Birthday picnic in the house tomorrow. It's supposed to pour, so my grand plans of having everyone hang out in the back yard drinking gin t's and listening to chansons by Edith Piaf and Yves Montand have been dashed.
The Menu.
Hummus
Tomato basil thing
*Pickled green beans
Flat bread
Cornelian cherry soda
Lemonade
Cous cous & cherry tomato salad
*Just White Beans
*Pickled Red Onions
Zata
*Chili
*Cornbread
Asterisks indicate that the item has already been prepared.
It's late and I've spent the evening listening to British panel shows.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Preserves.
When we decided to join our CSA, I told Ryan that an important thing I wanted to do this summer was do more preserving and pickling.
I'm very excited that I've actually done this. The final results have, for the most part, been successful and if they weren't successful, they were at least delicious.
One exciting part of it is that we gathered all of the ingredients ourselves. And the plums came from my mother's garden while the Cornelian cherries were scrumped!
The next plan involves scrumping crabapples from the Ithaca airport and making crap apple and lavender jelly along with green tomato chutney from our sad little tomato plants that will have to be put to sleep soon as the have come down with late blight.
I'm also keeping tabs on the roses in the neigbourhood, because I like the idea of making rose hip jelly. It's in keeping with my little old lady fascination. Sort of goes along with Coty face powder and sachets of lavender. Basically, I'm thinking of my grandmother although I have honestly no idea if she's ever made rose hip jelly or not.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Healthcare Reform! Yay!
I was going to have a big announcement about my prodigal return to blogging, but what the hell. Linking to someone else's blog is much easier. Particularly when they've accurately described sentiments which I share.
This won't hurt a bit: Mob Scene
Here's the bit I liked best:
"As a nurse, I cannot speak strongly enough in favor of discussing end of life care with your doctors when you have the chance. Hell, I think all adults should have advanced directives. And your doctor should get paid for the time s/he spends talking to you about your options. No one is lining up to exterminate your disabled child or elderly parent. The fact that I have to write that makes my brain hurt."
Kids, now is absolutely the time to be reforming the health care system. Why? Because our economy is in the toilet (excuse the vulgarity) and people are out of work, and thus without adequate health care. What kind of barbaric society allows its people to suffer needlessly?
This won't hurt a bit: Mob Scene
Here's the bit I liked best:
"As a nurse, I cannot speak strongly enough in favor of discussing end of life care with your doctors when you have the chance. Hell, I think all adults should have advanced directives. And your doctor should get paid for the time s/he spends talking to you about your options. No one is lining up to exterminate your disabled child or elderly parent. The fact that I have to write that makes my brain hurt."
Kids, now is absolutely the time to be reforming the health care system. Why? Because our economy is in the toilet (excuse the vulgarity) and people are out of work, and thus without adequate health care. What kind of barbaric society allows its people to suffer needlessly?
Friday, May 29, 2009
More overly intimate facebook photos and strawberry scones.
It's happened again. I happened to glance at Facebook pictures featuring people I know in an overly intimate position.
Is nothing sacred? Am I just a prude?
Wait. I know I'm not a prude. I just don't want to see you kissing someone. I'm sure you have kissed people and I'm sure that some people regard you as kissable and therefore, attractive, I just don't need photographic evidence.
***
In other news, I made Strawberry Scones last weekend and they were a success. By success, I mean all eaten within 24 hours as opposed to Ryan's recent biscuit attempt, which have been designated as dog biscuits (and not eaten at all). Somehow he got too much baking powder or soda in them and they tasted, as I described to him, not unlike "licking quarters." Oh well. He's made a lots of good things. And the proportion of good things to things that taste like quarters is quite satisfactory.
Strawberry Scones
2¼ cups all purpose flour
¼ cups sugar, plus extra for sprinkling
1 tablespoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
8 tablespoons butter, cubed
1 egg
¼ cup plain yoghurt
½ cup milk
orange zest from one orange
1.5 cups sliced and diced fresh strawberries
1. Preheat oven to 425F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. In a small bowl, combine the egg, yoghurt, milk and orange zest. Whisk to thoroughly combine.
3. Place the dry ingredients (flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt) in a large bowl. Pulse to combine. Add the cubes of butter and cut the butter into the flour with a pastry cutter, to just before a coarse meal texture.
4. Add the strawberries to the flour mixture and mix to coat. Add the wet ingredients and fold them into the dry ingredients, mixing just until the dough comes together and all of the flour is hydrated. Don't mix too much or you will lose fluffiness.
5. Scoop out onto prepared baking sheet and sprinkle some sugar. Bake until slightly browned on top, for about 15 minutes (use a toothpick to test doneness).
6.Remove the baking sheet from the oven and let the scones cool on the sheet for a few minutes. I had leftover dough, which I froze for quick scones next time.
YUM.
Is nothing sacred? Am I just a prude?
Wait. I know I'm not a prude. I just don't want to see you kissing someone. I'm sure you have kissed people and I'm sure that some people regard you as kissable and therefore, attractive, I just don't need photographic evidence.
***
In other news, I made Strawberry Scones last weekend and they were a success. By success, I mean all eaten within 24 hours as opposed to Ryan's recent biscuit attempt, which have been designated as dog biscuits (and not eaten at all). Somehow he got too much baking powder or soda in them and they tasted, as I described to him, not unlike "licking quarters." Oh well. He's made a lots of good things. And the proportion of good things to things that taste like quarters is quite satisfactory.
Strawberry Scones
2¼ cups all purpose flour
¼ cups sugar, plus extra for sprinkling
1 tablespoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
8 tablespoons butter, cubed
1 egg
¼ cup plain yoghurt
½ cup milk
orange zest from one orange
1.5 cups sliced and diced fresh strawberries
1. Preheat oven to 425F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. In a small bowl, combine the egg, yoghurt, milk and orange zest. Whisk to thoroughly combine.
3. Place the dry ingredients (flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt) in a large bowl. Pulse to combine. Add the cubes of butter and cut the butter into the flour with a pastry cutter, to just before a coarse meal texture.
4. Add the strawberries to the flour mixture and mix to coat. Add the wet ingredients and fold them into the dry ingredients, mixing just until the dough comes together and all of the flour is hydrated. Don't mix too much or you will lose fluffiness.
5. Scoop out onto prepared baking sheet and sprinkle some sugar. Bake until slightly browned on top, for about 15 minutes (use a toothpick to test doneness).
6.Remove the baking sheet from the oven and let the scones cool on the sheet for a few minutes. I had leftover dough, which I froze for quick scones next time.
YUM.
Monday, May 25, 2009
The Garden and It's Spring!
We planted a garden. Well. Ryan did most of the work - I supervised while managing a bottle of Ithaca Brewing Company's finest pale ale.
Still, it's very exciting. This morning I went down and checked our little plants - all of the tomatoes (Cherries and Black Prince heirlooms) and about half of the peppers (Lady Bell and Jalapeño) have little buds or flowers on them. We also have oregano and Thai basil in pots and Lauren and Matt from downstairs have some parsley, sweet basil and cilantro (apparently some people seem to disagree with me that it tastes like soap) seeds going. Now if we can just convince the other downstairs neighbours not to throw their cigarette butts and trash onto the vegetable plot we'll be set. I think this is manageable because they are moving out in a week.
I also packed up all our woolly winter clothing and started eying my bathing suits, not to mention getting rid of clothes I never wear (to make room for....more clothes!). Today is supposed to be 72 degrees and clear all day long. We're planning a backpacking trip along the Fingerlakes Trail.
Yesterday was pretty idyllic as well (except for folding a huge pile of delinquent laundry) - we went to Huntervale and I rode 4 ponies, who were (mostly) fabulous, while Ryan fished for bass. Next week, a trip to Devon Horse Show.
The weather has been unbelievable. Everything from mid-nineties and humid, to thunderstorms, to nighttime frosts, to grey and cloudy and then, finally, on Saturday, hail. HAIL. I guess this is "spring."
Still, it's very exciting. This morning I went down and checked our little plants - all of the tomatoes (Cherries and Black Prince heirlooms) and about half of the peppers (Lady Bell and Jalapeño) have little buds or flowers on them. We also have oregano and Thai basil in pots and Lauren and Matt from downstairs have some parsley, sweet basil and cilantro (apparently some people seem to disagree with me that it tastes like soap) seeds going. Now if we can just convince the other downstairs neighbours not to throw their cigarette butts and trash onto the vegetable plot we'll be set. I think this is manageable because they are moving out in a week.
I also packed up all our woolly winter clothing and started eying my bathing suits, not to mention getting rid of clothes I never wear (to make room for....more clothes!). Today is supposed to be 72 degrees and clear all day long. We're planning a backpacking trip along the Fingerlakes Trail.
Yesterday was pretty idyllic as well (except for folding a huge pile of delinquent laundry) - we went to Huntervale and I rode 4 ponies, who were (mostly) fabulous, while Ryan fished for bass. Next week, a trip to Devon Horse Show.
The weather has been unbelievable. Everything from mid-nineties and humid, to thunderstorms, to nighttime frosts, to grey and cloudy and then, finally, on Saturday, hail. HAIL. I guess this is "spring."
Sunday, May 17, 2009
What do you do for money?
So I haven't been a prolific poster recently. I think that the main reason is that my mind has been really focused on my current job and I don't feel comfortable talking about it on the internet. It's not fair to my students/clients/staff.
I haven't been knitting, I haven't been cooking, I haven't been taking care of the house properly, I haven't been writing here. I have also come to the conclusion that I really don't want to work more than 3 to 4 days a week, if I can help it. It goes against everything I was raised to believe (work hard! get rewards!) but I am finding that I think the leisure to do what I want is really the best reward. Also that I shouldn't be defined by the work that I do - even if that is something that I love doing, like riding horses.
I'm going to go as far as to say that the question "What do you do?" as in implying "What do you do for money?" is almost rude. Maybe I think so because I started to hate answering it so much when I worked for the hedge fund. My standard answer to the question became, "I work for a hedge fund but I'm not a republican. Yes, they are just as evil as you've been told."
When I was a horse trainer, the answer was always greeted with: "I rode a horse once." So while I originally liked answering the question, I got tired of the stories about someone going on a trail ride and the horse "bucked them" or "started going really fast."
Now I have such a convoluted answer, I really don't like bothering. Every answer seems like a betrayal to everything else I do. And I can't really list everything and I don't really feel that what I do for money is the same as what I, well, do.
But I suppose it's a question, like any other, that people use to learn about other people. Obviously I've asked the question myself, but I think I tend to wait until the person volunteers the information. I mean, what if you want to not work at all. How do you answer the question then?
I think this all stems from my frustration with being defined or boxed into a category and my frustration with defining or categorising others. I'm sure I do it though much my own chagrin. It just seems like a lazy and more importantly harmful thing to do. Lately I've been feeling very categorised all too often.
Well this has turned into a bit of a ramble. Oh well.
I haven't been knitting, I haven't been cooking, I haven't been taking care of the house properly, I haven't been writing here. I have also come to the conclusion that I really don't want to work more than 3 to 4 days a week, if I can help it. It goes against everything I was raised to believe (work hard! get rewards!) but I am finding that I think the leisure to do what I want is really the best reward. Also that I shouldn't be defined by the work that I do - even if that is something that I love doing, like riding horses.
I'm going to go as far as to say that the question "What do you do?" as in implying "What do you do for money?" is almost rude. Maybe I think so because I started to hate answering it so much when I worked for the hedge fund. My standard answer to the question became, "I work for a hedge fund but I'm not a republican. Yes, they are just as evil as you've been told."
When I was a horse trainer, the answer was always greeted with: "I rode a horse once." So while I originally liked answering the question, I got tired of the stories about someone going on a trail ride and the horse "bucked them" or "started going really fast."
Now I have such a convoluted answer, I really don't like bothering. Every answer seems like a betrayal to everything else I do. And I can't really list everything and I don't really feel that what I do for money is the same as what I, well, do.
But I suppose it's a question, like any other, that people use to learn about other people. Obviously I've asked the question myself, but I think I tend to wait until the person volunteers the information. I mean, what if you want to not work at all. How do you answer the question then?
I think this all stems from my frustration with being defined or boxed into a category and my frustration with defining or categorising others. I'm sure I do it though much my own chagrin. It just seems like a lazy and more importantly harmful thing to do. Lately I've been feeling very categorised all too often.
Well this has turned into a bit of a ramble. Oh well.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Bad Behaviour.
Today at Wegmans, I heard a (grown) woman drop a 24 pack of beer (causing a mess) and then watched her (literally) run away. RUN. I thought, after seeing this, that no matter how old she was, she wasn't old enough to be drinking alcohol.
I want to start a website called: I Judge You When You Behave Badly In Public.
I want to start a website called: I Judge You When You Behave Badly In Public.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Today At The Dog Park
I arrived and standing on the big hill in the middle of it, were two people who could not keep their hands off each other. In a fit of disgusting displays of affection, he had his hand in various nooks and crannies that are usually only explored within the privacy of the bedroom, not to mention his tongue in places that are usually the realm of ENT doctors.
They had a sort of labby-collie type black and tan dog that tended to be on the less socialised side. On more than one occasion I saw Jeeves adopt his ears back, snapping stance, the one where he is clearly trying to tell the other dog, "I am uncomfortable with your behaviour, leave me alone" by way of a high pitched bark.
Also at the park was a mother and her little girl, also on the less socialised side of things. The girl had not been taught how to be around a dog which, from my point of view, from the moment they arrived and she was instantly knocked over, created a dangerous situation. She was knocked over because she ran right into a dog from behind, who in turn, chased her and ran her down.
I was standing and chatting with a few people, while our dogs played together. A woman walked up to one of the people I was talking to, a man, and said, "Is this your dog?" gesturing to the black and tan dog that belonged to octopus couple.
"No." He replied.
"Well, that dog just pissed all over my daughter. "
The man made some sort of noise indicating acknowledgment.
"Do you know who's dog it is? It pissed all over my daughter."
The man's girlfriend said, "I don't know, I'm sorry."
The woman replied, "It's just disgusting."
The wet little girl stood their, with a blank expression on her face.
When the woman finally discerned who owned the offending dog, she didn't go and talk to them about the matter. She complained about it some more to us, saying that they had stood their laughing while their dog defiled her daughter. She bided her time until they made a move to leave the park, at which point, she shouted at them from across the park.
Then she took her child, left the park and went to the police.
I'm not kidding.
Bad Manners All Around. The nauseating couple should have made a good faith effort to stop their dog from micturating over the poor little girl and the stupid woman should have set a much better example for the little girl. Dragging her around the park to yell at strangers? Going to the police? There are worse things than piss in this world. Instead of teaching the girl to get over shitty things that happen to you, by being sympathetic (but not angry!), she taught the girl to make ineffectual complaints and be thoroughly rude to strangers (by whom I mean the man she accused of being the dog owner in the first place). She didn't even show her how to voice her grievance like an adult - if she really wanted some kind of apology or closure, she should have approached the couple and addressed the issue with them appropriately instead of shouting across the park.
She took the dog pissing on her daughter personally.
So while I started my trip out to the dog park, wishing that there was some kind of posting about dog park etiquette for dogs (i.e. it is not safe to bring a leashed dog into the dog park, it is disgusting not to pick up after your dog, etc.) I realised that these sorts of things are probably as ineffectual as that woman's outrage. People are just jerks sometimes.
They had a sort of labby-collie type black and tan dog that tended to be on the less socialised side. On more than one occasion I saw Jeeves adopt his ears back, snapping stance, the one where he is clearly trying to tell the other dog, "I am uncomfortable with your behaviour, leave me alone" by way of a high pitched bark.
Also at the park was a mother and her little girl, also on the less socialised side of things. The girl had not been taught how to be around a dog which, from my point of view, from the moment they arrived and she was instantly knocked over, created a dangerous situation. She was knocked over because she ran right into a dog from behind, who in turn, chased her and ran her down.
I was standing and chatting with a few people, while our dogs played together. A woman walked up to one of the people I was talking to, a man, and said, "Is this your dog?" gesturing to the black and tan dog that belonged to octopus couple.
"No." He replied.
"Well, that dog just pissed all over my daughter. "
The man made some sort of noise indicating acknowledgment.
"Do you know who's dog it is? It pissed all over my daughter."
The man's girlfriend said, "I don't know, I'm sorry."
The woman replied, "It's just disgusting."
The wet little girl stood their, with a blank expression on her face.
When the woman finally discerned who owned the offending dog, she didn't go and talk to them about the matter. She complained about it some more to us, saying that they had stood their laughing while their dog defiled her daughter. She bided her time until they made a move to leave the park, at which point, she shouted at them from across the park.
Then she took her child, left the park and went to the police.
I'm not kidding.
Bad Manners All Around. The nauseating couple should have made a good faith effort to stop their dog from micturating over the poor little girl and the stupid woman should have set a much better example for the little girl. Dragging her around the park to yell at strangers? Going to the police? There are worse things than piss in this world. Instead of teaching the girl to get over shitty things that happen to you, by being sympathetic (but not angry!), she taught the girl to make ineffectual complaints and be thoroughly rude to strangers (by whom I mean the man she accused of being the dog owner in the first place). She didn't even show her how to voice her grievance like an adult - if she really wanted some kind of apology or closure, she should have approached the couple and addressed the issue with them appropriately instead of shouting across the park.
She took the dog pissing on her daughter personally.
So while I started my trip out to the dog park, wishing that there was some kind of posting about dog park etiquette for dogs (i.e. it is not safe to bring a leashed dog into the dog park, it is disgusting not to pick up after your dog, etc.) I realised that these sorts of things are probably as ineffectual as that woman's outrage. People are just jerks sometimes.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Facebook is so weird. Not that I'm judging.
I've seen pictures of old friends, posted on Facebook, that make me feel as if I've walked in on them having sex and then turned around, only to find the door locked behind me and to then discover that they don't care that I'm in there and are continuing with their...machinations.
I guess that's a rather long metaphor, but the pictures are just so unabashed, so "out there" that the only choice one has is to start making pop psychology diagnoses. At least that's what I do.
"She has always used her relationships with men to validate herself, so therefore she is posting these pictures of herself in these blatantly sexual positions in order to appear more attractive in the eyes of others. What she doesn't realise is how transparent this is and also, how quickly she needs to get herself into therapy."
One picture in particular, the person looks like they are being date raped. Date raped.
In addition to inappropriate pictures, there are jokes occasionally made on peoples posts that I think are childish, inappropriate and rude. A (straight) male friend changed his relationship status and it was met with, "Can't wait to meet him" and "What's his name?" jokes.
This is a funny place for me to be in. I am far from prudish and certainly far from anyone who gets offended by pretty much anything -I do have my fair share of somewhat scandalous pictures posted up on Facebook. I'm not particularly fond of political correctness (don't get me drunk and started on cultural relativism. Or Garrison Keillor, for that matter). It is just weird to want other people to see a lot of this stuff. Or know about it.
Maybe it's not them, it's me. Maybe I'm showing my age - I feel like I missed the everyone-knows-everything-about-you-in-digital generation by a couple of years. Young enough to know what it is, too old not to be horrified or totally grossed out. I mean, no one even had a cell phone when I was in high school until my senior year and even then, it was a rarity.
*******
I guess that's a rather long metaphor, but the pictures are just so unabashed, so "out there" that the only choice one has is to start making pop psychology diagnoses. At least that's what I do.
"She has always used her relationships with men to validate herself, so therefore she is posting these pictures of herself in these blatantly sexual positions in order to appear more attractive in the eyes of others. What she doesn't realise is how transparent this is and also, how quickly she needs to get herself into therapy."
One picture in particular, the person looks like they are being date raped. Date raped.
In addition to inappropriate pictures, there are jokes occasionally made on peoples posts that I think are childish, inappropriate and rude. A (straight) male friend changed his relationship status and it was met with, "Can't wait to meet him" and "What's his name?" jokes.
This is a funny place for me to be in. I am far from prudish and certainly far from anyone who gets offended by pretty much anything -I do have my fair share of somewhat scandalous pictures posted up on Facebook. I'm not particularly fond of political correctness (don't get me drunk and started on cultural relativism. Or Garrison Keillor, for that matter). It is just weird to want other people to see a lot of this stuff. Or know about it.
Maybe it's not them, it's me. Maybe I'm showing my age - I feel like I missed the everyone-knows-everything-about-you-in-digital generation by a couple of years. Young enough to know what it is, too old not to be horrified or totally grossed out. I mean, no one even had a cell phone when I was in high school until my senior year and even then, it was a rarity.
*******
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Richard Coyle, Bad Movies and Sleepiness.
It's 1 in the morning, I fell asleep for several hours after I returned home from work this evening and now I am perky and wide awake. I didn't get enough sleep last night because Jeeves had a panic attack due to fireworks being let off somewhere nearby. I'm not sure why dogs hate fireworks so much. 
And so, I'm going to go to bed quite late again and thus beginning the endless catch-22 of the proverbial night person.
Why Richard Coyle? Because I had a strange dream the other night where Richard Coyle was a friend of mine. I realised when I woke up that I wouldn't mind having Richard Coyle be my friend. I bet he'd be a lot of fun.
And so, I'm going to go to bed quite late again and thus beginning the endless catch-22 of the proverbial night person.***
I just finished watching a really weird movie called the Libertine. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone. I'm not even going to link to it, because it really wasn't that interesting enough. It's starring Johnny Depp in the somewhat biographical role of John Wilmot, the 2nd Earl of Rochester. He does a great job, but the plot is confusing and just not very interesting. I found it because I was looking for things Richard Coyle has done - he had a small role in it.Why Richard Coyle? Because I had a strange dream the other night where Richard Coyle was a friend of mine. I realised when I woke up that I wouldn't mind having Richard Coyle be my friend. I bet he'd be a lot of fun.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Friday, April 3, 2009
I Thought Winter Was Over
What the hell is wrong with this crazy place? 60 degrees yesterday and then tomorrow:
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Stranger's Babies.
I'm in the lobby of the site of my new job, doing my last volunteer shift. I start getting paid Monday.
I like this place because I like meeting all sorts of people. Right now there is a girl in here (I say girl because I think she must be younger than me) with the youngest of her 3 babies. This one is nine months old. It just spit up on the carpet.
I feel odd sometimes because I never have anything to say to mothers or to babies. Motherese isn't something I am prepared to use. Other women can, with the greatest of ease, slip right into that language, no matter whose baby it is, say the right things, ask the mother the correct questions and everyone seems happy. Their faces light up at the sight of a baby. I don't seem to regard them as anything more interesting than just another person, one that's a little younger than me. It's a social interaction that I just do not have the tools for.
It's not that I absolutely don't want children of my own (I go back and forth). I've just come to the conclusion that I have no interest in stranger's children, particularly babies. I just don't know what to say. I feel like I did not "get the memo." When it is the clear topic at hand - because you are in a lobby with a talkative mother, I have a difficult time. I have little or no opinion, interest or knowledge on the subject - I have literally nothing to say. Which is quite rare, for me. Under a certain age, children seem to be fair game for all sorts of women to gurgle. And that just seems weird to me - I mean, what's so special about a baby?
I'm sure that sounds callous, but I really mean it. I get the whole "it's a new life" thing and that babies are absorbing the world around them at an astounding rate. That is actually pretty cool and actually interesting to me. Little tiny beings programming themselves. I have, oddly and for various reasons, made quite a personal study about children and learning and parenting: In part because of my interest in evolutionary psychology and anthropology, in part because of my utter frustration with the Palo Alto Unified School District, and also, in part, because I am aware of my lack of knowledge in this area, but understand that it is a part of the human experience (whether or not it is part of my experience). But that is where my interest ends. I simply cannot muster the strength to talk to anyone about their baby, especially right out of the blue. But somehow, babies, like cigarettes, are a socially acceptable way for people to start conversations with strangers.
I realise that every mother thinks their baby is special - and they should (within reason: my old boss forwarded a bulletin board post to me that his wife had found on one of her mom websites. It was all about how this woman felt she was selling her child short, not giving him the advantages that he deserved and how she needed a way for him to express his gifts or else his life would be ruined. Therefore she was seeking a chess tutor. Then she mentioned his age: 2 and a half). But I still am not sure how that translates into other women cooing and burbling at stranger's babies. It just smacks of false intimacy (at least it would be for me, because the emotions I would be supposed to be emoting would not be real) and I can't stand that.
I realise that every mother thinks their baby is special - and they should (within reason: my old boss forwarded a bulletin board post to me that his wife had found on one of her mom websites. It was all about how this woman felt she was selling her child short, not giving him the advantages that he deserved and how she needed a way for him to express his gifts or else his life would be ruined. Therefore she was seeking a chess tutor. Then she mentioned his age: 2 and a half). But I still am not sure how that translates into other women cooing and burbling at stranger's babies. It just smacks of false intimacy (at least it would be for me, because the emotions I would be supposed to be emoting would not be real) and I can't stand that.
I'm sure a lot of has to do with the fact that I was never around tiny babies. I'm the youngest but one, in my generation, on my mother's side of the family and the next oldest is my brother (8 years difference). My cousins have started having children but I rarely ever see them - and they are all old enough now to hold conversations (well, they're almost conversations). My brother certainly hasn't had any. In addition to this, gender defined roles were never a subject in our household. My brother and I were both expected to go to college and become earners. No one ever said to me, "When you get married and have children..." rather, it was "When you grow up and are fully capable of supporting yourself."
So here I am, sitting in the lobby of my soon to be place of employment, finally feeling comfortable because I have been given means of supporting myself and my family, wondering what on earth to respond to this woman when she starts muttering about her baby and how on earth the other women in the office know just what to say.
So here I am, sitting in the lobby of my soon to be place of employment, finally feeling comfortable because I have been given means of supporting myself and my family, wondering what on earth to respond to this woman when she starts muttering about her baby and how on earth the other women in the office know just what to say.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
And so it goes.
So, my father has been laid off. This is terrible news. At his age, he should be leaving work, not having to search for it.
We are heading into another Great Depression.
We are heading into another Great Depression.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
More from the Florence Extended Stay America
This hotel stay wouldn't have been complete until this evening.
I am all packed up, sandwich and fruit ready for tomorrow's plane flight (I never, ever buy airport food and neither should you). Annie and I have been sitting at our respective computers for awhile. She turned to me a few minutes ago and said,
"Am I going nuts or is your computer making a funny noise?"
I replied,
"I hear it too. I think it's coming from outside."
I got up and looked.
"It sounds kind of like a quack. Something quacking." she said. I agreed with her.
My exploration out the window proved fruitless.
"I can't think what it is." I said, sitting back down at the computer.
"I don't know either. Unless...." She raised her eyebrows and then gestured to the wall us from the room next door. I raised my eyebrows in kind. Then she put her head on her desk and I groaned. I found a cup, held it up to the wall and pressed my ear up against it. The distinct noise of bed springs squeaking was clear.
"Is that what it is? I think from the expression on your face that that must be what it is." Annie looked at me and then put her head back on her desk.
I frowned and looked embarrassed. Then I nodded, replaced the cup and went back to my seat by the computer.
I actually don't care very much, I kind of think that's what you're supposed to do in hotel rooms. It's just kind of weird to overhear it - like when you overhear someone peeing - the act is such an intimate, private moment yet you know everyone does it and don't really care or think about it very much.
Anyway. Back to New York tomorrow.
I am all packed up, sandwich and fruit ready for tomorrow's plane flight (I never, ever buy airport food and neither should you). Annie and I have been sitting at our respective computers for awhile. She turned to me a few minutes ago and said,
"Am I going nuts or is your computer making a funny noise?"
I replied,
"I hear it too. I think it's coming from outside."
I got up and looked.
"It sounds kind of like a quack. Something quacking." she said. I agreed with her.
My exploration out the window proved fruitless.
"I can't think what it is." I said, sitting back down at the computer.
"I don't know either. Unless...." She raised her eyebrows and then gestured to the wall us from the room next door. I raised my eyebrows in kind. Then she put her head on her desk and I groaned. I found a cup, held it up to the wall and pressed my ear up against it. The distinct noise of bed springs squeaking was clear.
"Is that what it is? I think from the expression on your face that that must be what it is." Annie looked at me and then put her head back on her desk.
I frowned and looked embarrassed. Then I nodded, replaced the cup and went back to my seat by the computer.
I actually don't care very much, I kind of think that's what you're supposed to do in hotel rooms. It's just kind of weird to overhear it - like when you overhear someone peeing - the act is such an intimate, private moment yet you know everyone does it and don't really care or think about it very much.
Anyway. Back to New York tomorrow.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Alice's Adventures in Kentucky...wait, actually it's Ohio this time.
I'm still staying in Florence, but today we ventured up to Beulah Park, which is just outside of Columbus, Ohio in a small town called Grove City.
Why did we go? The same reason Annie and I go anywhere, ever.
That's right, you're looking at my latest investment scheme. Of course, I won't be getting any money out of it, someone else will (they'll be putting in all the money too). But the point is to prove I can do it: take a (free) racehorse off the track, retrain it and sell it to someone else. One of these horses will be coming back to Ithaca (maybe).
Anyway. One of my singular joys in life is going out to breakfast. Ryan is anti-this because...well...I'm not sure why. Regardless. Annie and I went out to breakfast before driving up to Beulah:
Yes. This place sells rocking chairs outside and plays Dolly Parton on the loud speakers. No hound dogs, whittlin' sticks, horehound candy or shotguns though. I checked in the gift shop:
On the way to Beulah, there were two signs that listed the 10 commandants. Really made me regret all that coveting I've been getting up to. On the way back, the same signs were decorated with these two gems, supposed to be read one after the other:
I think this sign is funnier if you just read it by itself:
Then there was this bumper sticker:
All I can say is: Beware of liberals taking pictures of your stupid bumper stickers and posting them on the internet in order to ridicule you and your sensationalistic, militant, small-minded, bigoted, little brain.
Why did we go? The same reason Annie and I go anywhere, ever.
That's right, you're looking at my latest investment scheme. Of course, I won't be getting any money out of it, someone else will (they'll be putting in all the money too). But the point is to prove I can do it: take a (free) racehorse off the track, retrain it and sell it to someone else. One of these horses will be coming back to Ithaca (maybe).
Anyway. One of my singular joys in life is going out to breakfast. Ryan is anti-this because...well...I'm not sure why. Regardless. Annie and I went out to breakfast before driving up to Beulah:
Yes. This place sells rocking chairs outside and plays Dolly Parton on the loud speakers. No hound dogs, whittlin' sticks, horehound candy or shotguns though. I checked in the gift shop:
On the way to Beulah, there were two signs that listed the 10 commandants. Really made me regret all that coveting I've been getting up to. On the way back, the same signs were decorated with these two gems, supposed to be read one after the other:
I think this sign is funnier if you just read it by itself:
Then there was this bumper sticker:
All I can say is: Beware of liberals taking pictures of your stupid bumper stickers and posting them on the internet in order to ridicule you and your sensationalistic, militant, small-minded, bigoted, little brain.
Some terrifying articles
Brought to my attention via friends of friends on Facebook; I believe dissemination is important:
First: Oklahoma State is preparing to pass legislature that will require teachers to give students who give "religious" answers to exam questions in science classes, passing grades.
http://www.edmondsun.com/opinion/local_story_067125346.html
I think we've now begun the entrance into the New Dark Ages.
Second: What Obama wants to do about it.
http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/washington/2009/03/obama-text-town.html
Finally: More terrifying news.
http://www.nsf.gov/statistics/seind08/pdf/c07.pdf
First: Oklahoma State is preparing to pass legislature that will require teachers to give students who give "religious" answers to exam questions in science classes, passing grades.
http://www.edmondsun.com/opinion/local_story_067125346.html
I think we've now begun the entrance into the New Dark Ages.
Second: What Obama wants to do about it.
http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/washington/2009/03/obama-text-town.html
Finally: More terrifying news.
http://www.nsf.gov/statistics/seind08/pdf/c07.pdf
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Alice's Adventures In Kentucky and What She Found There cont...
More of my pictorial ethnography, mostly taken from this afternoons jaunt to the local Meijer's.
Meijer's.
Annie chooses an apple.
When we drove across the country we went past the Hormel Factory when we drove through Beloit, Wisconsin. Across the street they had some sort of Food Institute where I assume that they try and come up with credible evidence that this stuff is actually food.
Yes. That's right. Pepto Bismol Pink eggs. Coloured with FDBC red dye #40.
"Now all you can taste is the hog anus."
Longest potato chips aisle I have ever come across.
Start 'em young.
Taken in the parking lot of our extended stay hotel, next to the window where I saw the penis. Note the binoculars, handily placed on the window sill.
Look closely. They deliver feelings.
Creation Museum
I'm still in Florence with Annie. We thought about driving down to Lexington to visit the horse park today, but it's raining, which would mean mud - not exactly wheel chair friendly.
Daniel spent a good deal of time trying to convince us to go to the Creation Museum which is not very far from here. My first response was,
"Why? They'll kick me out or my head will explode or both."
He thought that it would be amusing, I agreed that it might be, for about 5 minutes. Then it would be infuriating and I would want to leave. Not worth the $21.95 per person. Plus, as I told Daniel after he offered to subsidise our visit, I don't them to get any more money.
"But I want a t-shirt."
We attempted to placate him by perusing the website for half an hour, which provided light amusement. We even came up with the idea of a t-shirt for them: A stick figure with its hands over its ears with the words "LA LA LA LA" coming out of its mouth and the words "Prepare to Believe" underneath... Kate? Interested in designing it for us?
I had this idea that I was going to address some of their silly arguments here, but it's kind of like shooting fish in a barrel. I mean they are so blatantly (purposely?) misinformed that it's like refuting arguments made by a toddler.
Daniel spent a good deal of time trying to convince us to go to the Creation Museum which is not very far from here. My first response was,
"Why? They'll kick me out or my head will explode or both."
He thought that it would be amusing, I agreed that it might be, for about 5 minutes. Then it would be infuriating and I would want to leave. Not worth the $21.95 per person. Plus, as I told Daniel after he offered to subsidise our visit, I don't them to get any more money.
"But I want a t-shirt."
We attempted to placate him by perusing the website for half an hour, which provided light amusement. We even came up with the idea of a t-shirt for them: A stick figure with its hands over its ears with the words "LA LA LA LA" coming out of its mouth and the words "Prepare to Believe" underneath... Kate? Interested in designing it for us?
I had this idea that I was going to address some of their silly arguments here, but it's kind of like shooting fish in a barrel. I mean they are so blatantly (purposely?) misinformed that it's like refuting arguments made by a toddler.
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