Anthrid- Den of a Thoughtful Rabbit

Greeting LIS 724!

2009-09-13T20:03:00.002-05:00

This is my blog, which I really haven’t updated in about a year—essentially since I started grad school. I needed a place where I could display some creativity because my job at the time simply did not allow for it. I had a lot of energy which I needed to expel somehow so I wrote the blog. I focused on creative things that I did or things that I thought were unusual or cool as a sort of distraction from my quasi-existential crisis. Once I enrolled in grad school, my creative energy was all needed for class, so the blog wasn’t so important any more. I may start it up someday when I have more free time, but for the moment, I’m letting it lay fallow. I found the templates very easy to use and I updated nearly every day with pictures and text. I also made the banners for site to personalize it.

I do follow some more adult blogs, but I admit my favorites are mostly just entertaining. It’s lots of fun to read the insights of other people and, while some blogs I follow are by celebrities like Stephen Fry or Neil Gaiman, many of them are just regular people with day jobs. One of the ones I particularly like is

http://www.dailycoyote.net/

Shreve Stockton crossed the US from San Francisco to New York on a Vespa. However, she fell in love with Montana on the way and moved there, living in a one room converted barn. At some point she found an abandoned coyote pup and simply couldn’t let him die. She has raised him like a pet to an adult and she posts beautiful photos and updates about him. The reason why I like this blog is simple escapism. It has, however, another element. I find it very relieving to remember that some people pick the less obvious choice. Some follow crazy impulses and refuse to play safe. That’s a kind of bravery I admire and one that is too readily ridiculed by those with safe jobs, marriages, and lives.

The Non-Horrors of Fruitcake

2008-11-28T15:24:00.004-06:00

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

2008-11-03T19:39:00.001-06:00

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

2008-10-31T16:20:00.004-05:00

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!!

2008-10-30T10:44:00.002-05:00

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

2008-10-24T09:53:00.001-05:00

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!

2008-10-23T08:20:00.002-05:00

Read about Knut’s MURDEROUS RELATIVES!!

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

Requiem

2008-10-15T11:05:00.001-05:00

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

2008-10-12T15:13:00.003-05:00

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

2008-10-10T16:01:00.002-05:00

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!!!

2008-10-07T17:18:00.002-05:00

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.

2008-10-06T11:59:00.002-05:00

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!

2008-10-03T07:39:00.003-05:00

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

2008-10-02T18:12:00.006-05:00

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

2008-09-26T17:51:00.002-05:00

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

2008-09-25T20:39:00.001-05:00

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

2008-09-22T13:48:00.005-05:00

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

2008-09-10T16:17:00.004-05:00

A while ago I said to Knut “You know, I think Dumble dore 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

2008-09-05T18:43:00.005-05:00

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

2008-09-04T08:25:00.003-05:00

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!!

2008-09-03T10:50:00.006-05:00

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!

2008-08-29T12:51:00.003-05:00

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

2008-08-28T12:22:00.001-05:00

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

2008-08-22T16:11:00.001-05:00

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!

2008-08-21T11:43:00.002-05:00

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!

2008-08-19T16:08:00.001-05:00

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!

2008-08-18T13:22:00.005-05:00

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

2008-08-15T16:30:00.001-05:00

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!

2008-08-14T09:59:00.001-05:00

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

2008-08-12T13:55:00.002-05:00

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 li quid 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!

2008-08-05T13:12:00.004-05:00

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

Who Ya Gonna Call?

2008-07-30T14:04:00.004-05:00

I love the movie Ghostbusters. I was only 4 when it came out and hadn’t seen many movies in theaters at all. In fact, this is the first film I remember going to.

Yes, children, believe it or not there was a time not too long ago before VCRs, DVDs, and on demand TV. If you missed the last few minutes of a film on tv, you might never find out how it ended. Scary, huh?

Ghostbusters does sound a little intense for a child so young, but I was insistent! I remember sitting on the swing outside of my uncle’s house while my father explained the premise (he and my brothers had gone to see it). He said that these ghostbusters captured ghosts in a tiny capsule. I was hooked.

So eventually, when it came to the Pickwick (which was a 3rd run theater at the time. I think a ticket was $1.50) I was taken to see it!

The bliss!

Except for one part. Right at the beginning, our heroes are called to investigate a ghost sighting at the Public Library. She is a transparent torso of an elderly lady. When Venkman tries to speak to her, she looks up from her book, raises a finger to her lips, and shushes him.

Venkmen backs away and confers with the Spengler and Stantz. Stantz says “Leave it me” and then shouts “Get her!” while the trio rushed forwards. The lady ghost turns towards them.

And then!

Mom claps her hand over my eyes.

I have a vision of a white flash, but don’t see what happened.

This haunted me. My imagination created a grotesque twisted skeletal creature with a skull like an elongated bowling pin. And then my imagination gave me nightmares.

It wasn’t until several years later that I saw the film again and saw that the library ghost turns into this rather charming ghoul. She’s actually sort of cute. I actually tense up a little bit at that part, remembering the twisted being of my imagination and am always relieved it’s not there.

As Fine as a Troll's Hoard

2008-07-28T14:27:00.005-05:00

I have my jewelry class tonight and I’m thinking of bringing some of my most favorite jewelry to ask the instructor how it was made.

My favorite jewelry store in THE WORLD is in Valle, Norway. It is the home of Hasla.

We found it totally by chance. We had decided to drive through Norway from our home in the West to Oslo. In the wintertime, you have to take the highway that runs around the southern coast, but in summer, you can go through the mountains right across the center.

This is always charming because a good portion is through isolated country without human inhabitants, but lots of sheep. Farmers let the sheep up in the mountain to graze all summer long and then bring sheepdogs to round them up in early Fall to bring them back in for the winter. There are no fences and the sheep roam at will and nap in the road. They know no fear and you frequently have to stop the car and honk the horn until they get out of the way.

Anyway, after a tough morning of sheep-honking, we decided to stop for lunch just on the other side of the pass. This happened to be a tiny village called Valle.

It has a gas station, a city hall, a restaurant, a church, and a church community center. But towering about them is a silversmith in an enormous building built rather like a stabur.

Walk inside and it’s immediately clear there are masters at work. The workshop is visible through glass and the wall lined with sale cases. Hasla makes extraordinary bunad jewelry. Delicate filigree silver work is a trademark. It is beautiful, but I most love their modern pieces.

I have in particular two modern pars of earrings made in bronze. One is an elongated stem ending in four curved petals, known as their tulip design. The other is a bold twist of wires in a design the elves of Middle Earth might have admired.

They also use their bunad skills to other effects creating marvelous confections shaped like butterflies or daisies. Really spectacular.

It’s a shame, in a way. Their traditional pieces are fairly widely available, but the pieces I’ve really fallen in love with only seem available in that funny little valley.

www.hasla.no

Dogs, Monkeys, Groundhogs

2008-07-25T12:10:00.002-05:00

This weekend’s plans:
1. Dog Beach (Knut went yesterday, met three baby Cavaliers. I stayed home because he was a little bit grumpy. Darn it!). Will attempt to wade with Colin. Colin has previously shown no interest in swimming. I’m hoping peer pressure is the answer.

2. Awesome party at Cynthia and Steffi’s. Here’s the text from the invitation:

"God vs. the Monkeys -
We're having a party! For no particular reason, although it happens to fall on the same date that the Scopes "Monkey" Trial came to a close in 1925. To honor this this original showdown between the Creationists and the Evolutionists, we'll be serving up some brass monkeys and -- for those who remain faithful to Genesis -- some sour apple cocktails. Also feel free to BYOB (the B standing, of course, for Bonobos and Bibles, though Beer is okay too).

So come over next Friday to reconnect with your inner primate and nourish your jungle roots. We don't know exactly how the night will turn out, but we imagine it will look something like this: www.youtube.com/watch?v=YKXqqjhnOhM"

Looking forward to that! My favorite part of their parties is Knut sitting and being admired by super cute lesbians because he’s strong enough to open the hatch to the roof. It’s far too adorable.

3. Road trip to Woodstock. To Woodstock, IL not the 1969 Music Festival. I do not expect The Who to be there. Although that would be awesome! Woodstock is where they filmed Groundhog Day. It’s also the hometown of the creator of Dick Tracey. I’ve heard there’s a little Dick Tracey museum. We basically just feel like getting out of the city.

I don’t know what we’ll do on Sunday yet. Probably early preparations for the Norwegians who will be coming on Thursday. Right! I almost forgot to ask to borrow sheets and pillows from my folks!

A Rose For Emily

2008-07-24T12:11:00.002-05:00

Do you like Faulkner? He’s got sort of grim creepy quality to his writing that appeals to me. I love dusty ghost stories and chaste murders. So I was reading a full text of his short story “A Rose for Emily” (I have no idea if there’s any reference meant in the Emily Rose film) and was struck by two paragraphs:

It was a big, squarish frame house that had once been white, decorated with cupolas and spires and scrolled balconies in the heavily lightsome style of the seventies, set on what had once been our most select street. But garages and cotton gins had encroached and obliterated even the august names of that neighborhood; only Miss Emily's house was left, lifting its stubborn and coquettish decay above the cotton wagons and the gasoline pumps-an eyesore among eyesores. And now Miss Emily had gone to join the representatives of those august names where they lay in the cedar-bemused cemetery among the ranked and anonymous graves of Union and Confederate soldiers who fell at the battle of Jefferson.

Naturally, I being a modern babe, associate “the seventies” as the 1970s. After all, they could be described and “heavily lightsome” with all the weird browns and bizarre starburst shapes. However, he means the 1870s and it’s also funny to think of people objecting to garages and cotton gins which to us would be as quaint and darling as a period blacksmith shop. I wonder if people 100 years from now will think Wal-Mart and billboards are charming?

Then this one:

So THE NEXT day we all said, "She will kill herself"; and we said it would be the best thing. When she had first begun to be seen with Homer Barron, we had said, "She will marry him." Then we said, "She will persuade him yet," because Homer himself had remarked--he liked men, and it was known that he drank with the younger men in the Elks' Club--that he was not a marrying man. Later we said, "Poor Emily" behind the jalousies as they passed on Sunday afternoon in the glittering buggy, Miss Emily with her head high and Homer Barron with his hat cocked and a cigar in his teeth, reins and whip in a yellow glove.

I swear I read that five times before I figured out that Faulkner probably wasn’t explicitly saying he was gay. I mean, frankly, it fits the story well enough but it’s not very subtle. I gather “he liked men” mostly meant he enjoyed hanging out with other guys, drinking and gossiping. Still it is a question, isn’t it? I mean, people have always gossiped about that sort of thing, right? Ugh, I’m torn.

Anyhow, it’s a pretty creepy story of a woman who just sort of fades away through pride and madness. Another chilling story for a hot day. Full text here: http://www.ariyam.com/docs/lit/wf_rose.html

Thank You For Being a Friend

2008-07-22T16:00:00.003-05:00

Estelle Getty died today.

If you weren’t a fan, she played “Sophia” on The Golden Girls. The Golden Girls featured the antics of Dorothy, Rose, Blanche, and Sophia as they zipped around Miami and dated an endless parade of trim balding men.

The point was that it was a sit com about women who were over 50! And people loved it!

In our household, Mom and I would air pop popcorn in the microwave, cover it in melted butter and settle down in the kitchen to watch on the tiny nine inch screen. I always imagined them to be old, but when I became an adult, I was shocked to realize that they actually weren’t that old. Not old enough for Social Security or Medicare, but old enough to have adult children and dead husbands. An interesting and frequently forgotten segment of the population.

Mom really admired Bea Arthur. T think the idea of a tall handsome woman with dark eyebrows and graying hair appealed to her—since she fits that description as well. She also really liked the clothes but when I’ve watched it recently the amount of caftans, scrunch boots, and endless layers is a little overwhelming.

Let’s see which plots I remember… Dorothy gets Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (is that still around? It was the hot disease then), Rose experiences ageism, they buy condoms, they all pose nude for a sculpture, one of them has a pregnant unmarried daughter, Stan comes to recover from an illness, the piano playing chicken. Oh! I bet I know all the words to the song they wrote for the Miami Song Contest!

I have to say what I feel…
Miami has great appeal…
A good place for a seafood meal…

Miami, Miami
You’ve Got Style!
Blue skies, sunshine, white sands by the mile

If you live in this town, you’ll have a great time
The coldest of winters is warm and divine!

Awww.. that’s all I remember! I did find a link though!

A Work Day Fantasy

2008-07-18T11:32:00.002-05:00

I’m not having a particularly nice day at work today, so I think I’ll lapse into a Walter Mitty style fantasy for a moment. Where would I like to be…

There is a beach in Hong Kong, not far from the worlds largest seated Buddha (not to be confused with the world’s largest reclining Buddha which is in Bangkok).

And on this beach, there is a pretty outdoor restaurant where the tables are set in the sand under a canopy. The sand is a little gritty and gray white.

The restaurant is owned by Ex Pats, so they serve bread to start with. We order seed bread packed with poppy and sesame seeds. We order Sangria. It’s clear red wine served in a small round wine glass, garnished with a stick of cinnamon and a slice of green apple.

We kick our shoes off and our toes dig like hermit crabs into the sand. We sip the sangria and nibble seed bread while the sun floats just above the horizon.

We spot another table beneath the red striped canopy. They are Englishmen dressed in traditional Indian white cotton outfits. We sneer a bit as we admire our seersucker and sundresses. The Englishmen have ordered many bottles of wine, but their inebriation is wholly cheerful.

We order grilled shrimp and crabs steamed with garlic. This is some of the freshest sea food in the world. We lick our buttered fingers and smile as the sun fades and pretty strings of miniature lanterns glow above our heads.

There’s still a bit of light so we leave our shoes under the table and take a a stroll along the tiny beach. A few children make grainy sandcastles but our attention is caught by something else. A feral cow stands on the shore, briny water lapping at its hooves. It’s furry and rather small. It wears no brand or ear tag. It will not let us touch it but is not bothered by our presence. The children jump up and we join them in chasing the cow down the beach. The cow jogs lazily along, clearly not too bothered by the game.

The sun goes on to warm the other side of the world and leaves us, the cow, and the children with only the glow of the party lights and the stars.

The Puppet Bike!

2008-07-16T10:29:00.002-05:00

Knut and I were going to the Kriskintel Market in Daley plaza Christmas of 2006 and we were instantly smitten.

We met the Puppet Bike.

I am a huge Puppet Bike Fan.

The Puppet Bike is a tiny puppet theater mounted to the back of a bicycle that weeds its way around Chicago delighting many and mystifying a few. It’s a brightly painted box just large enough for one person to stand inside with a tiny stage at eye level. There two frolicking hand puppets dance their way through blue grass, swing, or old favorites. They don’t speak, just dance. Their trademark is when the two puppets join paws and twirl forwards and then backwards.

So far I have seen a sweet little bunny, two tigers, a cat, a bear, and a monkey. If you show your appreciation for the dancing animals by putting a dollar in the little tip box on the front, a puppet will pop out of a side slit and wave enthusiastically. I highly recommend tipping such a great (but tiny) institution.

The Puppet Bike usually hangs around the Loop in all kinds of weather. I’ve mostly seen it on Lake or Michigan Avenue and if you want to take a photo with the bike, the puppets will gladly pose with you.

See The Puppet Bike Perform!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OcPgTxbPdGQ

A Taste of…?

2008-07-15T09:26:00.003-05:00

My hometown celebrated a special event last weekend called “Taste of Park Ridge.” “Taste ofs” usually offer small portions of food in an outdoor fair-like atmosphere.

The best is Stavanger’s “Glad Mat” (literally means “Happy Food”) which is situated on Stavanger’s gorgeous harbor and offers lots of very adult fare like raw oysters, grilled half lobster, beautifully presented French desserts, champagne, mussels, wild boar sandwiches, and fresh fruits. Mind you, Knut and I spent a fortune there. Eating out is a huge gamble in Norway because it’s so expensive that it’s a giant disappointment if the food isn’t good. It’s heartbreaking to blow a month’s free money on a curry containing chewy mutton instead of tender lamb, so we’d just go to the same few places we knew were delicious. Glad Mat was just a few dollars for a small piece so if it was awful (I recall having the world’s worst nan bread there. How did they manage that?) you just tossed it in a bin.

Taste of Chicago is huge and used to be a wonderful event. When it began really nice restaurants like Bob Chinn’s offered small portions of garlic shrimp and you could stroll around munching shark or alligator. It was a tidy crowd who enjoyed sampling many things. Now it’s largely ghetto teenagers and the stalls are almost entirely pizza sellers. The one stand out in the last two years I went was a tiny crayfish boil in a Dixie cup. That was fantastic. It was three crayfish, a bit of potato, and a piece of corn cob all simmered in delicious spicy seasonings.

Taste of Park Ridge is definitely smaller scale and it’s almost totally locals. Many of the local restaurants had booths up selling Italian Ice, funnel cakes, pad thai,, tacos, etc. The stand out was a booth called Applause Catering. They had pulled pork and brisket sandwiches that were meltingly good, roasted corn on the cob, and homemade potato chips. I asked my mother who they were and she told me it was the man who provided the food for the local retirement hotel! Who would have guessed?!

They also had live music which in this case was an ABBA tribute band. As you can see from the photo, there wasn’t too much resemblance to ABBA. The blonde was very short and I couldn’t figure out where the second guy was. The women’s voices were also a bit on the heavy side, without that oh so Scandinavian brittleness. Mind you, the crowd had a great time. I just feel Knut and I can do “Tiger” just as well.

Household Engineering Challenge

2008-07-14T11:22:00.005-05:00

We have the greatest kitchen table. It’s actually a vintage drafting table in excellent condition. It’s got a heavy wood top and a metal base enameled in John Deere green. And it still works.

Possibly a little too well.

In fact, one side of the table wobbles when you lean on it. The left side, which is the that’s meant to tip down to the floor, falls about an inch and a half when pressure is applied. The right side remains stable when pressure is applied. This is a problem given that Knut and my father are huge elbow leaners. The only way to get around it was to have both men sitting opposite of each other, which works fine until one gets up. This was especially noticeable during Easter Egg dying.

So I’ve been thinking of a mechanical means to brace it, but I would definitely like to preserve the drafting function. So far, I’ve thought of mounting an extra leg that could swing out (like an old fashioned gaming table) or having a wholly separate pedestal that we could just slide under when we’re using the whole table (right now the wobbly side is pressed against a wall to hold it steady, which works very well.)

However, any engineering expertise would be appreciated!

Daily Coyote

2008-07-12T13:25:00.006-05:00

It's been a very busy week so I haven't had much of a chance to do a lot of posting, but I got the chance this morning to catch up on my favorite blog (besides this one): The Daily Coyote

This blog is the work of Shreve Stockton, who is a most interesting woman. She began by moving from San Francisco to New York, not with a U-Haul like the majority of us, but alone on a Vespa. On her way, she fell in love with Wyoming and returned there, instead of continuing to live in New York.

In Wyoming, she encountered a motherless baby coyote and felt compelled to save him from certain death. This blog is the story of Shreve, Charlie the Coyote, and Eli the Cat as they go through their daily lives. It's recorded mostly through beautiful photographs.

I'm always a little envious of people who have the ability to cast practical thoughts aside and roam at will. Most of us are stuck in a groove that forces us to do quite reasonable things like stay in jobs we hate because we're accustomed to the money, live in areas purely because they're what we're familiar with, or stick to experiences that hold no threats for us. The truth is that freedom is a very scary thing and too many people will trade liberation for security.

In any event, Charlie's life is one I fear stands a good chance of ending in sadness, but it is so exhilarating to watch it even from afar.

http://dailycoyote.blogspot.com

FOGHORN Returns!

2008-07-10T17:27:00.005-05:00

The Foghorn Magazine has returned!

And it comes bearing a new article by.... wait for it...

ME!!

If you want to read the sort of bloody curdling tales my darling mother reveals, read CHEERFULLY MORBID at the Foghorn Magazine.

I guarantee you'll be shocked and amazed at what people in Crookston, MN in the 1950s got up to!

A.I.

2008-07-09T12:31:00.001-05:00

Have you seen A.I.? I myself am not a fan. Frankly, I find the idea of a child sized robot who is programmed to love pretty freaky (who would order that? Deviants and Cat Ladies? I mean, it doesn’t grow up! It just hangs around… loving… Weird.) and the whole Pinocchio idea is pretty strained. There are some very pretty shots and some gigantic plot holes in there too which are fun to pick apart, much like the robot demolition derby. Speaking of which, was that scene supposed to bother us? Are they suggesting that all robots have emotions and would thus hate to be destroyed? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure this computer isn’t much interested in its own ambitions. But I digress, here are the two things that really are great:

1. Teddy the Super Toy! Man, I would love a super toy. They’re so cool! Imagine having a little bear who could follow you around and have little chats with you and possibly watch your bags when you’re on vacation. I’d bring mine to work and teach him to staple things. Then I’d sit him on my lap and snuggle him as my day goes south. Maybe he could stroke my hair and say “only two days until the weekend…” Actually, the big plus would that he’d be like a dog you could take anywhere. I imagine having Teddy break would be very traumatic, though. When my beloved non robotic teddy bear, Sarah, finally had to be retired (her neck seam was so weak from hugging it couldn’t be properly resewn) I was sad for weeks. Fortunately, I have a lovely little spaniel who is probably even better than a supertoy. He’s definitely lasted more than a summer.

2. Sex Robots! Think of it: prostitution without the risk of disease, drug abuse, mean pimps, emotional trauma, etc. It could be clean and discreet. It would probably lose at least some of it’s taboo nature. I wonder what Charlie Sheen thinks? Plus, I think pretty much every woman and probably lots of men like the idea of a Jude Law sexbot. It boggles the mind. This furthers my suspicion that Futurama is the clearest vision of the future. We get computer technology and what do we do with it? Make humping USB dogs. I wonder if that’s a flaw in archaeology too. We tend to assume everything has a purpose when many things don’t beyond our own amusement.

Thumb, Can, Ahhh... Memories...

2008-07-07T12:34:00.002-05:00

Today is my first wax casting class. I’m a little nervous because I’ve never done any metalwork or jewelry making. I am generally pretty good with tools and small objects (ie, Fimo stuff) but it’s a whole new medium.

The class is actually a birthday present from my lovely sister-in-law and brother. Mina thought the wax casting class would be ideal for me, and is charmingly hoping to recap her investment in my talents :)

I did take wood shop and plastics in junior high, along with a bevy of art classes. I loathed wood shop because we had to do a lot of hand filing and sanding. My kingdom for a power sander! I was the only kid willing to use the grinder because I just hated the boring repetitive sanding.

Our woods teacher came directly from the shop teacher mold. He was a tall sturdy guy who somewhat resembled Pete Postlethwaite. He used the word “can” a lot. As in “You stand on that and you’re gonna slip and fall on your can.” On the first day, he would lift one giant scarred paw and say “You see this? This is where I cut my thumb off the first time. It was on that very saw” and fifteen sets of eyes drifted towards the gleaming blade. “The second time,” he continued “was on a circular saw. YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO BE CAREFUL!!”

Even as a fourteen year old I wondered about that. Anyone who works with power cutting tools could have an accident. You just need to be distracted for a second. However, after you’ve completely cut your thumb off once, don’t you think you would be really really careful? He cut off the same thumb on two separate occasions! I mean, “fool me once…”

This speech then had less of the effect of warning us to be careful of the machine and more of the concern about what we would do if he cut his thumb off again in class. I mean, I presume we’d grab the drafting teacher, but should we look for the thumb? What do we do with it after we find it? Put it in that weird sawdust janitors use to clean up vomit? The only ice would be two flights down the stairs, would that take too long?

Fortunately, it stayed firmly on throughout the trimester, but it was a niggling worry.

Wish me luck on my class! Hopefully it’ll be lots of fun!

The Joys of Fireworks

2008-07-03T12:11:00.005-05:00

Since it’s the 4^th of July tomorrow, I was thinking about the fun we used to have when we’d go to 7-11 to buy Snap Caps, Smoke Bombs, Snakes, and Witch Whistles. They started selling small fireworks like that in mid June and it was a time of excitement! My brothers kindly always bought me some of the girly fireworks like poppers and sparklers too. I love this Black Cat logo, but we never had that kind of fire power until we were adults.

The Smoke Bombs could be set off anywhere it was amusing to have a cloud of green smelly smoke. I do recall that you couldn’t throw them because they were made of something like pressed sawdust and would disintegrate upon impact. And it was hard to relight the pieces.

Snap caps were generally reserved for stomping on in the driveway, but we did occasionally put them under the tires of the neighbor’s cars. They never noticed. You could also pop ‘em between your fingers, which hurt a bit but was totally worth it to see other kids’ expressions. The really brave kids (I think Jamie did this) would pop snap caps with their teeth, which is probably not a hugely clever idea.

Snakes are interesting. They were these little black tablets and when you touched a lighted match to a side long coils of stinky black ash would push forth, looking appropriately like snakes. You got maybe 18 inches of ash from a tablet the size of antacid. They were pretty cool and left permanent char marks on the front steps.

The Witch Whistles were the most memorable. They were these orange waxy tiny rockets, about the size of a golf pencil, and when they flew off they emitted a high pitched screech that was highly appreciated by the adults in the neighborhood. We would set them off in the alley and every so often they’d backfire and we’d go tumbling out of the way. Good times! Once in a while we’d try experiments with them like, could you tie one to a popper and have it pull the string? They never worked, but we were all very good in high school Physics.

Sparklers were just for pretty, mostly, and running around with after dark.

That was fun. Knut and I checked and they don’t sell any of those things any more, not even Sparklers. In fact, the Park Ridge Fire Department sign now reads “Protect your family and friends by avoiding fireworks and sparklers.” You know, in case you stick one in your eye or something.

I think that’s sort of sad. I mean, I suppose we could have gotten burns or cause minor property damage, but it was so interesting! You got to experiment with something and cut it apart to see how it works and learned what it could do.

I feel a little bad for today’s kids. Many of the parents I know are scared to let them out of the house or do anything even a tiny bit dangerous. They probably don’t have much alternative to video games or tv.

Custom Pie Flavors

2008-07-01T11:15:00.000-05:00

I’ve been doing a bit of custom pie work lately. I set out the challenge for any kind of pie and here was one of my first challenges: Banana Cream!

As you can see, it’s filled with rich banana custard, topped with slices of banana and a big dollop of cream. It’s also made of polymer cake and nestled in a beer cap.

It’s always a lot of fun working out new flavors.

Growl List

2008-06-30T11:48:00.002-05:00

I’m growlly. Very growlly. GRRRRRRRRR… I hate everything today. Here’s a list of things I hate most in the order that they occur to me:

1. Snails on berry bushes

2. People who litter

3. Cats that don’t like being touched

4. Summer Humidity

5. Stinging jellyfish on swimming beaches

6. Paper cuts

7. Running over slugs on your bike

8. Sand in your shoes despite not having been to the beach in months

9. Store clerks who argue with you about whether dollar coins are real money

10. Earwigs

11. Gristle

12. People who say “No Offense” and then insult you

13. Pond weeds that wrap around your legs when swimming

14. Women who “hover” and then don’t tidy the toilet seat

15. Animal neglect or cruelty

16. Having to wake up early for non-fun tasks

17. Listening to stories about people’s digestion or food sensitivities.

18. Tailgating (the traffic complaint, not barbeques)

19. Flat soda

20. Truck Nutz (puts me in the mood for “Truck Castration”)

21. When your nail breaks at the quick. Ouch!

22. Very short people who lean all the way back on airplanes

23. Blood blisters

24. Mosquito bites

25. PBS or NPR Pledge Drive Programming (“And now… a 62 hour long John Tesh concert!!")

Bats!

2008-06-27T11:17:00.003-05:00

On Sesame Street, when I was a lass, there was a purple fellow with long incisors named “The Count.” He counted things. One of his key numbers was a song that went “Batty batty bat. Batty batty bat. Batty batty bat. 1. 2. 3. Count!” The chorus was sung by tiny high pitched bat puppets. Thus a love of bats was born.

I even recall making my own bat puppet, probably using my mom’s best wool, complete with googly eyes and little teeth. Funny to think I could make a professional quality one now.

This continued into college. I still carry a trading card from a pack of cigarettes featuring a fruit bat. Someone gave it to me after a night of beer and frollicking. Later, I walked down Lakeshore Path and saw a tiny brown bat clinging to the side of the cement water building. I was admiring it and this freaky beatnik starting talking to me about the wonderousness of nature and the world—everything! I drew his attention to the bat and he said “Yeah, and the bat too!”

The pet guy who used to be on the Martha Stewart show has a pet fruit bat. I am deeply envious. He fed it grapes and explained he had no idea how old it is. It was full grown when it was given to him and that was 30 years ago!

For Halloween, Knut bought me a beautiful little bat skeleton. They truly are amazing. The power of flight, sonar, and snuggly soft fur.

Today, in fact, I am wearing a beautiful hand cast silver bat bracelet. It’s from Marty Magic. It was a princely sum 6 years ago and now even more! I’m glad she’s doing well; she has a very fine hand at minatures. I bought it in college. Perhaps on the same day I met my little bat clinging to the cement wall?

See some lovely bat photo here at National Geographic!

Ruminatin' on Roadkill

2008-06-26T15:45:00.001-05:00

Roadkill causes the strangest behavior in people. This is my normal reaction:

Oh no! Look away.
Wait, what kind of animal was that?
A raccoon! Ewww… it’s all over the road! Look away.
Poor raccoon.

I’m pretty sure this is how most people react. Some, of course, have more interesting reactions like “Hmmm… that’s a good sized deer. I bet we could make sausage” or “A skunk?! In downtown Chicago?!”

I also can’t figure out how animals migrate to either the median or the side of the road. Possibly they retain some Schrodinger’s Cat abilities; because some are so squished they couldn’t have made it on their own. Alternatively, people wouldn’t just throw ‘em onto the shoulder. I suspect ravens might have the intelligence to move a meal to a place where they could gobble unmolested, but ravens are pretty rare overall.

(A note to city dwellers, if you think you’ve seen a raven, you haven’t. You’ve probably seen crows or grackles. Once you’ve seen a raven, you cease to mistake anything for a raven. You also giggle at tiny mysterious Goth girls calling themselves “Raven” because ravens are huge muscular threatening birds with the sort of alien intelligence in their eyes. They’re fascinating, but not in a pretty fluttery birdie kind of way.)

What’s interesting is that the above reaction occurs whenever I see something lying in the road no matter what it is. Only this morning I caught myself saying “Oh, poor coat!” and then thought “Wait a minute!!”

Single Lucha Libre Mask Necklaces

2008-06-25T08:58:00.005-05:00

Loyal fans of this blog may remember these cute little luchador masks from my Shrinky Dink Ruler tutorial. I made them waaaay too big to have five on a necklace.

I originally toyed with the idea of making them into magnets but I thought a single layer probably wasn’t strong enough to deal with the day to day realities of being on a fridge. I didn’t want to just get rid of them because they’re quite nicely done. What to do.

I can’t think why it took me so long to remember Lauren’s suggestion that I make necklaces with one single mask. Here they are! A single mask on a ball chain necklace. They’re very attractive and tough at the same time. Apparently I’m not the only one who thinks so because I sold Blue Demon last night! I’m sort of hoping Aztec Skull doesn’t sell because I want to keep that one, but etsy is all about clearing your toy collection so you can make more toys!

Since all of them besides Blue Demon and Santo are original designs, I had to make up names for them (hence “Aztec Skull”). I decided not to go Spanish with the names for two excellent reasons: I know roughly 10 words in Spanish (half of them involve counting to 5) and I figure the majority of the etsy audience is in the same boat. Maybe 20 years from now my little Aztec Skull will be repeatedly bootlegged and I’ll see a real one in the ring. Heck, they did it with UltraMan.

Up for Sale! $4 per Necklace!

http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=12740317

Whaling, Whaling, Over the Ocean Blue!

2008-06-24T10:51:00.002-05:00

I’ve recently become aware of a Facebook group called “F*** OFF

JAPAN

… LEAVE THE WHALES ALONE.” This strikes me an as unusually rude (and frankly ineffectual) try at conservationism.

I’m a bit ambivalent towards whaling. Mostly because I’ve eaten whale and am not particularly enamoured of its “fish-beef” flavor. Imagine roast beef that’s gone off. They sell whale all over the place in Norway and Norwegians have a fairly active whaling industry. According to Wikipedia, Norway kills about 600 a year. Mostly they hunt Minke whales, which are pretty small for whales, but still huge. There is a skull of a minke whale in the basement of the Stavanger museum that is longer than I am tall, still drooping with dried out baleen.

It does occur to me that since each animal is basically school bus sized, you could potentially feed a lot of people with the death of a single animal. They are also not endangered. Because of its rarity, whale meat is fairly expensive and I imagine a lot of people earn a decent living off the lives of a relatively small amount of animals. This is a marked difference to, say, chickens. One large chicken feeds about 5 people so when you add up all those Sunday dinners, it’s at the cost of quite a number of animal lives.

On the other hand, whales have near human length life spans and long gestation and parenting phases. With animals that live so long, it can be difficult to correctly interpret conservation numbers. At the moment, Norway is still well within the quota of whales it can hunt, but I imagine the data can be pretty tricky to collect.

So it’s definitely not the debate over whether whaling is a good idea or not to which I object, it’s the general disinterest in information over emotion.

For instance, a few years ago MTV had an ad for Europe that showed a CGI mother and baby hump backed whale playfully frolicking while whistling Enya. Then it flipped to black with the slogan “NORWAY IS WHALING AGAIN!” I don’t think anyone hunts humpbacks, certainly not Norway, and hunting a mother with calves is a bad economic idea. It’s just a good use of sentimentality.

When I was in college, I was on the bus listening to a particular inane conversation between two classmates. It went something like this:

“Eww!! I hate lobsters! They’re like giant bugs.”

“Yeah! I don’t know how anyone can eat anything that ugly. Like big ugly bugs.”

“Yeah, but like cows are cute. I don’t want to eat them either.”

“Yeah, but like chickens are okay.”

“Yeah.”

Apparently, there’s a minimum and maximum level of acceptable attractiveness for edible animals. Despite the fact that crustaceans and mollusks are plentiful, nutritious, and of minimum intelligence they aren’t cute enough to eat. Cows are too attractive, so you can’t eat them either. I can’t quite figure out how other commonly eaten animals rank in this system. Presumably rabbit is too adorable, but what about sheep? I know snails are too ugly, but how about pigs?

I guess I just get annoyed at superficial opinions.

Media

2008-06-20T11:31:00.004-05:00

I am convinced the media creates most of the fear in the world. I mean, if you just go along from day to day, you worry about things like getting hit by cars, leaving the stove on, or getting catching a cold from your colleagues. Watch CNN for an hour and your simultaneously worried about drought, floods, serial killers, bioterrorism, zombies, giant subterranean man eating clams, rabid gila monsters, glue sniffing teens, monogamous gay couples, and japanese long horned beetles.

Most of these are either not really a threat or strictly the kind of threat that we can figure out how to defend ourselves against, except for gila monsters and gay couples. They just want to be allowed to be themselves and live comfortable productive lives.

Which leads me to this great page!

Benjamin Radford writes great essays dealing with the slight of hand of the media, the hype, and the misinterpretation of data. He also contributes to Skeptic Magazine (look for his hilarious account of a haunted house investigation!)

The book is great, and he has several essays posted for free. Here are some of my favorites:

The Today Show's Fake 'Stranger Danger' Test

A Closer Look at Internet Predator Laws

Is Barbie Really an “Ideal”?

Predator Panic: A Closer Look

Krauss Plant Music

2008-06-19T11:50:00.003-05:00

We saw Alison Krauss and Robert Plant last night, which was very cool. I particularly like Alison Krauss, she has such a sweet voice and I’m partial to old fashioned country music (as opposed to new fangled country. Think Johnny Cash vs. Garth Brooks. I’m not crazy about cowboy hats or pick up trucks either).

I do like some Led Zeppelin songs, but I’m not hard core. They’re firmly in the realm of “boy music” along with Pink Floyd. For the record, No! I will not get drunk in your dorm room and watch The Wall! I refuse! I like intellectually interesting music. Either witty lyrics or complex mixes of sound. I quite admire “Wall of Sound” technique and the use of unusual instruments in music, like timpani in “Da Do Ron Ron” or African chant in Paul Simon’s Graceland album. It just tickles me. I like to be surprised.

This has led me down the path to stuff like Senor Coconut performing Kraftwerk songs with Latin sound or Brazilian jazz interpretations of Christmas carols or Japanese pop music that just twists Western styles in a whole new way. Or even The Who or Roy Orbison who tell stories in their song quite different from the usual “Oooo… Baby… Oooo…” kind of stuff.

The opposite side of this is that Cat Steven’s lyrics make me want to bang my head against a wall.

Anyway, this concert merged the rock and the country in an interesting way. They took Zeppelin songs and slowed them down and added fiddles, bass, and more melodic country vocals. Then they’d take classic country and zip it up with heavy bass or drums. A great sound and a fun night. Too bad it was so cold, though! I’m still chilly.

Life and Death of Peanut Men

2008-06-18T11:47:00.002-05:00

I’ve always been crafty.

Mom is always amazed when she sees bored children since we were always investigating _something_. Jamie and I made quite excellent volcanoes in the sandbox with the garden hose (Mom built the sandbox! It’s genetic!) and Tom pretty consistently took every mechanical thing we own apart to see how it worked. I once tasted every flower in the backyard except for the dreaded deadly nightshade. Begonias are sweet and juicy. Tulips taste bitter and waxy, which is fortunate because they’re poisonous.

I also invented a weird gel by mixing white glue, washing powder, and spray starch. This had a strange gummy consistency but only stuck to itself. Very peculiar, but I recreated it several times. I believe it may have been a colloid.

I had a couple of craft books for kids (I was born in 1980, but most of the toys we played with were late 1970s) that featured kids in groovy outfits building exciting things. I can still feel the longing to create a life sized alligator out of paper mache and chicken wire, just like in the photos. They did have some smaller scale projects including peanut men.

Peanut men, or ladies, take advantage of the usual bi-legume peanut shell shape. To make, draw a little face on the upper half of the peanut shell. Add eyelashes or curly hair lines if the peanut exudes a feminine mystique. Stick a toothpick through the join of the two nuts for arms. Cut another toothpick in half and stick the two halves into the bottom shell for legs. Then find two single nut peanuts and stick them onto the leg picks. If you balance correctly (always a tricky situation for the under 10s) they’ll stand up.

I made a whole set of these on a hot summer afternoon and left them on a paper plate near the TV in the kitchen for the family to admire. The flaw here is that these people are made of delicious salted in the shell roast peanuts.

When I got up the next morning, disaster! Peanut shells and toothpick legs were spread with wild abandon. Salty carnage, the peanut men had been savaged by hungry dads during the night.

Where's my Pickinic Basket?!

2008-06-17T12:12:00.001-05:00

We’re off to Ravinia two times this week. Ravinia is a music pavillion in the northern suburbs of Chicago, but the key thing about it is that it has lawn seating. People come bearing picnics and blankets (and everyone over 40 brings camp chairs, which seem to lose the spirit of the thing to me, but I suppose it’s helpful for the rheumantism) and settle down to enjoy live music piped over the large leafy park.

I had two New Years Resolutions this year:

1. Take more photos

2. Have more picnics

We never did much in the way of picnics as a child. If fact, if we went to Ravinia, we usually brought a bucket of fried chicken. However, in Norway, picnics became something of a necessity to us. Eating out is very expensive and there aren’t too many places to do it. So, when we would take advantage of the 10 pound Ryan Air deals out of Haugesund, we would drive an hour or so through the tunnels and ferries with a packed lunch, to be enjoyed whereever space was available and/or scenic.

I got it down to a science. The archetypical Sjurseth picnic consisted of:

Sandwiches: a baguette filled with roasted deli chicken, salami, letttuce, paper thin sliced tomatoes, oregano, and dressed with vinegar and oil. Sliced into individual portions.
Sorlands Chips: Yummy Norwegian kettle cooked chips with Salt and Pepper
Apples: 2
Clementines: 4
Bottled Water
Coke

Dessert: Cookies if a special occasion, candy bars if not

This is a lot of food and we didn’t necessarily eat it all in one go, but it’s very nice to know there are tasty available sandwiches when it’s 11pm in rural Lutheran Norway and you aren’t even sure if the gas stations are open. Normally, I would pack it in two small mesh Old Navy Halloween bags (which got a lot of attention in Norway), but we have a cute little picnic backpack that Knut carries around sometimes. It even has a wine caddy and a cheese board.

I think for our Ravinia trips we’ll probably be a bit more formal. Everyone keeps talking about cold chicken and potato salad, which are very fine picnic foods indeed.

Disco Knut Doesn't Need to Advertise!

2008-06-16T09:35:00.003-05:00

Our awesome friend, Robin, threw a 1970s Disco themed party on Saturday. It was a blast! She had all the decorations and a DJ who played disco records all night. We danced and partied until we sweated our blue eyeshadow off!

And our costumes were a labor of love.

I wore stuff I actually own: a brown jersey knit dress with a smocked empire waist, a brown loosely crotcheted long coat, cork soled wedges with brown leather flowers, a triple string of big wooden beads, and makeup that seriously looked like a blow up doll. Blue eye shadow was all I had to buy.

Knut’s outfit, however, was out of sight!

The Elvis glasses were the first thing we bought. Knut never took them off.

Tiny shorts were a must, but no one wears ping pong shorts anymore. We went to Target to try to find a pair that would work. Knut’s a big guy at 6’ 2” and I first found a pair that were pretty short but not nearly tight enough. He tried them on but they were just too modest. I spotted a couple more pairs in the rack that people had tried on. The clerk told me “Those are mens” and I said “I’ve got a man in the dressing room.” “Take ‘em to your man, then!” she laughed. I found a smaller size (they’re still a little bigger than I would have liked) and the core of his outfit was born.

I then picked out the baby blue t-shirt because it just looked 70s. On to the sock aisle.

If they still make the knee length tube socks with yellow stripes, I have no idea where to find them. These were supposedly knee length, but we had to cut the toes out for Knut to get them all the way up. I painted the yellow stripes on. Knut actually didn’t know what tube socks were. “Where are the heels?” he asked. I explained that _everyone_ wore striped tube socks in the 70s and early 80s. My brothers had dozens of pairs. Apparently that trend never made it to Europe. I did raid my parents’ basement in the hope of finding an authentic pair hiding out somewhere, but to no avail.

Now for the shirt. Originally, I had thought to do a 1970s Cubs logo, but suddenly visions of R. Crumb filled my mind. What expressed the zeitgeist more than “Keep on Truckin’?” I used a white shirt transfer (the ones where you have to reverse the image) to get that fuzzy vintage look.

Knut added his Converse and a thing gold chain. The Afro was courtesy of Robin, but he looked pretty cute without it too.

And I was right about the socks! People laughed themselves silly over them.

Summer Cream Beer Bottle Pie Magnets!

2008-06-13T10:38:00.002-05:00

The latest creation from Chez Anthrid: Summer Cream Pies!

Summer Cream Pies include:

Strawberry Glaze: Tiny polymer canes slices form miniature strawberry slices carefully laid in concentric circles leading towards a bright ripe whole strawberry centerpiece. Layers of red tinted glaze make this just as glossy and juicy looking as the original.

French Silk: Thick polymer clay whipped cream tops a rich glossy chocolate base. All of this mousse-y goodness is topped with curls of dark chocolate. A slice is cut out to show both decadent layers.

Key Lime: Real key lime pies have a pale yellow, ever so slightly green tint from the fresh tiny limes. This miniature pie follows in their footsteps. Since key lime is so tart, a swirl of whipped cream topped with a minute slice of lime (less that 1/4 of a inch long) is a welcome addition.

Grasshopper: Rich chocolate pudding flavored with crème de menthe was a classic 1950s concoction, inspired by the cocktail and this polymer clay pie matches up with a glossy chocolate filling topped with a dollop of whipped cream and bright green mini mint leaves.

Coconut Cream: This tropical treat consists of rich custard combined with pulverized coconut and coconut extract. This mini pie features a glossy luscious pale yellow filling topped with dollops of whipped cream sprinkled with toasted coconut.

Should you feel compelled, they're for sale at

http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=12503097

Chilling Tales for a Hot Day Redux!

2008-06-12T10:15:00.004-05:00

It’s a hot sunny day, but I still think we could use the chill… of a GHOST STORY!!

This is my personal ghost sighting! I have seen one ghost and one UFO and I’m always disappointed when people don’t treat me like a crackpot whenever I tell the stories. When I see Bigfoot, someone better treat me like a crackpot! Possibly my otherwise rational and practical outlook is unfairly shielding me from the outraged reactions I deserve.

*grump*

Here goes! Imagine I’m holding a flashlight under my face…

Blind Turn

July of 1999 was warm and humid in Illinois, even at two O'clock in the morning.

I was reasonably carefree 19 year old girl behind the wheel of my grandmothers 1985 blue-rinse Oldsmobile with my friend Ryan beside me. We had had a fun evening with friends, first going to a movie at the big Randhurst theaters and then having a midnight snack at a 24 hour restaurant before heading home.

Ryan and I were busy talking and laughing and gossiping about friends from high school when I decided to take a shortcut.

We lived in the old Northwest suburbs of Chicago where the rich folks of the city built their summer places before urban sprawl set in and engulfed them. The short cut I had decided to take was through the old Lutheran campgrounds, a leafy, unlit, heavily forested site on the bank of the Des Plaines river consisting of perhaps 15 white painted cabins, a small swimming pool, and lots of privacy. Churches and other organizations often had day camps there, but very few of the cabins were in use these days. It was a lovely alternative to drive along that quiet path rather than go past all of the Dairy Queens and gas stations that littered the major roads.

Ryan and I, still talking and laughing, turned off Busse Road, making the sharp turn downward sloping path that led under the overpass by the river. The road had gone into a blind turn when I interrupted Ryan’s chatter by hitting the brakes and shouting "Oh My God, that woman is going to get herself killed!"

Directly in front of us, hidden previously by the concrete wall of the overpass, was a woman bicycling almost in the center of the right lane. She shone whitish in the brightness of the headlights, a thin older woman in a floppy knee length skirt on an old fashioned bicycle without reflectors or any lights. I was furious, not only because she was bicycling on such a deserted road at that time of night, but because she made no indication that she had seen or even heard my car.

I passed by her carefully in the dark, giving her a wide berth. I looked in my rearview mirror a second later just to make sure that she was okay. She was no longer there. I yelped in surprise. Ryan turned around to look for her too, but she had vanished. We looked at each other in shock. There was absolutely nowhere where she could have gone. One side of the road was thick rough Mid-Western forest that was hard to navigate even on foot and impossible by bicycle; the other side was a 10 foot high wall of concrete that held up Busse Road. Behind us was only the Des Plaines River lapping at the bank and there was not a soul in sight.

I don't think I've ever driven quite as fast or quite as badly as I did driving the rest of the way home that night. The only thing we, two normally chatty and unsuperstitious people, said to each other during the drive was "What happened back there?"

We've talked about it since and Ryan definitely is still shaken by it. We still don't understand what happened or where that woman could have gone or who she might have been.

I've been down that road dozens of times since and nothing else has ever happened.

Has your blood turned to ice? Good to hear!

THANKSGIVING Beer Bottle Cap Pies

2008-06-11T09:24:00.003-05:00

I’m a big fan of Thanksgiving.

I like the whole concept of a day where you bring your family around and cook all day and then you eat when it’s all ready.

When I was a kid, we spent every Thanksgiving in Minneapolis, where a big dinner was followed closely by the pre Christmas trip to Daytons! Minnesota didn’t have sales tax, so a good little bunny could hope for a few presents. In fact, I got my very first gingerbread house kit on one of these excursions.

Obviously, it was a good move to judge by my turn to built gingerbread staburs and igloos. Maybe next Christmas I should do a gingerbread pig sty to house the darling marzipan pigs… Hmmm…

In any case, the highlight of Thanksgiving was always the pies! Mom and I are good pie bakers and there was a Trinity of Autumn flavors: Pumpkin, Pecan, and Apple. I’ve faithfully recreated them in a medium more likely to last past the holidays.

Behold!

Pumpkin pie is the classic staple. I’ll admit we always used canned pumpkin, but the results were creamy and rich. This miniature pie is filled with glossy reddish brown polymer clay custard and topped with a decadent swirl of whipped cream.
Pecan pie was preferable made with pecans straight from my aunt’s family home in Alabama. This bottle cap pie does have a layer of polymer clay caramel topped with individually made and detailed pecan halves. The glossy sweet look comes courtesy of syrupy glaze.

Apple Pie was our branch’s specialty. We made the real ones with Jonathans or Macintoshes we picked each year in Wisconsin. These little beauties are polymer clay segments held in with tinted glaze. The effect is completely that of a warm oozy apple pie.

Like the other ones, these are made in beer bottle caps, so they’re very small and have a little magnet affixed to the back. They’re now up on Etsy

http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=12476951

To Do List

2008-06-10T16:26:00.002-05:00

Gosh, I am all over the place today.

I was knocked out yesterday with a sinus headache (I think I was only awake for half hour intervals) but am now feeling cheerful again.

My agenda:

Take photos of the new beer bottle cap pies. Exciting new flavors! Coming SOON!

Pot flowers for Mom and Dad (Mom and I shopped for plants in a a downpour. Nothing will keep me from buying pentunias! NOTHING!! When I still lived at home I would always get a few interesting plants like chenille or candy corn plants, but now that I only go to look after things, we buy low maitenence plants. Mom has a charming lady of the manor style. She loves flowers and gardens, but hates being in the sun or digging in the dirt. I also cleared and mulched around the roses. Right now the phlox and bluebells are threatening to overrun the place. It’s very nice now because we have those big light resin pots. I just pot ‘em up and put them around the perimeter. Add some hanging plants on garden hooks and the phlox is free to run wild. Looks very pretty.)

Post pies to etsy.

How much of this will I get done? That’s always the mystery!

Cubbies!

2008-06-06T11:19:00.007-05:00

We went to the Cubs game last week. Cubs vs. Dodgers. It was a pretty tense low scoring game, but the Cubbies managed to win in the 10th inning. Go Cubs!

Knut, surprisingly, seems to be the cure for the Billy Goat Curse. He’s never been at a game where the Cubs haven’t won. Unfortunately, no one’s offered to pay him for this service, but we have high hopes. Personally I find it too difficult when the Cubs do well. Last year, they threatened to get into the World Series and they’re famous for not having won since 1908. On one hand, I love the Cubbies and want them to do well. On the other hand, I think it’s awesome that a team with their record still sells out all the time. That’s devotion!

For you southsiders, here’s

The Legend of the Billy Goat Curse

The Cubs were in the World Series again in 1945. During the game 4, Billy Sianis, owner of the Billy Goat Tavern (made even more famous by the John Belushi SNL skit featuring “CHEESEBOOGER CHEESEBOOGER NO FRIES CHIPS!”), bought two box seats. One was for him; the other was for his goat.

However, goats tend to smell pretty bad, even those who have box seats, and the management insisted that the goat leave.

Billy paraded the goat around a few times, but he was angry that his beloved mascot was so insulted.

As he and the goat left the field, he cast the curse, “"the Cubs, they ain't gonna win no more."

And they haven’t been back to the World Series since.

Mysterious, isn’t it? The Cubs are a very old team and Wrigley field has an old fashioned picnic-like atmosphere adored by the Northsiders.

The mascot is, of course, the Cubbie Bear! There have been many incarnations of him, including this rather peculiar hat I’m wearing. In shape, it’s much more like the 1910s style, but the bear looks more like the 1960s Cubbie Bear. The inside is marked “Cooperstown Classic” but I can’t think when it’s from. Last year, a hot dog vendor and I had quite a long discussion about it.

Check out the guys behind us in this photo! Great old school fans. They gave the best running commentary during the game and hooted and booed appropriately. The older guy was going into the hospital the next day for gout surgery. Hope he’s okay! Knut told him it was the disease of nobility!

Go Cubs!

A Chilly Story for a Hot Day

2008-06-05T16:21:00.005-05:00

There’s something about gloomy rainy summer days that puts me in the mood for GHOST STORIES!! Wooooooooooooooooooooo…
After all, it was a rainy day in June that inspire Mary Shelley…

I love ghost stories. I don’t much care for those Real! Life! Ghost! shows, mostly because I find the thought of lingering after death as a blip on a magnetic field reader or a speck of dust in a lens flare to be terribly depressing. The stories however, are delicious…

Chicago has many good ones. This is the most famous.

RESURRECTION MARY

Chicago was a bustling city in the 1930s and the South Side was home to some big industry. Fortunately, the Polish and German descended workers loved a good time after a hard day’s work and the dancehalls flourished.

A young man was on his way to one of these dances, driving shiny new car down Archer Avenue. He saw a pretty young blonde woman in a white dress walking along the side of the road. Being a gallant fellow and one never to pass up the chance to meet a cute girl, he pulled over and asked if he could give her a lift. She explained that she was also going to the same dancehall and that she’d appreciate the ride.

They arrived at the dance, and while the mood was lively and the music fine, the girl seemed quiet and withdrawn. When he danced with her, she felt cold so he offered her his jacket. She accepted it but soon asked if he could drive her home.

He was a little annoyed to leave a good party, but agreed. She gave him her address which was on a busy cross street that he knew well. He helped her into the front seat and they were soon zipping back down Archer Avenue. She clutched jacket around her and huddled in the corner of the wide bench seat. He was a little uncomfortable driving with such a strange quiet girl and kept his eyes on the road.

After many minutes of staring down the long deserted stretch of road, he decided to start up a conversation for politeness’ sake at least. He turned his head to look at her and his easy smile froze. The passenger seat was empty. It was as if she had never been there at all.

He sped home.

The next day, the young man worked up his nerve and found the address that the girl had given him. His palms sweated a little as his rang the doorbell, but it was a sunny day and he was ready for some explanation.

A middle aged woman answered the door and welcomed him in. As she busied herself in the kitchen preparing lemonade, his glance fell on a framed photograph on the piano. It was of a pretty blonde girl.

“This is the girl!” He told her.

“Oh,” the woman said, putting down the tray and taking the photo from him. “You’re one of those boys. This is my daughter, Mary. Have you met her?”

“Yes,” he said, “I saw her walking down Archer and I gave her a ride to a party. I even gave her my jacket.”

“My daughter,” the woman said slowly, looking directly into his eyes, “Died five years ago. She was on her way to the dancehall and was knocked down by a car.”

“But, but,” he stammered, “I picked her up! We danced! She asked me to bring her here, but while we in the car I looked over and she was gone! Right there on Archer Avenue!”

“I know,” she said sadly, “If you lent her your jacket, I know where we can find it. If you could just take me down Archer.”

Feeling helpless, he escorted the woman to his car and barely speaking they drove down Archer. About halfway down, she directed him to turn right into a driveway. He looked at the gates over this driveway. They read “Resurrection Cemetery.” He felt each hair on the back of his neck raise, despite the warmth of the sun.

With practiced steps, the woman lead him between the rows of graves, until he recognized with dread his own jacket, apparently floating in air. It was carefully draped over a modest gravestone. The stone bore the name “Mary.” The woman handed him the jacket, gave him a sad smile, and explained “She’s always trying to come home.”

Good, eh?

There are various other bits about that same cemetery. A chapel that lights up at nights with now one inside, steel bars in the gates with slim hand prints burned into them, and a marble statue of a little girl who goes skipping through the graveyard at night.

Mary herself even shows up. Many people report picking her up and having her vanish. Some say they see a young woman dart into the middle of the street at night. When the car is unable to stop, it goes right through her. A particularly gruesome one goes that a couple sees a woman in a white dress walking along the side of the road. When they look at her in the rearview mirror, she has only a black void for a face.

Even on the most cheerful summer night, Resurrection Cemetery is creepy. A common Catholic custom is to leave lighted candles in little red jars on the graves. Seeing all those little red flickers reflected in the granite is enough to make you believe in the will o’ the wisp.

Well, has a scary story like that chilled you down in this hot muggy weather?

Dinner Pies

2008-06-03T11:12:00.004-05:00

You caught me. I am a pie fiend.

Some people find them difficult, but I adore them. Actually, my chief criticism of the movie Waitress was that the pies she made weren’t that original to quality her as a “pie genius.” Brie and ham quiche? Easy peasy. Strawberry chocolate? Yummy, but not so original. I was watching Bizarre Foods set in Minnesota and a true pie genius created Sauerkraut pie. Now that’s bold!

In Norway, I developed a longing for Swanson’s Frozen Chicken Pot Pies. They don’t have those in Norway so I was forced to make my own from scratch. It worked out beautifully, but now every Norwegian who tasted it has developed an addiction. In Knut it took on a near Gollum-like quantity. A dinner of roast chicken was very carefully monitered to ensure there would be enough left over for pie.

On a similar bent, we had tons of ham left over from Easter so I baked some into a quiche with broccoli and Gruyere. Norwegians are not big quiche eaters and Knut was a tad dubious. I paired it with a vinegary mixed green salad and a certain ulv had asked for it ever since. Usually for me, I used a premade pie crust (I usually make my own) and they’re much better than they used to be!

This little pie set is all Dinner pies. You see a Chicken Pot Pie, a Quiche Lorraine, and a Vegetable Tart all baked in bottle cap pie tins. I’m quite pleased. There’s lots of detail and the Chicken Pot Pie really looks edible.

These are up on Etsy!

http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=12260498

Superdawg!!

2008-06-02T14:05:00.002-05:00

Today is a frustrating work Monday, so I’m going to take a page from Maria Von Trapp and focus on one of my favorite things… or, possibly, one of my worshipping sites.

Welcome to Superdawg!! Thanks for Stopping!

Superdawg is an awesome drive in restaurant here in Chicago. It opened in 1948 and is still run by the same couple. In fact, the gigantic smiley wieners (they are SUPERDAWGS!) on the roof are named Maurie and Flaurie after there owners. It’s very sweet, you see Maurie and Flaurie (the humans) out working the register or checking on the pickled tomatillos, usually while wearing a Superdawg jacket.

Mind you, I would love Superdawg for the architecture alone (which looks wonderful these days. It was a little run down when I was a kid), but it doesn’t hurt that it has terrific food. They specialize in hot dogs, hamburgers, milkshakes, and other favorites. Each hotdog or hamburger is nestled in a bed of crinkle cut fries along with a dill spear and a pickled tomatillo.

The hotdogs are terrific, but the Superburger is only rivaled by Schultz’s steak sandwich in Sheboygan, WI. It’s lovely and juicy and comes topped with mustard, onions, and brilliant green pickle bits genuinely referred to as “radioactive relish.”

Each dawg or burger comes in a specially printed box emblazoned with hilarious sayings like “Thank you from the bottom of my pure beef heart” and the Superdawgs in pin up poses.

As you can imagine, it is very popular and has been featured many times in food and Americana documentaries. The best thing is that you don’t have to leave Superdawg alone. You can grab a t-shirt, magnets, plush figures, and a host of other things.

If you’re despairing because you live too far away to visit Superdawg, don’t worry. They have a little online store with some of the souvenirs. You can also read testimonials of other devoted fans.

Maria was right! I do feel better!

Present! I swear!

2008-05-29T14:40:00.002-05:00

Sorry, I haven’t been around much!

There was the 17^th of May weekend fun, then a glorious trip to Seattle, and yesterday a Cubs game. Plus, my pies are selling like hot cakes (or pies possibly)! Today I got an order from Germany! I figure that means I ought to use only domestic beer brands J

I’m also working on a series of dinner pies. Chicken Pot Pie is a speciality of mine in edible form (that and quiche are frequently requested by my hungrey husband), so I should be able to come up with a decent polymer clay version. Watch for pie news updates! Try to hold your excitement!

I’m also working on a custom doggy onesie. I made one with my brother’s dog with “Food Rival” written underneath, although I suspect “Pack Member” may work better for more benevolent doggies.

But today’s giant news is that I’VE BEEN ACCEPTED TO GRAD SCHOOL!!

This text is written by a future MLIS owner!! Yeah!!

A Quick Test: Lover or Hater?

2008-05-22T11:50:00.004-05:00

Does this photo makes you go “awww…” or reach for your bb gun? Or does it do a little of both?

I’m a little bit of an amateur city zoologist as you may have gleaned from my previous posts. I’m genuinely a little thrilled when we see rats or possums, odd as it may seem.

I have a bird feeder on the window sill in the chicken and I’ve observed some interesting birds, including:

Starlings (yuck!)
Pigeons (blargh!)
Doves (aww…)
Red Finches (AWWWWW..)
Sparrows (aww…)

And once I swear I saw a tiny falcon nestling up against the window for warmth. It was very small and had a round little face with a wicked curved beak. I’ve heard some of the skyscrapers have them to hunt pigeons. Maybe this little guy wasn't so far from his nest.

Our alley is home to raccoons, feral cats, possums, squirrels (one of whom threw a bagel at Knut’s head. Really.) and the occasional rat. We even saw a woodpecker just a few streets away!

These little guys are not from my neighborhood, however. They are, in fact, the third floor tenants in a two story house occupied by Lauren and Eli. Apparently, when the light is just perfect you can make out their silhouettes through the ceiling.

Lauren always thought they had squirrels, but a few weeks ago she heard crying on their back porch. It was a baby raccoon who was soon whisked away by its mother. She showed a photo of it around and generally thought it was the cutest thing ever.

Then they saw several on the roof and through the ceiling. They thought it was a mother and her two babies, but at this point three raccoons have been trapped and taken away and these little guys were still staring at us from the roof on the night of Eli's birthday party. I imagine they wanted some cake and taquitos.

The question is thus: are there 40 raccoons living in their ceiling? Or are they catching everyone else’s raccoons?

We had raccoons in my parents’ attic. One summer night, we were cooking outside and three little masks faces peered down at us from the roof. Their expressions clearly said “Why, yes, I would like a bratwurst.”

I asked my dad how he had gotten rid of them and he said that when it got really hot they left and then he patched the hole. It does strike me as possible we’ve got something walled up in there.

For the record, raccoons were native only to North America, although their Manifest Destiny attitude has allowed them to populate parts of Germany (from a bombed fur farm in WWII), however, you can find them in zoos in places like Hong Kong.

It’s so odd to go see a zoo animal that’s a pest at home. But, if they aren’t living in your personal attic, their antics and cleverness are really quite charming.