For Every Action ...

...there is something online.

First you have to read this: Easter Story Cookies.

Got it? Don't say anything yet. Just, try to absorb what you just read.

OK, now -- only after you've checked out the first link -- go read this: BDOS Cookies.

Discuss.

Note to Memoirists: DON'T LIE!

Did you all hear about this? Gang Memoir is Pure Fiction. I read the article last night. I had some outbursts of indignation as I read it, so I'll reproduce them here with you. (You can open the article and go along with me. It'll be like we're at the breakfast table together and I keep interrupting your reading with another snippet from my reading.)

In “Love and Consequences,” a critically acclaimed memoir published last week— Critically acclaimed? It's only been published one week! Let's wait a bit before labeling a book critically acclaimed, OK?

Riverhead Books, the unit of Penguin Group USA that published “Love and Consequences,” is recalling all copies of the book and has canceled Ms. Seltzer’s book tour, which was scheduled to start on Monday in Eugene, Ore., where she currently lives.—A book tour? Didn't the author ever consider the issue that her persona was a half-Native American woman, and she's 100% white?

The revelations of Ms. Seltzer’s mendacity came in the wake of the news last week that a Holocaust memoir, “Misha: A Mémoire of the Holocaust Years” by Misha Defonseca, was a fake, and perhaps more notoriously, two years ago James Frey, the author of a best-selling memoir, “A Million Little Pieces,” admitted that he had made up or exaggerated details in his account of his drug addiction and recovery.—Publishers' take home message: Don't publish memoirs any more. Or at least, do a little background checking, eh?

Ms. Seltzer’s story started unraveling last Thursday after she was profiled in the House & Home section of The New York Times. The article appeared alongside a photograph of Ms. Seltzer and her 8-year-old daughter, Rya. Ms. Seltzer’s older sister, Cyndi Hoffman, saw the article and called Riverhead to tell editors that Ms. Seltzer’s story was untrue.—Oooh. She must have done some pretty nasty stuff to her older sister when she was a kid. Three of Four, Split Sister, and Cowgirl: take note! (Although I wouldn't call the publisher, I would have called my sister and we would have had a little chat about the importance of literary honesty.)

[The editor in charge of the project said,] “It’s very upsetting to us because we spent so much time with this person and we felt such sympathy for her and she would talk about how she didn’t have any money or any heat and we completely bought into that and thought we were doing something good by bringing her story to light,” Ms. McGrath said.

“There’s a huge personal betrayal here as well as a professional one,” she said.—See comment above. Also: Maybe visit this person at least once during the three-year writing process, huh? (Three years!!)

Ms. Seltzer added that she wrote the book “sitting at the Starbucks” in South-Central, where “I would talk to kids who were Black Panthers and kids who were gang members and kids who were not.—Ummm, color me naive; and even, color me steeped with stereotypes, but, Starbucks? Really? That's where "the Back Panthers" (are they still active nowadays?) hang out? So, like, a Mr. T-style boss goes around saying, "Don't give me no jive talk. When I want a coffee, I want a five-dollar venti half-caf caramel macchiato, skinny, no whip, from Starbucks! Don't you go to the MickeyD's drive thru, boy! Get your ass over to the Starbucks!"

RANDOM SEGUE: I don't think I have mentioned these here before, but World of Warcraft recently created two commercials. One of them features Mr. T. I love Mr. T! This is a great commercial. Check it out if you haven't seen it yet. (The other one has William Shatner. Good, too. Just not as good as the Mr. T one.)

Falling Apart? I Should Hope Not!

I was able to see the chiropractor yesterday, but I'm still not very comfortable typing for too long. I don't know if I like this chiro so much. He's one of those crack-your-bones chiros, and it just doesn't feel as nice as my Iowa chiropractor and her spinal adjuster (see the Web MD video) (plus electro-stim therapy and massage therapy!). After 5 minutes of twist and (don't) shout, this one is done with me and on to the next patient. I have to stick with him for a while, though, because I'd been paying the out-of-area copay of $30 (since our insurance is based out in IA). I recently noticed on the insurance sheets that they've been reimbursing him at the local rate (which has a $15 copay). Instead of cutting me a check, the chiro would like to just have us (Trixie and I, the two chiropractic patients of the family) come in for as many more visits as we had accumulated until this point, without paying anything additional. He's also just down the street, so we walk there. A nice savings of time and fossil-fuel use.

I've also noticed that my left eye is rather red. I was going to insert the picture into the post, but then decided it might not be pleasant for anyone to see it unawares, so you can just follow the link if you're interested.

This happened for a few days about a month ago (right at my birthday, in fact). It went away on its own. I don't think it's conjunctivitis because there is no discharge, no itchiness, no dry eye. It's just ... red. Two days ago, I began using my nice (i.e., expensive) shampoo again, after about a one-month hiatus (I had put it in my pool bag, and forgot it was there*).

Hmmmm. Could this be related to the shampoo? I'm not sure, because this was my daily shampoo for about a year (until I forgot about it in my bag). But in any event, I think I'm going to start using un-shampoo again.** Because at least it will give me the feeling that I am doing something about the redness, even if it is just a placebo.

Oh, and the post title? I'm starting to worry that now that I've passed the big Four-Oh, all I'm talking about here is my body's shortcomings (falling on the ice -- that's an 80-year-old's thing, not mine! -- and this mysterious red eye). 40.1 is not old. It just isn't. (Right?)

I am not falling apart, I am not falling apart, I am not falling apart [lather, rinse, repeat]


*The astute among you may wonder why I forgot about the shampoo in my pool bag, if I've been going swimming 3 times a week as I had planned. Yeah, well -- let's not go there. The spirit is willing but the project deadlines make me weak, alright?

**I did the unshampoo thing (baking soda and apple cider vinegar) for about 6 weeks last summer before the move to NH. It worked just fine (no oily hair, no tangles either), but it just made my hair feel ... heavy. I always meant to document this failure here on the blog, but I forgot. Perhaps I should keep you all informed as I do it again now.

Return to Normality

Thank you all for your birthday wishes

As Marsha recalled, there are in-laws visiting, and so I decamped to DC for some birthday frivolity this past weekend

Hugs from nieces and nephews are wonderful welcomes

An evening with the Capitol Steps is a great way to get birthday frivolity started

(You really shouldn't miss their Lirty Dies [unfortunately, the one they performed Friday night, with its talk of licking your peader and keeping soap in your hole, is not available online -- but others are!])

Even pinko-commies like me will accept and appreciate manicure/pedicures and hour-long massages now and then (when they are gifts from other people)

Starting an evening with cosmopolitans at a local pub makes younger sisters chatty

Continuing an evening with delicious Indian food, and free wine from the waiter, is never bad

Choosing to see a movie filmed with a hand-held camera (a la Blair Witch Project) is not such a good idea after said cosmopolitans and wine.

Returning from a trip and seeing two large packages from clients on your desk typically means there won't be much post-frivolity blogging

Normal blogging routines will resume next week, I am sure

Linky Links

Yeah, let's just ignore that bullet list in the top left. No way a "better" post will be written today. Instead, may I bribe you with these?

Quiz: Famous or Unknown Artist? The most interesting part is finding out who the unknown artists are.

PLA. At least they're being honest?

Video: Taylor Mali's The Impotence of Proofreading. And when you've watched that one, scroll through and watch his others. I wish my high school English teachers had been this cool. But they were all nuns.

Yesterday's News: I Am Shocked

I don't know what to say. That's part of why I didn't post earlier today. It's not at all what I expected to hear here in New Hampshire, and I'm not sure I know how this will affect the future.

But, life must go on, and so I won't dwell on the weirdness of it.

It is weird, isn't it? The engagement coming only three months after the big brouhaha of a divorce. Crazy.

What? Why are you looking so confused?

I'm talking about Sarkozy's announcement yesterday that he is engaged to supermodel-turned-singer Carla Bruni.

What did you think I was talking about?

But she does have a sexy voice, doesn't she. Click on track no. 3 to listen:

Christmas Break Wrap-up

I've been gone a long time -- that fruitcake was strong!

Throughout the holidays I meant to post, I really did, but when given the option of either posting or reading/eating/playing a game, posting never won.

For a quick visual overview of what we've been up to since the 20th, I suggest you pop over to my Photo Diary. You'll see that we still have snow, that Grandma has new puppies for the kids to love, and that some crafting and knitting were even accomplished.

2007 was an exciting year, and I expect 2008 to continue in that vein.

Happy New Year to all my blog friends!

Christmas is Coming, the Goose is Getting Fat

In the past week or so, I've joined in the current blog-wide disbelief that Christmas is actually SOON! This year we're not having a cookie party, so the typical post-Thanksgiving baking rush has been absent. We haven't gotten our tree yet (although that's supposed to change this weekend), and, although we've watched "A Christmas Story" and "It's a Wonderful Life", there hasn't been much holiday audio being played in the house.

Last night, I realized I had at most one week before shipping deadlines would arrive. So today, after packaging up a project and setting it outside the door for my FedEx guy to pick up at his leisure, I wrote out a big list of Things Still Needing to Be Bought, numbered the stops so I could made one continuous loop and not waste time (what? doesn't everybody do this?), got in the car, and off I went.

Despite the idiocy of certain sales staff, despite the long Christmas-season lines (exaggerated because by the time my project was wrapped up, it was hovering around lunch time, so the typical lunch crowds were out as well). and despite the beginning of another snow dump (today was the first time I was driving around while hte snow was falling, so I had to deal with the snow-accumulation-on-windshield-with-some-melting-and-some-freezing-at-the-same-time-making-it-difficult-to-see-out-the-darned-windshield experience), I made good progress, and can now welcome in the season with a smile on my face and a Christmas carol on my lips. Phew! I was wondering if the holiday spirit would ever arrive this year. To those of you who haven't gotten it yet: never fear! it'll arrive in good time. Just don't force it.

This week I also began a six-month membership at a local community gym. Twice already I've gone in for some lap swimming. I had forgotten how nice swimming in the winter can be, especially in a pool surrounded by big windows (for lots of light) and in water that is not too cold nor too hot. Aaaaaaah. It's a *nice* type of tired that you get from swimming. As I get braver about participating in activities at the center, I may try my hand at Spinning (no, it doesn't make you dizzy, it seems to be stationary-bike routines [I may be the last person in the civilized world to hear of this new type of exercise]), and maybe even finally get comfortable using weight machines. i'll just have to figure out when all the other newbies are going (or, better yet, when no one else is in the weight room), so I won't make a fool of myself.

And don't think I haven't noticed that my holiday cheer happened to arrive the same week I started doing some physical activity again -- it's been too long since we did a weekend hike. I suppose I was missing it more than I thought.

Some Sharing

First, of the bragging variety:

For some reason, we are always getting our pictures in magazines and newspapers. We are just doing our own thing, following our regular routines, and there just happens to be a photographer around. When the Consort is running with both girls in the jogging stroller by the canal, *snap!* When Impera and her preschool class are learning about science, her face happens to be in the cross-hairs when the newspaper photographer goes *snap!*. I can't list all the times here, because lo, they have been legion.

Just after the girls had found the local fencing club, a regional magazine happened to be doing a multi-page article on fencing in the Upper Valley. They aren't mentioned in the text, but,

*snap!*


and again,

*snap!*


Then, last weekend, a local newspaper photographer wandered by my sister-in-law's farm during the girls' riding lesson. And what should we see in Sunday's paper?

*snap!*
Trixie, on Murray

Second, of the linking variety:

Since you're still here after that unabashed boasting, here are some sites I've been meaning to share:

Chocolate beer cake at Smitten Kitchen. I followed the recipe (i.e., went out and bought some Guinness just for the occasion), and it is indeed true that this is a superscrumptiously moist chocolate cake. The day it was baked, it had a wheaty flavor to it (clearly from the Guinness). The next day, it had a definite yeasty, beery taste. If you are intrigued, may I suggest you bake it and eat it all on the same day? Get some friends over and make a party of it.

The World Sunlight Map. I spend more time than one would expect here. The satellite pictures make it seem more real than anything else I've seen, and I pop over from time to time to see the current swirls of clouds, the bright light blue of shallow ocean off the west coast of Africa or the east coast of South America, and the brilliant white strip of the Nile at night. Our planet is truly amazing, and even if the desertification and electric output is a human blight on the land, it can look beautiful.

That's it. Sharing over.

Proof: The End of the World as We Know It--EDITED

First person to guess in the Comments what the heck I'm talking about, gets a prize.

Stew guessed correctly! It's the fact that now, it is cheaper to buy things in Canadian dollars. Growing up, every time I would look at the back cover of a book, I would pity the poor Canadians, who would have to pay two dollars *more* for the same paperback. But now, thanks to Bush and his Administration, our economy is in such terrible shape that Canadians come over the border to get a bargain *here*! I never thought I'd see the day...

As you can read from the next post up, I am into making little felt figurines. The prize for this game is a couple of felt figures for Stew. Once she receives the package, I'll show you all a picture of the creations I sent.

I had one of those weekends where you want to do nothing (and therefore do nothing), but at the end of it you feel sort of let down.

Well, I didn't do absolutely nothing. I did lots of Web surfing. And I learned that there are some blogs that I shouldn't read. Because the negativity a blogger writes about can poison my own feelings, creating proverbial mountains out of molehills. I wondered why I was acting so volatile after certain familial phone calls, and I think that was a big part of it. (Let's be honest, though, it wasn't just the blog; I never enjoy forced conversation with Drama.)

We also made a dent in preparing for Christmas. Remember how we thought our home here would be teeny tiny? (I'm too lazy to get a link here right now.) So we brought no Christmas stuff. No ornaments, no tree stand, no lights. Currently, we are in the process of deciding whether we'll go with white lights (Impera's choice) or colored lights (Trixie's preference). I allowed that this year, we can get that crappy tinsel which I absolutely hate and we have never had. We also baked three cookie sheets worth of salt dough ornaments:

We are thin thin thin - Not too heavy for a tree!

We turned on some Christmas music. (In my ideal world, Christmas would be centered on the two weeks before Christmas. Period. Six weeks of it just drains me. But, the Consort loves Christmas [I'd argue I do, too, just not in such large doses], so he gets to turn on the Christmas music the day after Thanskgiving.)

We played cards. Spades (because my goal as a parent is to train my girls to be our pinochle partners; they know this and refuse to learn pinochle, insisting we continue playing Spades instead), and poker (we split up the coins in our Change Tin for betting; next time, I want the girls to use their own money -- nothing better than a little bit of family cutthroat betting to make things interesting...).

Oh, yeah. I also made a pie. Yes! The weekend after Thanksgiving! Realize, please, that the photo I shared on Thanksgiving was the extended family pie table. We only made two of those (upside down pear cake and cranberry tart), and they were both mostly eaten on Thanksgiving with the others. I still had one pie's worth of vodka dough. Wait, I never blogged about the failure which was vodka dough, did I? Here's the scoop: Adding vodka to pastry dough is the new Thing to do. Because vodka evaporates completely when baked (I ask, water doesn't?), it results in a fabulously flaky crust. Maybe. But the fact that vodka never freezes means the dough remains soft and sticky, so the beautiful crust edge you create just flumpfs in the oven, and you stand there, looking through the oven window, begging and pleading with Fate that the dough won't flumpf so much that the filling will ooze out and create a baked-on mess in the oven. Sure, the dough may be flaky (not significantly more so, in my opinion), but the ulcer you get during the baking process makes it anti-worthwhile.

One recipe made enough pastry for two pies, so I still had one disc of dough in the fridge. I had made a squash and sage risotto on Saturday, thus the knowledge that we had arborio rice in the pantry was fresh in my mind.

I took the vodka dough, some arborio rice, some milk, and some spices (plus eggs etc.), and made a Tarte Au Riz (Rice pudding pie, pretty much). This is a Belgian staple (actually, it's usually made with a yeasted tart dough, but what the hell), and I would really like to be able to make one like you get from the bakery in Belgium. I allow myself one try a year (so much creaminess, it's dangerous, otherwise). Mine are good, but not what I remember.

Tasty goodness, even without nutmeg.

Now, I need to find my motivation and finish a project. Anybody see it anywhere?

Preparing for a Weird Day

Tomorrow will be the first Thanksgiving ever that we will spend with family, locally. We've done our fair share of flying and driving to someone's house for the holiday. And even have had some people fly or drive to spend it at our house. But, spend the morning at our house, drive 20 minutes with our offerings to a relative's house, eat, belch, then drive 20 minutes home? Never before.

It feels weird. Today is pretty much a regular day. Not much prepping going on yet, the house is in its typical state of Strewn Detritus, and I'm sitting in the office working on a project, of all things.

Tomorrow will feel weird, too. There will be the usual in-family stress (it's not just my family that can't have a gathering without someone's feelings being purposely or inadvertently hurt). Although luckily, the Consort is the Beloved in everyone's eyes (the opposite of my placement in my family, oftentimes*), so the stress isn't directed at us, and I stand close enough to him to ensure some of the glow shines on me, too (heh).

To be honest, though, the weirdest part will be the wine (or, perhaps more accurately, the non-drinking of wine). We are partakers, and luckily, we've found a bunch of like-minded individuals to be friends with in Iowa. We're not overindulgers, mind you. But a gathering isn't a gathering without a bit of wine. (hic!)

My family partakes in grapey goodness as well. So we're always well-watered when visiting that side. (hic! hic!)

The Consort's family, not so much. One BIL doesn't drink at all. The other drinks a can or two of Bud Light. One SIL doesn't drink at all (not even the beer I keep telling her is fabulous for women who are breastfeeding [when I heard this as a nursing mom, I jumped on this information]). The other SIL will have one or two sips. My MIL? Maybe she will, maybe she won't (and prefers the sweet stuff, whereas I prefer dry stuff). But if there were no wine, they'd be just as happy. Is that crazy, or WHAT?

Do we bring wine? I don't know. I stilll haven't asked the Consort what he thinks (are you reading this? What do you think? Should we bring a bottle [or two...]). I really want some wine with Thanksgiving dinner. But that wanting makes me wonder if I'm a slush. (Yes, I call it "slush", makes much more sense than lush, especially since Lush means bath bombs -- oh, yes, it does!) I don't feel like a slush. I don't drink every day. But I likes me some fihne wihne. Am I an alcky on the edge?

Who knows. Just pass me that bottle.


*Not intended to mean anything, siblings. (And where in his case everyone = everyone, in my case, everyone = for the most part, the parents.)

Rambling Catch-Up Post

Oh, my goodness, people! I stay offline for four days (two of which were weekend days), and I come back to 67 new posts! Some of you posted 6 or 7 times in that short span. How on earth am I going to catch up? And what on earth are you all doing posting multiple times over a single day?

[N.B.: This has turned out to be quite a long post. I’ve helpfully highlighted the important asides with italics, so if you’re in a hurry, just skip the blah-blah and read the meat of the story.]

First, about my previous post. Some of you wanted to know what blogs I was referencing. Well, I can tell you about them, but I won’t post links. These are just regular folks with blogs and it wouldn’t be fair to give them traffic just from people checking out how poor their life skills are (plus, I wouldn’t want them to come back at me and kick my pixelated* ass, you know?). One of them is the blog of a woman who just doesn’t seem to be able to look past herself in larger issues, and who has a bit of a problem making mountains into molehills with people she disagrees with. She also is a typical American in that while living in a foreign country, she practically alienated an entire university department by attempting to bully her advisor and other mentors into letting her do things the way *she* wanted to do them for her doctorate, rather than following the method of her adopted country. (Not everyone does things like Americans, you see?) The other blog I have a macabre fascination with is a woman who is clearly working through some issues (healthy), but is in a relationship where they seem to drink a lot (not healthy). She has become used to a child-free life these past two years, which is a fine choice to make, but really wants her kids (currently living with their dad) to come live with her. I don’t think it will work.

Why do I keep checking these blogs out? Probably, I’ve decided, because I am a snoop at heart who is working very hard to break the generational snooping behavior she was exposed to as a child. I’m not doing it to my children, so I’ve redirected my proclivities towards total strangers. I don’t know if this is a good solution, but the Internet makes it so easy!

Some of you thought I was talking about political blogs, but no. I just cannot imagine keeping sane if I were to regularly read conservative backwash. Ugh.

Aside #1: I’ve been trying to read more nonfiction lately, but my choices aren’t inspiring me. Mostly because I know it wouldn’t be healthy for me or my family if I were to read right-wing ulcer-inducing baloney, but the things I am reading aren’t keeping my interest. Examples: I finally read Nickel and Dimed this summer, and I am reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle right now. I think everyone should read both of these books, and I bet many people would learn a thing or two (in fact, I think Barbara Kingsolver’s book would be a great gift to give out to people [if I ever give in and become a preachy gift-giver]). Problem is, I already know more than the average person about these issues, so I’m not surprised or invigorated to make changes in my life (we already eat local, seasonal, and chemical-free, for example). I also picked up that Mayflower book from the library’s New Books shelf, and after 15 pages I—well, I was bored. Any suggestions?

The reason I was offline was that this was a busy holiday weekend for us. (After 7 years in the midwest, where we never got Columbus Day off [they’d give the kids a 3-day weekend the following week, so it was clear we weren’t celebrating the Beginning of the End of Native North American Independence], it was weird to be getting such an out-of-favor holiday. New Englanders are so … quaint.) We went camping in the White Mountains on Friday (The girls had off on Friday as well as Monday). We learned that Dramamine will not help Impera all that much during a long windy-road drive, and will make her extremely tired for the rest of the day; so any hike we have planned will be difficult for her, especially a super steep hike the likes of which we had never attempted before. But, being a trooper, she will complete the hike (although she’ll make it clear that “views” are not worth doing a hike for). The hike on Saturday was much less steep, Impera wasn’t drugged out, and the Consort and Trixie were able to swim in the pond at the end of the hike. We also enjoyed the smoothed out modernistic rocks of Franconia Falls (I’ll get the pictures up on flickr later this afternoon).

Aside #2: One unpleasant thing about camping is the midnight trek to the lavatory (in this case, a pit toilet in the National Park no-frills campground [no showers, water only at a communal well, and no electricity] where we stayed). I know some of you jumbo-sized bladder people have yet to need a midnight visit, but I’ve been partaking in that particular ritual for years now (the Consort, too, which is why I think it’s you other people who are bizarre, not me). I learned on this trip that, if you stop drinking at 4 pm, you can make it through the night without getting out of your sleeping bag. I made note of this and will definitely be taking advantage of this information at future campouts. What will keep me awake, however, is the Consort mentioning just as we are getting into our sleeping bags that the gorp left over from the day’s hike is still in his small pack, WHICH IS WITH US IN THE TENT. This did not bode well, considering that there are signs everywhere (including RIGHT ON THE CAMPSITE TABLE) that all food should be returned to campers’ cars at night, because of the bears. (The Consort’s response to me that, “The bears here in New England are baby bears,” just didn’t seem to soothe me as much as he thought it would.)

On Sunday, we spent the day with some friends from Boston. We went apple picking, made applesauce and apple crisp, played a great game called Robo-Rally, and had a yummy supper of tomato pesto pasta (with garlic bread).

Yesterday (the notorious Columbus Day), we had planned to do work, veg out, and take it easy, but it was raining in the morning, so we contacted our friends and told them that if they didn’t feel like doing the Fall Foliage thing in the rain, they could come spend some time with us, and there could maybe even be a group adventure completed using our wifi router (they both play World of Warcraft, too). And that’s what the Consort, the girls, and our friends did. For four and a half hours. I made chocolate chip muffins, and knit. Everybody was happy. And we even had time to do the necessary work and homework in the afternoon before supper.

Aside #3: We realized soon after we got to New Hampshire that we had forgotten to pack our winter hats, mittens, and scarves. How stupid was that? So I’m planning to make at least hats for everyone. We’ll see if I get them done in time. The girls want to go camping again this coming weekend (mostly because we said they were old enough to start the fire in the morning if the Consort and I aren’t up yet [we are happy to report that the pyromania that both the Consort and I have was passed down in spades to the girls. You should have seen them scouring the campground for bits of wood and leaves they could burn in the fire]), and it was getting to the point that sleeping with a hat on might be a good idea. Oh, the joys of autumn camping!

Now that I’ve caught up here, I will spend too much time visiting all my regular online haunts, trying to catch up with all of you. Because I take my blogging responsibilities seriously.


*Or should that be pixilated? I leave you** to decide.

**But who has an impish ass to kick, I ask you? Certainly not me.

Worst. Ideas. Ever (Episode 72)

Hey! New York Times online articles are free now. No need to use bogus registrations. So I can link to articles with wild abandon!

Photographing the Proposal. The new "in" thing is to hire a photographer to record your wedding proposal for posterity. I don't know -- if some skeezy guy in dark clothes was hanging around taking pictures of *me* when I'm out with my lovey, I don't think I'd be able to focus on anything but the stalker. "I love you, honey. Will you--" "Boyfriend! Have you noticed that guy?" "What guy?" "Him! Over there!" "Forget about him. Listen to me honey. Will you--" "Boyfriend!! I see a cop at the corner. I'm going to tell him!" "What? Wait! Come back here, honey!"

Genital Mutilation. Every time I read about this practice, I feel terribly sad. And angry. And I feel a desire to adopt an entire nation of girl children. But heck, I never thought I'd think of Saudi Arabians as enlightened!

Wiring the Subways. The Metro Transit Authority is planning to have all 277 subway stations wired for cell phone usage. Great. Now we'll all have to hear conversations like this when we visit New York. (*Sigh* I really really really don't like cell phones.)

PS: The Consort felt bad about my nonposting blues, so he's come up with a solution. He'll just BANG AROUND in the kitchen at 5 am, ensuring that I'm wide awake two hours before I expect to be. This will be particularly successful after going to bed later than usual the night before.

How to Be Popular *and* Get Your Kids to Clean Up!

As a comedian in the 1980s put it, “The mind is a terrible thing.”

Imagine all the stuff that goes on without your conscious self being aware of it. Sure, there are the old standbys like breathing, heart pumping, digestion, and the like. But scientists have been playing games with ingenuous study participants for years. And now they’ve got a pretty good idea of how we can “prime” someone’s subconscious.

For example:

[S]tudy participants, college students, had no idea that their social instincts were being deliberately manipulated. On the way to the laboratory, they had bumped into a laboratory assistant, who was holding textbooks, a clipboard, papers, and a cup of hot or iced coffee — and asked for a hand with the cup.

That was all it took: The students who held a cup of iced coffee rated a hypothetical person they later read about as being much colder, less social, and more selfish than did their fellow students, who had momentarily held a cup of hot java.

I know what you’re thinking: “Hogwash.” But really, it isn’t. Researchers have done it with competitiveness (a briefcase vs. a backpack at the end of the table during a game can make you more or less cutthroat in your choices), helpfulness, bias, and—my favorite—cleanliness:

In another experiment, published in 2005, Dutch psychologists had undergraduates sit in a cubicle and fill out a questionnaire. Hidden in the room was a bucket of water with a splash of citrus-scented cleaning fluid, giving off a faint odor. After completing the questionnaire, the young men and women had a snack, a crumbly biscuit provided by laboratory staff members.

The researchers covertly filmed the snack time and found that these students cleared away crumbs three times more often than a comparison group, who had taken the same questionnaire in a room with no cleaning scent. “That is a very big effect, and they really had no idea they were doing it,” said Henk Aarts, a psychologist at Utrecht University and the senior author of the study.

From now on, I will walk around with a cup of hot coffee, handing it to new people as I am introduced to them, ensuring my new reputation as a warm, social, and friendly person. I will also place a cup of citrus-y smelling cleaner in my daughters’ room, guaranteeing myself free cleaning staff for the next several years. Hah!

Get a free login at bugmenot, then go read the entire article at the New York Times.

Women In Art

Wow! Just ... wow.

But then! Some Humor

So I just posted my cranky cell-phone-on-walk mini-rant, and I settle in on a project written by an ESL author.

I find the following:

"[This country] has become a locomotive for the region's growth."


??????

Oh! He meant "engine".

That's cute.

Advertising at its Best

This, this is what advertising ought to be like.

Tell me what you think of this German commercial. (It's a YouTube video, for you office bots)

The Random Eight

Mizmell tagged me for this a while ago, and EditorMom tagged me for it last week, so I figured I really ought to get this done. I offer you, eight random things about me:

1. I owned a jeep my Senior year of High School when I was 18. It was a tricked out green Jeep Wrangler named “The Gremlin.” I bought it from a guy who did all the tricking out and had purchased both the hard top and the soft top. His girlfriend made him choose between it and her. I loved my Jeep. I wanted one because I had seen the movie Red Dawn, and the kids who escape from the communists are able to do that because the older brother has a jeep.

2. It became part of the family fleet when I went to college, and I didn't own a car again until I was 30. It was a Saturn (when owning a Saturn meant something cool).

3. I am very emotional when I watch movies. I cried when I saw Hero, and (most recently) Wilbur Wants to Kill Himself (I highly recommend that one!). Songs don’t make me cry. I find it interesting because the Consort is the opposite: songs make him tear up, but not movies (no matter how poignant).

4. I was in a Saturday Night Live skit. Really, I was. It was during that terrible 1981-1982 season. The father of one of the girls in my class knew someone who knew someone, and they needed a few pre-teens in Catholic school uniforms. She asked me to be a part of it because these were supposed to be French schoolgirls, and, being Belgian, I was the closest thing to French they could find. (Actually, I don’t think she knew the difference.)

5. I loved being pregnant. I loved feeling my body grow, the first tentative butterfly kicks of the baby, the maternity clothes, the care in choosing what to eat, all of it. If I hadn’t had such strong reasons for not having more, I’d have at least 6 kids by now.

6. When I was younger, I played the piano, the flute, and the violin. Now, I can read music well, I can fumble through making notes come out of the flute and the piano, but the violin fingerings have disappeared into the ether.

7. I would learn the drums if I could be a teen again. Percussion is my favorite part of music. And marching bands – I love marching bands! It’s all I can do to hold myself back from joining a band as it marches down the street during a parade.

8. I’m terrible at measuring distance. I always use the excuse that because my childhood was spent straddling the metric world of Belgium and the English measurement world of the US, I never got a good sense of either. That’s baloney. I’m just not good at gauging distance.

When I tag people for memes, they pointedly ignore me. But I love to learn things about my readers though memes. So, if anyone wants to do this one, let me know. If you don’t have a blog, you can give me your eight random facts in the comments.

Inventions that Just Don't Work*

Automatic flush toilets. Either they flush too often and freak out the little children in the stall beside yours, or they don't flush at all and you spend your time waving your hand in front of what looks like the sensor, until you run out of patience and leave the stall unflushed.

Automatic sinks. They will work fine when you begin the process, but when you wish to rinse your hands, the sensor will not work and you will spend too much time waving your hand under the faucet, until you run out of patience and leave with your hands unrinsed.

Automatic paper towel dispensers. These will work fine for the person ahead of you, but the sensor will not work for you, so you will spend too much time waving your hands in front of the little dot labeled as "Sensor", until you run out of patience and leave the restroom with your hands undried and unrinsed.


*Or, "The Trials and Tribulations of Driving on the US Interstate Highway System"