then, the icing on the cake...

At one stop, no one signalled him to board, so he stopped slightly ahead of the stop itself, and he waited for people to leave the bus. Since the front door wasn't open, an old lady and a bloke with a bike boarded by the rear door. The driver got up and barked at the bloke to validate his card; the bloke-with-bike barked back that he was coming to do it, and the driver shouted that bikes aren't allowed. The bloke with a bike left the bus... as did the old lady who then walked to the front door that the driver had opened for another lady.

The Lady: (just at the door) Are you going any farther or is this your last stop? [in her defence, that bus line is properly nutty when it comes to stopping mid-way or changing route, and since he wasn't moving in spite of the green light, she did have a point]

That driver (small "d" on purpose): (ignoring her)

The Old Lady: I don't understand what you said.

That driver: (ignoring her)

The Lady: (boarding the bus) Are you going to the terminus?

That driver: (closing the doors and leaving the old lady on the pavement. Talking to himself) I always get questions. All day long... [Clue: that's your job, Cabbage. You're being frigging paid for that]

The Lady: (catching the clue bus, and not in the mood to let that bully get away with it) Excuse me?

That driver: I'm getting questions all the time.

The Lady: I just wanted to know if you were stopping at that stop or driving on. That's all.

That driver: Well, I'm tired of getting that kind of questions all the time.

The Lady: (dripping sarcasm) Well, excuse me for disturbing you. (walking away)

That driver: Well, I'm going home now. I'm in a hurry.

The Lady: (not backing down) Well, I'm going home, too.

*blink*

I sincerely hope the lady will report that bully to the bus company because that biped needs to be reminded that no one died and made him king, in spite of what he seems to believe.

If I didn't like so much the time I spend reading when I'm on the bus, I'd be sorely tempted to walk to and back from work - because drivers like the first one are so rare it feels like a dream when we meet one... The other variety is much more common, alas.

Ode to a Dying Species: the Gentleman

In fact, I've got a story involving a man, but this works for any person who hasn't been raised in a barn...

On my way back from work (incidentally, allow a sub-rant as I wonder why some people feel the need to complain about being given work... at work. Yes, that happened today with someone who whinged miserably upon being assigned a quick and simple mission!), I took the tube, and we ended up playing rush-hour sardines. I'm used to the occasional anchovy position.

What I am not used to is a tall bloke (I'm 5'2", so everything's relative here) holding the handrail by the door and trapping my head between the door and his arm. There were many people, but he could have grabbed the handrail in the middle of the car; he was tall enough.

Ah... but you see, that would have meant letting go of his mobile and stopping scrolling down for three minutes! *fake gasp* THE HORROR!

Now, I wasn't raised in a barn (and I wasn't in the mood to be arrested for kicking him in the hazelnuts), but I did all I could to invite him to relocate his annoying arm. Alas, my bun's probably too soft to make him realize that he was trapping me against the glass (Merlin! That never happened to me in Tokyo - then again, there aren't many barns over there).

Then, the gentleman to my left noticed my unfortunate position, and at the following stop he vacated his spot so I could move there and save my head and my pretty face from the Barbarian with a mobile grafted on to his hand. I smiled at the gentleman, and he nodded at the oblivious biped as if to say "Raised in a barn, what do you expect?".

The idiot left at the next stop, which he almost missed because he was engrossed with his text reading. The gentleman moved back next to me, and we traded yet another smile at the expense of the oik. The next stop was my destination, and the gentleman opened the door for me.

It's not a question of gender. It's a question of education, as I can perfectly imagine women in the roles of "the troglodyte" and "the gentlewoman".

There was biped "A" in a "Me, me, me!' moment and not caring about anything, and there was a delightful member of society "B", who had the opportunity to do something to make someone's life nicer for a few minutes, and who did make my life nicer (and perhaps saved someone's cashews in the process, too).

Merlin, I loathe mobiles and the idiotic bipeds addicted to them!

In My Empire...

... No Means No.

[I can (unfortunately) sense a series of post fitting this new "In My Empire" category since more and more things seem to confirm that, somehow, I'm the Empress of Mars]

So... Here's what happened at work.

This time, it's the "student" variety that floored me.

Last year, I had one group that was making me think that I was teaching banshees at some nursery school level. They were exhausting, and I spent too much time reminding them to behave properly (they're not children; I teach in college, and they're all at least 18).

And so, there was that student who kept being disruptive (I believe in convincing people to behave, not tossing them out, but I may have to reconsider with the new generation of gremlins students), and who never, ever did what I asked.

Six months ago, the student tried to convince me to reconsider and give a passing grade. Thinking, "when pigs fly and when plonkers ice-skate in Hell", I told the school that the student should be invited to take another class to catch up; I don't know what the school did tell the student, but that silly bunny still has one unit missing.

Over the years, I've seen all sorts of nuttiness when desperate students wanted to be given the units they hadn't passed with me (in my very first year of teaching, one male student made it clear that he'd do anything to pass - even if that involved some horizontal tango. I made it clear that he had to write another paper on the assigned topic - and YUCK! *shudders*). I've seen students beg or even cry.

This one... Brand new variety... Part mutant student, part arrogant plonker, part hopeless silly bunny.

Honestly... Sit down on something comfy, and don't slide off your chairs.

The student would like me to tell the administration that I've made a mistake. ME!

I don't understand people who don't face their mistakes and try to blame others. This person, as it is, has done nothing to deserve getting that unit, and I'm not going to cave.

Apparently, I'll have to go ask my colleagues in the offices if we're still on the same wave-length about our "parenting" policies with the students. I'm not their mum (Merlin be praised! If they were mine, either I'd spank them so hard that they wouldn't be able to sit until 2032 or I'd shoot myself), but I'll keep giving them good examples, and I'll keep the same rules so they have some stability.

More and more, I see people (not only at work) saying (for anything, and everything), 'Oh, but that's not really important. Let's bend the rules.'

It's probably my mild OCD that's giving me an allergy to that kind of laziness...

Now I'll have to trek to another building to see the reaction of the administration staff (yes, I want to be in front of them to gauge their reactions), and that waste of time is making me angrier.

PS: as I was typing my brand new "Empress_of_Mars" label, I thought of the series Bones and its "King of the lab!". 

Empress of Mars! ^_~

News from Mars

I think my empire is expanding somehow, because there are a few things that do puzzle me here.

I was recently talking with a student about education and opportunities...

Now, that student's reading in a prestigious institution and being offered high-quality education in a quite selective and limited field, and I must say that I was quite shocked when that person declared that everybody cannot study quantum physics because there's a limited number of positions for specialists in quantum physics. That (privileged) person was happy to see others kept in conditions where education's not a priority according to bipeds of the political variety (we were talking about other countries at the time).

Now, I do know that society can't work if 100% of the work force is composed of specialists in quantum physics. We need a bit of everything in every field.

But... would everyone like to become a specialist in quantum physics if given the opportunity? Strangely, I don't see this happening.

People have always been happy to turn to various activities for different reasons.

I fear that the "not everybody can become a {fill in the blank}" line is a pretty smokescreen for conservative people who do not want the masses to be given access to higher education (or elementary education in some cases). That gives me the feeling that the people thinking that believe that "Oh, that'll always be good enough for those people", and that's scaring me.

I just cannot believe that we'd get too many neurosurgeons, physicists, nurses, teachers, fishmongers, or whatever if education was promoted.

That feels like a political thing in favour of castes and classes. "Stay in your place, child"... Don't dream, don't change, don't try to get a better life. Don't use your brain too much, or you'll get in troubles (and someone will silence you).

I'll always be on the side of the Earthlings who want to learn and become better.

It was quite disturbing to hear such a young person (and someone who's been given a tremendous chance to become a part of a certain elite) be so heartless and bigoted.

Someone should study conservative DNA (or brain cells). There's something scary in the way they keep multiplying.

How odd (Work Weirdness)

Once upon a time, I wrote a post about my trusting one of my colleague to do the right thing with my classroom key.

Basically, I use my badge to get my key, and I use it again to prove that I didn't go home with the key.

Since the semester started, the man I trusted last year and two of his colleagues have decided to not take the two steps to the locker where the keys are kept (incidentally, one of them momentarily misplaced the key, and the teacher who needed the room after me had to trek to the administration to get a spare key), and every other time, they take the key, but tell me to not use my badge (if I use it, it opens the locker, and they have to do something or the thing keeps beeping).

Tonight... same thing. They took the key, but they didn't want to get up, and I must say that I find that really weird.

Perhaps they're mutating into squirrels with an addiction to keys, and they put them all back in the locker when they've gathered a certain number of keys.

Whatever the reason... That's really odd... and if there's another problem with my key in the future. Trust or no trust... I'll use my badge and they'll have to get up.

From the Plot Bunnies... with Love

In spite of a lot of DIY (that I really had to deal with) and of my being back to my rent&bills-paying job, I managed to keep tickling the bunnies.

I haven't forgotten the short story I promised you. It is written, but not edited yet.

My second story in my Muff&Sherly universe is about half-way through and it's already novella-sized. Changing the character who tells the story was a good idea as it gives the tales another taste, perspective, and kind of fun within the world that I'm building brick by brick (more "paragraph by paragraph", but you get the drift).

I'm having a lot of fun with that universe.

Last week, something funny (and weird, and inspiring, and lovely) happened as I watched again Mr Pullman's interview on the BBC DVD of The Ruby in the Smoke. I was reflecting that the fact that the two ladies who are helping Sherly and Muff and teaching them to be private investigators are wives may make a few people growl.

When the idea first came to me, I wanted to have one stable, loving couple, and the gals won that lottery, and since I know that "love is love" and cannot see differences in people as long as they don't bug me and tell me how I should live, that detail came naturally to me. As well, growing up with the tolerant world of Star Trek in my head, it was perfectly normal for me to opt for the only possible configuration for the happy couple I wanted in my story (that was basically going one step beyond the Trek message).

I've already written one novel with that "cast", and I'm half-way through the second tale, and I only realized that my "normal" may disturb a handful of readers, and so, when I heard Mr Pullman say that he doesn't write for an audience, I started nodding like mad. What happens in Muff&Sherly describes my hopes for the future, and if my two happily married lesbians disturb anyone, I don't care. They're good, lovely, and role-models. I'd like my readers to like them, but my love for them isn't proportional to their future success.

My fantasy novel is a chapter (plus an epilogue) away from its conclusion. After working on it for years, that's strange, but I'm about to give birth to a lovely story.

Geography provided me with details that made the plot better, and History was also on my side.

I discovered many things whilst doing my research, and the story was made much better.

I always have a "work" file where I keep the plot ideas I have for my stories. Last night, as I read again a few of my initial ideas for this story, I got to realize how much that plot had mutated over the past few months. It's a fascinating phenomenon.

Like many Fantasy stories, it's a big bunny, but I think it's smooth and flowing nicely.

That's about it for the plot bunnies.

I've got paint bunnies in the oven, but that'll be for another post (all the more since my current work is composed of five "scenes", and I'm just about to finish the very first one).

There you go.

Drusilla, over...

Mrs Hyde Update

I'm a tad late on my announced schedule, but in my defence:

a - why not?

b - I was writing

So...

Mrs Hyde's still out, and she's got a new look on things, which is rather interesting, if scary (for my inner Dr Jekyll).

It's astounding to see what some people will do in order to avoid having to work too much.

It's also quite fascinating (if quite depressing at the same time!) to see so many people not understand simple sentences. I mean, it's demented to see bipeds struggle with "Draw a straight line from point A to point B" (and I'm barely exaggerating!); ask them to follow simple instructions and watch them flail.

My former Dr Jekyll would have tried to help and find ways to be nicer and compassionate.

Mrs Hyde is expecting the rest of the world to use the purée passing for brains between their ears and to follow the simple instructions.

I'm building the pillory for the idiots who will fail to follow the simple instructions (my interns have been warned that failure to complete the simple missions I gave them - and trained them for! - will see them in the aforementioned pillory, in the middle of a very public square, during rush hours... which will literally translate with my reporting their failure to our bosses, who've been told that "second chance" has disappeared from my lexicon for good).

The coming weeks should be interesting (probably in a disturbing way).

More updates if I need to add tar and feathers to the pillory...

Mrs Hyde Was Freed

Once upon a time, I was nice, and kind, and forgiving.

That was my Dr Jekyll.

Oddly enough, a few knives in my back have allowed Mrs Hyde to escape from her cage (she's angry, but I don't know yet how vicious she's going to be).

Just a few weeks ago, Mother and my brother were telling me that I'm usually too nice. I wanted to believe that kindness was better, that giving people a second chance was the thing to do... Turns out that I was wrong if I consider that a handful of bipeds with whom I had to work tried to pin their own mistakes on ME (because I'm so nice that I'll take it and I won't say a frigging word... right?).

Well, well, well...

Dr Jekyll would have just protested and proven her innocence.

This Mrs Hyde has already proven her innocence, and she's planned what she's going to tell to the lowlife liars who've tried to take advantage of her former kindness (scene to take place in front of as many people as possible, because enough is enough, and I don't have carpet-DNA).

This is the beginning of a new era.

I shall share how Mrs Hyde's first promenade went by the end of the week...

I wanted to be a nice, compassionate gal, but those blades in my back were really uncomfortable, and now I'm reminded of: "You try to give another man a helping hand / He will take your kindness for a weaker stand".

I'll keep planning how I'll avenge, and you have some music: 

My Dear Microsoft,...

My Dear Microsoft,

how I loathe you!

You owe me this Tuesday, and I'd make you spit it back if you were in front of me.

When the motherboard of my Windows 7 computer decided to kick the bucket, all I could find was the utter crap that you call Windows 8.

It took me months to make the thing do what I want for WORK (you know, that silly lil' thing that allows normal people who don't get bonuses the amount of a small country's GNP to pay the rent and eat each day).

I probably jinxed it a bit since just last weekend, I was thinking, 'Okay, things aren't too bad with the computer these days; no funny hiccough.'...........

But when I download a Microsoft file (one part of Windows Live Essentials! Just one tiny programme!), I don't want you to take control of a sub-part of the system and tell the computer to do things that I'd turned off on purpose LAST YEAR!

It all boils down to some cretin (I suspect that the plural form for this one is "a gathering of wankers") at Microsoft working at its desk and believing from the bottom of its lil' heart that 'Oh, I know what the suckers patrons need, and I'll code the commands to do exactly what I want, not what our clients may want. I (and me, and myself, and my superior ego, too!) know best...'.

When I noticed this morning that something was wrong, what did I do? I tried to launch the System Restore... only to have it fail several times, which took hours(!!!), because Windows 8 had started its mutation, and it had already done something to the Registry.

I know that I could contact you, my dear Microsoft, but, for having already tried that with other issues, I know that clients are either ignored or patronized, and I'm in the mood for bloody neither.

It's highly unlikely that I'll ever meet the cretin/gathering of wankers responsible for my losing this day trying to fix what I hadn't allowed in the first place, but if that were to happen... Weeeeeeeeeell, be ready for a friendly chat...

Sincerely (disappointed!),

Dru

Chi va piano, va sano...

... Chi va sano, va lontano.

Mother probably thinks that my passion for languages is a kind of weird addiction (and she may well have a point).

A few years ago, as I was writing some fiction, I started learning Russian by accident: one of my characters was Russian; I didn't want the three words I needed him to say in his native language to be ridiculous, and so I started investigating how the Russian language works. I'd always said that I wouldn't start Russian because of the many declension, but I found the culture fascinating, and I grew quite attached to that Russian character, and... there you go; one more language.

[Incidentally, when I can travel normally (right now, my right ear could explode if I were to take a plane), I will go to Ukraine. Kiev... be ready for me!... And I promise to learn basic Ukrainian, at the very least.]

I've been learning Romance and Germanic languages mostly.

In college, I learnt bits of ancient Egyptian.

When I (briefly) converted to Protestantism, my awesome minister taught us biblical Hebrew, which I loved.

I've tried to learn Arabic, but that was really tough to do all alone, but that gave me a taste for non-European languages, and that was how I started to learn Mandarin. [Of course, I'm that kind of weird. Are you even surprised?]

I cowardly stopped rather fast because the exercises were killing my throat. A friend, who's got an MA in Mandarin, told me that it was a very good sign, that my vocal chords were learning to pronounce the tones in Chinese... I stopped nonetheless because that was really painful.

However... learning how to write in Chinese prepared me for my great swap: the day I started learning Japanese. Without that detour in Chinese, Japanese kanji would have been much, much, much harder to start.

My last real holiday (a few centuries ago!) was in Japan. I could shop there, and chat with a few people (in Japanese, yes). When I watch telly, whether it's the news or series, I understand the big picture, and I can write (a few programmes help me type in Japanese, and they come with very handy dictionaries).

My current big problem is... reading Japanese.

I could be happy with what I can do, and with the tiny bits I can read, but I want more, and so I've decided to start doing the one thing that has helped me with improving my knowledge of other languages: grabbing a book, a dictionary, and fight with literature.

Now that I've seen the drama 妻は、くノ一 (Tsuma wa, kunoichi; My Wife Is a Ninja), I'd like to try to read the books by  風野 真知雄 (Machio Kazeno). 

[I'm still looking for an online store that wouldn't have shipping options from hell. Suggestions welcome, by the way]

Since I need a lot of training, I grabbed a book that I already own, and I started this (on a photocopy!!!): 

Wish me luck?

(And buy me aspirin for Christmas? ô.O)

Empress of Mars

A few months ago, I added to my official bio on Twitter "Empress of Mars".

I'd said that I'd explain why, and tonight's absolutely perfect.

I chose that title to somehow replace 'I've got a bridge to sell you, and I can get you a good price on the Tower, too' because I get to read soooo many things that make me think that 'If you're ready to believe that, then I've got a bridge to sell you', and the bridge-selling turned into a pseudo-claim on a neighbouring planet...

And so, now it's 'If you believe that, I'm the Empress of Mars'.

However, my title keeps expanding... unfortunately, and that's mostly because I feel more and more as if I'm not from Earth.

Just tonight, I was watching the Ig Nobel Prize Ceremony online. I was listening to it through earphones coz... it's night here, and I already felt bad for giggling so loudly.

And then... I heard music.

Music that wasn't coming from the ceremony... 

I took the earphones off, and the din seemed to be coming from... Guess where? Yes, of course, the restaurant downstairs. And yet, since the sound also seemed to come from upstairs, I went downstairs, in the courtyard, in order to check who was the actual culprit.

The restaurant was the culprit. There was loud music, and people shouting like banshees with their dominant fingers caught in a heavy door.

I went back up, phoned the restaurant, and... a man answered (Miracle!), and the poor bunny had a hard time hearing me because there were patrons celebrating a birthday.

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww. 

Pardon my French, but... Bloody bollocking hell! Do these bipeds think they're alone on the fucking planet?

The bloke got the banshees under control pretty quickly, but I shouldn't have to keep complaining.

Tomorrow... I'll try to reach the owner of that despicable place, and I'll ask him if he thinks it's normal to hear banshees several stories above his place whilst listening to YouTube on earphones. 

He'll probably apologize, but why do I have to take time to remind him to behave like a human being? Oh, yes, because I wasn't raised in a barn. It's either that or I'm really the Empress of Mars, and I need to go back to my planet to not blow a fuse because of banshees...

Dru,

Empress of Mars (currently living above arrogant plonkers who think they own the planet)

Invisible Jane

Why did it take me soooo long to post pictures of me in my Regency dress?

Oh... probably because I didn't want to take photos indoors, in a 21st century setting, and because my digital camera did this:

For several days, wherever we tried, I ended up being the invisible woman.

I'm pale, but...

'She's guilty!!!'

Preliminary note: I considered not posting this one, but the amount of sexism and victim-blaming I've read today is making me see red, so before I blow a fuse, I give you a growly post on a thorny topic...






I'm back home, and I'm angry... because I was silly enough to watch the news (I should stick to newspapers and Twitter; those can already make me growl, but usually, I don't get to put a face on plonkers saying stupid things).

So, there was this section about the death of a baby, killed by his violent and abusive father.

Allow me to yell this in red: WE MUST EDUCATE PEOPLE ABOUT ABUSE AND HOW TO HELP VICTIMS!!!

It was a complete festival of victim-blaming in that section:

- the neighbours: heard the shouts and the wife being beaten, but they did nothing and said nothing.

- the wife's mother and father-in-law: scolded the husband, and stopped going to see their daughter after the husband threatened them with a knife.

- the wife's father: he tried to protect her by telling her to leave, but now he blames her for staying.

- the various shop owners in town: saw the black eyes and bruises on the wife, but they "didn't want to get involved" because it was "none of their business".

When the wife got pregnant and her husband kept beating her, she went to the police.

What happened?

The husband got a few hours of community service. Awwwwwwwwwww!

Now, he's killed their baby.

I've just seen the Prosecutor declare calmly that the mother is somehow guilty as well because she didn't protect her child.

What about going to court six months ago and trying to get protection - and being left alone with a drinking sociopath?

What about being brainwashed into believing that she couldn't do a single thing without her husband (as per several shop owners' testimonies!)?

What about being another victim in this? Just a victim.

People who've never been abused can't imagine what it is. As I've already said before, my own mother is deeply convinced that I could have left my abuser in the wink of an eye, and that I should have been back to "life as it was before" five minutes after leaving him.

*snort* That's a pretty dream.

Abuse victims are in a form of hell on earth, and manipulation is a form of torture.

Yes, some mothers will react and leave when their companions start attacking their children. Some can do that, because that act of violence becomes a freeing trigger that helps them make a change.

Unfortunately, not all can do that, and the Earthlings should be told and taught that until they understand that abuse victims have their souls shackled and restrained.

I'm quite angry because what I saw made it clear that the wife is a victim, too, and the Prosecutor clearly felt contempt for her.

Her parents fled, the whole town turned deaf and blind, the police and the court gave a half-hearted slap on the wrist to her abuser, and now that the murderer she couldn't escape has killed her baby, she's probably going to end up in jail.

If I were the judge... I'd make sure she gets proper help, and I'd add the number of years the Law wants her to spend in jail to the sentence of the real culprit... but that's me, a Survivor who knows how quick and easy it is to fall for a predator.

Haiku Time!

Recently, I've been sharing a shower booth with a massively stubborn harvestman that stays in the dangerous zone for such a tiny "spider".
In its honour, I give you:

住   愚   浴

ん   か   槽

で   な   に

い   ク  

た   モ  

は  

.

.

.

The silly spider

in the tub…

It survived.

©Drusilla de Lanor [August, 29^th, 2014]

Music, Please!

Rather recently, I discovered (late to the party again, I know) 妻は、くノ一 (Tsuma wa, kunoichi / My Wife, a Ninja).

I'm honestly wondering why that mini-series hasn't been bought by TV channels out of Japan. It's absolutely lovely (note to self: buy the books!).

Incidentally, the song used when the end credits roll is an efficient and good ear worm.

It's been stuck in my head for quite a few days, it took me a bit of time to locate a video with the singer (山崎まさよし / Yamazaki Masayoshi), so I'm sharing アルタイルの涙 (Altair no Namida / Tears of Altair) with you.

Enjoy!

Sewing a Regency (Day) Dress [Chapter 6: Modelling the Dress]

The photos are not really that good (sorry!), but they're the best I could get (and it took four tries in four days, and it was extremely weird since the camera did things I didn't even know were possible, but that's another story).

It's mainly just to give you an idea of the finished product...

Front view (with a completely unauthentic shawl - in my defence, it was rather nippy that day):

Another view of the front (sans shawl):

And finally, a view of the back:

I hope you'll like my version of a Regency day dress.
It took me much longer than I thought to be able to post all this, but many things conspired against me...
Well, it's there... Enjoy!

PS: I'd like a word with whoever invented the corset! That thing was devised in hell.

Sewing a Regency (Day) Dress [Chapter 5: Cutting the Pieces & Assembling the Dress]

All right, now that you've got the pattern and that you've printed only the small "bits", here's the battle plan:

* you'll need one piece for:

- the front

- the back

- the belt

- the skirt

* you'll need two for:

- the sides

- the sleeves

The pattern doesn't take into account the seam allowance, so you'll have to keep in mind to not cut the material right against the pattern (about 1 cm/0.5" should be enough - check how your material reacts).

I'm 5'2", and the skirt could fit someone who's 5'6" (if you're taller, you'll need more material).

The dress is size 12 (UK variety). I guess that a size 10 would have to be cut right on the pattern, and add about 2.5 cm/1" for each extra size.

Here's how I proceeded with my 3mx1.5m (9'9"x5'1") remnant.
I folded the length in two, and I pinned the pattern for the sleeve on a corner (1cm/0.5" from the end of the material); then, I cut both sleeves at the same time:

Since my material is striped, it was quite easy to cut off the whole length of material where there was what I needed for the sleeves, and incidentally, I ended up with a nice square of material that can be used for something else (small scarf, reticule,... That's up to you).

Next, I folded the pattern of the front part in two (that's piece #1 in the drawing below). I folded the width of the remnant just enough to cover the folded pattern, and I pinned it. However, I cut the whole length: the huge rectangle that this forms is the skirt, and you can put it away for the moment (and by cutting off the rectangle for the sleeves and the one for the top and the belt, you don't have to actually measure the skirt).
You should be able to pin the sides' pattern (#2 below) on the same piece as the folded front. If your material isn't plain, mind the stripes or pattern when you pin that part.

The stripes don't align perfectly with the front part, but one has to inspect the dress closely to see it.

You're left with one big-ish, rectangle length of material.
Pin the back, and cut it:

In what's left of that length, cut the belt: 10cm/3.9"x1 m/39.4" (that'll work for the front belt and you'll have material for the four loops in the back.

I'll refer to the different pieces according to the numbers on this drawing:

Once you've sewn two parts together, always iron the seam open.

1- Sew the two sides (#2) to the back (#3):

2- Sew the front (#1) to the sides.

3- Sew the shoulders, joining the front and the back parts.

4- Place a pin in the top and bottom part of the front right in the middle (they'll be your guides until the very end; you could even use safety pins).

5- Hem the top part by hand, starting with the front; sew the extremity of the nylon cord thread where the shoulder parts meet and make sure that the thread will stay in place. As you go, make sure that you haven't caught the thread in the hem.
That hem can be pretty small (I had just a couple of millimetres of seam allowance).
When you reach the centre top pin, leave a small opening through which you can pull the thread (that you'll hide inside) to gather the top.

Then, hem the back to match the length of the hem in the front.

6- Sew the skirt (#5) into a tube, and place the seam in the middle of the back.
Just like for the top, use pins to help locate the two sides and the middle of the front.
Measure your ribcage right under your breasts and add 3 to 4 centimetres (1.2" to 1.6"); divide by 2 to know how much you've got to reduce the front and the back of the skirt where it connects with the top.
You'll have to pin the front in regular pleats:

You'll gather the back:

7- Pin the bottom of the front of the top part in pleats to match the top of the front of the skirt. The final diameter should match the diameter of the top of the skirt - of course.
There are no pleats in the back of the top. My ribcage is 78 cm (30.7"), and I pinned/hemmed everything at 82 cm (32.3") [because that's not much, and I need to be able to manoeuvre into the dress since there is no buttoned opening]; the pleats in the front part of the top just reached the side pieces (#2).

8- The sleeves (#6)... (that was the "entertaining" part of this dress).
First, a confession: the shoulder had a tad too much material, and the next time I make this dress, I'll cut the top right on the pattern.
Sew the length of the sleeve.
Try the top on and locate the middle of your shoulder; you know the drill: place a pin.
Fold a first sleeve along the seam, and pin the middle of the top of the sleeve to the shoulder. You should need to make 3 or 4 pleats between the top of the shoulder and the underarm on the front.
When everything is pinned (I'd recommend one careful try on the inside to make sure that everything will fit), you can sew the top and the first sleeve.
Repeat the operation on the second sleeve.

9- Iron the belt (#4). Measure the top of the skirt so that the belt will cover the front of the dress and reaches just a few centimetres beyond the middle of the side. Hem both sides of the belt. With the rest of the belt piece, make 2 or 4 loops for the back.
Pin the ribbon at the bottom of the belt so it doesn't move when you're going to sew the skirt to the top.
Pin the loops to the back (and be very careful to pin them straight!).

10- Pin the top to the skirt+belt and loops (this is when the "middle" pins will help you place everything where it should be; the pins in the front are particularly useful). Sew the pieces together.
You're going to have to take care of many threads.

11- Hem the bottom of the skirt.

12- Hem the sleeves.

13- Eventually add buttons to the sleeves, near the wrists.

14- Have fun in your pretty dress!