Working hard, getting a lot done. This leads to online boringness.
My costume today:
I took a chocolate chip from the bag in the cabinet, placed the chip in a plastic bag (I don't want to get chocolate all over me), and wrapped it around the strap of my overalls with some scotch tape.
What am I?
Someone with a chip on their shoulder.
[insert laugh track here]
My advisor, after mild amusement at the joke, was dissapointed that I hadn't selected a silicon chip. I just didn't want to lose a perfectly good chip because of a terrible pun.
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I'm much too lazy to be bothered with real outfits. I almost wore my dining hall apron, but then what would I be? "Person with apron". Boring. Unless I had a Lunch Lady wig and orthopedic shoes and hose, which leads back to the whole "too lazy to be bothered with real outfits" dilemma. This way, people wonder what I'm up to, and then laugh at my clever laziness.
My shawl is done. Did I mention that? I just have to figure out how to block it, considering the only space big enough is my bed, and I need that to, you know, SLEEP on. We'll see.
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Finally got around to seeing Punch-Drunk Love last night.
Why is it that movie women--beautiful movie women with good jobs, friends, and nice places to live--always go for the violent, out of control, emotionally stunted man-children? The guy Adam Sandler plays seems to have a wealth of dangerous and creepy behavior that he constantly displays in front of the Love Interest like the courting ritual of a particularly unpleasant bird--which reminds me of something else. Did I even catch her name? No. Do I know anything about her except a vague Britishyness? No. Despite her total lack of backstory, I can still assume that the LI had some life experience, all of which should have told her that this person is bad news and to *run away instantly*.
The Love Interest's reaction? Wuv. Of course.
Despite that flaw, it was wierdly compelling cinema. I liked the austerity of the cinematography although it took me one step farther away from the suspension of disbelief. Really now, when was the last time you were in an absolutely silent grocery store? My answer is the summer after I graduated undergrad at 1am in Wegman's with my best friend, but that's not typical.
In any case, a decent thing to watch if you're at the video store and can't decide.
So you know how yesterday I was all annoyed with myself for speaking unmindfully?
Let's see how long my desicion to be respectful to all lasted.... oh, let's see.. about 30 hours.
At least this time, it was backlash to outright rudeness on someone else's part. When I read homophobic remarks, I get really angry, because I imagine these people walking down the street and seeing me--a quietly dressed young brown-haired white woman in glasses, walking comfortably hand in hand with a young sandy-haired white man in glasses, our wedding rings twinkling in the sunlight. I imagine them seeing J and I, and not thinking anything in particular, because our particular union conforms with all their values. I want to know who those people are so as they walk by I can shake them by the shoulders and shout "I AM NOT LIKE YOU! I HATE YOUR VALUES! YOU DON'T KNOW ME!"
sigh.
I know, I know. I'm really a terrible Buddhist. At least I can take comfort in the fact that I'm an even worse Catholic.
(By the way, I'm not linking to the comment because I used foul language that my gramma would not approve of me saying, which is my personal website standard of propriety. If you really must know, ask me, and I'll tell you, so long as you aren't my Gramma. No, really, gram, you don't want to know. You either, Pepe.)
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Jeremy bought another season of DS9. He got it partly because it was a good deal, but even so it was on the pricey side.
"I'm sorry, I just couldn't help it, it was just too good of a deal," he said. "You should buy some yarn, even out the guilt."
What a wonderful and bad thing for him to say. Now I'm futzing on Ebay and Elann.
I had two emails in my box this morning.
One was nice and complimentary, the other was angry and insulting.
Both were the result of flip comments I'd made on other sites (not the same comment, mind).
This is too much ying/yang synchronicity for me to deal with on a Monday morning.
I replied to both of them (both kindly, since both times I wasn't really thinking before I wrote), but in any case I think it's time to meditate on mindfulness for awhile.
So, I talked to some people, and this wasn't the amazing idea I thought it was. That doesn't mean it won't work at all, just that it may take some more tweaking than anticipated.
Plus, my advisor seemed totally unsurprized at the suggestion.
Oh well. I'm on the right track. Now I have some experiments in the works that I'm looking forward to.
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I woke up in the middle of the night last night after a scary dream about trying to save these small children from a fire in a three-story apartment building, and had a totally nonsensical thought related to my research.
I reached out to get a comfort snuggle out of J, and fell back asleep.
This morning, I was pouring milk into my Cheerios, remembered the research-related thought, and almost dropped the gallon jug.
The exact wording of the idea did indeed make no sense. But it cut a little hole in a mental block I didn't realize I had, and once I realized it was there, this really Big Obvious Wonderful Idea smacked me right between the eyes. It's one of those things where, if someone else came up with this idea and told me, my response would have been "Duh, I could have thought of that." And it's so obvious that I would have gone and done it right away.
This idea has to do with a foolish but necessary question I've been trying to force a bad answer upon. This answer, if it works (and it should) is just so much more lovely and logical.
J was still drying off from the shower when I ran into the bathroom, talking a mile a minute, waving my arms around in a poor imitation of atoms, particles, and reactions, trying to get him to share in my celebration.
Poor liberal arts and social science educated dear did exactly what anyone else in his position would do. Smile, nod, and be happy to have a happy wife.
And tell her to eat her Cheerios before they get all soggy and gross.
Happy Mole Day! I failed to have the traditional Mole day breakfast (at 6:02, obviously), but c'est la vie.
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Here's a better picture of my new favorite hat:
My head actually is under there, despite the floaty appearance. But this way I wasn't accidentally making a terrible face.
And a shot of the shawl--it's kind of hard to see any detail ('twill be better when I block it). Here's a closer view:
I'm really proud of how well it's coming along. I'm a little more than halfway though with the border, which isn't in these pictures. My guess is, the weekend after next it will be totally complete.
Crap. I downloaded the pictures but forgot the disk. I remembered the recipe though.
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Butt-Kickin' Butternut Soup
You'll need:
one good-sized Butternut Squash
half a medium onion
Enough oil to saute some stuff--a tablespoon or two.
3 medium carrots (or so)
6 cups of stock, or 6 c. water with boullion or miso.
12 oz. package of soft silken tofu
3 cloves of garlic (or so)
1/2 a lemon
1/2 tsp. ginger
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tb. brown sugar.
1.5-2 tbs. garam masala (depending on how intense you want it)
1/2-1 tsp. red pepper flakes (again depending on your taste preference)
And you'll need a big stockpot and a blender, and either some ice cubes or enough patience to let the soup cool off if you have a plastic blender like me.
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Chop up the onion and mince the garlic. Throw it all in the stockpot with the oil, and turn the heat pretty low--you want the onions and garlic to carmelize a bit. Stir them once in awhile, but have the heat low enough that it takes about 20 minutes for them to get any color on them.
While that's happening, peel the butternut squash and carrots. Scoop out the squash guts and chop it into 1.5-2 inch squares. Chop the carrots into 1-ish inch pieces. (side note--the squash in a pain. A good peeler and sharp knife are reccomended.)
Once the onions and garlic are tanned, put in the 6 cups of liquid and crank the heat to medium. Add the spices (you may want to start with the smaller amounts and adjust after pureeing) the squash, and the carrot--everything except the tofu and lemon. If 6 cups isn't enough to cover everything, put in a little more.
Cover the pot and go watch tv for 30-45 minutes. You're ready for the next step when the carrots and squash can get mashed against the side of the pot with a spoon.
Take everything off the heat, put the tofu in, and smash it up with your spoon. If, like me, you have a plastic blender, you'll want to cool everything down a bit before you blend it. I did this by adding the refrigerated tofu and a whole container of ice cubes and letting it sit for 10 minutes. You could also just let the soup stand for a half hour. Whatever you prefer.
You'll probably need to blend everything in a few batches (I needed 2.5), so get a big bowl to put the puree into. Blend it until you see no bits of vegetable whirling around, then blend it for 10 extra seconds for good measure. It should be about the consistency of tomato soup. If it's unappetizingly thick, add some water until it's okay.
If you cooled it too much put it back in the pot for a few minutes. Taste it and add seasonings--it shouldn't be painful-spicy, but it should be enough that you should suddenly realize you need a drink of water 5 sips into it. Serve it with a squeeze of lemon (or you could float a slice of lemon on the top, that would be pretty) and some nice bread. It freezes well, too. Makes oh, let's say 8 bowls. More if you threw a few extra carrots in.
Tomorrow, pictures of the very-close-to-being-done shawl, and a recipe for some really wonderful butternut squash soup I made over the weekend. Everything I touched turned to gold this weekend, I'm proud of everything. I meant to bring these things in today but I blanked. Actually I meant to bring them in yesterday, but I stayed home because I wasn't feeling so hot--my fortunes changed quickly, and by Sunday night everything I touched turned to poo.
Better now.
It's a good time of year for cozy days spent hanging out at home, knitting, waiting for soup to be ready--for now, at least, coziness is a refreshing change. The squash soup is kind of a pain in the tuchus (so says my knife-blisters from trying to cut the darn squash up), but it makes a bunch and then you have a nice homey soup for lunch all week.
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I think I've mentioned at some point that I've been figuring out a little bit of the genealogy on my dad's side, since it's pretty poorly documented (my gramma has a pretty complete record of my mom's side, so I already know all that). This has involved some calls and letters to great-aunts and uncles. One of them in particular has been super helpful--sending some awesome pictures of my grandfather as a young man, as well as copies of even older pictures (that's my grampa at the far left).
When I talked to my mom this weekend, she said that she'd talked to the same helpful great-uncle had remembered a few more family story details, including some important names--my great-grandmother was married twice, and I've had a hard time tracking her down because I only knew her maiden and second married name. I think I found her with the first married name though.
The second thing I found out was that my great-great grandmother killed my great-great grandfather over an argument about money and infidelity--these are my father's father's father's parents, by the way.
I can't stop thinking about this.
I like to think that a person's history and genetics doesn't define their future (except in some rare cases of physical, mental or emotional disability that can be passed along family lines). I've been very lucky so far in my life, but I've also worked really hard and found ways to move away from the very hard life I could be living.
On the other hand, there's an image in my mind of a family tree with a black hole in one corner, sucking its neighbors down into it. For the past few days I've been walking around feeling like I have a bomb strapped to me, that I can't disable and I can't remove. As a result, I've been interacting with people very quietly.
Am I trying to convince everyone the bomb isn't there? Or am I trying to prevent it from going off?
I don't know, but it's making me nervous, seeing it clearly outlined against my skin, amazed at how long I've gone not knowing it was there.
Jeremy and I often email back and forth throughout the day, passing along URL's of interest and arguing random points in a friendly way. Just something to get us through the slow points at work. We almost NEVER end up talking about our repartee at home though, unless one of us came up with a particularly good zinger that gets worked into the general lexicon in a Simpsons-Reference-esque way. Seems kind of odd, but I like that we always seem to have two completely separate conversation threads going--the online and the in-person.
On our agenda today: development of a male version of Norplant (link again via John).
I'm all for everyone in the world having many contraceptive options available to them, and this one sounds like a not-particularly big deal, if it actually gets FDA approval down the line. The side effects seem comparable to the various version of female contraceptive hormones, and I'm sure the long-term effects will be similar too--a few positive, a few negative. If I was a man, I'd go for it.
At least it's supposed to go into one's arm and not anywhere, uh, sensitive.
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"What's this supposed to be?"
"Football. It's one of the first great portable games."
"I thought it was Run Away From the Dots."
Even though these games were before my time, they weren't THAT much before my time. An amusing read.
(link via John Scalzi)
Somebody has been desperately trying to find pictures of sausage links here for the last few days.
Blame Google.
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Man, I need to take a different picture of this hat:
Welcome to the third-worst picture of me ever taken.
#2 was taken in sixth grade, with terrible glasses and terrible pink sweater that I got two of for Christmas.
#1 was one I took of myself with a Polaroid, just smiling like a doofus. I inexplicably look like a middle aged, overweight Hispanic man.
But the hat looks good, no? I've finished it awhile back and have been wearing it regularly. Realized yesterday I'd forgotten to take a picture of it, so onto the Crafty page it went.
It's nice, I'm finally getting to the point where I make something, finish it all up, look at it, and say "that looks good. I can be proud of that." Doesn't mean it's perfect, of course--the hat has one blobby little line where an experiment in spit-splicing went terribly wrong. Besides that, though, it's something that looks good on my head, and doesn't look so homemade, and it kept me busy on the bus for a few weeks in the summer.
Not too shabby.
Oy, people and their conspiracy theories.
So, I found this link, saying how the State Department is trying to get rid of Israel, or something, because it isn't labeled on a map of Saudi Arabia.
5 seconds of poking around the website, and I found this map of Iran. Notice anything?
That's right. Can you believe it? Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan aren't labeled, even though they're right there on the map! (ps--Uzbekistan is NE of Turkmenistan, Kazakstan is just west. I wouldn't have known either if I hadn't just checked). Clearly a State Department plot to ignore these nefarious regimes in a ploy to get into Iran's good graces, after all that Axis of Evil foolishness.
Please. Both Israel and Uzbekistan are way up in the corner of the map. They're not directly bordering the country being focused on. Mapmakers have to make decisions about readability, and there's no practical way of fitting text reading "Israel", "Gaza Strip", and "West Bank" in the way they so kindly did in this map of Egypt, where there was no reason not to add that information.
Sometimes big dogs bark at nothing.
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If I had a front stoop, and a pumpkin, and some free time, I'm quite sure I'd end up doing something like this.
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So, there's this knitting-related mailing list that I'm on, and there's always plenty of conversation. A lot of folks have interesting questions, or are asking something that not everyone would be expected to know. For example, I asked about yarn shops in Rome--if there's anything special, any good deals, that kind of thing.
A lot of times, though, people ask questions that simply make me sad, because they just don't seem to be using the brain in their head.
Let me make this clear--knitting isn't hard. If you have the math/logic abilities and hand-eye coordination of a fifth grader, and are patient enough to double-check every step, you should be able to figure out how to make a scarf, a blanket, a simple sweater, and a hat without a pattern. If you look at your wardrobe long enough--measure the length of your sleeves and examine the edges of that afghan you love--it all makes sense.
The questions that frustrate me always start off saying something like "I don't understand how to fix this problem, I'm so terrible at math." Half the time the question that follows doesn't even require basic arithmetic, it just involves numbers: the sweater is too wide, I have fewer stitches than I started with. I just won't ever understand how the presence of numbers will frighten so many people. Granted, there's a lot of math that I have a hard time with, because I've taken way fewer classes than most of the engineers around me. Not all of it is instinctual for me. However, chances are good that if you give me a piece of paper and a mathematical question that an average person will come upon in their day-to-day life, I can figure it out with common sense, just as I could have in junior high.
The people that ask these questions want an exact answer--you'll need a size 7 needle for that pattern, or undo 2 rows of stitches and everything will be right again. The person that describes HOW to answer the question is ignored, and eventually stops responding, I've noticed.
Common sense. I don't know if these question-askers just don't have any, or if they're too lazy to think about their question for 5 minutes and think it's easier to make someone else do it. If it's the former, it's distressing to me that people I see every day walking down the street are walking through a frightening, illogical world where 5 yards of cloth may shrink itself to four and two halves without warning.
Nothing terrifies me quite like having to walk through a huge crowd of screaming, drunk, sports-frenzied college students.
J and I went to see Finding Nemo (again, it was running at school). Some damn fool football game started shortly after we left the house, and ended a few minutes before we needed to head home.
I just don't get it. I understand enjoying a nice game once in awhile, I understand being happy when the team you like wins.
I understand cheering.
What I don't understand is why people feel the need to be boozily confrontational towards perfectly quiet people walking down the street minding their own business.
At least J happened to be wearing a red shirt. This seemed to allow us to blend in JUST enough to avoid most of it.
Yesterday afternoon I was walking around humming a song of my dad's.
Whenever this happens and I notice, I feel utterly cool.
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Hosting the knitting group a few weeks ago was so much fun, now I'm in the mood to feed lots of people I like. Maybe instead of trying to convince other people to have a party, I should host one myself.
I'll just have to figure out what to make.
My mom's cousin had something to say about me being shy about introducing myself to random online people that I see in the real world, and, as always, has expressed herself in artistic form:
This created a laughsplosion.
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The meeting yesterday (and today) was, fortunately, held in a large auditorium as opposed to the usual small conference room that can't hold everyone. My only real job was to be a supportive, warm body during the lonnnnggg talks, and to shmooze at lunch and be excited about my research at dinner. I sat towards the back and was able to knit unobtrusively and uninterrupted for several hours. I started a hat, and I'm already starting the decreases! One person sitting near me made the comment that I was more productive the last day and a half than anyone else in the room.
Oddly, I think I paid better attention than I would have without my needles. I tend to fall asleep when people talk at length about things I don't understand. Knitting gave my brain just enough stimulation to keep me awake, but was also mindless enough that 90% of my usable brain power was paying attention to the talks.
Better that than playing tic-tac-toe with the people sitting next to me. Or sleeping.
Ok, so the intersection of the online world and the real world is a cliche at this point, but I'm a hack, so I don't care.
So last night, in my wanderings with Jeremy, I'm reasonably sure that I saw someone that I only know via online communication. I know enough local folks online that I've been expecting to see someone ONE of these days. However, being a complete and utter spaz, I didn't say anything.
Part of this is my natural getting-to-know-you shyness--I tend to be pretty quiet in a room full of strangers, and will get louder and more obnoxious as I spend more time with them. So walking up to someone and starting a conversation just doesn't really work for me.
Of course, they aren't really a stranger, I know quite a bit about them (in a non-stalker way I swear), but somehow, looking someone in the eyes, seeing the way they move and dress and speak, all that stuff is just as important as knowing day-to-day minutiae.
Plus, as I walked by this person, I suddenly realized that I'd have to introduce myself as TChemGrrl, a name that, as you might have guessed, isn't the one I was born with. I just know that saying "Hi, I'm TChem!" will send me into a fit of giggles, which, along with walking up to someone I've never met that might not even be who I thought it was, will only add to the impression that I'm utterly insane.
Since I'm really not insane, I always try to keep this impression to a minimum.
So, long story short: last night I learned that I'm an antisocial puss. Oh well.
Gotta run--I'll be sitting in a "please oh please NSF give us big wads of cash" meeting all day today.
I have knitting with me so I won't fall asleep.
Oooh! Oooh! Oooh! Margaret Cho has a blog! (link via Ernie). She's awesome.
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Why, yes, we are really just bunch of dumb cheeseheads.
Just updated Dan's and Jeremy's whois page, since both seemed woefully inadequate. They're not necessarily better now, but they're good enough that I won't get sick of them for another month or two.
Plus, D might not be coming, which sucks heartily. The last two years I'd gotten used to not seeing him often. Now that he's somewhat nearby, and now that I've seen him and all is back to normal, I have the constant urge to hop on a bus, pester him, and play with the doggies.
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Been feeling kind of quiet the last few days. I've gotten some work done, am preparing for a visit from Dan--I'm looking forward to showing him around, but I haven't really decided what we're going to do yet either. He's coming this weekend. Let me know if you have any good ideas.
Watched an odd old movie with J on Saturday night called Merrily We Go To Hell, which has a lovely Dorothy Parker-esque ring to it but ended up nowhere near as witty. It was basically supposed to be an "alcoholic bastard changes his idiot ways because of love" type of story, but the wife suffered more than seemed reasonable, and constantly forgave him at the drop of a hat. Maybe I would have felt more tenderly toward the wronged wife, if only he'd been given any likable qualities for her to fall in love with in the first place. On the plus side, there was a very short scene with a very young Cary Grant that amused me greatly (that's him on the left in the first picture). Also, I enjoyed seeing some really early filmmaking--I felt like there was something missing, but not being a film student I can't quite put my finger on it. The only thing I can put my finger on is the makeup, which looks silly and unnatural (look at the Cary Grant link to see what I mean). It has the same look as the stereotypical silent film makeup--I don't know why they thought all the men needed heavy eyeshadow.
Overall impression: meh. If I was trying to get by in 1932, it would have been a nice diversion for a weekend afternoon. In 2003, I enjoyed the costumes (including insanely overwrought fancy fur coats) more than the story.
I love semi-made up words. Words that sound like they should be a word, but aren't. Here's one that I need to work into everyday conversation eventually because it's so much fun to say:
Laughsplosion.
Use it well.
Paper Moon is a good movie that I can't believe I hadn't even seen a half-scene of before. J and I watched it last night.
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My sister in law:
I'm so jealous. A month and a half is much too long for me to wait before getting there.