The South is another country
Conversation between Joel and young boy in a motel parking lot in Kentucky.
Boy: Hi, mister
Joel: Hi
Boy: That shuer a purtty dawg. Do he bayte?
Joel: No, he won't bite, he's pretty friendly.
{nicky howls}
Boy: You shuer he don't bayte?
Joel: He just howls when he's excited.
Boy: Well, Ize skeert a dawgs.
Joel: I see. Well, I'm going to take him for his walk now.
Boy: Bye, mister.
7.15.2003
Kitty withdrawal
I miss my wicked kitty. Mr. Keats is staying with my brother for a few weeks while we travel.
I drove him to my brother's on Sunday evening and he cried the entire 45 minute trip. I'd packed him in a tall open-top box with a cozy towel and some food. Occassionally, he'd peep his head out of the box, see the cars on the highway behind us and cry even louder, as if to say "What is happening? Oh help!"
The trauma continued when we got to J's. He has two dogs that Keats used to know when he was a kitten. (J's former cat is Keats' mom. She got hit by a car this past spring.) J let Keats get his bearings, then let in the dogs one at a time. The small dog ignored Keats, the big one wanted to play. I hung around for an hour, and Keats was still under the dining room table, back arched, hissing at the big dog like mad.
My poor furry boy. I didn't get to hug him goodbye because he hissed at all of us for fear of the dog. I hope by tomorrow they will have established some sort of pecking order and will get along fine. I guess his casual attitude towards dogs really only applies to his "brother" Nicky.
I miss my wicked kitty. Mr. Keats is staying with my brother for a few weeks while we travel.
I drove him to my brother's on Sunday evening and he cried the entire 45 minute trip. I'd packed him in a tall open-top box with a cozy towel and some food. Occassionally, he'd peep his head out of the box, see the cars on the highway behind us and cry even louder, as if to say "What is happening? Oh help!"
The trauma continued when we got to J's. He has two dogs that Keats used to know when he was a kitten. (J's former cat is Keats' mom. She got hit by a car this past spring.) J let Keats get his bearings, then let in the dogs one at a time. The small dog ignored Keats, the big one wanted to play. I hung around for an hour, and Keats was still under the dining room table, back arched, hissing at the big dog like mad.
My poor furry boy. I didn't get to hug him goodbye because he hissed at all of us for fear of the dog. I hope by tomorrow they will have established some sort of pecking order and will get along fine. I guess his casual attitude towards dogs really only applies to his "brother" Nicky.
Yum
I just had another dish of the homemade peach ice cream we made last weekend with our new ice cream maker from my in-laws. I had tried to lighten the recipe a little by using 1% milk where it called for milk and whipping cream in place of heavy cream. It's still so amazingly rich (read: fatty) it leaves a film in the bowl. Joel quipped "mmm, this is good peachy butter...er, I mean ice cream."
I just had another dish of the homemade peach ice cream we made last weekend with our new ice cream maker from my in-laws. I had tried to lighten the recipe a little by using 1% milk where it called for milk and whipping cream in place of heavy cream. It's still so amazingly rich (read: fatty) it leaves a film in the bowl. Joel quipped "mmm, this is good peachy butter...er, I mean ice cream."
7.08.2003
Civic duty
Yesterday I spent a L-O-N-G day taking part in Philly's jury selection process. You sit in a big room with 300 to 400 other city residents and wait to be called to a group to go to a courtroom and wait some more. The lawyers whittle the larger group down to 12 and send the remaining "rejects" to be "recycled." If you're recycled, you go back to the big room and wait some more to be called to a courtroom and inspected by lawyers. When all the judges have as many jurors as they need, the remaining "recycled" folks get to go home. For this wonderful service of waiting for hours and hours, you earn a whopping $9 per day.
All the waiting is indeed dull, though I had reading material and some needlework to keep me occupied. The pool of potential jurors is an interesting cross section of the city's population--slightly more black than white, with a good portion of Latino and a handful of Asians; ages 18 to mid-80s; poor, middle class and rich. It was cool to see first hand the diversity of the city I call home.
The group I was called to was a group of 60. We all knew this must be an unusual case, because most civil trials needed pools of 30 potential jurors, and most criminal trials, 40. It took almost 45 minutes for the court staff to herd such a large group up to the courtroom.
We were seated in the section where observers usually sit. Three men sat at the defendant's table, and one at the prosecution table. The judge swore us in and explained a little about the case and the voir dire (sp?) process. The case, he said, involved murder--intentionally killing with malice of forethought. He pointed out who was sitting at each desk--the defendant and his attorneys and the assistant district attorney. Then the judge said that because Pennsylvania has a death penalty, it might be applied in this case if appropriate.
I got a cold sinking feeling in my stomach. I didn't want to kill the man sitting there. I don't even know him. It felt so creepy. Perhaps if I'd heard the details of the case I would have felt differently. But frankly, the American justice system is badly broken and ultimately unjust because usually only the poor and minorities end up sentenced to death. (The defendant was an African American man.) A truly just punishment has to be fairly applied--even to the rich and powerful.
But my ethical beliefs never came up, because the time commitment to sit on this jury was the bigger problem. The judge estimated the trial would run past my last day of work and into our trip south. I asked to be excused to wrap up at my job, my stomach in knots. Fortunately they excused me and I didn't have to forgo part of our trip, hear how someone's life was lost or send someone to his death.
Yesterday I spent a L-O-N-G day taking part in Philly's jury selection process. You sit in a big room with 300 to 400 other city residents and wait to be called to a group to go to a courtroom and wait some more. The lawyers whittle the larger group down to 12 and send the remaining "rejects" to be "recycled." If you're recycled, you go back to the big room and wait some more to be called to a courtroom and inspected by lawyers. When all the judges have as many jurors as they need, the remaining "recycled" folks get to go home. For this wonderful service of waiting for hours and hours, you earn a whopping $9 per day.
All the waiting is indeed dull, though I had reading material and some needlework to keep me occupied. The pool of potential jurors is an interesting cross section of the city's population--slightly more black than white, with a good portion of Latino and a handful of Asians; ages 18 to mid-80s; poor, middle class and rich. It was cool to see first hand the diversity of the city I call home.
The group I was called to was a group of 60. We all knew this must be an unusual case, because most civil trials needed pools of 30 potential jurors, and most criminal trials, 40. It took almost 45 minutes for the court staff to herd such a large group up to the courtroom.
We were seated in the section where observers usually sit. Three men sat at the defendant's table, and one at the prosecution table. The judge swore us in and explained a little about the case and the voir dire (sp?) process. The case, he said, involved murder--intentionally killing with malice of forethought. He pointed out who was sitting at each desk--the defendant and his attorneys and the assistant district attorney. Then the judge said that because Pennsylvania has a death penalty, it might be applied in this case if appropriate.
I got a cold sinking feeling in my stomach. I didn't want to kill the man sitting there. I don't even know him. It felt so creepy. Perhaps if I'd heard the details of the case I would have felt differently. But frankly, the American justice system is badly broken and ultimately unjust because usually only the poor and minorities end up sentenced to death. (The defendant was an African American man.) A truly just punishment has to be fairly applied--even to the rich and powerful.
But my ethical beliefs never came up, because the time commitment to sit on this jury was the bigger problem. The judge estimated the trial would run past my last day of work and into our trip south. I asked to be excused to wrap up at my job, my stomach in knots. Fortunately they excused me and I didn't have to forgo part of our trip, hear how someone's life was lost or send someone to his death.
7.04.2003
EEK
There are rodents among us.
Earlier this week, when Joel stayed up late finishing an article, Keats brought him a special treat at about 2 a.m. --a young mouse. Not completely dead either. Joel praised "the mighty hunter" and Keats played with his prey for a while. Now we don't know where the nearly dead creature is. Our only hope is that Keats ate it.
When we were cleaning up after dinner last night, Joel accidently scared one of the adults out of hiding. It scampered across the counter and dove under one of the burners of the gas stove. We think the nest is either behind the stove or in the basement and they use the opening around the gas line to come visit the kitchen.
Keats spent nearly the entire evening crouched in the kitchen, staring at the bottom of the stove, waiting for his prey. It's about time the rascal started earning his keep around here.
There are rodents among us.
Earlier this week, when Joel stayed up late finishing an article, Keats brought him a special treat at about 2 a.m. --a young mouse. Not completely dead either. Joel praised "the mighty hunter" and Keats played with his prey for a while. Now we don't know where the nearly dead creature is. Our only hope is that Keats ate it.
When we were cleaning up after dinner last night, Joel accidently scared one of the adults out of hiding. It scampered across the counter and dove under one of the burners of the gas stove. We think the nest is either behind the stove or in the basement and they use the opening around the gas line to come visit the kitchen.
Keats spent nearly the entire evening crouched in the kitchen, staring at the bottom of the stove, waiting for his prey. It's about time the rascal started earning his keep around here.
7.03.2003
Wild about Harry
I haven't been online much the past few weeks because we've spent almost all our spare time reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix aloud. Acutally, Joel reads and I do things like wash dishes, fold laundry and cross stitch. It's more efficient than each of us trying to read silently. And Joel does great voices. His Dolores Umbridge voice is really priceless.
I was really impressed by how well Rowling captures the attitudes, frustrations and obsessions of teenagers. Some of the reviewers were annoyed by the romantic subplots, but in my memory, romance looms pretty large in the mind of the average 15-year-old. Harry's little fits of temper also seem age appropriate. At 15, those first sweet tastes of adult-like competence are heady, and make it all the more aggravating to be reminded that you're still a kid.
Umbridge is perhaps the best villan Rowling has yet conceived. She strikes me as more evil than Voldemort in some ways because her motivation is far more real-world. Nothing like a petty bureaucrat scrambling for position to push far beyond the limits of law, ethics and decency.
Phoenix has some scenes that make you laugh so hard you can't breathe. Great action too. Though now that the kids are older and becoming more competent at spells, the dangerous scenes didn't seem quite as frightening. Frankly, book 4 seemed scarier. This one has a bit more heart.
I haven't been online much the past few weeks because we've spent almost all our spare time reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix aloud. Acutally, Joel reads and I do things like wash dishes, fold laundry and cross stitch. It's more efficient than each of us trying to read silently. And Joel does great voices. His Dolores Umbridge voice is really priceless.
I was really impressed by how well Rowling captures the attitudes, frustrations and obsessions of teenagers. Some of the reviewers were annoyed by the romantic subplots, but in my memory, romance looms pretty large in the mind of the average 15-year-old. Harry's little fits of temper also seem age appropriate. At 15, those first sweet tastes of adult-like competence are heady, and make it all the more aggravating to be reminded that you're still a kid.
Umbridge is perhaps the best villan Rowling has yet conceived. She strikes me as more evil than Voldemort in some ways because her motivation is far more real-world. Nothing like a petty bureaucrat scrambling for position to push far beyond the limits of law, ethics and decency.
Phoenix has some scenes that make you laugh so hard you can't breathe. Great action too. Though now that the kids are older and becoming more competent at spells, the dangerous scenes didn't seem quite as frightening. Frankly, book 4 seemed scarier. This one has a bit more heart.
bq withdrawal
I miss Berek. And I don't just mean his superb dishwashing abilities.
It's just sooooo quiet around here. Meals are pretty subdued now--no stream of chatter about PoMo theories and who said what about whom in blogland. It's weird not hearing a unique mix of opera, 70s pop, country and techno-dance tunes pouring down the stairwell from the third floor.
Claire keeps trying to have raspberry competitions with us. It's a skill bq tried to cultivate in her. :-) That and waving her arm like Eminem.
I mostly feel sad that bq only got to know me when I was totally stressed out and coming apart at the seams.
I miss Berek. And I don't just mean his superb dishwashing abilities.
It's just sooooo quiet around here. Meals are pretty subdued now--no stream of chatter about PoMo theories and who said what about whom in blogland. It's weird not hearing a unique mix of opera, 70s pop, country and techno-dance tunes pouring down the stairwell from the third floor.
Claire keeps trying to have raspberry competitions with us. It's a skill bq tried to cultivate in her. :-) That and waving her arm like Eminem.
I mostly feel sad that bq only got to know me when I was totally stressed out and coming apart at the seams.
6.26.2003
Mouths of babes
Watching Claire learn to talk is truly fascinating. Several times a day, she becomes quite chatty in her own language. It's like a combination of Swedish, bushman and Chinese. "Pthoga chithpa ee-juh hakimij pekethuch." (That's the best phonetic equivalent I can give.)
She has a few English words now that she uses accurately: da-da, ma-ma, bah (ball), dok (dog), keeh (kitty), ka (cat). When we were at the grocery store the other day, two little boys were playing with some playgound balls for sale at the store. Claire watched them, then said distinctly, "BAH." :-)
I do wonder, however, if we confuse her calling Keats "cat" and "kitty cat" alternately. And is it confusing that both Nicky and her big stuffed Clifford are "dog"? Can a baby really get that one is "real dog" and the other "pretend dog"?
It seems like understanding a category of things is pretty complex thinking. Especially dogs, which vary hugely in size, color and shape. And the dogs she sees are either real, toys, photos or illustrations.
I bet that if I showed her a picture of a horse, she would call that a "dok" too. The only thing she calls "keeh" or "ka" is Keats himself.
Watching Claire learn to talk is truly fascinating. Several times a day, she becomes quite chatty in her own language. It's like a combination of Swedish, bushman and Chinese. "Pthoga chithpa ee-juh hakimij pekethuch." (That's the best phonetic equivalent I can give.)
She has a few English words now that she uses accurately: da-da, ma-ma, bah (ball), dok (dog), keeh (kitty), ka (cat). When we were at the grocery store the other day, two little boys were playing with some playgound balls for sale at the store. Claire watched them, then said distinctly, "BAH." :-)
I do wonder, however, if we confuse her calling Keats "cat" and "kitty cat" alternately. And is it confusing that both Nicky and her big stuffed Clifford are "dog"? Can a baby really get that one is "real dog" and the other "pretend dog"?
It seems like understanding a category of things is pretty complex thinking. Especially dogs, which vary hugely in size, color and shape. And the dogs she sees are either real, toys, photos or illustrations.
I bet that if I showed her a picture of a horse, she would call that a "dok" too. The only thing she calls "keeh" or "ka" is Keats himself.
6.19.2003
Road trip
We're getting pretty excited about our trip to the BH conference in Florida later this summer. We're going to meet and stay with some great people in our travels. One night we're planning to motel it in eastern Alabama, and Joel just booked the room. When he asked about their pet policy, they said, "shue-ur, we tayke pay-ets." Gosh I love hearing "pets" as a two syllable word. :-) I have to remind Joel that when a server asks if you want a Coke, the correct answer is "Yes, I'll have a root beer."
Any other key idioms we Yankees should know about? Rick? Betsy? Sarah?
We're getting pretty excited about our trip to the BH conference in Florida later this summer. We're going to meet and stay with some great people in our travels. One night we're planning to motel it in eastern Alabama, and Joel just booked the room. When he asked about their pet policy, they said, "shue-ur, we tayke pay-ets." Gosh I love hearing "pets" as a two syllable word. :-) I have to remind Joel that when a server asks if you want a Coke, the correct answer is "Yes, I'll have a root beer."
Any other key idioms we Yankees should know about? Rick? Betsy? Sarah?
6.16.2003
New path
Well, I've done it. I resigned from my job today. My last day will be July 15. I figured it would be a good idea to give a month's notice instead of the required three weeks since there's no other employer chomping at the bit for me to get started.
I feel slightly light headed. Giving up the salary makes me a bit nervous, but I'm so excited about the prospect of being with Claire all day.
Well, I've done it. I resigned from my job today. My last day will be July 15. I figured it would be a good idea to give a month's notice instead of the required three weeks since there's no other employer chomping at the bit for me to get started.
I feel slightly light headed. Giving up the salary makes me a bit nervous, but I'm so excited about the prospect of being with Claire all day.
6.10.2003
Vegan cookies
I've never tried to cook for someone with dairy and gluten allergies like Annie does (you're heroic!), but I have made Thanksgiving dinner for family members who are vegan. The real trick was coming up with desserts that don't contain eggs or milk. Fruit pies work, of course. Then I remembered this eggless cookie recipe that's a great standby when you realize there are no eggs in the house. It also happens to contain no animal products. (Warning: these are not low fat! (-:)
Swedish Coconut Cookies
2 C margerine
2 C sugar
3 1/4 C flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
2 C shredded coconut
2 tsp vanilla
Preheat oven to 350 F. Cream margerine and sugar. Add flour, baking powder and baking soda. Stir in coconut and vanilla. Drop by spoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake 10 to 12 minutes. Makes 7 to 8 dozen.
I've never tried to cook for someone with dairy and gluten allergies like Annie does (you're heroic!), but I have made Thanksgiving dinner for family members who are vegan. The real trick was coming up with desserts that don't contain eggs or milk. Fruit pies work, of course. Then I remembered this eggless cookie recipe that's a great standby when you realize there are no eggs in the house. It also happens to contain no animal products. (Warning: these are not low fat! (-:)
Swedish Coconut Cookies
2 C margerine
2 C sugar
3 1/4 C flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
2 C shredded coconut
2 tsp vanilla
Preheat oven to 350 F. Cream margerine and sugar. Add flour, baking powder and baking soda. Stir in coconut and vanilla. Drop by spoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake 10 to 12 minutes. Makes 7 to 8 dozen.
6.07.2003
Rainy day treat
I got a craving for an old childhood favorite today, so I whipped up a batch of cookies we used to call "fudgies." My brother and I first had them at our school cafeteria in a small, rural public school in northern Pennsylvania (K-6 and about 160 students). Mom was able to get the recipe from one of the cafeteria ladies.
They take about 15 minutes to make, and no baking required. It's a good recipe for kids to try because it's easy to make and has few ingredients. The cookies look a little like something you'd find in a diaper, but they're a very tasty chocolate/peanut butter treat. The appearance has never kept people from devouring them when I've taken them to parties and church events.
Fudgies
2 C sugar
1/2 C margerine
1/2 C milk
1/3 C unsweetened cocoa powder
3 C rolled oats
1/2 C peanut butter
1 tsp. vanilla extract
Bring sugar, margerine, milk and cocoa to boil in a large saucepan and boil 1 minute. Remove from heat. Quickly stir in oats, peanut butter and vanilla until oats are covered with cocoa mixture. Drop by teaspoonfuls onto waxed paper. Let stand until set. Makes about 4 dozen.
I got a craving for an old childhood favorite today, so I whipped up a batch of cookies we used to call "fudgies." My brother and I first had them at our school cafeteria in a small, rural public school in northern Pennsylvania (K-6 and about 160 students). Mom was able to get the recipe from one of the cafeteria ladies.
They take about 15 minutes to make, and no baking required. It's a good recipe for kids to try because it's easy to make and has few ingredients. The cookies look a little like something you'd find in a diaper, but they're a very tasty chocolate/peanut butter treat. The appearance has never kept people from devouring them when I've taken them to parties and church events.
Fudgies
2 C sugar
1/2 C margerine
1/2 C milk
1/3 C unsweetened cocoa powder
3 C rolled oats
1/2 C peanut butter
1 tsp. vanilla extract
Bring sugar, margerine, milk and cocoa to boil in a large saucepan and boil 1 minute. Remove from heat. Quickly stir in oats, peanut butter and vanilla until oats are covered with cocoa mixture. Drop by teaspoonfuls onto waxed paper. Let stand until set. Makes about 4 dozen.
Taste in the disco era
Well, I ruffled a few feathers when I apologized for being a Carpenters fan as a child. Keep in mind that I have older siblings who were in their teens and 20s in this era. I distinctly recall their attitude toward 70s pop is that is was decidedly uncool. Cool people listened to stuff like ELO and Led Zeppelin. Not folksy songs with happy lyrics. Folk was cool only if it was anti-establishment.
So I guess it would be more accurate for me to describe my childhood taste as "uncool" rather than simply "bad." As Sarah pointed out, Karen Carpenter's vocal quality is superior to a majority of pop stars.
If we really want to talk about bad taste in music, well, there's my parents. They were teens during the Swing era and got to jump, jive and wail to all this awesome 40s dance music, only to turn into Muzak afficianados in later adulthood. If you think "The Girl from Ipanema" is bad, you should hear "Thriller" played by a 101 string orchestra. Yikes. (I wish I was kidding. The local "easy listening" station truly did play such a rendition when I was in high school.)
Well, I ruffled a few feathers when I apologized for being a Carpenters fan as a child. Keep in mind that I have older siblings who were in their teens and 20s in this era. I distinctly recall their attitude toward 70s pop is that is was decidedly uncool. Cool people listened to stuff like ELO and Led Zeppelin. Not folksy songs with happy lyrics. Folk was cool only if it was anti-establishment.
So I guess it would be more accurate for me to describe my childhood taste as "uncool" rather than simply "bad." As Sarah pointed out, Karen Carpenter's vocal quality is superior to a majority of pop stars.
If we really want to talk about bad taste in music, well, there's my parents. They were teens during the Swing era and got to jump, jive and wail to all this awesome 40s dance music, only to turn into Muzak afficianados in later adulthood. If you think "The Girl from Ipanema" is bad, you should hear "Thriller" played by a 101 string orchestra. Yikes. (I wish I was kidding. The local "easy listening" station truly did play such a rendition when I was in high school.)
6.03.2003
Inci-dental
Yesterday I got my first filling in seven years. Not a bad record considering the number of fillings I've collected so far (like the five I got seven years ago, plus a root canal).
I'd forgotten how surreal it feels to have half your face numb. It amazed me that I could talk to the receptionist after my appointment. And that people didn't point and stare as I walked down the street. I was half afraid to look at my reflection, convinced my head had swollen to twice its normal size on one side.
For an even more surreal dental experience, nothing beats nitrous oxide. Under this disembodying drug, you don't really care that the dentist has his knee on your chest trying to yank out a long-rooted molar. I still think of floating in a drug-induced haze whenever I hear the Carpenters, the cassette I usually chose to listen to through seven professional extractions prior to getting braces at age 11. (Yes, I had atrocious taste in music as a child. I blame my bad taste on the ugly clothes I was forced to wear in the 70s.)
Yesterday I got my first filling in seven years. Not a bad record considering the number of fillings I've collected so far (like the five I got seven years ago, plus a root canal).
I'd forgotten how surreal it feels to have half your face numb. It amazed me that I could talk to the receptionist after my appointment. And that people didn't point and stare as I walked down the street. I was half afraid to look at my reflection, convinced my head had swollen to twice its normal size on one side.
For an even more surreal dental experience, nothing beats nitrous oxide. Under this disembodying drug, you don't really care that the dentist has his knee on your chest trying to yank out a long-rooted molar. I still think of floating in a drug-induced haze whenever I hear the Carpenters, the cassette I usually chose to listen to through seven professional extractions prior to getting braces at age 11. (Yes, I had atrocious taste in music as a child. I blame my bad taste on the ugly clothes I was forced to wear in the 70s.)
5.31.2003
Frail flower
Last year I got just one bloom on my peony because of the dry winter. The second day it was in bloom, a rain storm soaked open, petaly, lone flower. It collapsed under the weight of all the water it caught, then all the petals fell off. The plant's dark, glossy leaves are lovely by themselves, but I was sorely disappointed to lose the flamboyant flower.
Sadly, these enormous, fragrant blooms (they're about 5" in diameter) only seem to last a week at the most, even in the best conditions. This year I was able to rescue my peonies to enjoy indoors before they were decimated by rain. (They opened this morning, and a thunderstorm is in the forecast for tonight.) Here are four of the seven blossoms for the year.
Any green thumbs out there, is it possible to get a second set of blooms on a peony planted in the Mid-Atlantic region, or is this plant "done" for the season?
Last year I got just one bloom on my peony because of the dry winter. The second day it was in bloom, a rain storm soaked open, petaly, lone flower. It collapsed under the weight of all the water it caught, then all the petals fell off. The plant's dark, glossy leaves are lovely by themselves, but I was sorely disappointed to lose the flamboyant flower.
Sadly, these enormous, fragrant blooms (they're about 5" in diameter) only seem to last a week at the most, even in the best conditions. This year I was able to rescue my peonies to enjoy indoors before they were decimated by rain. (They opened this morning, and a thunderstorm is in the forecast for tonight.) Here are four of the seven blossoms for the year.
Any green thumbs out there, is it possible to get a second set of blooms on a peony planted in the Mid-Atlantic region, or is this plant "done" for the season?
5.29.2003
New heights
Joel beat me to the punch blogging about Claire's latest gross motor skill feat--stair climbing. I don't think it's time to panic yet. First, she only climbed one step. Second, when I tried to get her to repeat the action, she lost interest and crawled away.
I'm just glad that our staircase has so many bends, the most stairs she could tumble down at a time is about eight.
Joel beat me to the punch blogging about Claire's latest gross motor skill feat--stair climbing. I don't think it's time to panic yet. First, she only climbed one step. Second, when I tried to get her to repeat the action, she lost interest and crawled away.
I'm just glad that our staircase has so many bends, the most stairs she could tumble down at a time is about eight.
Spam, spam, eggs and spam
I've noticed a disturbing trend. I seem to get a lot of e-mail letters from strangers claiming to be related to some important person in Africa or Asia whose assets are tied up because of a military coup or some other disaster. Only with my help can they save the family fortune, they claim. By helping them move millions of dollars out of their home country to a U.S. bank, they promise me a large cut of the money. All I have to do is provide a bank account number and several other pieces of personal information, or simply up-front cash.
Of course, armed with this information, these strangers can easily siphon thousands from bank accounts. Or they simply take the up-front money and run. From what I've heard, this is an extremely old scam. Entire cottage industries have sprung up around swindling gullible Americans using this type of story. The Internet just makes it cheaper to reach more potential victims.
I'm still trying to figure out how so much of this variety of spam gets past the office firewall to end up in my business e-mail account. I probably get four a week and delete them all.
I've noticed a disturbing trend. I seem to get a lot of e-mail letters from strangers claiming to be related to some important person in Africa or Asia whose assets are tied up because of a military coup or some other disaster. Only with my help can they save the family fortune, they claim. By helping them move millions of dollars out of their home country to a U.S. bank, they promise me a large cut of the money. All I have to do is provide a bank account number and several other pieces of personal information, or simply up-front cash.
Of course, armed with this information, these strangers can easily siphon thousands from bank accounts. Or they simply take the up-front money and run. From what I've heard, this is an extremely old scam. Entire cottage industries have sprung up around swindling gullible Americans using this type of story. The Internet just makes it cheaper to reach more potential victims.
I'm still trying to figure out how so much of this variety of spam gets past the office firewall to end up in my business e-mail account. I probably get four a week and delete them all.
5.26.2003
Taken to task
Multitasking is not for amateurs. My big misadventure for the week happened after a tiring grocery shopping trip, slogging around the store with a cold and sore throat. I'd nearly finished unpacking the groceries when one of my girlfriends called. I chatted away while putting tea on to boil, packing away food items and tidying up.
After making the tea, I noticed the pan under the set of burners needed to be cleaned. So I pulled away the metal grilles from our gas stove with my bare hands. My girlfriend heard a shriek and a crash. Yup, I grabbed one of the grilles over the burner where I'd just boiled water. Good friend to have on the end of the line, this ICU nurse. She talked me through how to care for my burns while I sobbed through the intense pain.
I now have several second-degree burns on my right hand, thankfully none on my finger tips. I have some very interesting blisters, though. The first night was the worst. I slept clutching a re-freezable chill pack for the cooler.
Talking on the phone is dangerous. So just send me e-mail from now on, thanks.
Multitasking is not for amateurs. My big misadventure for the week happened after a tiring grocery shopping trip, slogging around the store with a cold and sore throat. I'd nearly finished unpacking the groceries when one of my girlfriends called. I chatted away while putting tea on to boil, packing away food items and tidying up.
After making the tea, I noticed the pan under the set of burners needed to be cleaned. So I pulled away the metal grilles from our gas stove with my bare hands. My girlfriend heard a shriek and a crash. Yup, I grabbed one of the grilles over the burner where I'd just boiled water. Good friend to have on the end of the line, this ICU nurse. She talked me through how to care for my burns while I sobbed through the intense pain.
I now have several second-degree burns on my right hand, thankfully none on my finger tips. I have some very interesting blisters, though. The first night was the worst. I slept clutching a re-freezable chill pack for the cooler.
Talking on the phone is dangerous. So just send me e-mail from now on, thanks.
5.18.2003
The One
The Matrix: Reloaded. Whoa. Just as intense as I'd expected. Also a lot more confusing. I'm not sure what to make of some of the new plot points, and the multiple new enemies to deal with.
I also wonder how much Cadillac paid to get their cars placed in the freeway chase scene. I mean come on, this is the brand one usually associates with seniors in golf pants driving under the speed limit, not svelte women in leather weaving through traffic at furious speeds dodging bullets.
Anyone with a knowledge of physics, is it really possible when fighting on top of a moving vehicle to land in the same spot after jumping in the air? It seems like the wind drag would put you further back. Yeah, yeah, it's the fake-o land of the Matrix, anything is supposedly possible. But this film requires you to suspend your disbelief an awful lot. The line between, "wow, cool" and "yeah, right" was getting a little thin for me at times.
Definitely worth seeing on the big screen, as long as you have time afterwards to unwind from this adrenaline rush.
The Matrix: Reloaded. Whoa. Just as intense as I'd expected. Also a lot more confusing. I'm not sure what to make of some of the new plot points, and the multiple new enemies to deal with.
I also wonder how much Cadillac paid to get their cars placed in the freeway chase scene. I mean come on, this is the brand one usually associates with seniors in golf pants driving under the speed limit, not svelte women in leather weaving through traffic at furious speeds dodging bullets.
Anyone with a knowledge of physics, is it really possible when fighting on top of a moving vehicle to land in the same spot after jumping in the air? It seems like the wind drag would put you further back. Yeah, yeah, it's the fake-o land of the Matrix, anything is supposedly possible. But this film requires you to suspend your disbelief an awful lot. The line between, "wow, cool" and "yeah, right" was getting a little thin for me at times.
Definitely worth seeing on the big screen, as long as you have time afterwards to unwind from this adrenaline rush.
5.17.2003
La Luna
I saw a lunar eclipse for the first time on Thursday after babysitting for hierogrammate's kids. I can't believe it's taken 34 years to see this fairly common astronomical event. (BTW it was way cool.)
I really need to get out more.
I saw a lunar eclipse for the first time on Thursday after babysitting for hierogrammate's kids. I can't believe it's taken 34 years to see this fairly common astronomical event. (BTW it was way cool.)
I really need to get out more.
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