Dreamy

I'm very tired and about to toddle off to bed. Ruby is in the kitchen barking to alert me to the presence on the counter of a freshly baked loaf of bread. I'm waiting for it to get cool enough to wrap up. I'm not sure why she doesn't just jump up and get it; it is within her reach.

She's a funny dog.

But as long as I'm sitting here, waiting around, I will tell you about another item I emailed to myself: this guy might be my dream date. He's done a bunch of high-quality modifications to standard car engines to increase gas mileage and decrease emissions, and to make them burn alternative fuels. The kind of stuff that Detroit says isn't possible. I've been hearing about him here and there for a while now, and was very happy when Fred Clark over at slacktivist (speaking of dream dates, I think Fred is pretty dreamy as well) linked to this story about Jonathan Goodwin.

I have mixed feelings about biofuels; whatever we choose as a source of fuel for transport, heat, or power generation, I think it's imperative that we learn to do with less of it. Whether it comes from a finite source with a pile of associated security and political issues, or from a food crop (or land which could otherwise grow one) at the expense of a hungry planet, burning stuff is an increasingly dumb idea.

And it's clear that a lot of folks here in the U. S. of A. are not willing to live in cold houses, in the dark, and not drive anywhere, so I think that gains in efficiency whereever possible are essential.

Plastic on the windows only goes so far in saving the world.

Chickens come home to roast, editor's nipples in a twist

I ran across the blog Cosmic Variance this morning via a link at Shakesville or somewhere. There's an especially amusing post over there about the phenomenon of "eggcorns," mis-used English words or phrases that are not merely incorrect or ridiculous (like, say, a malapropism) but also occasionally result in some surprisingly accurate ways of putting things. A lot of the time, they appear to occur because a particular element of the phrase has fallen out of use, or the etymology of the word or phrase is not obvious or well known. Or they sound like words that are more commonly used. Sometimes they're indistinguishable from typos.

A quote from the Cosmic Variance post:

"The database has nearly 600 instances of common expressions in English which, via a homonym or near-homonym substitute (in lame man’s terms, a word that sounds the same), result in really oddly apropos but totally novel (and hilarious) coinages.

"For example, you might think you have free reign to use English how you see fit, but for that you’d need to be a monarch rather than simply riding on horseback. I am not trying to ferment trouble here. On the contrary, once you’ve mastered a few of these you might just pass the SAT with flying collars."

Some of them can only be found in writing: "pour over," and "peaked your interest," for example, or "wetted your appetite." More than a few of them are jar-droppingly funny.

Things I don't do for a living but have always wanted to try

One of the things I like best about blogging is other bloggers. Oh sure, I read some of the big blogs; I like snarky and/or informed commentary about the news, but it's the smaller, quirkier blogs I like best. Reading about the lives of people I'd never know about otherwise, looking at pictures of their dogs, knitting projects, or the little sparkly things they put on their fake leg just for fun. I'm not going to single out any particular blog or post at the moment, because I'm very tired and I have to get up extra early tomorrow. But I try to add most of my regular stops to the blogroll over there [on the right], so have a look around. It's not all-inclusive, and some of the links may be obsolete -- I have a different set of bookmarks at work than at home, and usually only the ones at home make it to the blogroll. So just because it's not on that blogroll doesn't mean I don't read it.

Yeah yeah, I'm aware that there are portable bookmarking applications and suchlike, but I can't be bothered at the moment. I'll get around to it. And it's not like I read any of these every single day, much as I'd like to do so. Plus if my site counter thingy is anything like accurate, there's not a lot of you using my blogroll. Please let me know if I'm wrong, but it looks like most of the outgoing traffic from there is me.

Anyway, I was reading Sara's post from yesterday, wherein she named some of the bloggers she was following for the month, fellow NaBloPoMo participants all. Some of them I'd read before, some were new to me; all were good and interesting.

I have to clear one thing up, though. I know Sara only via blogging; we've never met in person. She has this really interesting knack, though, for reading my mind. I'm intentionally kind of vague about what rocket surgeons like myself actually do for a living, so I'm not expecting people to know or to guess what it is. Being a princess is not a requirement, but the tiara does help. I worry, though, that in my vagueness I am mis-representing myself. Because it's twice now that Sara has attributed a profession to me that is not in fact mine.

See, a while back she described me as a librarian, which I found terribly flattering. And in fact I've always secretly kind of wanted to be a librarian, but I have kind of a virulent mold/mildew allergy that keeps me out of the stacks in any respectable (i.e., not electronic) library; also my university's undergraduate library degree program closed during my first semester there, before I'd gotten round to declaring a major or anything. They subsequently replaced it with some kind of Information Science degree, but it was too late: I'd already gotten involved with Linguistics. And you know what a slippery slope that is.

And some of my best friends are in fact librarians; I like to think I sort of fit right in among them.

So I cleared that up in the comments, and whaddya know, yesterday she described me as a former professional baker. Which is another one of those dreamy things I've always wanted to be. I have cooked in a couple of restaurants, and have in fact baked yummy things as part of my job: scones, muffins, cheesecakes (which I detest), pies, fabulous lemon-herb tarts, pound cakes, etc. But I've never actually worked in a bakery, alas.

On the other hand, it's not too late. It's entirely possible, in fact, that I need a new career. The rocket surgery racket ain't all that great these days.

More about the dangers of female anatomy

Over the weekend, Melissa over at Shakesville broke the Feminazi Cooter League's code of secrecy to reveal the source of the Radical Gay Agenda. Hint: it's in your uterus, if you have one. I'm not a member in good standing of the Feminazi Cooter League, but I've been to their potlucks. I have no qualms about suggesting you go read Melissa's post, if only for the beautiful graphic describing how exactly the Radical Gay Agenda waves are generated. I mean, I've had my very own uterus for over 43 years, and I had no idea about the tiny little disco ball in there, and the disintegrating lavender copies of Melissa Etheridge singles. Truly the human body is a miracle.

But Melissa's post is also interesting because she notes the similarities between this "Hillary is playing the gender card" round of whackjob commentary and the consternation in certain circles a while back regarding Nancy Pelosi's possession of -- you guessed it -- a uterus.

I also like that her post contains a word I didn't know: I had to look up 'corybantic,' which means 'wild and frenzied,' or dancing like a Corybant, who is a follower of the neolithic Phyrgian nature goddess Cybele. Apparently Cybele and her attendants and priests were known for their wildly emotional processions and rituals. And in the later years of Cybele-worship, her male followers are said to have ritually castrated themselves, donned women's clothing, and assumed female identities.

Ahem.

See also Digby's post on the whole "Hillary's got girl parts" thing.

Just, wow

I think Barbara Ehrenreich is a terrific writer, plus really smart. And I like her politics. If you don't read her excellent blog regularly, consider adding it to your list. She doesn't post every day, but when she does, it's worth reading. This week she takes on David Horowitz' Islamo-Fascist Awareness Week. Which is just, well, crazy. Horowitz*, a one-time Marxist/Leftist and now an occasional analyst for Fox News, is perhaps best-known for his efforts to secure "academic freedom" for conservatives amid the overwhelming liberalism of college campuses; he is also the one who put together the website DiscoverTheNetworks.org, which seeks to document the Vast Left-Wing Conspiracy controlling the world.

Anyway, Horowitz is particularly keen to target feminist academics with his Islamo-Fascist Awareness Week efforts, as Ehrenreich notes in her post:

"A major purpose of this week is to wake up academic women to the threat posed by militant jihadism. According to the Week’s website, feminists, and particularly the women’s studies professors among them, have developed a masochistic fondness for Islamic fundamentalis[m]. Hence, as anti-Islamo-Fascist speakers fan out to the nation’s campuses this week, students are urged to stage “sit-ins in Women’s Studies Departments and campus Women’s Centers to protest their silence about the oppression of women in Islam.”"

The official speakers for the week-long event include Ann Coulter, former Sen. Rick Santorum, Daphne Patai* and Christina Hoff Summers*. Which, as Ehrenreich puts it: "These are the people who are going to save us from purdah?"

The word "fascism" is flying around a lot these days, on the left and on the right, and it's been making me nervous. If you're interested in the subject, check out the blog Orcinus. David Niewert and Sara Robinson have been documenting the activities of right-wing extremists in the US (and elsewhere) for quite a while, with special attention to eliminationist activities and rhetoric. Niewert's series of posts "The Rise of Pseudo Fascism," is particularly interesting (scroll down on the left column for links to the blog posts; they're also available, for a small donation, collected in a .pdf file).



*Yeah, yeah, I linked to the wikipedia entries on these folks. I know that wikipedia is often inaccurate and biased and part of the vast left-wing conspiracy & all, but there are links on all of those posts to source material -- including the original writings of each -- which may or may not be of interest to you. You want more balanced views of these folks? Follow the links in the posts.

Bummer

Some sad news: Sarah Watson's blog "Fat Girl on a Bike" is on indefinite hiatus. The story is over at Shapely Prose, but what happened, basically, is this: she got fed up with comments from assholes who saw fit to comment about her weight, health, looks, fuckability, etc. both on her blog and elsewhere. She started her blog to track her progress as she trained for and competed in triathlons. Big deal, right? Except that she had the nerve to do alla that (with photos!) and still be fat. Had she lost weight in the training? Probably. She sure as hell got fit, and inspired a whole lot of us to get off our butts and have fun being as athletic as we wanted without worrying that we were too fat to be seen in public exercising.

And sure, when you post stuff on the internets, you get feedback, and not all of it is nice. But the whole thing got out of hand when she agreed to post a photo of herself, in running clothes -- running, no less!-- in Kate Harding's BMI project (which, check it out). And every creep on the internet descended to mock, or act shocked, or point & laugh, or what have you.

I don't blame her for going offline, but it sure makes me mad.

Medico-cultural shock for the uninsured patient

Lymphopo, over at As the Tumor Turns, had a mammogram last week. If you haven't been following her story, she's a 50ish gal who, just about a year ago was diagnosed with a very aggressive Stage IV lymphoma -- sort of out of nowhere, as she'd been living the good life, well, all her life: a nonsmoker, eater of wholesome and organic food, an athlete. A bodybuilder, for dogssake.

The story of her year-long oddysey through medical diagnosis and treatment was harrowing enough, but, as an uninsured freelance writer (I think), she was forced to seek treatment at an institution she referred to as "Our Lady of the Damned Charity Hospital." Not one of your nicer facilities, if you know what I mean. Fortunately, she educated herself about her illness, the available treatments, and became a fierce and articulate advocate for her own care. Talked back to the authorities. The "squeaky wheel" procedure does help, sometimes. It's not something that everybody can do (nor should they have to) while gravely ill, though.

It was not pretty, (nor in fact cheap), and she still ended up deeply in debt and having to sell her gorgeous, funky old house. And her personal relationships suffered, not uncommon when someone faces a life-threatening illness.

But, hideous as that chapter in her life was, it's turning out to have a happy-ish ending; she is cured of the lymphoma. It's gone. Except for the fear that many cancer patients experience after successful treatments: every little change, every twinge of pain -- is that more cancer? She is still trying to recover from the effects of the treatments she underwent, trying to pull her life back together, trying to regain the muscle mass and strength she lost.

Plus she is expecting her first grandbaby, studying art, making plans. Adopted a beautiful new dog. All in all, hers is an amazing story. Inspirational, even, in a way. Certainly sheds light on the hideous inequalities of our medical system. Especially the mammogram story the other day.

See, she didn't go back to Our Lady of the Damned; rather, she went to the new-ish "Deep Inferno General Hospital" facility, where she'd been a few times before the lymphoma diagnosis, and which she'd previously found nice enough but unremarkable. But her experiences at the publicly-(under)funded charity hospital had changed her. The differences between the two places -- from the ease with which she found a parking place to the clean floors to the current issues of magazines in the waiting rooms -- were mind-bending, causing her to burst (publicly) into uncontrollable, snot-spewing laughter:

"Is there a word for this, a clinical term, for a semi-hysterical reaction to the culture shock of being swung like Tarzan on a vine across the nation's great yawning medical gap, flying through the air and landing with a thud on its radically, irreconcilably opposite shore?"

Alas, my friend, I can't think of any such word. Most people don't have the opportunity to see it up close and personal like that. It is shocking. It isn't fair. It is not right, not on any level.

Sexy? Scary? Whatever. Still not funny.

I first saw this item over at Kate Harding's blog Shapely Prose (which is terrific, btw). Kate also blogs at Shakesville and a couple of other places, and she recently invited two excellent co-bloggers, fillyjonk and sweetmachine, to join her at Shapely Prose. She and her colleagues are writing some excellent critiques of the whole 'obesity epidemic' thing, the weight-loss industry, plus fashion, fitness, and links to accurate health information for fat chicks. And lots of stuff for all of us, whether or not we're fat or female, to think about.

Anyway, Kate was pretty disgusted by this Halloween costume, which was apparently advertised at HalloweenStreet.com, among the usual costume options for adult women: Sexy Nurse, Sexy Demented Housewife, Sexy Brick House (?), Sexy Schoolgirl, etc. ad naus. The name of this costume is "Sexy Anna Rexia," and it comes with a belt and choker that look like tape measures. Hahahaha. I share Kate's disgust. Mental illness is just not funny, especially a devastating one that can cause death.

And I'm not amused by the pairing of sexiness and a debilitating disease that makes a person anything but sexy. I spent way too much time during my teens and early twenties hunched over a toilet bowl puking the rare complete meals I had to eat. Measuring and weighing myself every time I ate, drank, peed, or took a (laxative-enhanced) shit. And when dieting didn't work, I added exercise, eventually up to 5-6 hours a day. Which made me ravenously hungry, and sort of cut into the little time I had for socializing. And despite increasingly desperate efforts, still failed to make me skeletally thin.

But I also agree (to a point) with Carol Lloyd over at salon.com, [you'll have to watch an ad if you're not a subscriber] who said, "Even as Anna Rexia makes my skin crawl like no other Halloween costume ever has, I'm also not terribly comfortable getting worked up about a costume for a holiday that is all about embodying our fears." Which, yeah. The holiday is about dressing up as the things we fear.

So I went over to halloweenstreet.com to see whether the Sexy Anna Rexia costume was available in plus sizes. I would probably not have purchased it, had I found it, but I do in fact fear that obsession, and I still do have to fight with it sometimes.

I couldn't find it in the plus size costumes; nor, in fact anywhere on the site. The links I found all led to something else, and the site search function gave zero results. A lot of feminist bloggers and eating-disorder-recovery bloggers wrote about it, and I guess halloweenstreet.com responded to all the negative feedback they must be getting, and removed it from their site. Maybe you'll find them on eBay or something, after all the fuss is over.

Back on halloweenstreet, though, I was kind of startled by the number of options available in the "sexy" category, at least for women. I know that others have commented on this phenomenon, this increased sexualizing of halloween dress-up options (which does extend to teenage and even little girls' costumes, also kind of alarming in some ways -- I didn't see a lot of that on halloweenstreet, but I've heard parents complaining about it generally).

I do think that it's an interesting answer to the question 'what is it we most fear?' Sexy women? That kind of scares me.

Anyway, the Halloween costume I really want? And have never once worn, even though I already have my very own tiara? Fairy princess ballerina.

Be very afraid.

Chilling effects

Salon.com brings us Amanda's take on what happened to her and Melissa over at the Edwards campaign; Melissa has her say over at the Guardian. Check out the comments, too. The vitriolic sputtering from their detractors doesn't surprise me any more, but I'm a little irked with so-called progressive types who are accusing them of "caving in" too soon, and how they should have seen it coming. Some lame-ass thing about certain kitchens and the heat in them, etc. More than a few of these dudely dudes even dismiss the numerous threats of violence, much of it of a sexual nature, as just part of the price one has to pay for trying to play with the big dogs.

Or something. I'm not sure I follow.

And speaking of tip jars (as I was in my earlier post), I still don't have one, but both Amanda (at Pandagon) and Melissa (at Shakespeare's Sister) do have tip jars, and they could probably use your support.

Oh, and if you do go over to read Amanda's piece at salon.com and you're not a member, you'll have to watch a short ad. If you feel ripped off having to sit through that just for one article, you can always read Camille Paglia's piece about how wonderful it is that she's back writing at salon once again.

I hadn't noticed she was gone, to be honest.

Why I won't vote for John Edwards in the Dem. primary

It's not because I was unhappy with his response to the criticism levelled against the two bloggers he hired to run his campaign website. I wasn't thrilled by the tone of his response, but I was pleased that he did not cave to the nutty fringe's accusations of anti-catholic bigotry on the part of Amanda Marcotte (of Pandagon) and Melissa McEwan (Shakespeare's Sister). Say what you like about those two, but I don't think a close reading of their work supports any of the accusations being thrown at them. Except maybe potty-mouth, but who the fuck am I to criticize someone about that?

[UPDATE 2/13/07: Amanda has resigned.]
[UPDATE 2/14/07: Melissa too.]

It's also not because I think Edwards is a hypocrite for pretending to be for the "little guy" while building an extravagant -- 'presidential,' even, according to some reports -- new house here in North Carolina. I mean, that's not how I live, and it's not how I expect the people I elect to live, but everyone is entitled to make their own choices here in America. And Paul Wellstone is dead, bless him. And Sheila, and everyone else on that plane. But Mr. Edwards is rich enough & everything. Let him build whatever house he wants.

Because wherever he lives, and however he lives, I really like his ideas about health care, and he seems pretty solid in his ideas about addressing the vast economic injustice that exists in this country. These are ideals I share, and I admire him quite a lot for speaking up about it. And I agree with what I'm hearing about his position on Iraq.

Mr. Edwards would have my vote in the primary, if I had one to give. Edwards is, in fact, my guy and I would support him wholeheartedly at this point if I were a registered Democrat. Which I'm not; I prefer -- strongly -- to remain unaffiliated with any party. See, the only reason I won't vote for him in the primary is that NC has a closed primary and I am not a registered Democrat, so I don't get to vote in the primary.

Having said that, however, I am pretty pleased with all the leading Democratic candidates so far. But then, I would vote for a big yellow dog if the Dems ran one for president in 2008. A yellow dog with Sasquatch as a running mate, even.

Say Ramen, somebody

Via the excellent Jane Awake I learned of the passing last Thursday of Momofuku Ando, the inventor of instant noodles. His last meal, apparently, was Chicken Ramen, enjoyed with employees of Nissin Foods, the company he founded in 1958 to market his convenient, quality noodle product. He was 96.

As a pastafarian and a onetime college student who has been unemployed, underemployed, and an occasional freelancer, I am of course deeply saddened. The humble block of dried noodly goodness has sustained me through many a budgetary constraint.

In fact, one of my favorite ideas for cookbooks I haven't gotten around to writing and probably never will is "365 Ways to Cook Ramen." Try adding some frozen peas and half an apple, peeled and sliced, as you cook the noodles, and stir in a spoonful of chunky (unsweetened, if you have it) peanut butter and some curry powder along with the flavor packet thingy. Instant mulligatawny in a cup!

The good news? There is a Momofuko Ando Instant Ramen Museum in Ikeda City, Japan. I'm going to start saving up frequent flyer miles and vacation time now.

Friday test results: the check's in the mail, right?

Found this one the other day via the Neurophilosopher:

My blog is worth $3,951.78.
How much is your blog worth?

There but for the --

For the what? Bloody goddamn fucking hell. There is no such thing as grace, and there sure as hell is no justice. You can't tell me there is. I want to puke and cry and I feel a little ashamed to be so grateful for my happy lucky little life, but also there's this plain old blinding rage.

I love this woman for documenting it all so honestly and speaking for all those who can't or who don't or who haven't yet, and for making the rest of us so goddamn uncomfortable. She's a wonderful writer, gloriously articulate, hilarious, and her blog As the Tumor Turns is indeed not for the squeamish or faint of heart. Now writing as lymphopo, the blogger formerly known as grannyvibe is:

"A single woman in my fifties, in debt, no income, no health insurance, and then that grapefruit-sized tumor wedged between my lungs turns out to be a malignant high-grade highly aggressive stage IV lymphoma. How much worse can it get? Bwahahaha! Stay tuned and find out."

Her son's blog, the highly excellent finnegan's wake-up call has a donation link, if you're so inclined.

This shit happens all too often. To too many people. And I'm not talking about just the serious illness part of the picture. "Will anyone ever believe me if I tell them that the cancer is ofthen the least of my worries?" lymphopo asks here. And answers: "In all honesty, I feel more debilitating anxiety over my financial disaster; deeper heartache over my foundering relationship; greater terror over the state of the world."

Yeah.

Thanks, belledame, for the link.

Friday alternative health diagnostic quiz

Can't afford a trip to the doctor? Believe they're lying to you/ripping you off/in bed with big pharma/ignorant of the new quantum unified theory of self-healing anyway? Well, don't waste your time going from one alternative practitioner to another, free colon-cleansing herbs or not. Go over to the Woo World Self Treater and answer a few questions and concentrate on the vibrational level of your illness to get a FREE analysis of your auric field. Here's my reading:

"Quantum-consciousness analysis of your auric field shows you are suffering the symptoms of women's health issues, which is commonly seen among multigender entities born under the sign of Taurus. This may also be due to alien implants. Spiritually Guided Surgery has been shown to be effective* in relieving the symptoms of women's health issues and allowing the body to heal itself. You can also boost your immune levels by remembering to live a divine life, and commence colonic irrigations to remove toxins.

Since you are vaccinated you are also strongly urged to contact a naturopath or kinesiologist to test whether you have autism.

*Based on user testimonials."

via Orac at Respectful Insolence

Friday test results: It's in the cards

You are The Empress:
Beauty, happiness, pleasure, success, luxury, dissipation.

The Empress is associated with Venus, the feminine planet, so it represents beauty, charm, pleasure, luxury, and delight. You may be good at home decorating, art or anything to do with making things beautiful.

The Empress is a creator, be it creation of life, of romance, of art or business. While the Magician is the primal spark, the idea made real, and the High Priestess is the one who gives the idea a form, the Empress is the womb where it gestates and grows till it is ready to be born. This is why her symbol is Venus, goddess of beautiful things as well as love.

Even so, the Empress is more Demeter, goddess of abundance, then sensual Venus. She is the giver of Earthly gifts, yet at the same time, she can, in anger withhold, as Demeter did when her daughter, Persephone, was kidnapped. In fury and grief, she kept the Earth barren till her child was returned to her.

What Tarot Card are You? Take the Test to Find Out.

via Average Jane

This just in from the 'WTF' department

This isn't breaking news, technically, as it's been out for a couple of days and has been commented on all over the place, but it just got my attention and I happen to have a minute to post it for your -- amusement? horror?

This post, from John over at Thoughts in a Haystack made my head spin and my stomach hurt a little bit. Partly from laughing, but partly because I wanted to throw up. The story was on TV, so you know it's true. There's this guy in Oklahoma, a Republican nominee for state superintendent of education -- yes, I said superintendent of education, people -- who proposes that students keep old textbooks stashed under their desks to defend themselves in the event of, you know, gunfire in the classroom.

Yes, if elected, candidate Bill Crozier promises put thick used textbooks under every desk for students to use in self defense. See, he and his buddies took some textbooks out to a field and conducted experiments to see how far bullets would penetrate the books. There's a video of this procedure, which I find myself unable to watch. Two calculus textbooks failed to stop bullets from an AK-47, but the experimenters did stop bullets from a 9mm pistol with some other textbooks (the article doesn't say which subject).

Now, don't get me wrong here. I'm all for emergency preparedness and self defense-type activities, and of course I think recycling is always a good idea -- but this is just plain nutty. Of course, when I was growing up, we were told to crawl under our desks in the event of nuclear attack. Remember those 'duck and cover' drills? I asked a teacher once what desks were made of that would protect us from radiation, and why didn't they just build everything out of that? I didn't get a useful response, but maybe it was old textbooks. Over at Halfway There, math teacher and blogger Zeno offers these instructions for classroom self-defense.

Much more helpful, I think, than 'duck and cover,' or the thing with the duct tape and plastic sheeting. And way better thought out than a coupla old math books under every desk.

Friday Test Results: What's in a name?

A couple of facts:

• There are 810 people in the U.S. with the last name [my last name].
• Statistically the 32512th most popular last name. (tied with 1841 other last names)
• There are 199,479 people in the U.S. with the first name Regina.
• Statistically the 313th most popular first name. (tied with 2 other first names)
• 100 percent of people with the first name Regina are female.

HowManyOfMe.com

There is: 1 person with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

I actually know -- and, oddly enough, am not related to -- one other person with the same first and last name as mine. Neither of us is from the town in which we met, and we worked for a time at the same very large institution. When I left, the HR goons terminated her from the system instead of me. I kept calling to try to figure out why I wasn't getting my final paycheck, etc., and found out months later that her boss got the notification of termination while she was on vacation, panicked, called her mother to find out how to reach her. Apparently he thought she'd found a job while she was away and quit without notice. When she denied having done any such thing, he deleted the termination notification without realizing that there was another person with the same first and last names.

We had met several times and never realized that we have the same first name, as she goes by one nickname (Gina) and I go by another one (Nora) that is actually a diminutive of my middle name, (Elinore, if you wanna know). But it's an unusual enough last name (only 810 others have it, according to this website, anyway) that we were surprised to learn that I was not related to her husband's family. I had certainly never met anyone with my last name that I wasn't related to, although I've heard rumors about them for years.

A mildly interesting story about my last name: when my [great-?]great-grandfather and his brothers left Sweden in the late 1890s, they shared the last name Gustavsson, as they were all sons of Gustav. On realizing, however, that in their new country, their surname would be passed down in perpetuity, and not subject to the patronymic naming conventions of their old country, two or maybe three of the brothers decided to change their last name. They chose a Swedish word meaning, roughly, 'strife,' or 'struggle' (it is not, as my lovely ex-wife would have you believe, the Swedish word for 'stubborn.' I have no idea why she'd think that).


via Lauren at Faux Real.

Nature of wonder filmed with an original camera

It's mainly in Japanese, but it's worth a trip over to Kuribayashi Satoshi's website -- or at least it is if you like bug pictures. It says on the first page of his site that this guy "always leads the world of the small creature photograph by novel idea."

I'm not going to argue with that. Satoshi is the winner of the 2006 Lennart Nilsson Award for outstanding photography of the world of insects. His novel ideas and unique methods have to do at least in part with his ability to design and fabricate the gear he uses to capture the insects in situ, including an especially novel medical device of some sort fitted with a 3mm lens. He's published a whole bunch of books and films on the subject of insect ecology, the most recent of which is a book called "In Front of the Ant."

The Lennart Nilsson Award Foundation was formed in 1998 to recognize extraordinary image makers in science and to promote research and technical development in the visual representation of science, medicine, biology, and technology. The prize of 100,000 SEK (about $13,500 USD) is awarded each fall at the Karolinska Institute in Stockholm.

Thanks to the Neurophilosopher for the link. Head over to his place if you've never been there -- lots of cool links, great pics, and fascinating posts.

EARTHQUAKE!!!!

I can't really tell you what it sounded like or felt like, but it woke me up, right around 5 a.m. It was a kind of rattling, I guess is the best I can describe it. It woke Hilda up too; I looked at her and she looked at me and we were both kind of, well, rattled. She sort of shook her head and flapped her ears and tried to hog more of the bed. We listened some more but all we could hear was the rain. I decided it must have been thunder, even though it wasn't really that kind of rain. Hilda barked once, but it seemed sort of half-assed. Her heart wasn't in it.

But I'd been so startled that I couldn't go right back to sleep and I thought maybe A., who lives in the carriage house apartment, was just getting home and his bike knocked over that big piece of plywood out there, but then I thought no, it couldn't be A., because Hilda would have run out the dog door to greet him. And she was still in my bed and very fidgety. She kept standing up on the bed and walking in circles and then curling back up again. I was completely baffled. I knew it couldn't have been an earthquake though, on account of we don't get earthquakes here.

But apparently we do because the radio went on after a while and just before I went AAACKK!! Pledge Drive!!!! and slammed the snooze button, I heard the local news guy talking about an earthquake, for real, with an epicenter a few miles out of town! Only 2.6 on the Richter scale, but still.

I'm thinking it was maybe a buncha them wackjobs out in the county doing underground testing of something or other. You can't be too careful nowadays.

Aw jeez, I guess I'm it

Frequent commenter Sara tagged me with what seemed like a simple enough assignment: name five weird things about myself. She said she "really really wanted to know" what I think is weird.

Ahem. I'll try not to read too much into that.

But the trouble I'm having here is that I'm so boring. Seriously. I mean, what? I don't happen to think I'm the least bit weird. I more inclined to think everyone else is weird, and I'm not like them really much at all.

Oh, wait, I get it.

I am often considered eccentric, which I guess is sort of the same as weird. Oh cripes, do I have to look it up? I don't have free access to the OED online at home, and my OED is all mildewy & I can't look anything up in without gloves and a mask, neither of which I happen to have handy. But Webster's online says it has to do with supernatural-type phenomena, or witchcraft. Also: odd, or of strange or extraordinary character.

Well, I can read palms, but I wouldn't say I'm psychic or anything. I really just make shit up, more or less. And I can see auras, sometimes, but they're right there for chrissakes and anyone can see them I guess if they know where to look. It's hardly supernatural, at any rate, and I know nothing at all about witchcraft.

So I guess that's one thing.

And there's the part about not having a TV, or a microwave, or a car. But I'd certainly get those things if I wanted them. It's not that I disapprove of them or anything.

So that makes two things.

And I did study old Icelandic in college. That's kind of weird, I guess.

OK, three.

Having too many shoes isn't really all that weird; plenty of people have too many pairs of shoes. Can't count that. Likewise knitting. Lately it seems like everybody is knitting. So that doesn't count.

I have more than one accordion.

Busted. That's four.

Being unmarried, on purpose, at my age is considered kind of strange in certain circles, apparently, but I don't really travel in those circles, so I'm not too sure about that one.

Being bisexual is downright unpopular in certain circles. On the other hand, I've tried being a lesbian and I've tried being straight, and they both feel really weird to me. So do I count that or not?

Youall can help me out here, those of you who actually know me in person. Can you name one more weird thing about me? Or at least give me some perspective on what's considered weird? Go ahead, you probably won't hurt my feelings. I'll just delete your comment if you do.

I know my sister reads this blog from time to time, as does a certain high school chum, and Julie knows me, and of course Magpie has known me for years, and Fstorch, though I don't know if he reads this blog very often. Anyone else? Vergelimbo I only met once or twice, and I was on my best behavior. Anyone else? Please de-lurk and leave a commment.