At least temporarily. This is Michigan, after all, which means tomorrow we could be snowed in, with an inch of ice covering everything.
But today, ahh--- it's sunny and mild outside. Not warm, persay, but not chilly at all. Tepid, perhaps. I did the first walkabout of the season and noted with satisfaction that various perennials are being particularly ambitious this year. Because it is Michigan, I raked some leaves over them to protect them from the frost and such. I think they're coming along just fine though.
Once we get both feet into the "trying to sell the house" pool, it'll probably be easier with the gardens blooming.
Meanwhile, we're making trips back and forth between the OH and here, and I'm getting to know it a bit better. I do like Cin-city, even if most of my time down there right now is trapped in a tiny, crusty apartment. At least The Boy and I get to spend quality time together, which is rare. That is a good thing.
Interestingly, we've already met some neat folk who live right near where we'll be moving, thanks to the wonders of nerdy technology. Yeees, I admit it. We've been playing World of Warcraft. It's really nice to at least virtually get together with The Boy while we're separated during the week. No, we are not letting our real lives go down the toilet so we can huddle in front of our monitors. I am surprised just how good the game is, though. There's a huge, huge variety of ways to go about playing it, and though The Boy and I play completely differently, we both enjoy it lots.
Annnyway, back to less (or at least a different?) nerdy pursuits. I started our taxes the other day, and was pleasantly surprised to find we'll be getting money back this year. Woot! I haven't done our state taxes yet, which may turn out to be a little complicated, since Boy has worked part of a year in another state... ah well. Either way, we should get a refund, which will be welcomed with open arms and bank account.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
Grey Gardens
I'm awful at blogging regularly these days. Enough said.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, life has been poking along as usual, though I did spend a week in Cincinnati, which was a nice change of pace. Now that I'm back, the cats can't seem to get close enough to me, and look on suspicously whenever I step out the door. At the moment, they're both hovering over me at the desk, occasionally causing odd typos by crowding around the keyboard until I set them firmly back on the floor.
I've just watched the 1975 documentary, Grey Gardens. It was filmed by the brothers who made Gimme Shelter, and is an oddly beautiful and bleak look into the lives of Edith Bouvier Beale, and her daughter, Edie. The women are relatives of Jackie O., and spent a good part of their lives in high society, and living exceedingly comfortably. However, at the time of the documentary, they're cloistered into a decaying summer homes owned by Edith.
The strangeness of certain remnants of their former lives against their current circumstances is part of what makes the documentary riveting--in the same way a train wreck is. Edith, her sparse white hair swept up into a 1930's style, spends most of her days propped up in stale bed covered in newspapers, old photographs, and cats. She talks in her aritstocratic east coast accent about her days as a singer, and contemplates giving herself "a month to get my voice back" so she can be a celebrated woman of the stage again.
Edie, the younger of the two, is in her fifties, but seems very like a teenage girl. She has a kind of naivety that is surprising, and tends to giggle to herself about things. At the same time as fiercely longing to be "outside," she fears the outside world, and this fear is part of the the chain that traps her with her mother. When she's not grumpily following her mother's orders, she spends her days feeding the crowd of cats, dancing, dumping bread onto a newspaper in the attic for the racoons. She also gazes off the back balcony with binoculars into the sea of overgrown foliage and vines that is the backyard, and beyond that, the real ocean.
There's a short scene that really sums the entire film in all its tragicomedy-- Edith is fighting with Edie about whose fault their circumstances are. Edie stops long enough to point at a large framed portrait of Edith in her younger days. It's a beautiful piece of art, in a gilded frame, leaned against the wall on a pile of old magazines and trash. "Ma, the cat's going to the bathroom behind it!" Edie declares, and old Edith takes a glance and remarks, "Well, at least someone's doing what they want around here."
I recommend watching Grey Gardens with a couple of people and bottle of wine. It'll make for a quiet and thoughtful time. Some of it is quite funny, in a sad sort of way.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, life has been poking along as usual, though I did spend a week in Cincinnati, which was a nice change of pace. Now that I'm back, the cats can't seem to get close enough to me, and look on suspicously whenever I step out the door. At the moment, they're both hovering over me at the desk, occasionally causing odd typos by crowding around the keyboard until I set them firmly back on the floor.
I've just watched the 1975 documentary, Grey Gardens. It was filmed by the brothers who made Gimme Shelter, and is an oddly beautiful and bleak look into the lives of Edith Bouvier Beale, and her daughter, Edie. The women are relatives of Jackie O., and spent a good part of their lives in high society, and living exceedingly comfortably. However, at the time of the documentary, they're cloistered into a decaying summer homes owned by Edith.
The strangeness of certain remnants of their former lives against their current circumstances is part of what makes the documentary riveting--in the same way a train wreck is. Edith, her sparse white hair swept up into a 1930's style, spends most of her days propped up in stale bed covered in newspapers, old photographs, and cats. She talks in her aritstocratic east coast accent about her days as a singer, and contemplates giving herself "a month to get my voice back" so she can be a celebrated woman of the stage again.
Edie, the younger of the two, is in her fifties, but seems very like a teenage girl. She has a kind of naivety that is surprising, and tends to giggle to herself about things. At the same time as fiercely longing to be "outside," she fears the outside world, and this fear is part of the the chain that traps her with her mother. When she's not grumpily following her mother's orders, she spends her days feeding the crowd of cats, dancing, dumping bread onto a newspaper in the attic for the racoons. She also gazes off the back balcony with binoculars into the sea of overgrown foliage and vines that is the backyard, and beyond that, the real ocean.
There's a short scene that really sums the entire film in all its tragicomedy-- Edith is fighting with Edie about whose fault their circumstances are. Edie stops long enough to point at a large framed portrait of Edith in her younger days. It's a beautiful piece of art, in a gilded frame, leaned against the wall on a pile of old magazines and trash. "Ma, the cat's going to the bathroom behind it!" Edie declares, and old Edith takes a glance and remarks, "Well, at least someone's doing what they want around here."
I recommend watching Grey Gardens with a couple of people and bottle of wine. It'll make for a quiet and thoughtful time. Some of it is quite funny, in a sad sort of way.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
The Promised Zatarain's Run-down.
Do the newer Zatarain's commericals bother anyone else? Ad concept: a family sits down for dinner, and one parent, because of the fabulous taste or smell of Zatarian's rice product, is transported mentally to a street in New Orleans during Mardi Gras. It's a party, I tell you! Then then, suddenly, they realize where they are.
My problem with these commercials is... have the people who came up with the concept ever been to Mardi Gras? I can just barely swallow the idea of a ridiculous and awkward father pretending to lead a marching band using a dishrag. He's about as full of soul as a sieve is full of water. But I suppose I can buy it. His small son looks at him derisively, clearly counting the days until the parent-child divorce goes into effect.
What I can't get my mind around is the commercial where the mother flashes back to Mardi Gras while delivering Zatarain's rice to the table. She's in a crowd of cheering, brightly dressed party goers, and confetti and beads are flying. "Throw me some beads, Mister!!" she screams, and then realizes that she's standing in the dining room with her little nuclear family staring at her in confusion.
Does something about that seem just a little off? What is it that the writers are just tempting you to think with that commercial? Well, what happens when a "party lady" wants beads from a man on a float during Mardi Gras? Come on. YES. She screams "Throw me some beads, Mister!!" and either flings her bra, or lifts her shirt over her head, exposing her boobies. Did they seriously think no one was going to snicker at that?
I'm sure I'm not the only one thinking that. And if you hadn't thought of it, don't write to tell me how naughty my mind is. I already know. It's Zatarain's who are naughty, I tell you!
My problem with these commercials is... have the people who came up with the concept ever been to Mardi Gras? I can just barely swallow the idea of a ridiculous and awkward father pretending to lead a marching band using a dishrag. He's about as full of soul as a sieve is full of water. But I suppose I can buy it. His small son looks at him derisively, clearly counting the days until the parent-child divorce goes into effect.
What I can't get my mind around is the commercial where the mother flashes back to Mardi Gras while delivering Zatarain's rice to the table. She's in a crowd of cheering, brightly dressed party goers, and confetti and beads are flying. "Throw me some beads, Mister!!" she screams, and then realizes that she's standing in the dining room with her little nuclear family staring at her in confusion.
Does something about that seem just a little off? What is it that the writers are just tempting you to think with that commercial? Well, what happens when a "party lady" wants beads from a man on a float during Mardi Gras? Come on. YES. She screams "Throw me some beads, Mister!!" and either flings her bra, or lifts her shirt over her head, exposing her boobies. Did they seriously think no one was going to snicker at that?
I'm sure I'm not the only one thinking that. And if you hadn't thought of it, don't write to tell me how naughty my mind is. I already know. It's Zatarain's who are naughty, I tell you!
Saturday, February 10, 2007
*CUTE ALERT*CUTE ALERT*
Warning! Your head may explode while playing any one of these adorable little flash games. People whose heads are prone to exploding due to cuteness should check with their doctors before clicking the following link:
This has been a public serivce announcement from the Department for the Prevention of Cute-related Injuries.
This has been a public serivce announcement from the Department for the Prevention of Cute-related Injuries.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Another Post for the Commercial Hall of Shame
Now that Superbowl Sunday is over, and I've watched all the commercials (online) that I forgot to watch at the same time as I didn't watch the game... (?) it's gotten me thinking about a couple commercials which ought to be stricken forever from the broadcast lineups. Both commercials make me cringe in distinctly different ways.
Offender #1: Office Depot's "Lend you a Hand" commercials
"No. NO NO! NO-NO-NO!!" That is what I would have said, accompanied by a smack with a rolled up newspaper, to the marketing team responsible for this campaign. The first time I glimpsed one of these things, I noted the crisp office envionment, the obvious whites and reds, and I thought, "Oh neat! A Staples "Easy Button" commercial I haven't yet seen!" How wrong I was.
Perhaps explaining what is good about the "Easy button" campagin will help explain what is so stinky about the "Lend you a hand" campaign.
Easy Button: After some office consternation, someone presses the Staples "easy button," wherein all their problems are miraculously solved. The button is a fun and witty little representation of all the services Staples offers. We know printer ink doesn't fall from the sky when you press the easy button, but it gets the point across nicely, and I enjoy the multiple takes on how the world works in the little Staples alternate universe. I see it, and I remember the brand--it's Staples, and it's easy to get things done there! Right?
Lend you a Hand: In these commercials, some actor melodramatically heaves sighs about how much work there is to do, and another person declares overcheerfully, "Sounds like YOU need a hand!" At this point, a suspicious parcel on someone's desk explodes open, a disembodied hand shooting out the top. Rather than fleeing in terror, everyone congratulates each other as though it were the finale of a vintage Mentos commercial. "Oh, you...I guess you made a pun!" What miracles does the hand perform, you ask? Does it show them amazing shortcuts and exemplify all the things Office Depot employees can help you accomplish? Does it snap its fingers and cause the office supplies to be restocked? Actually, no. Well....uh... it waves. And it points at things. And it probably gives people the finger when the camera's not rolling.
It's pointless. Someone hands it a paper, and it puts the paper into the box, which happens to be oh...a foot or two away from the person handing it the paper. So are they saying using Office Depot adds more steps to what ought to be simple tasks? An office worker labors behind an overfilled shopping cart. Perched atop the pile, the hand in its box points imperiously at various things that the office worker knows he needs to get anyway. Does this exemplify Office Depot customer service? When asked for help, do they wordlessly point at something out of reach on a shelf?
Come on now--they're not even giving you a hand, They're lending it to you. God knows they'll probably crap out on giving you your deposit back if the cuticles aren't just so when you return it.
Seriously though, these commercials just fall flat. They're not amusing, the early-nineties over the top jingle is annoying, and it's a blatent and lame attempt to copy the "Easy Button" commercials. Boo on you, Office Depot!
Next up, Zatarain's: Dirty Rice and dirty old men!
Offender #1: Office Depot's "Lend you a Hand" commercials
"No. NO NO! NO-NO-NO!!" That is what I would have said, accompanied by a smack with a rolled up newspaper, to the marketing team responsible for this campaign. The first time I glimpsed one of these things, I noted the crisp office envionment, the obvious whites and reds, and I thought, "Oh neat! A Staples "Easy Button" commercial I haven't yet seen!" How wrong I was.
Perhaps explaining what is good about the "Easy button" campagin will help explain what is so stinky about the "Lend you a hand" campaign.
Easy Button: After some office consternation, someone presses the Staples "easy button," wherein all their problems are miraculously solved. The button is a fun and witty little representation of all the services Staples offers. We know printer ink doesn't fall from the sky when you press the easy button, but it gets the point across nicely, and I enjoy the multiple takes on how the world works in the little Staples alternate universe. I see it, and I remember the brand--it's Staples, and it's easy to get things done there! Right?
Lend you a Hand: In these commercials, some actor melodramatically heaves sighs about how much work there is to do, and another person declares overcheerfully, "Sounds like YOU need a hand!" At this point, a suspicious parcel on someone's desk explodes open, a disembodied hand shooting out the top. Rather than fleeing in terror, everyone congratulates each other as though it were the finale of a vintage Mentos commercial. "Oh, you...I guess you made a pun!" What miracles does the hand perform, you ask? Does it show them amazing shortcuts and exemplify all the things Office Depot employees can help you accomplish? Does it snap its fingers and cause the office supplies to be restocked? Actually, no. Well....uh... it waves. And it points at things. And it probably gives people the finger when the camera's not rolling.
It's pointless. Someone hands it a paper, and it puts the paper into the box, which happens to be oh...a foot or two away from the person handing it the paper. So are they saying using Office Depot adds more steps to what ought to be simple tasks? An office worker labors behind an overfilled shopping cart. Perched atop the pile, the hand in its box points imperiously at various things that the office worker knows he needs to get anyway. Does this exemplify Office Depot customer service? When asked for help, do they wordlessly point at something out of reach on a shelf?
Come on now--they're not even giving you a hand, They're lending it to you. God knows they'll probably crap out on giving you your deposit back if the cuticles aren't just so when you return it.
Seriously though, these commercials just fall flat. They're not amusing, the early-nineties over the top jingle is annoying, and it's a blatent and lame attempt to copy the "Easy Button" commercials. Boo on you, Office Depot!
Next up, Zatarain's: Dirty Rice and dirty old men!
Preach it, Bourdain!
Anthony Bourdain has concisely expressed everything I think about the Food Network in one fell swoop.
Where's my Alton? Where's my Mario? And WHERE in tarnation is my Nigella?? Yes, the woman happens to be gorgeous, but she's also unpretentious, slightly nerdy, and absolutely passionate about food.
Why does the Food Network assume I'd rather watch Paula Dean squawk, "Tuhday we're gonna make some deep fraahd budder topped with lard, y'all!" than something as interesting and mouthwateringly informative as Molto Mario?
Where's my Alton? Where's my Mario? And WHERE in tarnation is my Nigella?? Yes, the woman happens to be gorgeous, but she's also unpretentious, slightly nerdy, and absolutely passionate about food.
Why does the Food Network assume I'd rather watch Paula Dean squawk, "Tuhday we're gonna make some deep fraahd budder topped with lard, y'all!" than something as interesting and mouthwateringly informative as Molto Mario?
Friday, February 02, 2007
Ta-da!
Although I got some lovely gifts for Christmas, this was one of my favorites: From J&J, a ceramic robot head that holds a roll of toilet paper for dispensing through the mouth. The Engrish on the box states: Roll Paper Horder!
I blow my nose on its tongue. Ew. And, poor thing, when I need cheering up, I (fondly) mock it by cutting the paper thusly:
Huk huk!
One of the resons I love it so, is that it reminds me of the other red robot.
No series of Christmas pictures would be complete without a picture of my adorable niece with her new life sized Raggedy Ann. Some brilliant soul came up with the idea of making velcro loops on RA's feet, so they can be slipped over the shoes of the little owner, facilatiating lots of happy duo dancing.
The end!
I blow my nose on its tongue. Ew. And, poor thing, when I need cheering up, I (fondly) mock it by cutting the paper thusly:
Huk huk!One of the resons I love it so, is that it reminds me of the other red robot.
No series of Christmas pictures would be complete without a picture of my adorable niece with her new life sized Raggedy Ann. Some brilliant soul came up with the idea of making velcro loops on RA's feet, so they can be slipped over the shoes of the little owner, facilatiating lots of happy duo dancing.
The end!
it's just like that.
What can I say? I hate the "new Blogger," so I don't think of blogging all that often. I'm sure I'll get over it, though. In terms of basic function, sure--it does what it's supposed to do. I like that I can apply tags to my posts for searching later. However, this rigamarole about signing in to new or old blogger is apparently too complicated for their programmers. The entire site now freaks out when I attempt to use Firefox (my regular browser) . I've done the whole song and dance about updating, contacting them, redoing cookies, blah blah. In the end, if I want to blog, I'll just have to use another browser.
Rant concluded.
How is everyone?
Rant concluded.
How is everyone?
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
At Long Last...
Another stinkin' blog post. It's been a busy month, clearly, what with Christmas, friends, family, New Years, The Boy being home for more than three consecutive days, etc etc.
A quick catch up -
The majority of my vast family arrived a week before Christmas, and I trucked the half hour over to Rochester to spend time with them. It was really nice to see and hang with people, but it was also a bit tiring being gone from a little while after I woke up until a little while before I went to sleep. Our two cats got right pissy with me and tore up several innocent pieces of junk mail in protest.
The Boy arrived home the Sat. before Christmas and we traversed the grey and snowless landscape over to where my family was staying. Another couple members of the family had come into town, so there were more greetings and chattings and in general, many warm and genial sentiment as well as delicious and caloric treats were had. It was really Christmassy, which was absolutely lovely. Up until that point, the short doses of Christmas I'd had were from public decorations or the beautiful getup at my sister's house, which was resplendent with white lights and evergreens. I didn't have a tree this year because I've been the only one here, and the hassle and risk of cat attacks didn't seem worth it. However, I did hang a few ornaments from the chandeliers in the living room and dining room. While whimsical, it wasn't exactly Christmassy. In any case, in a continuing explosion of wrapping paper, exclamations, and laughter, lots and lots of gifts for lots and lots of family members were opened the night before Christmas eve, and it was heartwarming and makes me happy to think of. I like those times. I wish so much that every single one of us could have been there. Even so, our family is so vast that little pockets of conversation, card games, grazing, pool games, etc. form around the house, and it's enough to drift from one to the next in a happy daze. Best part of Christmas.
This year, Christmas itself was claimed by the Boy's side of the family, so on Christmas Eve, we packed up the rest of the unopened gifts, and bundled off to Vitosha Guest Haus in Ann Arbor to celebrate on a much smaller scale with the Boy, his mother, and me. The place was empty except for us, which was wonderful. The buildings on the grounds were very cool--built a hundred years ago of stone and thick wood in a neo-gothic style.
The feel of the place reminded me a lot of some places we stayed in Bavaria in Germany. It was the kind of solid place that tells you it's been there a while, but that there's nothing frail about it. It was full of wonderful antiques and books and tapestries. I'm not talking about fragile victorian antiques with thin spindles--I'm talking about hearty, hand carved pieces made of dark wood. The downstairs rooms have heated slate floors, and most of the rooms have big fireplaces. The Boy and I piled the gifts near the hearth in our room, and from our massive cabinet bed (we needed STEPS to get in) we watched the flames flicker in the dark, and the light dancing on the gifts, and we knew it was Christmas.
The sancuary of the old church is still santuary shaped, but it's now used as a venue, and what a sweet venue it would be, with the light diffusing through the ivy on one side, massive windows on the other, and a pipe organ just like this:
I highly recommend it as an amazing, simple getaway. Be sure to order the breakfast! I'm going to keep an eye on cultural happenings there to see if there's anything those of us in the area would like to see. Wheee!
Thus concludes my report of what happened over Christmas. It was a nice Christmas this year. Not filled with the wonder and excitedment of some other years, but it was quiet and lovely and had some wonderful moments.
A quick catch up -
The majority of my vast family arrived a week before Christmas, and I trucked the half hour over to Rochester to spend time with them. It was really nice to see and hang with people, but it was also a bit tiring being gone from a little while after I woke up until a little while before I went to sleep. Our two cats got right pissy with me and tore up several innocent pieces of junk mail in protest.
The Boy arrived home the Sat. before Christmas and we traversed the grey and snowless landscape over to where my family was staying. Another couple members of the family had come into town, so there were more greetings and chattings and in general, many warm and genial sentiment as well as delicious and caloric treats were had. It was really Christmassy, which was absolutely lovely. Up until that point, the short doses of Christmas I'd had were from public decorations or the beautiful getup at my sister's house, which was resplendent with white lights and evergreens. I didn't have a tree this year because I've been the only one here, and the hassle and risk of cat attacks didn't seem worth it. However, I did hang a few ornaments from the chandeliers in the living room and dining room. While whimsical, it wasn't exactly Christmassy. In any case, in a continuing explosion of wrapping paper, exclamations, and laughter, lots and lots of gifts for lots and lots of family members were opened the night before Christmas eve, and it was heartwarming and makes me happy to think of. I like those times. I wish so much that every single one of us could have been there. Even so, our family is so vast that little pockets of conversation, card games, grazing, pool games, etc. form around the house, and it's enough to drift from one to the next in a happy daze. Best part of Christmas.
This year, Christmas itself was claimed by the Boy's side of the family, so on Christmas Eve, we packed up the rest of the unopened gifts, and bundled off to Vitosha Guest Haus in Ann Arbor to celebrate on a much smaller scale with the Boy, his mother, and me. The place was empty except for us, which was wonderful. The buildings on the grounds were very cool--built a hundred years ago of stone and thick wood in a neo-gothic style.
Behold, The Boy stands at the door of the parsonage and knocks! Or acutally, he has the key, so... behold! He lets himself (and us) in!
In the drawing room of the parsonage, the seven deadly sins were mounted around the ceiling on Pewabic pottery tiles. I took a picture of sloth to remind us why we were there. He seems to approve. "Yes, my children--laze about! Mwahhahah!"
This bed makes the Boy look tiny. At 6'4'', the Boy is not tiny. It was just a hella big bed, covered in down comforters and more down comforters.
The feel of the place reminded me a lot of some places we stayed in Bavaria in Germany. It was the kind of solid place that tells you it's been there a while, but that there's nothing frail about it. It was full of wonderful antiques and books and tapestries. I'm not talking about fragile victorian antiques with thin spindles--I'm talking about hearty, hand carved pieces made of dark wood. The downstairs rooms have heated slate floors, and most of the rooms have big fireplaces. The Boy and I piled the gifts near the hearth in our room, and from our massive cabinet bed (we needed STEPS to get in) we watched the flames flicker in the dark, and the light dancing on the gifts, and we knew it was Christmas. Meet the very incarnation of my favorite lamp ever. This was over in the church building, which was more 1957 modern (prairie?) architecture. Very neat to look at.
The sancuary of the old church is still santuary shaped, but it's now used as a venue, and what a sweet venue it would be, with the light diffusing through the ivy on one side, massive windows on the other, and a pipe organ just like this: The Tea Haus at the back of the property was called "The Three Bears Haus," though I think it could have aptly been named "Dove Cottage." I thought I saw one of the Lake Poets peering through the curtains, or perhaps Beatrix Potter.
Christmas morning was a flurry of opened gifts, oohs and ahs, and an amazing breakfast of fresh made streudel, a fruit salad with lychee, kiwi, and all sorts of beautiful, delicious things, a plate of assorted wonderful cheeses (thanks Kei!) and a quiet Christmas Day mostly spend wandering around the place, chatting with the owner patting the massive great dane, George, on his broad, sleepy head, and following seemingly endless winding corridors to other parts of the house for yet another neat little corner to settle into for a little while.
Behold, the sad and crumbly remains of our delectable breakfast.
I highly recommend it as an amazing, simple getaway. Be sure to order the breakfast! I'm going to keep an eye on cultural happenings there to see if there's anything those of us in the area would like to see. Wheee!
Thus concludes my report of what happened over Christmas. It was a nice Christmas this year. Not filled with the wonder and excitedment of some other years, but it was quiet and lovely and had some wonderful moments.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat
This book by neurologist Oliver Sacks is my most recent read, and it's pretty fascinating. It's essentially a rundown of patients with various interesting and rare neurological disorders. (I believe the film Awakenings was based on the author's research and experience.)
It makes my everyday life and ability to function suddenly seem a little more precious and tenuous.
Right now I'm in a chapter pertaining to "body awareness". The whole idea is one I hadn't really considered aside from things like babies gradually realizing that hand waving in front of them is not only attached to them, but it's part of them--they can control it. The idea of suddenly regressing, and losing the sense of ownership of a limb, or of the entire body is pretty terrifying. There's a story of a young man who kept falling out of bed because he would wake in the night with "a disgusting, pale severed leg" in the bed next to him. Horrified, he would push it out of bed, only to fall with it, because, of course, they were attached. Even when the situation was explained to him, he couldn't believe it because it simply did not feel like his. Another woman became paralyzed because she lost sense of her entire body. She couldn't make it move, because she felt completely disembodied. I can't imagine how unsettling that would be.
Fascinating, and a little scary.
This is one you can file in your "Secret Fears" list right under "public speaking," and "spontaneous combustion."
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Too Young.
I know I'm rehashing what's already all over the news, but the James Kim story makes me cry. I was so hoping he would be found alive. People can snark all they want about how he left the car and how "stupid" that was, but the man was a hero. He and his family survived for days in a blizzard waiting for help, and finally he left to find help on foot, knowing he might not make it, but believing that it was their last hope.
I was so happy to hear his wife and kids were found and are okay, and so sad they'll have to go on without a dad and husband.
I was so happy to hear his wife and kids were found and are okay, and so sad they'll have to go on without a dad and husband.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Saturday, December 02, 2006
A Sixth Category...
to add to my increasingly inaccurately named "Top Five Most Hoped for Jeopardy Categories:"
Bonnet hair dryers. I know I've probably written about mine before. Jen commented about good childhood memories attached to bonnet dryers, and it got me thinking. Some of my best childhood memories are of the warm whoosh of the bonnet hair dryer my mom had. It was relaxing and calming. I still find it to be.
I never intended to know a lot about bonnet hairdryers. It's just a necessity if I intend to keep myself supplied with one over the years (I can stop any time.).
Here are things I've learned about bonnet dryers, in case you should ever have the need to purchase one, or in case you come to your senses and realize EVERYONE should have one.
1. Purchase your dryer used. Buy vintage. Preferably 70s. First off, it will cost you much less than buying a new one (about $30) from one of the few companies that make home bonnet dryers these days. You can expect to pay about $15-20 (including s&H) for a dryer from eBay. Second, new hairdryers are exceedingly poorly designed in terms of usability (the uncomfortably sharp knob is on the opposite side from the cord, which is on yet another side from the tube, which means it needs even more space on your counter to access all the sides. Surprisingly, new dryers are also generally far bigger, the air flow is poor, and the hoses are too short.
2. Don't be afraid, but do look closely-- If the seller says it runs well, and their feedback is good, you should be okay. You can easily do a once-over of the innards once it arrives. Do look closely at pictures of the hose and bonnet, though. If they're yellowed and shiny-looking, avoid at all costs. Some vintage dryers tend to accumulate a greasy stickiness on their plastic air tubes which also gets on the bonnet. Soap and hot water can't remove it. You're stuck with it. Also, look for round, mushroom shaped bonnets rather than the chef's hat shaped ones. The round ones tend to be in better shape, and have fewer seams to rip.
3. The cases can be a bonus score. Keep an eye out--Many vintage bonnet dryers come with fantastic round hatbox-type cases for carrying/storage. You can pull out the insert and use these as a neato purse or just a nifty way of storing stuff.
4. Give it a physical. Once your hairdryer arrives, throw the hose into the dishwasher if it can be detatched. If it's permanently attached, give it a once over with a mild cleaning solution. (Nothing smelly, since the odor will be blowing directly at you through the hose later).
Turn the dryer on for a few moments. Listen and smell. Is it rattling? Does it smell like burning? If these are a yes, don't panic, but do keep an eye out for smoke later as you let it run on one of the heated settings. You should notice the smell dissipating after a while. It just means the thing hasn't been run regularly in a looong time.
Turn your baby over. Make sure it isn't plugged in, and that you're not standing in a puddle of water in the middle of a thunderstorm and all that. Look for the larger screws on the outer corners. These should free the top and bottom halves. There a a gazillion different kinds of dryers, but these are the basics, I've found. Sometimes the fan area will require another screw loosened in order for you to peek in. Slightly dampen Q-tips in water (just enough that it doesn't shred--there shouldn't be any dripping) and go over the inevitable dusty areas inside the dryer. Once those are clean, take a look at the fan itself. If there was a rattling noise when you ran it before, check to see that the blades are tightly attached. If they are, check the areas surrounding the fan to see what it could be hitting or brushing to make the noise. Most of the time a little wiggling is all it takes to get it running more smoothly. Make sure there is no debris around the heating coils (hairs, dust, whathaveyou) and then close 'er on up again.
5. Treat her well. Despite the fact that vintage dryers are workhorses, you don't want to run them for hours at a time. Most of them are still older than me. I've found that 20 minutes is not too much with most of the ones I've had. You just want to keep it in mind.
6. Recommended brands: If you can find a Ronson Escort, consider yourself lucky. This is the most beautifully compact and slickly designed of all the dryers I've had, though it cost a little more than the average vintage bonnet dryer. If you get one from the 60's, it has a lovely avocado-colored square carrying case that's excellently vintage as well. The 70's ones have a more generic round case. My only complaint is that it's more complicated to get inside if you want to do maintenance. Not that I've needed to since I got mine three years ago... GE and Kenmore also made really sturdy dryers, though the GE hoses tend to be in better shape for some reason. Also, all the models I've seen come with the neat round case. Keep in mind that if your dryer comes with a bum hose or bonnet, you can actually buy these items new. You'll have to rig them somehow to fit your dryer, but generally, that's not hard.
7. Enjoy!! You can use it to dry your hair, take away headaches, escape from a stressful day, as a desk heater in the winter (I get cold feet sometimes--you can toast your toes with it too) dry your nails, dry your pets (it's not as frightening for them as a regular hairdryer can be) and on the cold setting, you can get some relief from the heat in the summer. I could go on, but I already look like a huge bonnet dryer nerd, so I won't.
There you have it. My opus on bonnet dryers.
Bonnet hair dryers. I know I've probably written about mine before. Jen commented about good childhood memories attached to bonnet dryers, and it got me thinking. Some of my best childhood memories are of the warm whoosh of the bonnet hair dryer my mom had. It was relaxing and calming. I still find it to be.
I never intended to know a lot about bonnet hairdryers. It's just a necessity if I intend to keep myself supplied with one over the years (I can stop any time.).
Here are things I've learned about bonnet dryers, in case you should ever have the need to purchase one, or in case you come to your senses and realize EVERYONE should have one.
1. Purchase your dryer used. Buy vintage. Preferably 70s. First off, it will cost you much less than buying a new one (about $30) from one of the few companies that make home bonnet dryers these days. You can expect to pay about $15-20 (including s&H) for a dryer from eBay. Second, new hairdryers are exceedingly poorly designed in terms of usability (the uncomfortably sharp knob is on the opposite side from the cord, which is on yet another side from the tube, which means it needs even more space on your counter to access all the sides. Surprisingly, new dryers are also generally far bigger, the air flow is poor, and the hoses are too short.
2. Don't be afraid, but do look closely-- If the seller says it runs well, and their feedback is good, you should be okay. You can easily do a once-over of the innards once it arrives. Do look closely at pictures of the hose and bonnet, though. If they're yellowed and shiny-looking, avoid at all costs. Some vintage dryers tend to accumulate a greasy stickiness on their plastic air tubes which also gets on the bonnet. Soap and hot water can't remove it. You're stuck with it. Also, look for round, mushroom shaped bonnets rather than the chef's hat shaped ones. The round ones tend to be in better shape, and have fewer seams to rip.
3. The cases can be a bonus score. Keep an eye out--Many vintage bonnet dryers come with fantastic round hatbox-type cases for carrying/storage. You can pull out the insert and use these as a neato purse or just a nifty way of storing stuff.
4. Give it a physical. Once your hairdryer arrives, throw the hose into the dishwasher if it can be detatched. If it's permanently attached, give it a once over with a mild cleaning solution. (Nothing smelly, since the odor will be blowing directly at you through the hose later).
Turn the dryer on for a few moments. Listen and smell. Is it rattling? Does it smell like burning? If these are a yes, don't panic, but do keep an eye out for smoke later as you let it run on one of the heated settings. You should notice the smell dissipating after a while. It just means the thing hasn't been run regularly in a looong time.
Turn your baby over. Make sure it isn't plugged in, and that you're not standing in a puddle of water in the middle of a thunderstorm and all that. Look for the larger screws on the outer corners. These should free the top and bottom halves. There a a gazillion different kinds of dryers, but these are the basics, I've found. Sometimes the fan area will require another screw loosened in order for you to peek in. Slightly dampen Q-tips in water (just enough that it doesn't shred--there shouldn't be any dripping) and go over the inevitable dusty areas inside the dryer. Once those are clean, take a look at the fan itself. If there was a rattling noise when you ran it before, check to see that the blades are tightly attached. If they are, check the areas surrounding the fan to see what it could be hitting or brushing to make the noise. Most of the time a little wiggling is all it takes to get it running more smoothly. Make sure there is no debris around the heating coils (hairs, dust, whathaveyou) and then close 'er on up again.
5. Treat her well. Despite the fact that vintage dryers are workhorses, you don't want to run them for hours at a time. Most of them are still older than me. I've found that 20 minutes is not too much with most of the ones I've had. You just want to keep it in mind.
6. Recommended brands: If you can find a Ronson Escort, consider yourself lucky. This is the most beautifully compact and slickly designed of all the dryers I've had, though it cost a little more than the average vintage bonnet dryer. If you get one from the 60's, it has a lovely avocado-colored square carrying case that's excellently vintage as well. The 70's ones have a more generic round case. My only complaint is that it's more complicated to get inside if you want to do maintenance. Not that I've needed to since I got mine three years ago... GE and Kenmore also made really sturdy dryers, though the GE hoses tend to be in better shape for some reason. Also, all the models I've seen come with the neat round case. Keep in mind that if your dryer comes with a bum hose or bonnet, you can actually buy these items new. You'll have to rig them somehow to fit your dryer, but generally, that's not hard.
7. Enjoy!! You can use it to dry your hair, take away headaches, escape from a stressful day, as a desk heater in the winter (I get cold feet sometimes--you can toast your toes with it too) dry your nails, dry your pets (it's not as frightening for them as a regular hairdryer can be) and on the cold setting, you can get some relief from the heat in the summer. I could go on, but I already look like a huge bonnet dryer nerd, so I won't.
There you have it. My opus on bonnet dryers.
Friday, December 01, 2006
"I will kiss the girl from Venus..."
For science (thank you very much, They Might Be Giants).
Or, I will link to an internet meme... for science. This gentleman is measuring the speed of an internet meme through the "blogsphere" by asking folks to post a link to this page on their blogs. The results will be discussed at a panel at the 2006 Modern Language Association (yes, that MLA) conference coming up soon.
Click away, and you'll get a better idea of what it is. Help a panelist out!
Or, I will link to an internet meme... for science. This gentleman is measuring the speed of an internet meme through the "blogsphere" by asking folks to post a link to this page on their blogs. The results will be discussed at a panel at the 2006 Modern Language Association (yes, that MLA) conference coming up soon.
Click away, and you'll get a better idea of what it is. Help a panelist out!
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Like mother, like daughter
I confess: I'm addicted to my bonnet hairdryer (or "hat," as the Boy calls it). I had it on this morning because I had a headache. It helped nicely. It takes a little while to warm up, so I left it running when I went downstairs to throw in some laundry. And...this is what I found when I came back upstairs:
If you look past the messy desk, you'll note that a certain cat has shoved her whole face and upper body into the bonnet and is basking in the warm blowing air. When I tried to pull it off, she scooted forward and forward to try to stay inside, and ended up almost taking a dive off the edge of the desk. So I let her hang out there on a low setting for awhile until she fell asleep. Dear old thing. Such a lovable weirdo.
If you look past the messy desk, you'll note that a certain cat has shoved her whole face and upper body into the bonnet and is basking in the warm blowing air. When I tried to pull it off, she scooted forward and forward to try to stay inside, and ended up almost taking a dive off the edge of the desk. So I let her hang out there on a low setting for awhile until she fell asleep. Dear old thing. Such a lovable weirdo.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Friday, November 24, 2006
Happy Thanksgiv......*snore*
Before I fall asleep really hard, Happy Thanksgiving to all! I hope everyone had lots and lots of turkey or whatever their favorite is. This year the family broke from tradition to have a delectable cajun turkey instead of baking one of those frozen suckers in the oven for three days or whathaveyou. Very yum, I must say.
Aaaand, that's about all I can say, as my brain is not only still fried (since the last post), but being assailed by tryptophan, which is greatly increasing the chances that I'll fall out of my chair and hit the ground snoring.
It's been one hell of a week with a funeral, a family reunion, a holiday, and unexpected family visits. The good outweighed the bad, fortunately, I think.
Goodnight.
Aaaand, that's about all I can say, as my brain is not only still fried (since the last post), but being assailed by tryptophan, which is greatly increasing the chances that I'll fall out of my chair and hit the ground snoring.
It's been one hell of a week with a funeral, a family reunion, a holiday, and unexpected family visits. The good outweighed the bad, fortunately, I think.
Goodnight.
Monday, November 13, 2006
As if we all needed another time waster
In the vast wasteland of to-do lists it is good to take a break now and then. Particularly for something cute. Thus, my submission of a Japanese airhockey game with tiny round chickens. The text is in Japanese, (Andi, can you tell me if it says anything earth shattering?) but that didn't stop me from just clicking whatever I was shown until I was eventually taken to the game. The game itself is a fun little thing. I was surprised how well my (small adorable) opponent reacted to the puck. Though he wasn't a totally awesome player, his responses were as natural as they could be, I suppose. When he is scored upon, he looks up in surprise and says something I can only imagine would be along the lines of, "By the beard of Odin! You have scored upon this humble poultry!"
My only complaint about the game is that occasionally there's a collision detection problem if you move your "puck hitter" (what is that thing called?) too quickly. Then the puck can slide right by. Mostly, I have to give the little game props, though.
Ow. Brain is fried. Goodnight.
My only complaint about the game is that occasionally there's a collision detection problem if you move your "puck hitter" (what is that thing called?) too quickly. Then the puck can slide right by. Mostly, I have to give the little game props, though.
Ow. Brain is fried. Goodnight.
Monday, November 06, 2006
The fruits of my labor (or least the berries of it).
Food references aside, I've finally gotten the house vaguely presentable, and though there's more to do, I've gotten enough done to feel okay about putting up a website so people can check it out when I place ads for it. You all can have the ultra-top-secret-awesome-never-before-seen preview of it. It's not fancy, but I'm not going to waste a lot of time making disclaimers about it.
We've got all our fingers and toes crossed for this sale to work out. However, we're not particularly in a rush to sell, convenient and desirable though it may be for the Boy and I both to live in the same state. But we're not freaking out over the speed of things, which I think is a realistic frame of mind. Things are working out when it comes to us spending time together on weeknds, and since the Boy's company is paying for his housing down there, we can't complain.
Even so, if you know anyone who's looking for a house along these lines, send them our way. It can't hurt, eh?
We've got all our fingers and toes crossed for this sale to work out. However, we're not particularly in a rush to sell, convenient and desirable though it may be for the Boy and I both to live in the same state. But we're not freaking out over the speed of things, which I think is a realistic frame of mind. Things are working out when it comes to us spending time together on weeknds, and since the Boy's company is paying for his housing down there, we can't complain.
Even so, if you know anyone who's looking for a house along these lines, send them our way. It can't hurt, eh?
Foot fight
At the same time as this being funny, this is maybe one of the most disturbed dogs I've ever seen. Animals don't pull stuff like this for kicks.
This is actually just like a test they do in shelters to see if a dog is suitable for adoption-- purposely infringe on a treat or food to see if the animal reacts negatively. I'd say this guy prooooobably would not be deemed adoptable. Just a guess.
Still, that sneaky foot creeping slowly up is bizarre and snicker-worthy.
At the same time as this being funny, this is maybe one of the most disturbed dogs I've ever seen. Animals don't pull stuff like this for kicks.
This is actually just like a test they do in shelters to see if a dog is suitable for adoption-- purposely infringe on a treat or food to see if the animal reacts negatively. I'd say this guy prooooobably would not be deemed adoptable. Just a guess.
Still, that sneaky foot creeping slowly up is bizarre and snicker-worthy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)