Huh.

In my browsing of childhood icons, I learned something. Apparently our favorite baritone red-head is at the center of a new internet meme. Rickrolling.

Here's a site that explains.

Surprise! It's not a relavant news article or link to an awesome video of a guy falling off a skateboard! It's RICK!! Haha on you! (uh... I guess.) I suppose it's less traumatizing than certain other switcheroos which have been popular targets for smartasses to trick people into clicking to.

If you don't know what they are, you're not missing out. Trust me. If you do know what they are, start thinking about something else immediately, and maybe you won't be scarred for life.

*Groan*

Really? I actually thought this guy was so cool when I was in sixth grade. He looks so young! I even had fond old memories of this video that most certainly didn't involve that awkward oh-so-white dancing.

Please don't tell anyone.

A City Like Cincinnati

The most recent Take Away Show from La Blogothèque is their fiftieth, and they determined to make it something special. My, but they've suceeded.

It was filmed in Memorial Hall--one of Cincinnati's old concert venues--a meandering walk behind the scenes, beginning on the roof, and wandering down through dusty storage rooms filled with antique chairs to find the Czech duo, Havlovi quietly making music amongst forgotten set pieces. As their song fades out, the watcher is slowly drawn down the hall to find Sufjan Stevens plucking a delicate and solomn song next to a window, and so on and on, we stumble onto one gorgeous, quiet performance after another, as if we were walking on a lazy afternoon through a beautiful, rambling building with people who just happened to be performing in every stairwell and nook.

Also included on the page is a lovely film of Sufjan Stevens up on the roof of the building singing The Lakes of Canada by Innocence Mission.

All the Take Away Shows are special (see The Arcade Fire, and Alan Sparhawk particularly), but this 50th one just swept me along with it.

Shamefaced

I've looked back over the past page and realized that I've been horrendous at posting regularly this year. Boo on me.

Well, the latest development in the great southern migration is that we seem to have found a place to live down there. We found a townhouse about a block from all those pictures I posted earlier, and we've submitted our application and deposit. The property manager and owner are nice folks, and we're planning as if it's set in stone, but I'll be a little antsy until we actually have the lease signed.

The townhouse is on the end of building with just a couple units in it - it's a fifties building, so it has nice clean lines and huge windows that swing outward. Since it's on the end, it's got twice the windows, which makes me quite gleeful. The neighborhood is so incredibly perfect - every garden is overflowing with flowers and hostas and the whole area is nice and shady because of the massive old trees. I'll post pictures eventually. Another thing I love about the place is that it's on one of the blocks that surrounds a secret park accessable only to people who live on the houses around it. There's a little alley that runs around it. Also, it's walking distance to downtown, which makes me very happy.

Meanwhile, back on the ranch, we've temporarily given up on the house selling, and are renting to some people we know. I think that'll turn out to be better for everyone involved. They'll have a cheap and nice place to live, and we won't have to worry about dealing with realtors and tackling the miserable housing market.

Now, to put more things in boxes. The upstairs is something of a cardboard jungle right now. I'm always a little depressed at how every box I fill with books takes such a little chunk out of the bookshelf. Ah well. Costco has a great set of sturdy, reusable boxes that don't require tape, and they've been great for storage, etc.

Hmm...

It would be a good time to be in San Francisco on June 29th. Yup.

Aha!

So I figured out my keyboard and the shift key issue: the problem was that I had not disected it, gotten grossed out by all the cat hair inside it, scavenged the parts for future crafts and replaced it a dreamy new keyboard. Simple! Why didn't I think of that to begin with?

I love circuits and technology guts. I've been fascinated with them ever since I first disected a calculator. I always thought the diodes and such looked like a wee futuristic city, with tiny streets and buildings. Not that I'll ever do anything more ambitious than pulling stuff apart and (sometimes) putting it back together, but it's just interesting to me.

It's Minitropolis!

This piece can look forward to a future as a book cover or wallet.

Neat. My new keyboard lurks smugly in the background.

dream neighborhood

nope, i'm not going all e.e.cummings today. inexplicably, my keyboard shift keys have both ceased functioning.

hey exclamation point11one11

see, it's just not the same. i hadn't realized how much i'd miss asking questions and writing things loudly.

in any case, my point of blogging was to post some pictures of the neighborhood in which we're looking at places in cin-city. being somewhat jaded with the whole 'equity' thing in today's sad, sad housing market, we're not looking for a house. we're looking for a townhouse or apartment, and fortunately, the neighborhood we have a big fat crush on has several available. we'll be walking through some soon, and i'm all a-twitter with anticipation. this neighborhood is lovely for walking around, and there's plenty to walk to - several restaurants and bakeries, a coffeehouse, and an art theatre all within a few blocks of the block we want to be on. dreamy. it's packed with big trees, which form canopies over the road. i've always loved that.

anyhoo, before driving back up to mi today, we puttered around there for a while, taking photos.

this would be a fun building to live in, above the little storefronts. the apts here have the high ceilings, wood floors, and crown molding that you hope for in an older building. lots of character. no central ac, but window units can be more cost efficient if you use them right, anyway.


this building's on one side of a triangle of grass and garden that would be nice to read a book in. here are the other two sides: a some more of the neato houses in the area, and an interesting church.
voila. we'd be very happy with anything in a couple block radius of here.

Top Secret Cherished Deliciousness

Oi, Intarwebs! I come bearing links ---or rather a link to the recipe for the fabulous oatmeal honey bread one of my very "culinarily gifted" sisters makes.

I think I need another cup of coffee: This one's for you.

More later. Most go clean up the drool I produced by thinking about that bread.

I Are Serious Blogger. This is Serious Post.

My amusement with the recent explosion of captioned cat pictures forces me to post a few of them. For the past few months these pictures have been cropping up in internet forum threads (for the non-forumy of you, a thread is an online conversation about a particular topic). There are some sites now where you can find the pictures in large collections as well. Some of the original crop of pictures were funny because of references to various nerdy things, but it's actually gotten to the point where the whole meme is beginning to fold back in on itself by spawning funny pictures which are funny because they reference previous funny pictures (some of which were a reference to something else to begin with). Here are a very few (not an exhaustive list of favorites, but perhaps I'll post a few here and there down the road):

I Wanna Tell the Stars to Get in Line

Recently, as I was poking through the archives of Dresden Codak (which could deserve a post of its own), I noticed a link directing me to the site of the band Balthrop, Alabama. I dutifully clicked, and was rewarded with the discovery of some free and interesting music.

If you sign up for their mailing list, you receive a link to download their double cd debut album, "Your Big Plans & Our Little Town." I think that is very cool of them to offer. Way to acknowlege the digital era, guys (not sarcastic). No matter what their music sounds like, I'd have to give them props for that. So...um...Go Balthrop, Alabama!

As things turned out, I was pleasantly surprised. I'm actually listening to the album right now, and quite enjoying it. There's a pretty big range of influences packed in there, so it's difficult to just drop a couple references to describe it. Imagine a hearty dose of the irony and melodic-ness (is that a word?) of Belle and Sebastian, with occasional pretty boy/girl harmonies and horns that also vaguely remind me of our Scottish pals, along with a few touches of the lazy, cracky vocals of Songs: Ohia (which does tend to grate on occasional songs), and the nonchalant flow of My Morning Jacket, and occasional inklings of early REM.

It's part acoustic, part americana, part indie-rock, and most of it is just a treat. A couple of the songs I could live without, but that's pretty par for the course when it comes to any double disc album. Balthrop, Alabama have done themselves proud here, especially for a debut. I recommend the songs "Tell the Stars" for a happy, vintage pop experience, and "Another Hell to Live In" for a melodic, lazy, americana-tinged experience.

And, uh.. heck - just give it all a listen.

Spring Has Sprung

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.

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.

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!

*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:

CUTE

This has been a public serivce announcement from the Department for the Prevention of Cute-related Injuries.

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!

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?

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!

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?

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.

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.

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."