The first bird of 2006 was a downy woodpecker.
Things went downhill from there. And uphill a little here the last two months of the year.
I am shredding 2006 and burning it in a coffee can in the backyard. Hopefully the first bird of 2007 will be a phoenix.
31 December 2006
29 December 2006
Surprise! I'm a Boy!
Actually I kick male ass on the spatial problems - 19 out of 20 for the "angles" quiz, whereas the average score for men is 15.1 and for women 13.3.
Overall, the results seem to be based on "Gurls are too stoopid to do engineering." There's not a great deal of disparity between the average male and female scores on many of the "feminine" traits, like verbal ability and decoding emotion from pictures of people's eyes. But if you can picture how an object will look turned in space, you must be a guy.
I've got a cold. I'm having a hot toddy and going to bed. Check out Feministe for more.
27 December 2006
I Have Returned
From the land of squishy white bread, eggs fried in Crisco, and venison burger floating in oily-sheened Velveeta. I tried to stick to the shrimp and chicken and selected the leanest portions of ham I could find, but I overdid it on the baked beans and the cookies, and I lay in bed at night listening to my tummy squeal and burble like a pet guinea pig.
Detox time. Green tea, brown rice, and steamed vegetables for a week.
Detox time. Green tea, brown rice, and steamed vegetables for a week.
21 December 2006
Yule
“It’s the first day of winter,” my coworker moaned, dragging herself around like Chopin’s funeral dirge. “Such a long way to go ‘til spring.”
Interesting, how disconnected we moderns are, flooded with fluorescent light and weather porn over every forecast of snow, that many of us don’t know that this is the day the light begins to return. I point out to my coworker that the days start to get longer after the solstice as the sun swings north in the sky. She seems to find some relief in that, or maybe the peppermint Edy’s ice cream had the comforting effect.
On the way home, I stop at the market to check out the wreaths and garlands. Balsam, pine, and fir, I love them all, but cannot justify spending money on their organically-grown, fresh-cut, trucked-in-from-the-Upper-Peninsula prices. I breathe deeply of my favorite scents and buy some beef medallions instead.
At home, cold rain blows into my eyes as I clip a bough of holly to bring inside to deck my hall. The cat pokes her head out of the door as soon as I open it. The smell of my two-foot Fraser fir Christmas tree hangs faintly in the air. I set the holly on the cabinet and spoon out some special food for Sylvie. I watch her eat her treat with the swelling in the heart that an Italian grandmother must feel when she serves her signature bolognese.
The little steaks are delicious broiled with cracked pepper and minced garlic and with a side of asparagus tips, washed down with a brown ale of the “winter warmer” variety.
I wish I had someone here to share it with. I make my own meaning for my life, but it’s damned hard to do it alone all the time.
I open the small, mailable gifts from my far-flung friends. Soft gray cashmere socks with a blue snowflake pattern. Some incredibly good-smelling Finnish sauna soap. Bars of dark chocolate, fancy paper clips twisted into the shapes of birds, a disposable fountain pen. A card from Ozzie Paul in Sydney, who writes, “Spare a thought for those of us having to bear the long summer days.” I plug in the lights and arrange the gifts at the base of the tree around the beautiful sandhill crane book from D. & B.
The gifts are nice. I wish some of the friends would let me feed them more often.
Earlier Farm Boy told me solstice celebrations are “just as silly and mythological as the rest.” I told him I rather preferred some of the pagan holidays. He asked why. I responded that solstice is an actual, observable phenomenon, something to let us humans mark the passage of time. “Until the earth’s poles move again,” he said.
I suppose I need the silly and the mythological. I don’t have the fortitude to not believe in anything.
I light a couple of spruce-scented candles. I stare out between the slats of the blinds for a while, watching the rain come down harder, wondering if I chose this loneliness or if it somehow happened when I wasn’t looking.
Interesting, how disconnected we moderns are, flooded with fluorescent light and weather porn over every forecast of snow, that many of us don’t know that this is the day the light begins to return. I point out to my coworker that the days start to get longer after the solstice as the sun swings north in the sky. She seems to find some relief in that, or maybe the peppermint Edy’s ice cream had the comforting effect.
On the way home, I stop at the market to check out the wreaths and garlands. Balsam, pine, and fir, I love them all, but cannot justify spending money on their organically-grown, fresh-cut, trucked-in-from-the-Upper-Peninsula prices. I breathe deeply of my favorite scents and buy some beef medallions instead.
At home, cold rain blows into my eyes as I clip a bough of holly to bring inside to deck my hall. The cat pokes her head out of the door as soon as I open it. The smell of my two-foot Fraser fir Christmas tree hangs faintly in the air. I set the holly on the cabinet and spoon out some special food for Sylvie. I watch her eat her treat with the swelling in the heart that an Italian grandmother must feel when she serves her signature bolognese.
The little steaks are delicious broiled with cracked pepper and minced garlic and with a side of asparagus tips, washed down with a brown ale of the “winter warmer” variety.
I wish I had someone here to share it with. I make my own meaning for my life, but it’s damned hard to do it alone all the time.
I open the small, mailable gifts from my far-flung friends. Soft gray cashmere socks with a blue snowflake pattern. Some incredibly good-smelling Finnish sauna soap. Bars of dark chocolate, fancy paper clips twisted into the shapes of birds, a disposable fountain pen. A card from Ozzie Paul in Sydney, who writes, “Spare a thought for those of us having to bear the long summer days.” I plug in the lights and arrange the gifts at the base of the tree around the beautiful sandhill crane book from D. & B.
The gifts are nice. I wish some of the friends would let me feed them more often.
Earlier Farm Boy told me solstice celebrations are “just as silly and mythological as the rest.” I told him I rather preferred some of the pagan holidays. He asked why. I responded that solstice is an actual, observable phenomenon, something to let us humans mark the passage of time. “Until the earth’s poles move again,” he said.
I suppose I need the silly and the mythological. I don’t have the fortitude to not believe in anything.
I light a couple of spruce-scented candles. I stare out between the slats of the blinds for a while, watching the rain come down harder, wondering if I chose this loneliness or if it somehow happened when I wasn’t looking.
20 December 2006
Quote of the Day
Once you can accept the universe as matter expanding into nothing that is something, wearing stripes with plaid comes easy.
– Albert Einstein
– Albert Einstein
19 December 2006
14 December 2006
Feedback on the New Blogger?
What do you think of the labels? Are they workin' for ya? I'm trying not to be obsessive about yet another thing to organize. It's really enough that I have to turn all the labels on the canned goods outward and keep the dollar bills in my wallet facing the same way and in order (with the ones folded in the middle). The labels seem too big and white to me; perhaps I'll try to smallify or unwhiten them in the template.
The Ann Arbor School Board Has Never Been to Cincinnati
This is the first thing I thought of when I heard they named the new high school Skyline.
12 December 2006
11 December 2006
Flawless Logic
From a box of Domino® sugar:
Therefore, sugar is an important part of any balanced diet.
And the recipe for pecan sticky buns is approved by the American Diabetes Association, right?
Therefore, sugar is an important part of any balanced diet.
And the recipe for pecan sticky buns is approved by the American Diabetes Association, right?
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