Dead Week

The week between Christmas and New Year's is always a strange one. We rush into the holidays so fast and then we sit around and stare at each other when the big day is over. Personally, I like to take the medieval point of view. This is a Holiday Season and isn't over until Twelfth Night in January. I plan to leave the tree and all the holiday-fu up, eat stuff that is delicious (and therefore bad for me), and hand people random gifts during this time. I plan to visit as many at-homes as I can and see all the family who can tolerate me or vice versa. I'm going to take advantage of the post-holiday lethargy to sleep in and enjoy my life again in the simple times.

Plus, I figure if I extend the time I might actually get all the Christmas cards out for a change!

Enjoy your Dead Week!

At The Turning Of The Year

Isn't it magical what a little bit of darkness can do? It gets dark this time of year so much earlier, and in the dark things happen that we don't often see in the light. We get sleepy earlier, the noises in an empty house become louder and scarier, and Deep Thoughts happen more often. Personally, I suspect this is why they changed the calender to make this time of year the New Year.

Deep Thoughts are those 3 three am thoughts, the ones you have when you're past tired and into contemplative. Maybe it's just you alone or maybe you're with one or two of your friends. You've been talking but the talk has dwindled, little by little to comfortable silences and you stare into the sky or the fire or some other light source and you think. These dark thoughts are all shaped by a light source of some kind too, streaming away in the night.

When you get right down to it, these Deep Thoughts are really pretty basic stuff. We think about God, chew over all the might-be's and wonderings. We think about Love, and our place in the giving and receiving. We think about the Past, all the stuff we might have done or maybe shouldn't have done and we think about the Future with whatever possibilities we can see. There in the dark, we contemplate Time, Space, and Matter with all the skill we can. All our best navel-gazing happens in the dark.

So here at the turn of another year I wish these things for you.

• Love of yourself- so you will never undervalue who you are or what you've accomplished.
• Love of others - so you never undervalue others either
• Clarity - so you can see the road ahead of you with open eyes
• Warmth - so you can face that road without undue stress
• and Light - Hope for your New Year and all your many years to come!

Merry Christmas and A Very Happy New Year to you all!

Two Pulls and a Pass

As expected, school has gobbled up all my free time and a large portion of my brain. However, I feel that I owe you, my random reader, something a little more then the recent blankness I've left here. To that end I give you three separate books reviews, one of which is actually a text I've been reading for school.

Who Murdered Chaucer? A Medieval Mystery is a really interesting book with several authors. This fairly weighty book was written by Terry Jones, Robert Yeager, Terry Dolan, Alan Fletcher, and Juliette Dor. While having that many different authors can make for a book that jumps around a little in literary style, whoever the editor was did an excellent job on smoothing most of the rough edges off.

To quote from the book jacket "...Chaucer was celebrated as his country's finest living poet, rhetorician and scholar:the pre-eminent intellectual superstar of his time. We have a great deal of information about his life. And yet nothing at all is known of his death." The book goes on to advance the theory that perhaps Chaucer was murdered, or if he himself wasn't killed, perhaps his reputation was. The lack of information about his death and about his manuscripts (or lack thereof) is explored and discussed very throughly. Chaucer's political and religious run-ins with Archbishop Thomas Arundel and other notable figures of the period and his dodging of heresy charges due to his development of the English language as a respected means of communication are covered in depth.

While the book and its dedicated authors never really answer their own question of 'How did Chaucer die?' they have put forth a huge amount of effort to give the reader as much information about the time, place, and players as they can. This book is an excellent read for history majors, fans of mysteries, and other inquisitive sorts. Be warned that there is no solid ending though so if that frustrates you, skip it.

The End of Days: A Story of Tolerance, Tyranny, And The Expulsion Of The Jews From Spain by Erna Paris is also a very good book, although not in the same style at all. One of the more frustrating things for me in my field of study is that I was born and raised in a former colony of England. That makes it very hard to find good books, in English, written about Spain. Most of my contemporaries know about conquistadors and Columbus, but not much else about the exceptional history of Spain. That's one of the reasons I prize this book aside from the copious end-of-chapter notes.

"Celts, Romans, Visigoths, and Moors;pagans, Christians, Jews and Muslims. It was a rich, multicultural stew that bubbled and simmered over the Iberian Peninsula for more then a thousand years producing a unique, pluralistic society...That Spain was, for centuries, the most tolerant nation in Europe, and subsequently became the most zealously intolerant, is the heart of this book." Ms. Paris uses written records of the time and lots of research to reveal how people in Spain at one point lived side by side in relative friendliness until the combined pressure of changing politics and religion pushed them to a breaking point. She points out the similarities between the circumstances in Spain at the time, late 19th and early 20th century France and Germany, and many of the current issues facing the world now. I firmly believe that those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it badly and this book in its final chapters points out some fairly scary parallels in the fight of Church vs. State that the Spanish Crown then and the current governments of the world face now.

I strongly recommend this book to people with a little time to chew it over. It does use many excerpts from period sources, although thankfully they've all been modernized in spelling and punctuation to make an easier read. If you're interested in how people failed at segregation in the past, this book will have you fully engaged. It's not a casual read, but it's worth it.

Now for the book I can not recommend to anyone although I have been forced by my history professor to read it. The Stripping of The Altars by Eamon Duffy starts out with a really interesting hypothesis, and totally fails to back it up in a way anyone could stand to read.He states firmly his “conviction that the Reformation as actually experienced by ordinary people was not an uncomplicated imaginative liberation...but...a great cultural hiatus, which dug a ditch...between the English people and their past.”[xiv, Duffy]. He is of the opinion that the Protestant Reformation was not an anticipated event, looked for by reformers and people all over Europe, but rather something sort of awful that ruined a way of life forever and prevents us from ever knowing what it was like beforehand. While it is true that many great things were lost, the sheer number of examples that Mr. Duffy can provide us proves that it's clearly not gone forever.

He goes on,and on, and on some more, for 593 pages. Most of them are filled with lists of things that actually survived The Reformation and the some of which even survived the Puritan Interregnum of the English Civil War. He talks about the medieval Catholic Church in England and its centrality to every day life. However, his insistence that The Protestant Reformation wasn't welcomed or wanted practically anywhere outside of Court rings false as does his repeated statements that all of the 'traditional' religion was lost forever by force. I've stated before that I don't care for massive lists in books, but this one really does feel like the author is trying to salvage a weak argument by throwing up smoke-screens of stuff.

I think that while many things changed in England and the world, they weren't all lost. Some of them, like pictures of Mary holding the baby Jesus, became a symbol used only during parts of the year. Others are issues kept alive by vigorous debate and questioning even now, like Transubstitution and Purgatory. The painted saints images and stained glass are gone and are a great loss to the history of England, but I maintain that the sheer amount of evidence that Duffy was able to find to write his book counteracts his claim of “a great cultural hiatus”. In short, pass on this book unless you're really having trouble sleeping. It's become my favorite non-prescription sleep aid this semester and I look forward to the end of year so I can finally quit reading it.

Who Murdered Chaucer? A Medieval Mystery, Dolan, Terry; Dor, Juliette; Fletcher, Alan; Jones, Terry;Yeager, Robert

2003 St. Martins Press, New York, NY

ISBN 0-312-33587-3

The End of Days: A Story of Tolerance, Tyranny, And The Expulsion Of The Jews From Spain , Paris, Erna

1995 Prometheus Books, Amherst, NY

ISBN 1-57392-017-7

The Stripping of The Altars , Duffy, Eamon

1992, Yale University

ISBN 978-0-300-10828-6

Free stuff

So there are plenty of people who like to complain about modern college tuitions and they are often correct. A student does pay a very large amount for the privilege of being abused at random hours until the brain tries to leak out the ears. However, I have discovered several things that you can get for free on a college campus.

• Post-consumer use recycled toilet paper pens, light beige in color. Sadly, I was offered these by a hippie who popped out of a recycle bin and pushed them in my face. Since I nearly broke his nose, I felt it polite to turn him down.
• Entertainment. It's completely possible to turn my Brit Lit class into a drinking game. The teacher often repeats herself so often, using the same phrases over and over. "Welcome to [insert modern science here]!" or "Anglo-Saxons like violence!" or "America is just the second British Empire." Sadly the class is at 8am so I'll have to use M&M's instead of shots of vanilla rum.
• Feelings of superiority. The squirrels on campus are not afraid of anything at all. They will stand right there and steal the food right from your hand. However, since the freshmen are scared of everything, including the squirrels, I still can feel good about myself.
• Gideons Bibles. But only the English ones with the green cover. All the others have to be special ordered.
• Inspiration. Every time I've had to write a really complicated paper or work a freakishly long biology set, I feel extra creative and go off to make some new project in the craft room.
• Aluminium water bottles. There's a bounty out on plastic water bottles and if you bring in so many of them, they give you a nifty metal one in exchange. This leads to people buying all the water out of the machines in order to turn in the plastics. Rather suspect if you ask me.
• Free school t-shirts. You have to trade in a shirt from another school or possibly 5 cans of food for the food bank, so that's not really free I suppose.

I finished the hat and I liked it so much I made a doublet to go with it. As soon as I locate the camera I'll get you pictures. They're both late period Elizabethan with the doublet pattern mostly out of Janet Arnold's Patterns of Fashion. Since I haven't gotten any trim on it yet, it's a very respectable middle class doublet with pretensions.

I've also managed to finish a lovely bright blue merino wool hat that deserves pictures and praise. I got the pattern off of Ravelry and it knit up in a snap. I think I'm going to be forced to make the matching scarf too, just because it's so pretty. It has a tiny little faux cable on the head band and a lovely soft moss stitch for the top. The royal blue merino was a gift for my birthday from the lady who taught me to knit and I've been hoarding it until I found the perfect project for it. I may just sell the extra long blue and white one I made a few years ago.

I'm holding steady in the high B-low A range of grades at school. If this keeps up I will hopefully manage to keep bringing the GPA back up which will make me very giddy. After this semester I'll have nothing but French, History and Theater classes to do. I'm very excited about that since it'll be the first time I've ever only had classes I wanted to take. Mind you, Theater 101 is going to be a drag again, but I figure I can only push the GPA up, up, up!

Now I'll go back to watching Kathrine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy goofy old movies. They have the best sparks.

Hiding from the STUFF!

I'm back in school now, working away at a 5-day-a-week, 8 to noon schedule at the school. I leave the house at 6:30a and get home around 1 or 2p and I often take a nap in the afternoon before I jump on the homework. Of the four classes I'm taking, only French is bothering me at this point. Pretty normal class load, aside from the driving.

Sadly, I've discovered a new and disturbing trend in myself. When I'm worn out from a hard day of school and dodging crazy people on the highway it's really hard to concentrate on getting my projects done. Yes, that is projects with an 's'. Let me take you on a small tour of my distractions.

First up, the Elizabethan tall hat!

This little beauty is supposed to be done in time for the final dress rehearsal of this fall's Baron's Men show. That will be Tuesday of next week. I've had the parts all cut out and waiting to be assembled for over a month now. Should it ever get finished, it will be covered in a lovely gold brocade and lined in a shockingly bright royal blue silk. I have no idea when that might be.

Next up, the experimental fuzzy purple armwarmers:

I've got a friend who works in an office filled with computers all day. She gets cold very easily and asked me to make her some arm warmers. I agreed then figured out that I didn't have the right measurements for the set. While I was chewing over the patterns available, my daughter leaned over my shoulder and demanded a set for herself. Since she's here, I can use her to figure out exactly which measurements I'll need from my friend who happens to live a few states away. These might actually be done sometime this year if I can quit messing up the math and just settle in for good long knit.

Then we have the Blue Stripey Sock:

This poor sock has been in the process for over a year. I pick it up, do a few rounds, put it down and then misplace it. Currently the sock is living in my backpack and I'm using it to distract and annoy my morning lecturer. It's ok, the feeling is mutual.

I've also got the Stalled Beading/Embroidery Project:

This picture doesn't have the tiny gold glass beads in it and all the colors seem a little pinker then in real life. The bodice is for my daughter and it's a very rich garnet colored velvet. I'm trying to find a pretty, late period, slightly Spanish-looking pattern that I can put on it but I haven't made up my mind yet. This needs to be done before Candlemas (first weekend of Feb. ) next year. It might happen.

Right this second, I've got a Cooking Experiment going on:

This slightly scatological looking set-up is my test batch of beef jerky. I'm experimenting with different spices, wines, and cuts of meat to see what will work best. While I expect this will be done inside of an hour, I'm going to have to arm myself and stand watch over it, since the family is sniffing around like late-winter bears.

Now why am I doing all of this right now? It's avoidance actually. By taking on multiple projects, many of which have a finite deadline, I'm avoiding both my homework ( just kidding Madame Jackson!), and I've avoiding having to try and put this:

The pile in the library, into this:





Which is a very small craft room. I've been working at getting rid of things in there for months now and it's much smaller then it used to be, but it's not done yet.

In between all this, I'm still broadcasting every Thursday night on the CAPE Radio, working on the Board of Directors for The Baron's Men, working with the local Red Cross to help flood victims, talking to schools for the Education Committee, and attempting to be a wife and mother. I have a theory I'll meet myself going down the stairs one of these days and that'll be the end of me. In the meantime though, it's kind of nice to be busy again.

Big Girl School

Once upon a time I had a plan. I was going to work hard on my language skills and go to school at the American University in Paris. I was going to major in International Business and come back to the States to work at the U.N. as an interpreter. Eventually, I'd get picked up by a multi-national corporation and spend my time jet-setting around the world. I'd live out of hotel rooms and a suitcase and never have to worry about mowing my own lawn.

So much for dreams.

Instead I had a baby and just managed to graduate, escaping from my parents house as soon as I possibly could. My first husband was unemployed, abusive and unfaithful, quickly pushing me to divorce. My second husband, while certainly a much better human being, had trouble keeping a job for very long and I found myself needing to work to support us and the baby. There never really was time to do much more then survive.

Eventually, the baby went to school and the husband got a better job. After serious consideration, I started back to school at the local community college. I'd go for a semester, then quit because of lack of money. A short-term job later and I'd go back, still trying to figure out what I was going to do when I grew up. I found out that in spite of my fondness for it, I wasn't very good at learning languages, so the interpretor thing wasn't going to work out.

Over time, thanks to an understanding husband and the ability to go to school on my lunch break, I managed to get two full years (and a little extra) of college at the small-time community college. I was given the choice and transferred to a state university nearby in order to finish up a Bachelor's degree in History with a minor in Theater. I've got several of the history-specific course already done thanks to the years of not knowing what I wanted to do and I'm going to attempt to talk the dean of the theater department into giving me credit for all the work I've already done. Being on the Board of Directors for a non-profit theater troupe will come in handy for that.

Tomorrow, I go to a real university for the first time as a student. I'm not sure I can explain how excited I am. I have always craved more knowledge, seeking out books and teachers on my own for topics that interest me. I get to start my morning with British Lit and then indulge in a History of Tudor and Stuart Britain. Yum! I've also got yet another round of French in the hope that something will stick this time, and some Biology which I have no opinion on as yet. I've taken bio from some very good teachers and done well, some very bad ones and done poorly. I hope this is one of the good ones. I'm going to work as hard as I can to make sure this semester is as perfect as possible.

While I'm not looking forward to getting up at 5:45am for my hour long bus ride every morning, I'm excited about everything else. I hope I'll have some wonderful new books to talk to you about soon.

Dust Buffalo

Please excuse the lack of update, I've been directing a stampede.

You see, I have a 15 year old daughter who craves variety. She decided she wanted a change of view and asked if she could swap my craft room for her bedroom. After thinking about it some, I really didn't see why not and agreed. After all, I'm a military brat. I'm used to packing up and moving fairly often and I wanted a change of view as well so this was a cheaper way to do it.

I may have grown up always on the move but I forgot that we've lived in this same house for 10 years. 10 whole years! In one place! I've always suspected that it wasn't actually possible but the time does slip away quickly. The corollary to time passes is stuff collects and I had forgotten that important detail.

So far I've pulled 9 bags of trash out of the craft room in 2 days. I've stepped on various assorted buttons, calligraphy pens, straight pins, and odd metal doo-dads that I have no name for. I have located a giant pile of half-done craft projects ranging from paper mache to leather work to blackwork to lacemaking. I'd forgotten about the tapestry loom and I really don't remember buying that green lace or why I'd need such a thing. The bobbin lace project is hopelessly snarled and there are multiple loose patterns running around.

Many of my friends believe in the concept of keeping a bunch of materials in stock in their craft rooms. The idea is that if they have a craving to build a hat at 3am then they have all the stuff on hand and can be hatting until breakfast or they feel better, whichever comes first. I'm starting to think that for a person with hoarder-like tendencies that might not be the best idea however. I just keep picking up craft things on sale and tossing them in the room with the idea that "I'll use this sometime". The right project for that particular item never comes up though and it just gathers dust in the room. Eventually there's more wrong stuff in the room then room and I have to do my crafting elsewhere.

I come by these tendencies genetically if not honestly. My mother has always had a very bad habit of collecting more stuff in the house then she needs. Every 6 months or so she has a huge garage sale and wastes massive amounts of time and energy to make about $50. She labels everything, has a cash box, puts out ads and signs, and makes about enough money to pay for the sale. My sister hasn't ever managed to get to the actual yard sale itself. She almost lost custody of her children because she had too much stuff in her house. The memory of that tiny apartment crammed literally to the ceiling with junk still gives me nightmares. I know this could be a problem, but it's hard to remember to fight back against it.

So, I'm going to toss out lots of old junk. I'm going to go through what's left and have a crafting and book sale. I'm going to invite my crafting friends on purpose since I figure that would be the audience who wants this stuff and I'll make sure to give people plenty of lead time before-hand to save. I'll even take checks. And at the end of the day I will drive all the leftovers to Salvation Army and leave them there, because I value my sanity more then I value two hand-spans of black stretch velvet.

For now I will go back and keep cleaning the room. I've got to get the closet, spinning wheel, and antique table out, plus dig through the piles of costumes stored in there. I also need to remove the herd of dust buffalo and set them free outside to wander around and disturb the neighbors. Break out the carpet rakes!

Misfortunes will happen...

...to the best and wisest of men [Pawnee Proverb]

Every now and then you run across a book series that makes you want to go right out and buy all the other books in that series. Some times you want to go out and buy everything else that author has ever written. When I first ran across Terry Pratchett's Discworld series I fell in love. I adored the characters, I dug the dry jokes, and I was endlessly amused by the footnotes. Like Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett is one of those tasty mental treats that comes out of England and it shows in his writing style.

For the few innocents who have no idea what I'm talking about with Discworld, I have taken the liberty of linking you to Mr. Pratchett's official website. As far as I can tell he has written a set of books where the only consistent character is the world itself. Inside the main series, he has written several mini-series' that keep the focus on one particular part of this very unusual world and set of people. Most fans tend to prefer one set of characters over another, but you really have to try them all on for size.

The newest mini-series in the Discworld universe that I've started is based around a guy with the pleasant name of Moist von Lipwig. Aside from his name, Moist is also unlucky enough to be a very good confidence man who has just been caught and is on his way to hung by the neck until dead. Removed at just past the last moment from the gallows by the ruler of the city, Lord Vetinari, Moist is given the job of resuscitating the local Post Office. He manages to pull this off with a huge bag of tricks, some left-over loot, and the help of a bunch of giant clay golems. He is ably assisted by a girlfriend nicknamed Spike, a strange cross between a Postal Workers Union and a Masonic Lodge, and the tendency of his own mouth to run away with him. Moist has to fend off a hostile semaphore monopoly trying to shut him down while still clearing out decades of undelivered mail from the Post Office building itself.The fact that he not only does it, but does it while telling people to their faces that he's a fraud makes Going Postal a really fun book to read.

When the next book in the set came up, I was very anxious to read it. In Making Money we find out that Moist is getting sort of twitchy. He's been a good honest citizen for awhile now and it's starting to wear on him. When Lord Veninari offers him a job in charge of the Royal Mint and Royal Bank he's not really eager to jump in. However, he inherits the position of Bank Manager and gets into the swing of things. And that's when this book started to fall apart for me. You see, in Going Postal, there's a certain amount of frantic mental flapping, some twists and a few surprise loop-de-loops that make a reader want to stand up and cheer. But in Making Money the same flapping occurs. There's the same kind of plot twists and you can see the loop a mile away. Even though our hero has been put into a remarkable similar position to last time, he pretty much the same things over again. The shenanigans are terribly predictable. I kept reading to see if there were some new ones, but I was disappointed.

Am I saying if you read one, don't read the other? NO!! What I saw as a predictable plot point came totally out of left field for a few of the other people I know who read Discworld. I'm a real pain in the butt when it comes to guessing the murderer during the first 15 min. of the film and figuring out my birthday presents too, so please don't go on only my experience. However, if you're just getting into Discworld, save one of them to be read after you've looked at a few other things. I find that I like Making Money quite a bit more if I don't read Going Postal just before hand. Try Small Gods or Equal Rites or any of the other equally wonderful books.

I do hope you pick up and read some Terry Pratchett this summer. He writes excellent books to take on trips unless, like me, you're the sort who likes to snicker and snort out loud at your reading material. In that case save it for someplace private, because you will be laughing a lot at these books.

Pratchett, Terry. Going Postal

HarperTorch, New York, 2004

Pratchett, Terry. Making Money

Harper, New York, 2007

Textual Relationships

Most days I consider myself pretty lucky to live when and where I do. I've had access to the internet since I was in high school and the electronic web has shaped much of my world view, including how I communicate. I have friends who literally live all over the world and I can talk to them almost instantly. This is a big step up from the penpal I had in second grade who lived in Czechoslovakia and took 2 months to send a letter. The Czechs had cool stamps, but bad mail service.

One of the things that fascinates me about our modern plethora of ways to communicate is how different people are when they use diverse mediums. I have a very good friend who happens to be female. When we are together in a room you won't be able to hear yourself think. We talk, laugh, and provide constant feed-back to each other verbally. We rehash old jokes and stories and tell lies about the size of our craft piles. If you saw us together, you'd know we were friends.

On-line correspondence with her is totally different for me. She moved across the country and the easiest way for us to see each other is on-line but we generally fall to the level of cliches and comments about the weather. Monosyllabic answers to terse questions eventually just fade away to silence. Although I know she's an expert communicator we just don't have much to say to each other. If you looked at just our chat logs you'd think we were estranged relatives forced to sit at the table together on Thanksgiving.

I have another good friend who happens to be male. Our communication pattern is exactly the opposite. When we're in the same room together he may go hours without saying anything. He's very quiet, unless he's drinking, but that only brings him up to the level of smiling and small amounts of chit-chat. Even I sometimes wonder if he's mad at me because he speaks so infrequently, although he's always confused as to why I ask.

On-line he is a completely different person. He interacts both through text and email, and we can spend hours telling stories and creating characters for our role-playing game. While he'll never be mistaken for verbose, it's obvious that he's much more comfortable typing then actually talking to me.

I'm curious about the reasons behind this pair of communication splits. Why is she so much easier to talk to in person? Is it body language? Years of habit because I used to hang out at her house? My own stilted texting skill? Why do I have so much trouble getting him to say three words together to me in person but sometimes have to turn my phone off to get him to stop texting me? Is this a gender-related issue, a social class issue, or just these two different humans I happen to know?

As time goes on I anticipate seeing more electronic interaction in our education and in our businesses. While I'm enjoying the speed of the contact, I do think that we're losing the depth that human contact requires. Most people have heard that " multiple studies show that as much as 50-90% of communication is nonverbal." but I'm not sure we ever bother to see how that impacts the people on the other end of our writing. Possibly video conferencing and similar services will allow clear business accounting, but personal contacts may still be limited to whatever is cheapest and fastest. It's impossible to convey Shakespeare in l33t so I worry that much of the poetry and grace of English is already considered too old fashioned for public use. Sure, you can sort of translate the words, but part of the reason to use those specific terms was the sweep and grandeur of the sound. Grandeur isn't easy to get on a cell phone.

I'm going to continue my informal survey. I'll take little notes in my head when I talk to the same people both on-line and in-person and I'll try to answer my questions for myself. If I find anything earth shattering I'll let you know, but for now I'm going to work on improving all of my textual relationships. There are real people out there on the other end of those internets after all.

Making Music

Back when I was short (before the legs grew in), I wanted more then anything to be able to make music. I knew a guy who could play anything you could name on a guitar and he was pretty good on drums too. I begged my mother for a guitar and lessons. Instead, she figured that piano lessons would be just as good and signed me up to work with the church choir leader every Thursday. It's very hard to play piano in a rock band, but I was informed that all the great musicians started with piano, so I was resigned.

Sadly for my budding rock career, the choir leader hated children and caused enough problems that I never went back after the first four lessons. No piano for me. In later years I picked up the basics of guitar, handbells, recorder, saxophone, and middle eastern drum. None of them stuck for very long.

I've even tried to join multiple choirs. I've had voice lessons and worked in musical theatre for a bit, although the sinus surgeries I've had since then make the voice very unstable. I tend to wander about in the song until I strike up a likely note but it generally ends soon. It's like mining for music in my throat. "Keep digging! We're bound to hit something!"

Because I wanted to *make* music so much, I never really got around to appreciating popular music. I missed out on most of the 80's because I lived in Germany and it was all several months old by the time it got to me anyway, but I never paid much attention to the radio. That changed as I got older, but I've still noticed large blank spots in my musical education. If you're passionate about a particular band, please don't tell me the name of the band, song, or singers. Just sing it or hum it to me. It's the only way I can recognize things.

When I was offered the chance to work for The CAPE radio I was slightly stunned. I mean, here was a crew of talent that successfully created a volunteer group that brought new music and strange people into my headphones every night of the week for years. I had a total fan girl crush on all of the DJs and tuned in every chance I got. I was positive when they heard my high-pitched nasally whine on the air and saw how little music I actually own I'd be given a polite reassignment to the paperwork department, but I had to try.

So far, it's been 7 months and they haven't caught on yet. No one from the station has ever said "Perhaps you could try to talk less on the air?" or commented that the music was too odd. Instead, I've been offered a chance to do voicework, develop blending skills, and actually been called a DJ in public by people I figure should know better. I'm learning new software and spending large sums of money on new music every week. I'm learning to keep an ear out for music give-aways and fresh new bands while budgeting for music downloads. I'm falling in love with music all over again and now I have a chance to share the things I love with other people.

Maybe I'm not making it myself. I certainly am not crafting these notes with my own hands. But I am being allowed to give a gift to all the people I love through basic podcasting pizazz and that's something precious to me.

Here, you can have the words to the song currently stuck in my head. I'll be playing it this weekend at the CAPE Radio Fantasy Faire. I'll be on the air from 7-9pm (CST I think) and the show will be rather bawdy. Enjoy!

Bedlam Boys!

For to see my Tom of Bedlam, 10,000 miles I'd travel
Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes, to save her shoes from gravel.

Still I sing bonnie boys, bonnie mad boys,
Bedlam boys are bonnie
For they all go bare and they live by the air,
And they want no drink nor money.

I went down to Satin's kitchen, for to beg me food one morning
There I got souls piping hot, all on the spit a turning.

There I picked up a cauldron, Where boiled 10,000 harlots
Though full of flame I drank the same, to the health of all such varlets.

My staff has murdered giants, my bag a long knife carries
For to cut mince pies from children's thighs, with which to feed the fairies.

Spirits white as lightning, shall on my travels guide me
The moon would quake and the stars would shake, when' ere they espied me.

No gypsy slut nor doxy, shall win my Mad Tom from me
I'll weep all night, the stars I'll fight, the fray will well become me.

It's when next I have murdered, the Man-In-The-Moon to powder
His staff I'll break, his dog I'll bake, they'll howl no demon louder.

So drink to Tom of Bedlam, he'll fill the seas in barrels
I'll drink it all, all brewed with gall, with Mad Maudlin I will travel.

Chicago-Bound!

In just a few days I'm planning to head up to Chicago. Why would I do such a thing, you ask? Well, I'll tell you.

A few years ago my best friend and her husband moved to Chicago. We packed them into a couple of trucks and a car and drove from Houston to Chicago nice and slow, taking about two days. We still got there before the moving van, but it was a nice trip. We spent the waiting time playing Munchkin-fu. It's a fun game but a day or so of it and it starts to pall. I found out later a friend of mine works for the company.

I adore my Stacy-girl and I'd go up there just to yarn-stalk and drink coffee with her if I had the money. Her husband spins a mean pun and we've all got stories and gossip and knitting to share. But wait, there's more!

Last year in December I auditioned and was accepted to work for an on-line radio station. Basically, a group of players for the video game City of Heros pooled talent and money to create a player-run streaming audio server called The CAPE radio. The "DJ" of the hour logs into the server to provide music and snappy patter during their regular show time and there is a stream-hold of music all night long. We have fan-created ads that make fun of bugs in the game ( El Supernatural Mexicano), praise the developers (Sexy Jay Station ID), and spoof on gamers in general (Dock Workers Need Love Too). We run in-game parties, weddings and events with music picked by the hosts or tailored for the event. We create ads for Super Groups or Villain Groups, the COH universe version of a guild. We've even been known to host and run fairly massive charity drives that have Real World impact and raised a lot of money for several different charities.

Two years ago, the CAPE started to hold meet-ups for DJs and listeners, and anyone else who wanted to join us in Chicago. It's right in the middle of the country and a major hub for a few airlines which makes it fairly cheap to get to. We get everyone together on a Friday night and do Rock Band until our eyes fall out. Then Saturday we go do karaoke at a tiny little bar in a Polish neighborhood. The owner is a sweet woman named Alice who indulges us shamelessly. She brings in food (the bar only serves drinks) and she often will keep the bar open late for us. We hardly disturb the regulars and we all tend to drink quite a bit.The later in the evening it gets the more languages are spoken and even sung in. Then, at 4 am when Alice will no longer indulge us, we tumble out into the wild streets of Chicago to hunt down pancakes and other breakfast foods, stalking the frisky bacon and bringing the coffee pot to its knees drained dry. This is the time that makes for the worst pictures generally. Sunday, we sleep and take in the lazy sights and the fabulous Chicago foods and Monday we all go home.

So Thursday I'll be up at a horribly early time of day to get on a plane and fly to Chicago. For four days I will pretend that nothing actually bad exists in the world. There will be inconvenience, possibly some car stuffing. I might snore in front of people who didn't know I could make a noise like that (or that any human being could). But for a tiny slice of my life I'll be allowed to just be me enjoying myself. It's called vacation and I hear it's good for you.

The Care and Feeding of an Immune System

When I was younger my little sister spent a lot of time in the hospital. She was born with a rare bone disease that caused her to not have a fully formed inner ear or an upper jaw until she was a few years old. She was in a lot of pain and she always had an ear infection. Since I was only a normal (if slightly clumsy) kid, my parents didn't spend very much time worrying about my health until we moved to Germany. Something about that country caused me to get strep throat that developed into pneumonia almost every 3 months like clockwork.

After many years of living on amoxicillian and Cloroseptic, I came back to the States with a nasty strep habit. If it's winter, I'm likely to be in bed, hacking up a lung. I've held amazing conversions with modern art in doctor's waiting rooms due to extremely high fevers. Once, when I was in basic training and had pneumonia again, I escorted 4 other soldiers and marines to the hospital for a check-in. My eyesight kept blurring the people in uniform and the plastic plants in the hallways together, but I got us all there. Never salute a ficus by the way, people look at you funny.

With my history of illness, you'd think I'd be the last person to take health advice from. Actually though I'm a survivor. While I have every reasonable expectation that someday it'll be a strain of pneumonia that takes me out, it's going to have to be a darned unusual one. I've had all those common strains and moved on. So I thought I'd offer some advice on being sick gracefully

• Drink clear liquids - If you can handle it, hot lemon tea with honey is great for a sore throat, but no matter what you need to be attached to a full cup of something the whole time. The faster you flush your system the faster you wash the crud out. Stay away from the caffeine right now, it won't help.
• SLEEP! - You may feel like a heel for not doing the 800 different daily tasks that no one else but you ever does, but you will not get better if you don't let your body do its job. You have to recharge the batteries more often then you might think.
• Eat lightly but as often as you need. - Stay away from dairy products if your illness has lots of mucus. Milk makes snot thicker most of the time. Have a little toast or other bread, enough to settle your stomach for your meds, but not more then you need.
• Take all the Medication you are given. - I know it seems like a waste, particularly if you're on an antibiotic strong enough to lay waste to your internal bacteria, but most modern illnesses are clever. They will back off before they give up and if you stop taking your meds then they come back stronger and drug-resistant. It won't hurt to take a multi-vitamin too.
• Check with your doctor about *all* your meds, even the over-the-counter stuff. - Always make sure that you're not taking a pill that reacts badly to citric acid with your morning orange juice. If you regularly drink a glass of wine, take insulin, take a decongestant, or spend lots of time in the sun, those very different things can effect some medications. Tell your doctor if you think there's *any* possible chance of interaction. Better to look a little silly and learn, then be dead.
• Have some yogurt handy - If you're pumping in massive amounts of antibiotics, you are going to get a stomach ache. You need most of the bacteria in your gut, so have some yogurt to help rebuild it. I use this excuse to get lots of tzatziki sauce when I'm sick.
• Be polite to the people around you - Some of us (me) get really nasty and sarcastic when we don't feel well. If you get mean, take yourself away from other humans until you feel better. This will result in people being more willing to bring you cold drinks and gyros when you ask.
• Bathe - Wash yourself, clean your hands before you touch your face, don't breathe on other people, don't lick the doorknobs, you know what I mean. And finally,

Take the time to slow down. Often we get sick because we over-work ourselves. Physically or mentally, we're overdoing it. Calm down, relax, and recuperate completely before throwing yourself back into the daily grind. Our bodies are wonderful self-repairing machines and if we give them a little room to work they can take care of us just fine for years.

None of this is new to you I'm sure. It's all information we've heard over and over again for years. The trick is doing it. I hope that the next time there's a flu scare or a case of strep in your area you'll remember to deal with it properly. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go back to bed.

Ninja Star Fish!

I know, I've been missing. I was caught up in a good book actually. And trapped in a yarn-avalanche.

I went to the library on my weekly indulgence and found Amigurumi Knits: patterns For 20 Cute Mini Knits by Hansi Singh. I've never indulged in the "cute knits" habit previously and I figured I'd just look over the patterns and take the book back the next day.

As I'm reading through the book I discovered that there were patterns for veggies, sea creatures, insects, and mythological animals. The thing that did me in was the adorable Kraken and Octopus patterns. When I showed the book to other people they liked the Jackalope, Hermit Crab and Nessie. The patterns all can use cheap acrylic yarn which I have in bucketloads since my grandmother died and left me her craft supplies. They also all call for the same size needles which makes them very easy to get into.

I thought I'd start by knitting the tomato. It looked simple and I figured I could take it with me to the theatre and toss it at people when I felt the need. Unfortunately, the tomato pattern has a major issue. At the top of the tomato are a set of leaves. The directions tell you to cast yarn on to the needles for the leaves and then bind off. No mention of anything else though. The pictures look like it's probably some sort of I-cord and I might give that a try. I was a little disappointed that there wasn't any mention of this on her web site either, although I didn't look very hard. So no stuffed tomato for me yet.

Instead I started by working on the starfish pattern. I didn't have the correct needle size, a size 5, so I tried to use the closest size I had, an 8. I knew this meant that I couldn't stuff the thing with the regular fiberfill, but I'm used to stuffing with scraps of fabric so I wasn't worried. I grabbed some of the most horrid yarn in the collection, a mottled orange-yellow-brown that I've always avoided, and got to work.

I completed the first starfish in about 4 hours of work. There was a little fiddling with the stitch count because of the different needle size, but on the whole it came out really well. I learned how to do short rows, which is new for me and I was delighted with them. I kept running up to people and going "Look, I made a little ramp!" This caused many non-knitting friends to back away slowly and look for the fire extinguisher, but I was amused. After I was done chortling at the short rows and cussing at the final tiny rounds, I stuffed my star fish with some nasty red poly fabric I'd been using for patterns and took a look at it.

I was staring at this thing I had made when my daughter came into the room and grabbed it. She looked it over and tossed it like a ninja star at the cat. I was immediately consumed with a need to make lots more of these little things and embroider ninja face masks and eyes onto them. So far I haven't found exactly the right pattern for the face but I've got a few other color schemes in mind and another candy-corn colored star on the needles, which are now the right size. It will be smaller and should be easier to sneak into office buildings to pelt my friends with.

MUA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!

Erm... yeah...ninja star fish

Singh, Hansi. Amigurumi Knits: Patterns For 20 Cute Mini Knits

Minneapolis, MN. Creative Publishing International, 2009

Possible Lead

At the Dutch Royal Institute For Cultural Heritage they have a set of tapestries that include pictures of period Rom interacting with the locals from about 1500. Down at the very bottom left of the tapestry called "The Fair" there is a female figure who I think might be a dancer. She's wearing the ever popular white turban and a v-necked kirtle, similar in shape to the Spanish vertigale gowns you can see on the ladies in waiting here. This picture is by a Spanish painter Pedro Garcia de Benabarre and is dated between 1470 and 1480.

It is possible that the small female Rom is actually supposed to be a child. I've read a few commentaries on how the locals in an area often despised the Rom for the tatters they dressed their children in and the figure is smaller then the nobles. However, if the figure is only smaller because they were still working out perspective for use in tapestry, this may be one of the links I've been looking for.

It's exceptionally hard to document information on a physical art form such as dance or acting. We normally have to rely on written records from the past or clues in the play we perform to get our cues. However, even today the Rom are not known for writing things down. Most of the historical records I've found for them come from an outside source documenting their arrival or passage. That's why this tapestry may be so important to me. I'm looking for the earliest documentable "Gypsy Dancer" and this is the first one I've seen a picture of so far.

Why do I think she's a dancer? The belt around her waist is very hard to make out, but I suspect it's a set of the large acorn-shaped folly bells like the ones Cynthia du Pré Argent talks about for her

houppelande. The other forward lady, down right of the tapestry, looks like she's holding one in her hand as well. Then, around her left wrist, there's a length of ribbon floating out from her body. Her arms appear to be moving, spread out away from her body and her leg is pretty easy to see as well. In fact, I don't see a long chemise to cover that leg, just a shirt under the gown. Maybe the chemise had a slit in it? Maybe I can't see a detail on-line that's visible in a different picture? I need more evidence!

I'd like to try and find a few more pictures of dancers from about 1500 and compare them. If I can find them I may be able to start reconstructing actual dance steps as well as period-correct costuming. This could be really cool.

Kings College went well.

The Rom clothing was a success! While it wasn't exactly visually stunning, it was comfortable, light weight, and easy to get into and out of in the back seat of a car. Those of you with access to fancy dressing rooms may sniff but I've gotten used to speed dressing at events in the weirdest places.

The outfit was visually period which was very important to me. The next version of it will be even better. I have some coral colored linen for the drape and enough black linen for the re-enforcing stripe. I think I may be able to make some nice ribbon ties out of the scraps as well.

For this drape I scavenged an old poly-cotton striped skirt from an unwanted dress. The stripe of black cotton sheeting was sewn down on the top, then I ran out of thread and time. Also, I couldn't figure out why the pattern I was using wanted the stripe 18 inches from the edge. That would have put my little bit of material almost in half making it very bulky, so I only put it 6 inches in. After everything was put together did the penny drop. That extra fold of material becomes a pocket! I was able to carry a small bag with my notes, phone, and wallet in the little pocket I had made. Next time I think I'll make it a 12 inch fold since I rarely need to carry much more then that. The drape itself didn't come down past my knee which is a little bit short looking at the pictures. The next one will be wider. I also am very tempted to start carrying documentation for the outfit in the pocket as well. A few people did ask about it and were totally shocked that it was a "Gypsy" outfit.

The white linen chemise held up fine and the silk turban worked well, particularly since I made my hair into a bun before putting the turban on. That's not normally how I do it, but it kept the thing balanced better. I'm really looking at all the bizarre and interesting hats that keep showing up in these pictures and thinking I'm going to need to sit down and play with some lengths of fabric for awhile. There's this huge almost Chinese coolie looking hat that's seen fairly often. I usually see it more on males then females, but I've got a Bruegel painting that *may* have a female telling fortunes wearing one of these whoppers.

Bruegel was known for putting daily details, common things that his audience would have already known, into his paintings to add verisimilitude. His painting of The Sermon of St. John is dated roughly 1566 which is about 66 years later then I wanted, but includes lots of costumy goodness. Many costumers of my acquaintance use Bruegel as a reliable source so I hope I can do the same.

I'll keep looking around to see what I can find and build. While the outfits themselves seem pretty straight forward, the hats are going to be a little more complicated if I do them right.

Crafty in Summer

I don't know about where you live, but around here we tend to hide from the summer heat as much as possible. Often, I accomplish this by means of doing crafty stuff but I just can't quite get up the urge to knit when the sidewalk out front just melted. Ok, I exaggerate for effect. The street is melted though, around the edges, no joke.

So I was doing a little research on-line. Some people just call it fooling around on the computer but I had sort of goal in mind. I wanted a summer outfit for the SCA that was different enough to stand out, but as light-weight and comfortable as possible. Also, it had to be seriously period and Western European according to our organizational charter. Right now, you can't throw a rock at an event without hitting someone in a sari (outside of place) or a chiton (outside of period).

When I was first getting started in the SCA I made a newb mistake. At my very first meeting I introduced myself as "Lady So-n-so of Other There"(not what I actually said). When it was kindly explained to me that 'Lady' is the title of an award given by the King, I was sure they were going to toss me out on my ear. Instead, a sweet lady pointed out that there were a group of people in period who had a habit of giving themselves Really Great Titles and that I should do a little research on the Rom or Gypsies. I jumped head first into that information, but I've never gotten around to making a proper, period Rom outfit. For one thing, they're just not really flashy.

Now I find myself looking for lightweight period gear and I think it's time to make that later period Rom outfit. First we consider the period sources. I've tried to put a few down at the bottom here. Then we see what other people have made along the same lines. Old Marian was one of the better researchers I know of and she died just recently. I'd be proud to wear her pattern.

So I took apart an unused Italian Renn styled gown for the large rectangle of skirt fabric. The fabric itself is a mid-weight gold and green striped poly cotton (ugh! hot) and I'm sewing a line of black cotton sheeting made into trim down it for the contrasting stripe. I've got some black ribbon I'll use to attach the drape at the shoulder and I'll be wearing it over a round necked linen chemise I made last year. I've got a rectangular silk drape with lots of hand embroidery on it that I can use for the turban and I'm hoping I can find ghillie shoes. If not, I may just wear leather sandals.

Later on, if this outfit proves comfy, I'll work on developing new and better turbans. Some of the ones in the pictures are huge and I'm sure there was a trick to them.

Back to sewing for me! What do you do to stay cool and alert in the summer?

Another batch of Neruda

If you haven't heard of Pablo Neruda then I am very sorry for you. This poet was from Chile and unlike many of the other poets I prefer was alive during the 20th century. I'll lift a bit here from his Wikipedia entry to save you the trouble of looking for the basics.

"Pablo Neruda (July 12, 1904 – September 23, 1973) was the pen name and, later, legal name of the Chilean writer and politician Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto. With his works translated into many languages, Pablo Neruda is considered one of the greatest and most influential poets of the 20th century. He chose his pen name in honour of the famous Czech poet Jan Neruda."

The article goes on to mention that he wrote many different styles of poems, but honestly I think his best work is in his love poems. Steamy like a South American jungle at midnight, I tell you. Here, I'll let you have a sample:

If You Forget Me I want you to know one thing. You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me. Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little. If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you. If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land. But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine. Pablo Neruda If your toes didn't just curl a little then I say to you there is no romance in your soul! The idea of a love almost lost or remembered in a sweetly melancholy way is often in his works. He also loads his poems with taste and scent words, speaking to the senses poets often overlook. Many of his poems talk about the idea of a perfect woman but there are also poems that are just admitting total lust with someone. These are not poems to read out loud to your mother. Personally when I found out that Borders had a copy of The Poetry of Pablo Neruda for about $20 I had a small moment of "SQUEEE!" then ran over and bought it. I keep it handy for rainy days, or for dropping on small yappy type dogs since it's a fairly heavy book. Don't let the size fool you though, once you get into it you'll hate to let it end. Stavans, Ilan. Editor. The Poetry of Pablo Neruda New York, Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2003

Coffee and Rum

Otherwise know as, The Difference Between On-Line and Reality.

One of the more curious parts of life on the internet is the fact that we get a chance to stand out on the merits of our minds and personalities first, before people ever see our faces. We get to know, respect and admire people without even learning their gender, skin color, or age. For the good people who want to interact with other good people, this is a really nifty thing. For the bad people, that's a different post on Mask Syndrome.

On-line as in Real Life we all try to stand out. Our habits and personality traits tend to become more focused and sharper, since we don't have the softening edges of body language or outside stimuli to distract from what we're saying. If your personality is naturally abrasive or sarcastic you find that it doesn't always translate well. Equally, people who are shy and not self-promoting often vanish into the background in an online social setting.

My own observation is that since humans like labels it's easier to remember one or two personality points about them on-line and, if you like those points, open yourself up for a more in depth relationship. Moving from Acquaintance to On-Line Friend to Real World Friend can happen very quickly, slowly, or not at all, depending on the basic original points of communication. If the first interaction someone has with you is unpleasant to them, you have little or no chance of ever moving beyond that first impression without changing your handle. In that respect, it is easier to live down a bad first contact on-line but it's not guaranteed.

Once upon a time, I used to drink a lot. Every night I'd crawl into at least one bottle of wine or more. I'd lost my job, my kid hated me, I failed in everything I put my hand to. I hated myself, but when I drank I didn't have to notice how much I sucked. In fact, I could blame all my bad behaviors on the booze. How easy and convenient!

Of course when I drank I could stay up very, very late indeed. That meant that I required a pot of coffee to make it through the next day, so I could drink again. Coffee only works for so long though before your body gets used to it.

I had mentioned in passing to a friend I regularly drank with that I wasn't going to drink sodas anymore. They're really bad for you and it wouldn't hurt me to cut the extra sugar out of my diet. He laughed at me, reminding me of all the other things I put into my body on a regular basis. I hate having my logical inconsistencies pointed out, particularly when I'm feeling so self-righteously healthy. Most people do I believe.

Since then I've learned moderation. I try to limit my drinking to one or two glasses of wine a week and I'm down to a single cup of coffee per day. But all the people I met on-line don't know that. They met me when I reveled in excess and there's very little I can do to convince them that I don't actually swim in barrels of rum every day.

There are worse faces to show the world, but I still feel a little pang when I'm reminded of how very foolish I can be. Moderation may not be a very clever way to get people's attention on-line, but perhaps I've had all the attention I need for now.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

So the other day my new room mate was watching over my shoulder as I navigated one of my pixelated darlings through the caves and sewers under Paragon City. I was showing off my favorite computer game, City of Heros and I lamented that my system is just a little old. I couldn't show off all the really awesome graphics and fabulous reflections because I had one measly little gig of memory and a video card that sometimes grinds its teeth and growls at me.

"I've got some spare memory," he said "You can have it if you want."

I jumped on that like a duck on a june bug and we got it into the rig last night. I was able to play for several more hours afterwards with the game just humming along. No more avoiding teams because it takes half the mission for me to get through the door! No more avoiding Atlas Park because I have to move one frame per second!

This morning I got up and turned the computer on. It began to loop, refusing to boot up at all. Eventually, I got it to come on in safe mode and called my husband who handles my tech issues and nervous breakdowns regularly. He suspects the memory might have been bad and that the image on my hard drive may be corrupted. *sigh*

Later today I'm going to be attempting to broadcast my streaming radio program by using my laptop for the game-side and a separate music machine. I envy the octopus who knows where each of his arms is at any given time.

Today I am thankful that I have a laptop, grateful that there is a work-around, and vowing to keep my mouth shut and be happier with what I have in the future.

Think Globally, Eat Locally

One of the big social concerns right now in the Western Hemisphere is how to reduce our oil and gas use. One of the other big social concerns is how to reduce the size of our butts. Oddly enough, in many ways the answers to both of these questions are related. No, I haven't developed a car that runs on human fat (yet).

In many places in the U.S. there exists something called a 'food desert'. According to the website Market Makeovers a food desert "is a term that describes geographic areas where mainstream grocery stores are either totally absent or inaccessible to low-income shoppers. Though these may be located in the vicinity, they remain unavailable to low-income residents because of high prices and inadequate public transit. While the phenomenon is typically associated with large, urban communities, it can also occur in rural neighborhoods."

The Local Food Movement is a handy label for a group of people who think that food deserts and general lack of healthy edibles also help contribute to the dependence on fossil fuels. Mother Earth News has an article that sums this idea up very neatly by saying "With the fast-growing local foods movement, diets are becoming more locally shaped and more seasonal. In a typical supermarket in an industrial country today, it is often difficult to tell which season it is, because the store tries to make everything available on a year-round basis. As oil prices rise, this will become less common. In essence, a reduction in the use of oil to transport food over long distances — whether by plane, truck or ship — will also localize the food economy."

So what does this mean for you, me, and the loud guy in the apartment down the hall? Well it's getting easier to find local farmers markets. They're even staying open later for those of us who stay out to late on Friday nights. It's also getting easier to find a neighbor in the area who has chickens, or somebody growing tomatoes and peas on the roof or in a corner of the yard. Lots of people (including the First Lady) are putting in vegetable gardens or subscribing to a produce delivery service like Greenling. Finding local green food is getting easier and that means healthier people and hopefully less use of gas.

If you happen to be able to strap a cooler to your bike and ride over to the local farmer's market, you'll be arriving in style. If you're like me and have to drive to get there, make sure to take a cooler with wheels, a few ice packs, and some comfy walking shoes. Lots of places give out samples but you'll probably want to bring along a full water bottle of your own just in case.

Personally, I'm going to take a crack at eating better closer to home by going to visit Boggy Creek Farm as soon as I can. I need to go make friends with some chickens. I'm also planning to get a few dwarf fruit trees for my lot to go with the tomato and pepper plants I already have. I might even go crazy and get a row of corn in before the summer gets too hot.

What brought this all up today? I had to mow the lawn. More garden means less to mow and if I'm going to be watering all of that anyway I'd rather be able to eat it.

Not Another Review!

So far, this blog has clung fairly tightly to things I feel I'm educated enough to speak about. Now we face a different animal altogether: Mansmell.

One of my umbrella hobbies is the SCA. I call it an umbrella hobby because it allows me access to a wide range of nifty things to do, classes teaching me how to do it, and groups of people to do it with. Restrain your snickering. One of the minor hobbies it allows me to indulge in is travel and meeting new people with similar interests.

One of the gentlemen that I've known around the group for a few years has had a conflict with his girl. In passing a few months ago I told him if he needed a spare place to stay he was welcome to crash at my place for a little while. He thanked me, and passed it off as something he hoped wouldn't be needed.

Last night at midnight he showed up on my doorstep with a U-haul full of gear and a serious expression. She had broken the lease and told him to get out. He has a job interview here today and could he possibly use that couch? Of course I said yes. I admit I'm a soft touch for the Big Sad Eyes routine some days, particularly very late at night.

So today he starts moving a few things in so he can see out of the truck and I remembered why I had toyed with becoming a nun when I was younger. Please don't mistake me, I've very fond of men on the whole. Some of my best friends are male. But Oh Dear Bast do you guys tend to stink! Men have a way of making innocent laundry develop the most disgusting odors in less time then it takes to say "Hey, how about a shower?"

Out in the open, when I'm fighting for example, it's no big deal. If a guy has padding that's so foul it can walk on its own, I can get upwind. If he hasn't showered in a week and we're camping I can give him personal space. But, trapped in the confines of my own living room with two grown males in the house, my sensitive nose is wondering if I can get Fabreeze into every corner of the room every hour on the hour.

Currently I'm doing the new roomie's laundry. It's partially because I'm a nice person and partially self-defense. How many times can one wear the same pants before they are "Too foul"? How do men survive living in barracks together? Are they just not as sensitive nose-wise?

It's going to be an interesting month.

Blowing Things Up

Every now and then I get really frustrated with some inanimate object and I threaten to blow it up. Animate objects tend to be threatened with being lit on fire. I have just decided that this recently attempted book is so bad it should be both set on fire and blown up. I simply haven't figured out which to do first.

I've been attempting to read The Mother Tongue: English & How It Got That Way by Bill Bryson. Mr. Bryson has advanced several theories on the forming of English and he attempts to use this book to back them up. It's not really a scholarly tome, since he's pretty hit-or-miss about where he got his information from. Sadly, it's also not a humorous book either, since it seems to consist primarily of lists of words. Not exactly a thrilling read.

Mr. Bryson wanders around poking at the beginnings of English in a half-hearted way in the first part of the book. If you took everything he claims literally, then English was more or less invented by Shakespeare. I'm fairly baffled by that and I'm sure Chaucer, Marlowe, and Ben Jonson would object as well.

He makes a stab at interesting information in chapter 7 when he starts talking about regional varieties of English. Sadly, he wanders into jargon and word lists again really quickly. Just because I happen to know what a shibboleh is, doesn't mean that many people picking this book up randomly will. In fact, most of the book wanders back and forth between scholarly jargon and speculations, and a sort of buddy-buddy storytelling that doesn't even pretend to be able to back itself up. Of course, you have to fight your way through the maddening lists of words that seem like someone was just trying to pad out the word count.

While I generally try my best to read all the way through a bad book, particularly one recommended to me by someone I respect, I had to quit reading this one. Around chapter 10 I was so fed up with the circular logic and random word lists that I pitched the book across the room. Please don't sic the librarians on me.

Bah! Lucky for this book, it belongs to the library. I'm going to take it back there today and try to locate something better written and with decent footnotes. Or maybe just a nice juicy romance novel, whichever.

Bryson, Bill. The Mother Tongue: English and How It Got That Way

New York. William Morrow And Company, Inc 1990

Double Shot Friday!

You celebrate your Friday in your way and I'll do it in mine. Today that celebration is a two-for-one review of Cool Stuff I Found (I'd trademark that, but it would be way too much work).

I have a habit of looking for new and unusual music, strange mixes of songs already loved or just blending of genres that come out well. Recently I found a CD at my local library that mostly fell into the Celtic music category except the song that starts off the show.

The first song on the Austin Celtics album created by the Austin Celtic Society is yet another rendition of Scotland the Brave. I know, I know, you've heard it. You can hum it. It comes free with every bagpipe purchase ever and you're pretty well fed up with everlasting Scotland The Brave. Yeah, but have you heard it with samba drums? You read that right, samba. Brazilian Carnival music. The group is called Samba Thistle, I think they are from Brazil, and I've got to go find more of this stuff. Anything that makes me actually want to listen to Scotland the Brave has got some serious amusement factor to it.

I played the song for a few people and have since been informed that I melted a few brains. I need to see if these folks have an album of their own I can buy. Mua-ha-ha-ha-ha!

There are other excellent songs on the album including a slightly funny, slightly sad song about a bagpiper called Amazing Grace (Again) by Wolf Loescher and a seriously goofy drinking song called No Place For Drinking by Hair of The Dog. All in all, I'd say this is a good sampling of the kind of Celtic music you can find in Austin. Which, I suppose, is the whole point.

The other cool find I wanted to share with you is from my own bookshelf. Everyone has a few books that they keep going back to after they read them. Most books are good once or twice but some you just keep reading over and over. This is one of mine.

A few years ago I was desperately short on new stuff to read so I toddled on over to the Baen Free Library on-line and started looking for something new.

MINOR SIDE NOTE: You don't know about the Baen Free Library?! Where have you been the past few years??

But I digress, often. I started reading March Upcountry by John Ringo and David Weber and I really liked it. Then I read 1632 by Eric Flint and David Weber and that was good too. I went over to the local bookshop to buy them and there was a whole shelf of David Weber's Honor Harrington series, which was very tasty indeed. I started picking up anything with the man's name on it, I didn't want to miss a single book.

Then I found a book called Path of The Fury. Oddly enough, this is the one I come back to over and over. It's a stand-alone book, no series to it. It's space opera of the highest sort and there's plenty of Navy-jargon and ambitious space travel science. There's also a pretty amazing body count, with 25 pirates and the main character's entire family getting taken out in the first scene, but it's not exceptionally gory.

I've often enjoyed Mr. Weber's female characters who seem equally competent and modest about their abilities, but in the past I've sometimes cringed a little at the almost constant "right woman in the wrong place" coincidences that occur. In this book if you can get past the original weird plot twist then the rest of it makes perfect sense. This book is an action movie waiting for the right director and a sympathetic screen writer. Its got the explosions, the espionage, the witty patty, and the possible hint of a love interest.

As a card carrying member of "If It's Printed, I'll Read It", I find it refreshing to have a book I can enjoy re-reading over and over again. I must recommend it.

Weber, David. Path Of The Fury.

Riverdale, N.Y.: Baen Publishing Enterprises 1992

Austin Celtic Association. Austin Celtics

Austin, TX: Produced by David Armstrong 2000

Bibliocide by Cataloging

"Librarians have long tried to catalog the world in all its complexity. They want to describe things accurately, find the right name for this rare bird or that; but they are also looking for a description that fits into the architecture of information, that shows where the bird fits into its family, genus, species and so on. They argue passionately about the facts." [pg 120, This Book Is Overdue!]

Human beings like labels. For whatever reason, we all enjoy an easy way to divide up and quantify the world around us. Back when there weren't as many labels for things, we made tales of evil in the forests or gods at the bottoms of sinkholes. Putting a label on something allows a human being to relax slightly because that means we Know What It Is and can probably deal with it.

But what if something isn't easily labeled? What if the things you're trying to describe is neither fish nor fowl nor good red meat? Some times, in the past, we made up another label and just stuck it on there. Check any local plant guide to find out how many names your area has for Queen Anne's Lace. More recently though, I've noticed a trend towards "tagging" and that makes me nervous.

A Tag isn't a bad thing. It's a search term added to something in a database that allows whatever you're looking for to be located by subject. Generally a generic, but useful feature. This blog so far could be tagged "bibliophile", "Books" and possibly "lunatic". The trouble with tagging though is that the choice of tag is often dependent whoever created the entry in the database, and what they think that entry is. Totally fine if it's a piece about the mating habits of the common goldfish, but what if you're talking something new here? What if you found a rare anti-gravity goldfish who lives in trees and shoots tiny black holes out of its eyes? How do you tag something that's new, that doesn't even have a name or a jargon attached to it? and that's where things get sticky

I like to watch movies on one of the gamines consoles at the house. The program I use accesses a massive database and allows me to flip through and pick almost anything I want to watch and then streams it to my place. I don't even have to locate my shoes if I'm craving a film. The trouble with it is, it's a tag-dependent system and the entries were made by someone who really doesn't see films the same way I do. If I tell it that I really like one particular Shakespearean film it will assume I like all of them. But what if I only liked it because of a particular actor or a really spiff hat? I don't have a way to search the database for movies "With dialog like Lion In Winter, heavy sci-fi action, and a great musical number half-way though" because no one else makes tags like that. Ok, the movie in question may not exist but how am I to know?

In the long run I'm curious to find out how many pieces of information we've lost or missed out on because somebody really needed to hang a label on it and define it once and for all. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go find my umbrella. There's something shining in the treetops and I want to keep the goldfish out of my hair.