The Non-Horrors of Fruitcake

I am making fruitcake! Usually that’s met with a gasp of horror, but this is Alton Brown’s Fruitcake: http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/free-range-fruitcake-recipe/index.html I have tweaked the recipe a little, but it’s basically the same. And there are not creepy glow-in-the-dark radiated bright green chunks.Dried sultanas, cranberries, currants, strawberries, cherries, blueberries, apricots, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, allspice, citrus zest, apple cider (which went a bit hard. That worried me until I realized I put ONE CUP of Jack Daniels in this recipe. A little more alcohol isn’t going to hurt things), butter, and Jack simmers on the stove. It makes the kitchen smell like Gløgg. Mmmm…

Pecans toasted in the oven. I don’t toast the ones on top of the cakes. They must get theirs during baking.

Mixing!Portioned into my own little fruitcake pan, bought especially for this service. Little chevrons of pecans are cute here

Done! Now to spray with more Jack and store in the cool pantry until Christmas. They are edible now, yummy in two weeks, but delectable after one month. Because of the alcohol and sugars, nothing will rot or mold or turn rancid. The flavors meld and just become better.

How I Managed to Resist Punching Out a Pseudointellectual on the Red Line

Okay, I know it’s my own fault, but he started it. There I was nicely settled into my seat on the Red Line on my way to a class. I was dragging along my ridiculously heavy Anglo American Cataloging Rules in my super awesome Lucha Librarian tote bag (a lovely gift from Lauren and Eli).

This guy, one of those men with mere strips of luminescent skin peeking out from endless bushy dark hair, comments on my bag to his girlfriend who was wearing a sweatshirt emblazoned with some education institution or another. He says to her “lucha librarian? Cool. You know, like Lucha Libre. That’s Mexican wrestling.” I glance over, mostly to let them know I can hear them and say “Cool, huh?”

The girl smiles and tries to get her boyfriend to switch topics. However, he couldn’t be stopped and went on to describe a “lucha librarian” as being kinky. At this point, I began to hate this guy. Lucha libre is not kinky. They wear masks because they are superheroes, not for weirdo sexual reasons. Luchadors would be terribly offended. If only Il Santo was there to straighten him out. I decide to ignore him and try reading a book for one of my classes. It’s called A History of Reading and he clearly thought it was hilarious that someone with a librarian tote bag would be reading something about reading. Nearly as self referential as There’s a Monster at the End of This Book. Whatever, dude.

I get absorbed in my book for a little bit and come up for air in the middle of a rant about Barrack Obama and Socialism. He apparently believes that Obama is Socialist and that is a good thing because “look at Sweden or Australia.” Huh? Okay, fine. Then he nicely segues into the competition of the graduate level of education, except “not so much in school, but in work.” I can’t figure out what the hell he means by that, but his girlfriend was either rapt with attention or developed temporary deafness.

I drop into my book again and put it away just in time for a reason to truly dislike the guy. He says to his girlfriend “Do you know what pheromones are? Do you?” She murmurs a yes. He says “Oh yeah, then what are they? Huh?” She doesn’t answer so he goes on to explain that “pheromones are the scents given off by your metabolic system so that others can tell if you’re healthy or not.” Okay, pheromones are scents given off by animals (and I think occasionally plants) that illicit an involuntary response from other of the same species. My understanding is that they are usually hormonal, like dogs in heat and not particularly indicative of health, although an ill animal might not have healthy hormone levels. I think he may have been thinking of a recent study that suggested that people tend to be attracted to the scent of those who are not closely related. Anyway, I don’t really care that he was a little iffy on the definition, but that he used what he obviously felt to be his intellectual prowess to badger his girlfriend and make her feel stupid. That’s not okay.

He also kept looking at me, which makes me think he was hoping I’d acknowledge his coolness. Not until you learn how to treat other human beings, baby!

Paper Plate Skeleton

My version of the paper plate skeleton! Download the pattern!

I was trying to do a kindergarden style paper plate skeleton in Norway and came up with this design. I was a little disappointed when I looked up classic versions of this craft and found that they look nothing alike!

That’s me in a nutshell, I guess. I can’t quite do anything in a traditional way.

There was an upside. Knut gave away almost all of the Halloween decorations (which are rare in Norway) to his students. He made a little raffle system and guess what the kid who had first pick wanted? The skeleton.

I feel quite honored.

Trail of Terror!!

I love old fashioned haunted houses. I’m not too keen on the very expensive, pounding heavy metal professional ones. I certainly have been in a few of those and while the effects may be technically better, they aren’t nearly so charming.

The first haunted house I was even in was set up in a garden center. I think I went with Indian Princesses and it was definitely old fashioned. In fact, I suspect that sort of house doesn’t exist any more. Most of the displays were static, and veiled by chicken wire. They were sets like coffins, mad scientist-like things in jars (an underused prop, I think. If you’ve ever been in a whole room that contained nothing but scientific specimens, IT IS CREEPY! It would probably be sort of cool to have a room in a volunteer haunted house with floor to ceiling specimens in mason jars- spiders, rats, dolls, body parts, lizards, snakes, organs, etc and have the light filter through the jars. A nice quiet creep before someone springs out at you), vampire dummies, skeletons. I don’t even recall there being any living people. It did have one part that was genuinely unsettling. It had a long maze of corridors in almost complete darkness, without any sounds or creepy music. It was all black walls and I distinctly remember having to feel my way out. Creepy.

I went to Peterson Park’s Trail of Terror last night, which was excellent as it is every year. It’s a wonderful mix of modern props and technologies (they had some fantastic large scale puppets this year. Really amazing.) put on by volunteers, including children. It is probably the most fun you can have for $8. I would love to know who plans the event, because they are so dedicated to producing a haunted trail that is absolutely a cut above the average volunteer haunted house.

There are two things that make volunteer houses special. There is nothing like the experience of being scared by someone who is wholeheartedly enjoying themselves in a nonaggressive way. At Peterson Park, many of the monsters are children and, boy, can they scare! They squeeze up into the tiniest little places and leap out at you! You don’t see them coming at all. They scream! You scream! You laugh and they’ve enjoyed scaring you so much they laugh too! It’s great. Last year had the best example I’ve ever seen of that phenomenon. Knut is a huge darling wuss and people always target him because he’s a big adult man. We went into one section that was carnival themed. I went in first and noticed a small girl (I have pretty good night vision) curled up almost behind a curtain. She wisely stayed put because she knew I saw her. However, when Knut came in, looking about four feet above her head, she leapt out screaming. He screamed at the top of his lungs and fell into the wall behind him and the two started laughing so heartily. He congratulated her on being so scary.

The other thing that makes volunteer houses extra fun is the sort of people who visit them. Most of them are not hard core scare freaks. They are not the type to harass or heckle and they scream (I know because I’m one of them. A kid in a gilly suit scared me almost to the loss of bladder control last night. He/she scuttled out from under a burlap curtain along a (I had thought) unmanned stretch of path) at EVERYTHING! Thus, we always end up hugging, hold hands, or holding on to jackets of people we haven’t met before. It’s great. Our little group of three merged together to become a group of six before the meat house section and stuck together the rest of the way. I grabbed the jacket of the guy in front of me, another guy held onto my shoulder, Natalie and another girl held hands, and Knut held on to everybody while we all screamed like crazy. Fantastic.

Our voices were hoarse by the end, so we had to recuperate with coconut fudge sundaes at Margie’s Candies.

How to Rescue Gross Store Bought Pumpkin Seeds

Knut loves pumpkin

 seeds. As in, I leave the room and a whole bowlful has mysteriously vanished. So, when we went to a local pumpkin farm and spotted a

 bag of “homestyle” pumpkin seeds, we had to buy them. Famished after a hard day of picking pumpkins, hayrides, and haunted

 trails, we dug into them as soon as we were in the car. They were gummy, chalky, and very salty. We got into an argument about whether

 you’re supposed to eat the hulls or not. We still ate a quarter of the bag, but only out of desperation. They weren’t good.

So we brought them home and they sat around on the counter for a few days. I decided to rescue them. Here’s how I did it:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Put the seeds in a colander and wash them thoroughly. This will get rid of the excess salt and prime them a little for roasting. I ran them under cold running water and then shook out as much water as possible.

3. Transfer the seeds to a bowl and gently coat them in 2 tablespoons of oil (I used olive, but I doubt it matters much). The oil is the difference between crisp, toasted, flavorful seeds and pallid dry ones. Don’t worry if they feel super oily. Pumpkin seeds are sort of naturally slimy when they’re wet. Don’t skimp on the oil.

4. Spread the seeds on a cookie sheet and sprinkle with salt. Kosher or sea salt is extra nice because of the big tasty flakes.

5. Toast in the oven for 15 minutes. Take them out and turn them every 5 minutes. If they’re not golden and crisp after that time, roast in 3 minute increments until they are.

Voila!

NEW STORY ON THE FOGHORN!

Read about Knut’s MURDEROUS RELATIVES!!

http://thefoghornmagazine.com/fact-spindler-5.php

Requiem

There is a girl in one of my classes who looks so much like one of my best friends in Junior High. I stare at her sometimes and I hope she hasn’t noticed.

My friend was bright, daring, funny, and brave. We spend countless hours goofing around uptown, flirting with ridiculous boys we met, and generally getting into the sort of trouble you fondly look back on as an adult.

She was so adventurous. She would do anything on a dare like switching people’s lunches on the table when they weren’t looking or purposefully asking teachers embarrassing questions.

She was artistic too, especially when it came to sculpting in clay. She once made a teapot shaped like a knight’s steed that floored the class and teacher.

She was pretty, loved horses, and spoke fluent Polish.

We lost touch a little bit in high school because we took different classes, but always greeted each other and were delighted to find we were in the same lounges or study halls.

After school, she got married and moved to the West Coast. She didn’t really know anyone and was lonely, so she experimented.

Crystal Meth gave her a stroke at 24.

Her husband, who was so young, couldn’t deal and divorced her. Her parents took care of her.

I haven’t seen her, but another friend reports that she can’t keep track of a conversation anymore and she’s lost her prettiness. Her eyes are no longer symmetrical.

The strangest thing is that this girl in class looks the way she did in Junior High, before her slim glamour of high school. It’s very strange, indeed.

Oysters and Martinis

Season One of Mad Men contains this great scene where Draper and

 Sterling go out for lunch.  Instead of today’s American cheese quesadillas and ice tea, they go out for a proper New York executive lunch.   They drink martinis and eat raw oysters.

 

They’re in a gorgeous restaurant with funny little half moon booths just big enough for two.  The only place I’ve ever seen those for real is in the Green Mill in Chicago, a vintage jazz club beloved by Al Capone.  The booths in the Green Mills are aqua plush, unlike the red ones in Mad Men. 

 

The martinis they drink are in delightfully frosty 4oz glasses.  Many martini glasses now are 8oz or 10oz sizes (I suppose for Cosmopolitans and other super sweet mixed drinks), which contain so much alcohol that the dregs in the glass are warm and gag-inducing by the time you get to them.  Plus, the olives look super huge in small glasses.   My brother was quite charmed by a martini he ordered at the Brown Derby in Hollywood .  It was in the 4oz sized glass, but an additional 2 oz or so was provided in a chilled glass vial.   I feel pretty certain the Mad Men martinis are the classic gin and not vodka.

 

The oysters are equally delightful looking.  There were nine served on crushed ice on a silver platter.  They are accompanied but lemon wedges and wicked looking cocktail sauce.  I love oysters, but I’ve certainly never had them so elegantly presented.  We mostly have ours at home.  I told Knut I couldn’t love a man who didn’t know how to shuck oysters, so he dutifully learned.   While we make home made Oysters Rockefeller (the NY Times recipe number 2.   Alas, I learned from Big Secrets that ours is not an authentic version (it’s spinach based) but I’d just as soon not deal with oyster stock and four pounds of parsley.) we sometimes enjoy them raw with a squirt of lemon and a spoonful of Burhop’s horseradish cocktail sauce.   Good stuff.

 

I have no idea if this restaurant exists or if it’s all in a studio (probably).  We are planning to make a pilgrimage to the Oyster Bar inNew York ’s Grand Central.  I intend to flop down and clamor for shellfish like  a hungry seagull. 

Elephant V. Donkey

The political coverage on television has gotten really distressing lately. I’m particularly bothered by the scary sounding audiences at McCain’s speeches. I don’t know why McCain/Palin are tolerated audience members yelling things like “Kill him!” and “Off with his head!” I have absolutely no problem with people agreeing or disagreeing with candidates on a political or personal level, but it’s starting to get so violent.

My own views lean towards Obama, although I really liked McCain before this election started. However, I’m bothered by some of his actions as the campaign has heated up. Obama is pretty well regarded in Illinois.

One of the barbs that’s been sprung on Obama is that he’s academic and elitist. I think this is really peculiar coming from the GOP who most recently nominated George W. Bush, a transplanted member of a Mayflower family, a legacy Yale graduate, and a member of the Skull and Bones society. That essentially is as elite as it’s possible to get in this country. Obama comes from a nice family, but certainly not one so elite as suggested. Having so recently had student loans and work as a community organizer in Chicago makes me think he probably remembers quite well the sort of financial and social struggles most people face.

I actually do think that Obama’s academic qualities are a plus. Academia forces a person to base their conclusions based on physical evidence, in the case of sciences, or precedent, in the case of arts and letters. Basically, it forces you to look at the opinions of others, which should be a positive trait in the president, and then draw your own conclusions. A paper running along of the lines of “I think that Shakespeare’s Hamlet is an Elizabethan variation of the Oedipus Rex because my gut says so” is probably not going to earn its writer an A. I think one of the greatest tragedies of the recent years is that of Colin Powell. He was charged with convincing the UN to attack Iraq based on what was later found to be faulty evidence. He said something to the effect that this was the greatest regret in his life. We need, as a nation, to really consider things and evaluate sources before we act. We have the power; we need to work on the responsibility.

McCain’s impulsiveness just doesn’t seem like a good trait in a president right now. As a senator, he’s very important. A straight talking person who isn’t afraid of party lines is a terrific asset in a large governing body. My concern is that he’s a better senator than president. His jumps like selecting the unknown Sarah Palin after one meeting and claiming he would suspend his campaign are strange and considering that we’re currently dealing with a terrible situations cause by impulse (the war, waged with insufficient intelligence and the failing banks, caused by giving morgages to people who couldn’t possibly pay them), more impulsive decisions doesn’t seem to be the right way to go.

I’m also distressed at his obvious personal dislike of Obama during the recent debates. He doesn’t look at Obama, doesn’t call him by his first name, condescends (“what Senator Obama doesn’t understand is…), and refers to him as “that one.” Some of the commentators say that that is just McCain’s style, but that is troubling. These are two American men who love their country and want the best for it, although their methods vary considerably. If he’s unable to put up a front of civility to a colleague, how will he be able to meet with unpopular foreign leaders like Putin or, heaven forbid, Ahmadinejad? Certainly, the president is the commander in chief of the military, but he must also function as a diplomat. This is an area where he clearly doesn’t live up to his idol, Reagan. Reagan was undeniably charismatic and able to control diplomatic situations, even with leaders with whom he certainly disagreed.

BEST HAUNTED TRAIL EVER!!!

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

Ah, my heart leap this afternoon when I saw the first banner for Peterson Park's Trail of Terror!!

It's AWESOME!!

It's run entirely by volunteers and they must have an absolute mastermind planning it. They also have local children help scare willing patrons. It's an event run by familes... to scare the snot out of other families.

Each year it's differently themed. We've been there for Urban Legends, Evil Circus, and Chicago Ghost Stories. The long wait is peppered with great posters in the theme, including fake newspaper stories, spooky music, and creepy guys in masks who sneak up behind you. There is also a little food stand that sells hot cider and hotdogs.

I simply can't believe this isn't a professional haunted house. That's how good it is.

Last year featured a scary walk through a miniature corn maze, an amazing inflatable tunnel, and the best use of small children EVER. Spoilers for that part below. Do not read the green print if you want to keep it a surprise, assuming they use it again.

SPOILERS!!!

You enter a square room lit only by one black light bulb. The walls are painted black, spattered with neon paint. It looks empty. As you walk through, expecting something to leap out from the doorway, monsters erupt from the very walls! Scared the hell out of me and I'm usually pretty good at seeing the monsters before hand. The trick is that they use small skinny kids wearing black clothing and masks with matching paint spatters. When they plaster themselves against the walls and corners, they are next to impossible to see. I watched one little girl go back into her position and it was like she had vanished.

END SPOILERS!!

They always target the biggest male in the group, which is extra fun. They have Knut pegged as a screamer too! And it is extra fun when it's a little kid doing the scaring.

Really, really awesome and they totally have my respect. I'll keep going back as long as I'm in Chicago.

Here's the website with this year's information: http://www.chicagoparkdistrict.com/index.cfm/fuseaction/news.archive/park_id/433b5e34-bd4e-4fe5-a74e-81dedbacc96d.cfm

Style and Function. Or Not.

One of my classes is at the Harold Washington Library.  At first, I was pretty excited about this since I hadn’t actually been inside it. 

 

Now I’m not too keen. 

 

I never liked the outside of the building.  It’s red brick with these peculiar green copper sheilds  that looks a bit like giant beetles are crawling the sides and a huga carriage lantern sort of affair.

 

When I walk inside, my first reaction is “Where are the books?”  It’s a large empty marble foyer with a big square reception desk.  Browsing seems an impossibility.  Off to the side, there’s a door to the “Popular Library.”  Is is all fiction?  Just Romance novels and Stephen King?  Who knows?

 

Find your way to a couple of escalators tucked into the side, mounted next to a couple of low wading pool type fountains.  The escalators lead up to the third floor.  After that, you have to go past the guards and ride escaltors in the center of the building or elevators at the opposite side.  Not especially handicapped friendly.

 

It’s just not very cosy or modern or friendly or anything really.  There’s not much about it that suggests it was designed as a library.  I am partially bitter that they chose that design over one by Helmet Jahn, but really, that design?

 

Plaaaaaaaaaay Ball!

The Cubs and the White Sox are in the playoffs.

I don’t think my nerves can take it.

In fact, I think I’ve actually gone into a semi baseball-related catatonic state since last year’s Cub woes. It’s simply too much to hope for that we might actually be in The World Series.

It’s like being told we might get to take a picnic on the moon next Saturday. Sure, it would be great! Sure, I’d love to go! But I don’t dare get my hopes up.

It’s a little different for the Sox fans. For one thing, they were in the World Series a couple of years ago. They basically spoiled it, though, by putting billboards in heavily Cubbie areas with the phrase “We haven’t won a series in, like, months!”

Cubs fans snickered as they proceeded to totally suck the next season. Not because we hate Sox fans (those who do are jerks. And vice versa.) but because we don’t need that sort of snotty attitude from our south side brothers.

I personally support our king, Mayor Daley. He loves the Sox. Everyone knows he loves the Sox. But he always always says “I root for Chicago .”

Huzzah!

Vintage Halloween

Halloween will be upon us soon!

 

Kids in princess costumes and parkas will assault our doors!

 

Adults will somewhat inadvertently scare the snot out of them!  (Kids are scared by the weirdest things.  They seemed afraid of the jack o’ lantern

 Knut carved last year.  C’mon!  Parents, if your children are 

seriously frightened of a hollowed out vegetable, they need a little shaking up.)

 

I like those vintage Halloween decorations.  Those sort of naïve round eyes witches, owls, and cats popular in holidays past.  They have a unique cheerfulness that I really like.

 

In honor of that, I made these three: Devil, Owl, 

and Black Cat.   They’re made of paper weight polymer clay, acrylic paint, wire, and glaze with micro glitter. 

 

I orignally made them for myself, but decided to put them on Etsy in the spirit of the spooky season. 

 

Have fun!!

Informational Needs in Poor Taste

This is probably just a weird facet of my personality, but I’m always surprised at the banal search term people use when they’re teaching someone to use any kind of a data base or search portal. 

 

For instance, in one of my classes, a charming guy was showing us how to use Refworks.  Refworks is a service that will take database information and save it for you, as well as creating bibliographies.  Very useful.  Clearly, he will be a great librarian.  He was approachable, happy to help, happy to stop and answer questions, very thorough, and gave good clear instructions. 

 

However, he was showing up how that service applies to a medical databases and he chose the search term “autism.”   “Autism?” In a medical database?  How dreary! Useful and important, no doubt, but not attention grabbing.   Why not “giant tumors” or “bezoar” or “pica” or “Ebola” or “rare parasites?”  Any one of those explodes the imagination!  Who isn’t interested in bezoars?  (Bezoars, if you aren’t familiar, are hard objects that are formed in the stomach, usually around some sort of fibrous material like hair.  The stomach works like an oyster making a pearl, adding layer upon layer of hard material.  They’re more common in ungulates like goats, but humans have gotten them too.  See?  You’re already interested!)

 

Similarly, when we were taught to use Lexus Nexus 58 incarnations ago in high school, I recall the librarian picked something along the line of “The American Revolution.”    Dull, dull, dull.  In a situation where you’re only showing how the system works, why not “Tiger attacks?”     This is common also in school when you have to pick a report topic.  The topic is “disease” or something and they teacher usually only suggests “cancer,”  “HIV,” or “measles.”  There’s hundreds of diseases!  Let’s try to get kids a little bit interested!  They probably haven’t even heard of Spanish flu, porpheria, polio, malaria, and a host of others.   Why not carelessly mention that there are still strains of bubonic plague in the world or that syphilis caused people’s noses to drop off?

 

I suppose there is some sort of interest in good taste.  I feel good taste is a poor trait in fields that pride themselves on spreading information.  You should be able to ask anything in a library without fear of appearing in bad taste.  If you want to know what they do with the bodies when cemeteries are moved, dang gum, you ought to be able to find out!   This is a trait that is all too common, I’m afraid, in venerable institutions.   For instance, the  Adler Planetarium in Chicago is very tasteful.  It has lovely models of the planets, many beautiful antique compasses, and several displays on gravity.  It is also exceedingly boring.   Unfortunately, many of the questions most of us have about space are in poor taste, so they really aren’t answered.  Here’s a short list of things I know people would like to know about space:

 

Is there a toilet on the space shuttle?

What would happen if you got trapped outside the space shuttle?  Would you implode or dehydrate or boil or what?

What do astronauts do with their garbage?

What do we think would happen if a person was sucked in a black hole?

Is it possible to get busy in zero gravity?  Has anyone tried?

Is Lika still floating around somewhere?

Can you grow food in space?

What’s up with those Hubble telescope photos with the smiley faces?

 

There are probably countless others, too, but not a one of them was answered last time I attended the museum.  However, I did have an extremely nice chicken salad. 

Language Pet Peeves

These are language things I find annoying:

 

The phrase "Big Girl Panties"

What the hell does that mean?  When you switch from durable functional cotton underwear to skimpy polyester man-attracting wisps?  Does that somehow convey the act of mature behavior to some people?  It also has the nice added effect of making every conversation vulgar “When I saw my mother lay dying, I put on my big girl panties and strove to give her the care and compassion needed to make her last days comfortable.”  Eau de Trailer, eh?

 

“Veg”

Eww…  I can’t complain that this British shortening of the word “vegetable” is wrong, but I just hate it for no good reason.  It leads to really unattractive mouth contortions.   Begin by drawing your upper lip up and bracing your lower lip against your front teeth like a demented Billy Idol.  Then let the whole thing drop like your Masai lip plate has fallen to the floor.  Very attractive.

 

“Li-barry”

I’m embarrassed to say that there are people in the library science field that use this pronunciation.  Please stop!

 

“Where are you at?”

Maybe this is strictly a regional thing, but it always surprised me.  I say “Where are you?” but I also pronounce “aunt” as “ah-nt” instead of “ant.”  Perhaps this comes from having parents who came from Wisconsin and Minnesota because most of the people who say this come fromChicago or Detroit .   I can’t tell if there is a difference in meaning between “Where are you?” and “Where are you at?”   The “at” takes an even stronger role in “where at?”   It seems to take the place of “Where is it?” which is a complete sentence.   As a result, if someone ask me “where at?” I tend to look totally vacant for a few moments before answering. 

 

Using “literally” inappropriately.

I hear this in the news a lot.  “The storm literally turned her life into a nightmare?”   Oh it did, did it?  It turned a waking experience into the dream state manifestations of the subconscious?  Doesn’t that sounds like a relief?  

People also say “My eyes literally popped out of my head!”  Really? How’d you get them back in?

Math Questions for Literature Majors

Math Questions for Literary Majors

If The Natural is riding on a train traveling 60 mph and the obviously Freudian tunnel is 2000 feet away, how long before Memo declares “Oh, I am a twisted tree?”

If Beowulf can kill a being with the mark of Cain once every three days, how many hours does it take before he wins the honor of the Danes?

If a black ram can tup a white ewe no more than thirteen times in a day and no fewer than once a day, what are the maximum and minimum amount of times Desdemona must submit to the Moor in a fortnight?

If Miss Elizabeth Bennett’s prejudice falls at an average rate of 15% per day after seeing Pemberly, how many day must pass before Mr. Darcy ought dare to renew his offer of marriage?

If tilting at windmills is successful only three times in five, and there stand no less than forty giants; how many attacks sanctioned by God must Sancho witness?

Mary Lennox’s colonial compound consists of her beautiful self absorbed mother, sickly distant military father, her ayah, and twenty five additional native servants. If cholera infects the household at the rate of 1.2 persons per day and death occurs an average of three days after infection, how long before Mary is the sole survivor ready to start a new and challenging life in Yorkshire?

(please note, due to decreased time for enjoyable activities, I did not double check the spelling of these characters' names.  You have my humblest apologies!)

Whew! Sorry I've been away so long! This Grad School/Working/Social Life thing had been kind of rough on me lately. I need to get into some kind of rhythm. One, preferably, that gives me 28 hours a day.

Anyway, a surprisingly amount of my pals and relatives are studying for the GRE so they too can go to grad school! I am such a trend setter. Since the majority of them are poetic souls, their math skills have deteriorated since high school, and now have to relearn math.

 Fortunately, I didn't have to take them because I cannot remember what logs are or what you do with them or how to find them on a calculator.

In an effort to support these brave souls, I created these math questions. Hopefully, they'll help!

Bat Signals

A while ago I said to Knut “You know, I think Dumbledore is gay.”

He thought I was crazy.

Of course, it turns out I was right! In this vein of extreme cleverness, I’m going to try my hand and predicting the next Chris Nolan Batman movie.

There will be Catwoman in the form of Rachel!

Evidence:

Lucius explains that the new batsuit will hold up against cats.

Rachel’s body was never shown.

Rachel’s funeral was not shown or referenced.

The explosion at the warehouse started somewhere in the background, so the size is unknown.

Joker previously generates a situation where it appears that there will be an explosion that does not happen (the gas grenade in the bank manager’s mouth)

Joker was aware that Rachel is extremely special to Batman (he says so during the Trump Tower fight)

Joker clearly has no problem altering other people’s mentalities or bodies for amusement (Harvey Dent, prisoner with bomb under his skin)

Supposition:

Rachel’s character was really fleshed out into a memorable character. A dramatic funeral would have fit the tone.

Maggie Gyllenhaal is far too cool to kill off and she has frequently played characters with strange quirks (Secretary)

The room where Maggie is held appears to be a basement. It appeared that the building that was blown up had lots of windows and the explosion appeared to come mostly from the first floor.

Rachel’s final letter said that she loved Harvey Dent, Harvey Dent turns vengeful after her (presumed) death. It would be a nice parallel if she then avenged him, attacking Batman (Dent’s killer).

My other hope which is based ENTIRELY in my imagination is:

Alan Cumming as… THE PENGUIN!

Alan is a native South African. While he gained fame an a brutal drug lord, he found his real place running guns, mines, and drugs into the Ivory Coast and Congo in exchange for blood diamonds. His beaky appearance, black and white clothing, and above all his love of “ice” gave rise to the nickname “Penguin.”

Now Penguin, is lured to Gotham City where jewelers from around the country meet to bid on diamonds during a week long conference. And Penguin is has decided he’s going to be the only seller…

Luchador to Order

I thought this was pretty cool.  A very nice person bought one of my Luchador mask necklaces and asked if I could do a purple one.

I came across quite nice one, white with purple edging, belonging to Mil Mascara during the 1960s (he wore quite a variety of masks) and made the necklace as a a custom item.  

I think it turned out pretty well J

Miss MLIS

If some of you have noticed that my blog posts have decreased in volume, it is because I have started grad school. I am, at present, an embryo librarian!

Needless to say, I intend to become one of those hideous glare-at-you-for-giggling, gray haired, seemingly immobile, dewey-decimal-obsessed, reference-desk-haunting harpies as soon as possible.

Seriously, I seem to spend the majority of the day helping people find stuff anyway, so why not get a masters in it?

Interestingly, when I announced my intention to go into library science, most people asked me when I would be getting my sexy librarian get up. Well, I’ve got the long hair, cleavage, doesn’t need glasses part covered; but I could certainly use some help in the horned rimmed glasses and bun department.

Alas, they were not given to me the first day of class.

At the moment, I’ve been imagining having a collage of great fictional librarians, preferably the sexy adventurous kind.

Note on the photo: Target is actually selling this “sexy librarian” costume. I won’t be buying it, of course, because this is the sort of thing we wear to classes, although my book skirt is a tad longer and I don’t wear glasses.

Dog Heroes!!

We were celebrating Cynthia’s birthday on Saturday with a spirited round of drinking and board games. Cynthia and Steffi hosted and around 1:30 we were spent from Apples to Apples (featuring a truly awesome argument why “Screeching” was the only possible choice for “Natural” by Megan) so Gabe, Megan, Matt, Ginny, Robin, Knut and I headed out the door in a big herd.

Outside, about a half a block from the apartment, we saw a man sitting on the curb and a black labrador wandering on the street. We just assumed the guy owned the dog, but he asked us if we knew her and explained she was blind. He was outside half a hour previous and saw her and now he was nervous.

The dog didn’t look too old and she was plump and silky despite a few bare patches, but there was clearly something wrong with her. She did not have a collar. She was wandering aimlessly in a little circle in the middle of the street, shying at shadows and manhole covers. The guy, Kirk, explained that he has called animal control, but they wouldn’t be in until seven the next morning. What could we do with her in the mean time?

She was a sweet dog. She gratefully accepted our petting and sat politely on the pavement when asked. While we petted her, Gabe got out her phone and rang Cynthia. Cynthia gamely agreed to let the dog stay in her backyard until animal control could pick her up. Now we just had to get a sweet blind dog to walk up the street, into an alley, and into a strange backyard.

Matt walked with her, holding a hand on each side of her body to guide her. The rest of us walked on all sides to help steer her and encouraged her with whistles and frequent exclamations of “Good Girl!” We got her into the tiny backyard and went home—where we promptly worried about her all night. We were afraid someone had taken off her collar and dumped her in a nice neighborhood.

Then on Sunday, I received these emails:

From Cynthia:

so in case any of you are curious as to what happened to our canine
friend -- as luck would have it, she's actually back with her owner!

apparently she belongs to one of my neighbors, who heard her barking in
the middle of the night. he had been looking for her and was worried
(apparently she just went blind two days ago), and thought the barking
sounded familiar so he followed the sound to my backyard, hopped the
fence, and took her home (probably just a couple of hours after we put
her there). luckily i had left a note to the other tenants in my
building which included my name and phone number, so he was able to call
me this morning to let me know what happened. i'm glad i was still
asleep when he called -- i would have been really perplexed if i'd woken
up and found that she wasn't there. anyway, he sounded like a nice guy
and said he really appreciated us having kept watch over her.

sadly, due to a mixture of grogginess and surprise, it didn't occur to
me to ask him the dog's name until after i'd hung up the phone. but
it's nice to know there's a happy ending to the story. thanks for
spearheading the rescue mission! i'm really glad everything worked out
the way it did.

And then this one from Kirk:

Hi all.

Thank you SO much for your compassionate assistance with the dog last night. In a bizarre twist, it turns out I know the dog and her owner, though the dog was unrecognizable to me last night. Last I'd seen her, she was in perfect health, ten pounds lighter, fully sighted, and totally sprightly ... so I couldn't imagine that we were dealing with the same dog last night.

Her name is Shadow, and she's only six years old, but due to illness she's gone blind and aged a great deal in the last month and a half. I visited her owner today, and she's back in their care. Her owner is incredibly attentive to her, so she'll get great care, but without the small team we had last night, I'm pretty sure things would have gone a great deal worse. [Her owner] was overjoyed that we had all taken time out to bring Shadow in, and out of harm's way.

Cynthia, thanks so much for putting Shadow up for the night. Apparently she heard her owner's car and barked, and they heard her and took it from there.

So here’s my appreciation to the Dog Heroes: Cynthia, Matt, Gabe, Robin, Megan, Ginny, and Kirk!

Fall!

Fall is coming!

I was noticing this morning that the light is starting to get a little more amber and the first dry leaves are starting to drift along the streets. It seems awfully soon, but I love Autumn and the days are just packed.

The last day of summer for me is the day we go to the Sheboygan County Fair. I have gone 24 years, probably more if you count pre-natal experience. It used to be combined with my oldest brother’s birthday, but he’s been regrettably far away for the last several years. However, now we’ve gotten to share it with our spouses and one day, our babies. Mom remarks that Rosemary will be big enough for the pony rides next year. I loved the pony rides and one of my biggest regrets in becoming an adult is that I am too big for them.

Anyway, I’ll probably report on that business next week.

Here are definite or possible Fall Events that I’m excited about, roughly in the order they occur:

September

Tom’s birthday

Larson Family Reunion in Minnesota

Apple picking

Raking Leaves and Jumping in Them

Buying mums

Admiring fall store displays

Making Halloween Decorations

Getting out the Fall Jackets

Having Hollywood Beach to Ourselves

Kite Flying

Wearing Gloves

Eating Caramel Apples

October

Visiting every Halloween shop in town

Putting up decorations in my parent’s house

Fixing the widow silouettes if needed

Pumpkin Picking

Corn Maze

Fright Fest at Great America

Trail of Terror at Peterson Park (awesome! Put on by volunteers)

Making a Katy-style scarecrow out of a shock of corn

Wearing my witch’s hat

Deciding on costumes

Halloween performance at the Symphony/ Zoo Trick or Treat

Halloween show at The Music Box Theatre

Watching edited for tv versions of scary movies

Carving Pumpkins

Dressing up Colin as The Amazing Spider-Dog

Halloween Parade

Strolling up and down the neightborhood with Spider-Dog on Halloween

November

Dead of the Dead exhibit at the Mexican Fine Arts Center Museum in Pilsen

Eating leftover Halloween candy

Buying flowering kale

Drinking spiced apple cider

Just starting to think about Christmas

Get out winter coats

Celebrate Mom’s birthday

Be thrilled by first snowflake

Bake pies

Help make Thanksgiving dinner (hopefully with two ovens!)

Enjoy Colin’s long fur

Snuggle under blankets

Look at baby sweaters for Rosemary

Put the Christmas Mix on the ipod.

Yay!

Bat Dance

Oh man, is this picture cute! This is a running (or possibly jogging as it’s on a treadmill) vampire bat.

Read the full story here at LiveScience.com

Yoda the Four Eared Cat

Gosh, I love this cat!

He’s soooo cute!

And I’m horribly allergic to cats. I would take shots for this little guy.

He has four ears. Should anything with four ears be so darling?

He must be like cuddling a little space alien or X-Cat.

Full story on Yoda here.

Lego Mania!

Oh my god. I wish I liked to play chess. Witness! The Lego Chess set. Wow. Look at the cute little dwarves, wizards, and skeletons!

I think it’s really interesting what Lego has become. So many of the miniatures are so beautiful and clever now, like the Viking sets or Harry Potter. They look like so much fun. And since I engage in a surprising amount of playing when no one is watching, I can totally appreciate them. I do hope the original building sets are available. We had so much fun with those.

We had the standard pack with 200 or so pieces. All three kids played with it so a considerable amount of pieces were forever lost in the shaggy rya rug in the dining room. Nothing hurts so much as stepping on one of those single peg pieces in your bare feet.

I think there were some illustrations on the box of what you could make, but don’t recall ever following them. I made a lot of houses, gardens, cars, and crates for small plastic animals. I do recall we had only two axles and four wheels of varying sizes, so one’s motorcraft was somewhat unraceable. We had a marvelous time with them.

One sore spot was the lack of female lego figures, however. I am glad they remedied that because I distinctly recall arguing with a boy in kindergarten that because my lego guy was a girl, she needed to have the the little red hard hat to tuck her hair under. Bowed over by this impeccable logic, he gave in and presented me with the helmet.

Legos are made in Denmark, I believe, and one of the big adventures most Scandinavian families have is a trip to Legoland in Jutland. They have various play areas and huge sculptures made entirely of legos. Interestingly, one is about to open in Schaumburg near the Ikea. I keep telling Knut that Scandinavia is coming to him!

We Doo So You Don't Have To!

I wish there were some sort of long distance flaming bag of poo service.

You know, where you’d put a paper bag full of dog doo on neighborhood cranky old man’s porch and then light the top of the bag? Then when he’d stomp it out he’d get poo on his shoes.

I never did that as a child but now that I’m a vindictive adult, I do find myself returning to that idea. Something mostly harmless, but unpleasant. Something that sent a signal saying “we find your oppressive behavior so intolerable we felt we had no choice but to fill a paper bag with dog doo and set a match to it.”

Alas, most of the people I feel have earned such a treatment are out of comfortable driving range, so I’d need some sort of mail order service.

Any takers?

Bigfoot: Dead or Alive!

I’m always delighted when they come up with new Bigfoot or Loch Ness Monsters stories. They’re so charming! I also like reading about the hoaxes perpetrated mostly for kicks, like the famous Surgeon’s photo of Loch Ness or the guy who carved giant wooden feet and tromped around the California forest wearing them. I like those kinds of pranks.

Last week’s big shocker was a supposedly dead bigfoot huddled in a freezer. It does look pretty pathetic and the apparently the DNA analysis revealed nothing but human and opossum DNA. Which is, decidedly, the weirdest combination of DNA around. The article also describes an opossum as a “cat like” creature, which seems a wholly inaccurate description to me. “Giant rat” appearance seems more suitable. Bigfoot can be seen at www.searchingforbigfoot.com

I don’t see a whole lot of point to solving the mysteries, frankly. Suppose they discovered a school of unusually large sturgeons in Loch Ness that were responsible for all the sightings. How disappointing! Once you find an animal, they become simply an animal, like the gorilla or the rhinoceros. These animals were only rumored in Europe for centuries! Now we know they exist and there is definitely less excitement.

One that I find very odd is that of the Kraken. The kraken was a legendary giant squid, like the one in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. I keep reading these odd things like could the kraken been inspired by The Giant Squid or the Colossal Squid? Okay, the monster is describes as a giant squid. It doesn’t have magic powers or is covered in fur or sprouts women shaped lures to tempt salty sea dogs. It’s a huge squid. Now it happens that we occasionally find the bodies of gigantic squids. They’re just like little squids, only huge. Can’t we fairly say that we’ve discovered the kraken? Of course, we can’t say that every time a rum soaked sailor spotted a giant tentacle it really was a huge squid, but come on! It’s more than a vague supposition.

Novelties and The Wicker Man

My pal Lauren had a duffle bag full of adult novelties at work today. Alas, my workplace isn’t usually so fun. She was going straight to the airport and then to throw a bachelorette party.

I’ve never seen so much wang shaped stuff and I’ve spent quite a bit of time in Boystown. She had shot glasses, suckers, bracelets, wind up toys, a stuffed monkey, themed plates and napkins, and shaped pasta.

Plans also include a wang shaped cake, which her mother knows how to make free hand.

I started thinking this was sort of odd, because while most straight women enjoy wangs, few prefer them as a decorative motif. This is pretty much the only time in American culture women come together to support the wang, ironically at a women only event.

The more I think about it, the more this resembles a fertility rite. It could be straight out of The Wicker Man. Various babes getting together in preparation to send one of their lot into marriage and surrounding her with phallic imagery.

I’m a big Wicker Man fan, not only because it’s a tense clever film but because a big part of me really feels in tune with paganism. It’s so practical!

If the crops fail, you sacrifice to the gods. If they aren’t right after that, you obviously didn’t pick the right sacrifice and need to try again. There is a direct cause and effect. I also firmly believe that if our hero hadn’t been present, Lord Summerisle would have had to have been sacrificed as was his duty and right and chieftain. It makes sense that such a dreaded duty would fall upon those who sought that power in the community.

Of course, I’m not silly enough to really believe that, but I had a strange shock one afternoon when I asked Knut a question. Do the crops come back the next year? “Of course not,” he said “the ground was wasted. Crops shouldn’t have grown there at all. Nothing would bring them back”

I guess I always assumed that the crops would return. That the perfect sacrifice was made honorably and whatever strange gods they worshipped would be appeased.

It surprises me as much as anyone.

Super Chef, Super Spy!

This news story seriously had me pumping my fist. How cool is it that Julia Child worked for the OSS?

I think most people find this era of spying the most exciting. It seems a bit more gentlemanly that the Cold War and the backdrop is too glamourous.

In any event, I’d always admired Julia Child. Cooking on television is a risky proposition, but her charisma and humor always made her so entertaining. I particularly enjoyed some of her more practical suggestions like that no one knows what happens in the kitchen, so if you drop something just pick it up and wash it off. It’s a nice departure from the slightly paranoid views expressed on Food Network these days. Remember, what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger… unless it irreversibly weakens us to the point where something else kills us.

This reminds me too of one of my favorite novels, Shining Through. PLEASE don’t confuse the novel with the film dreck of the same name. The novel is witty, exciting, touching, funny, and very well researched. Linda, our heroine, is a real person and her actions are not always so heroic. Really really great. Compare the climaxes:

The book: Linda (a Queens stenographer turned spy) has been discovered in Berlin. She has found the mole in the operation and made the decision to kill her, only after being wounded herself. She is saved by Edward, her former boss, a New York laywer and WWI hero, who speaks no German. He is posed as a Nazi General (in the hopes that such an important rank will not cause people to question him) whose war wounds prevent him from speaking. Linda poses as his mistress going to Switzerland to get an abortion. The final border guard recognizes something is wrong with the papers, but is muffled by the sight of Edward’s scars, manner, and a huge wad of Swiss francs. The guard smilingly ushers them to freedom. It’s tense and funny and real feeling.

The movie: Linda (Melanie Griffith who was only good in Body Double (although I think that was more about casting than acting) and has gross wormy glossy red lips) and Edward (Michael Douglas… eh.) stagger across the border to Switzerland with Nazis shooting at them. When they cross the invisible line (which isn’t invisible) the Germans magically stop shooting them. Because the Nazis were all about respecting boundery lines. Linda then reveals that the microfilm (yes, microfilm. This is not in the novel) was hidden in her glove because she “knew that it would be discovered if I was examined by a doctor, but not by the SS.” Indeed. If I were looking for microfilm on a dead body, I expect that not only would I remove all clothing, I would probably search all body cavities. Perhaps this is my German efficiency speaking?

Ugh. It’s so awful when they destroy a novel you love in a lame film version. Anyway, I heartily recommend the book.

Casting Couch

I just did my first casting in class! It’s pretty exciting. First you heat a crucible with a blow torch, then you load your mold, then you pour in the metal bits, melt them with the blow torch, and then spin the arm around forcing the liquid metal into the mold.

I made a small silver ring (which I may melt down after I finish it, not being much of a ringer wearer); a pair of (hopefully) good-looking diamond shaped heavily textured diamond-shaped silver earrings, and a bronze medallion with an antelope or goat’s head in the center.

Here’s the goat!

Both the instructor and a colleague of hers were pretty impressed with the goat. I was surprised myself. I made it from sheet wax never thinking I’d cast it; cast it never thinking it would cast correctly, and now I just need to cut it off the sprews (?) and clean it up.

My instructor’s colleague cracks me up. He’s a large flamboyant man whose art features of bronze statues of heavily muscled male torsos.

Art we all can appreciate!

Lightnin' Cubs!

Last night we went with our Norwegian pals Simen and Sturle to the Cubs game. The game started out beautifully. It was sunny and warm. The lads enjoyed hot dogs and tried nachos for the first time. Note to Europeans: the beer vendors won’t accept EU driver’s licenses.

The Cubs weren’t playing well, but we were enjoying it. Witness Sturle!

They called a rain delay at 7:40 pm. There was TONS of lightning. I can’t believe they didn’t call it before then, because it looked really dangerous. We were all looking at the lightning behind the scoreboard but we eventually realized it was much worse behind the press box. It didn’t look like it was going to stop so we decided to leave at 8pm. After walking past two Elvises high fiving each other (one of whom apparently then ran onto the field and skidded across the huge tarp laid over the infield), we heard this garbled announcement. Turns out they were telling everyone to leave the stands and get into the concourse.

A couple of workers tried half heartedly to stop us leaving the stadium, but we walked out and I realized they were blowing the tornado sirens. I have never heard those in Wrigleyville before. We jumped onto the Red Line and it was raining so hard and blowing so badly that water was spurting out through the crack between the doors and pooling in the floor of the car. There was lightning everywhere and the conductor must have been driving at top speed.

When we got off at Bryn Mawr, we stuck under the awnings for the first block, but the little half block to our apartment had us soaked to the skin and cringing from the thunder. About 15 minutes after we got inside, there was this gigantic fork pronged lightning bolt that looked like it hit near the Bryn Mawr station. All the car alarms in the neighborhood went off.

I’m glad we didn’t stay for those last couple of innings! They were insane to start playing again