I now have proof positive that there's a group of people somewhere who sit around all day, making lists of ridiculous things they should wantonly throw money at (I know, horrible syntax, but I'm irritated and it takes too much effort to think in grammatically correct terms).
Case in Point: There's a movie (a documentary, actually) titled "Helvetica." And, yes, it's all about the font.
As soon as I get the address of this group of people who sit around all day, making lists of ridiculous things they should throw money at I'm going to write them a letter and tell them I want to make a documentary about . . . well, why not? My ability to recognize fonts on sight. It will be the much anticipated sequel of "Helvetica." If you don't hear from me for awhile it will be because I'm doing research at the European Font Museum. Which is located in a large villa in a tiny hamlet in Tuscany.
'Giorno.
P.S. I did NOT put "Helvetica" in my Netflix queue.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Hawking
After weathering the last few frigid days, Ron and I took advantage of the balmy weather to head south and visit Tyler at Emporia. And count hawks. The latter experience was purely serendipitous, as we had no formal intention of counting hawks - it just kind of happened.
Today was fine hawk counting weather. Clear skies, cool breezes. They're fairly easy to spot. Just look for a dark spot (with the telltale white breast) perching high in leafless trees. I'm kind of amazed that those tiny branches near the top of the trees are able to hold such big birds. I was thinking they must weigh about 15 pounds, but then I remembered the turkey we had for Christmas and it was 17 pounds (give or take a few ounces) and these hawks were nowhere near that big. Actually, we had ham for Christmas, so it must have been our Thanksgiving turkey. But, I digress. I really don't know how much they weigh. It just seems to be more than the average tiny tree branch should be able to support.
A lot of hawks seem to enjoy being right next to the road. Ron wondered aloud why this might be so, and I suggested it's because they know bored people like us like to count them. Or name them, like my dad used to do when he and mom would drive from Rogers, AR to Merriam. They all had "H" names: Harry, Horatio, Heloise, Henrietta, Hubert, Helen . . .
I said that maybe they sat near the roads so they could have a bird's eye view (ha) of the acres that no doubt hold tasty morsels of field mice. But, as Ron pointed out, nearly all of them have their backs to the fields. I then went into the whole "the grass is always greener on the other side of the highway" theory.
And that was pretty much the flavor of our conversation during the entirety of our trip.
Scintillating, ain't it?
Today was fine hawk counting weather. Clear skies, cool breezes. They're fairly easy to spot. Just look for a dark spot (with the telltale white breast) perching high in leafless trees. I'm kind of amazed that those tiny branches near the top of the trees are able to hold such big birds. I was thinking they must weigh about 15 pounds, but then I remembered the turkey we had for Christmas and it was 17 pounds (give or take a few ounces) and these hawks were nowhere near that big. Actually, we had ham for Christmas, so it must have been our Thanksgiving turkey. But, I digress. I really don't know how much they weigh. It just seems to be more than the average tiny tree branch should be able to support.
A lot of hawks seem to enjoy being right next to the road. Ron wondered aloud why this might be so, and I suggested it's because they know bored people like us like to count them. Or name them, like my dad used to do when he and mom would drive from Rogers, AR to Merriam. They all had "H" names: Harry, Horatio, Heloise, Henrietta, Hubert, Helen . . .
I said that maybe they sat near the roads so they could have a bird's eye view (ha) of the acres that no doubt hold tasty morsels of field mice. But, as Ron pointed out, nearly all of them have their backs to the fields. I then went into the whole "the grass is always greener on the other side of the highway" theory.
And that was pretty much the flavor of our conversation during the entirety of our trip.
Scintillating, ain't it?
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Outrageous
I don't know what's more outrageous . . . the writer's strike that's leading network television into the Bermuda Triangle, where it will never heard from again, OR the crazy stuff I'm forced to watch because my body automatically sits itself down in front of the tv every night - an activity which is going to lead to a herniated brain and a permanent mental fugue if I'm not careful. As if "The Lobotomist" wasn't enough . . .
Tonight, on the History Channel, Ron and I watched "Gangland" a series about - no big surprise - gangs. Tonight's episode was on gangs in the military. That's right. According to the show, about one percent of our current military personnel are members of gangs. Doesn't sound like a lot, right? Except one percent is about 10,000 people. Now, I'm aware that there's a chance that not every statistic put forth in this documentary is completely accurate. However (and the narrator pointed this out several times during the hour), the Department of Defense (DOD) declined numerous invitations to appear on the program. And they probably could have provided more accurate information, had they been so inclined - which I'm sure wouldn't have happened because that would be admitting that there actually IS a problem with gangs in the military.
They had all sorts of ex-military personnel and former DOD employees saying that these gang members - whose loyalty lies not with America or their fellow soldiers, but with their gangs - are being trained and equipped during their enlistment and then return to their hoods to teach their homies all these military tactics. They had footage of an ex-Marine using military techniques to ambush three police officers (one was killed, another seriously wounded). It was very disturbing.
There was also this one guy who's with the National Guard who's taken pictures of gang graffiti he saw in military bases overseas. All of the major gangs in the United States are represented.
Even more appalling . . . in 2006 (it may have been 2005 or 2007 - I was too dumbstruck to rewind to find out) 9,000 moral waivers were granted to men and women applying to serve in our armed services, including waivers for FELONIES. That's SIXTY-FIVE PERCENT MORE than in 2003, the year we invaded Iraq. So, I'm thinking that the 99 percent of men and women who are bravely risking their lives in posts all over the world now have to live with the fact that they might be bunking with a felon. Am I crazy or is there something not right about that?
I guess there is good news. Apparently, there's a bill before Congress right now that includes language that would prohibit persons with known gang affiliations from entering into the military.
Of course, it has to be passed first and it's probably buried in some bill that would completely restructure the health insurance industry and provide every man, woman and child with good, affordable health care. Oh, wait. I think I see that piece of legislation taking a turn for the Bermuda Triangle as well.
Tonight, on the History Channel, Ron and I watched "Gangland" a series about - no big surprise - gangs. Tonight's episode was on gangs in the military. That's right. According to the show, about one percent of our current military personnel are members of gangs. Doesn't sound like a lot, right? Except one percent is about 10,000 people. Now, I'm aware that there's a chance that not every statistic put forth in this documentary is completely accurate. However (and the narrator pointed this out several times during the hour), the Department of Defense (DOD) declined numerous invitations to appear on the program. And they probably could have provided more accurate information, had they been so inclined - which I'm sure wouldn't have happened because that would be admitting that there actually IS a problem with gangs in the military.
They had all sorts of ex-military personnel and former DOD employees saying that these gang members - whose loyalty lies not with America or their fellow soldiers, but with their gangs - are being trained and equipped during their enlistment and then return to their hoods to teach their homies all these military tactics. They had footage of an ex-Marine using military techniques to ambush three police officers (one was killed, another seriously wounded). It was very disturbing.
There was also this one guy who's with the National Guard who's taken pictures of gang graffiti he saw in military bases overseas. All of the major gangs in the United States are represented.
Even more appalling . . . in 2006 (it may have been 2005 or 2007 - I was too dumbstruck to rewind to find out) 9,000 moral waivers were granted to men and women applying to serve in our armed services, including waivers for FELONIES. That's SIXTY-FIVE PERCENT MORE than in 2003, the year we invaded Iraq. So, I'm thinking that the 99 percent of men and women who are bravely risking their lives in posts all over the world now have to live with the fact that they might be bunking with a felon. Am I crazy or is there something not right about that?
I guess there is good news. Apparently, there's a bill before Congress right now that includes language that would prohibit persons with known gang affiliations from entering into the military.
Of course, it has to be passed first and it's probably buried in some bill that would completely restructure the health insurance industry and provide every man, woman and child with good, affordable health care. Oh, wait. I think I see that piece of legislation taking a turn for the Bermuda Triangle as well.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Inspired . . .
New Year, new look? Maybe. Bored with the circles? Probably. So, out with the old, in with the new. New photos, new amazing photography links. Perhaps a little more regularity with the postings? We'll see.
I watched a show on PBS about a man called "The Lobotomist." The man was driven to drive ice picks through people's eyes into their brains. It was - all at once - fascinating, horrifying, sad, appalling, bizarre and, in the end, really, really ineffective and grossly overdone. What was once used as a means to "calm down" the most agitated mentally ill people turned into a way to thin out overpopulated state mental institutions. Had drugs (specifically Thorazine) not come to the rescue in the 60's who knows how many of us would be walking around lobotomized. That's not supposed to be funny. How many people do you know who are on some kind of antidepressant? It's a scary thought.
Sweet dreams . . .
I watched a show on PBS about a man called "The Lobotomist." The man was driven to drive ice picks through people's eyes into their brains. It was - all at once - fascinating, horrifying, sad, appalling, bizarre and, in the end, really, really ineffective and grossly overdone. What was once used as a means to "calm down" the most agitated mentally ill people turned into a way to thin out overpopulated state mental institutions. Had drugs (specifically Thorazine) not come to the rescue in the 60's who knows how many of us would be walking around lobotomized. That's not supposed to be funny. How many people do you know who are on some kind of antidepressant? It's a scary thought.
Sweet dreams . . .
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Chemistry Class, Nakedness, Bare Feet and Bobble Heads
After sitting through two hours of American Idol (as I'm typing those two words I'm hanging my head and mumbling the admission), I decided it was time for some culinary education. I've taken to dvr-ing a few cooking shows during the day and then Ron and I watch a couple in the evening hours when we've tired of sitting by the fire, reading/napping/catching up on life.
One of my favorite new discoveries (although it's been around for awhile) is "Good Eats." The host is chef Alton Brown and you can count on him to be wacky/entertaining and extremely knowledgeable about the chemistry of food. I feel like I'm adding some finesse to my cooking and learning exactly why it's important to always include the salt portion of any recipe. Why? Because it brings out all the other flavors you've added. Case in point: tonight we made generic old Minute Rice, but this time I used chicken broth instead of water and added a couple tablespoons of butter, a healthy pinch of salt, some pepper, parsley and dried basil. It was fabulous!
And - hallelujah - Jamie Oliver's back on TV! The Naked Chef (who was never really naked -Jamie's just a really brilliant chef who cooks beautiful food that's simple and stripped down) has left the city life and is now happily ensconced in a country manor, cooking up all sorts of earthy, lovely things. The show is called, "At Home With Jamie" and it's on Saturday mornings at 8:30 on the Food Network. Way to early for me, hence the dvr. And I love to hear him talk! I don't know what kind of accent it is (ok, I know he's British) but his dialogue is filled with slang - plonker, bash it - it's just fun. Check him out. And maybe the best part of Jamie are the names of his daughters - Daisy and Poppy!
Actually, the only one Ron watches with me is "Barefoot Contessa." And here's why. The beginning of the taping always has the last few seconds of "Everyday Italian" with Giada DiLaurentis. And, as sure as the sun rises in the East and sets in the West, there will be cleavage. Just a glimpse, but I guess it's enough. Over the holidays, Kate made the observation that Giada looks like a Bobble head doll. And, by golly, she does. She has a really large head. And a large forehead. Tonight when I called her Bobble Head, Ron asked me what I meant. I told him. He said - and I swear if I'd looked at him his eyes would have been glued to the TV as he was speaking - "Does she even have a head?" I kicked the ottoman out from underneath his feet. Does she even have a head? Pa-lease!
One of my favorite new discoveries (although it's been around for awhile) is "Good Eats." The host is chef Alton Brown and you can count on him to be wacky/entertaining and extremely knowledgeable about the chemistry of food. I feel like I'm adding some finesse to my cooking and learning exactly why it's important to always include the salt portion of any recipe. Why? Because it brings out all the other flavors you've added. Case in point: tonight we made generic old Minute Rice, but this time I used chicken broth instead of water and added a couple tablespoons of butter, a healthy pinch of salt, some pepper, parsley and dried basil. It was fabulous!
And - hallelujah - Jamie Oliver's back on TV! The Naked Chef (who was never really naked -Jamie's just a really brilliant chef who cooks beautiful food that's simple and stripped down) has left the city life and is now happily ensconced in a country manor, cooking up all sorts of earthy, lovely things. The show is called, "At Home With Jamie" and it's on Saturday mornings at 8:30 on the Food Network. Way to early for me, hence the dvr. And I love to hear him talk! I don't know what kind of accent it is (ok, I know he's British) but his dialogue is filled with slang - plonker, bash it - it's just fun. Check him out. And maybe the best part of Jamie are the names of his daughters - Daisy and Poppy!
Actually, the only one Ron watches with me is "Barefoot Contessa." And here's why. The beginning of the taping always has the last few seconds of "Everyday Italian" with Giada DiLaurentis. And, as sure as the sun rises in the East and sets in the West, there will be cleavage. Just a glimpse, but I guess it's enough. Over the holidays, Kate made the observation that Giada looks like a Bobble head doll. And, by golly, she does. She has a really large head. And a large forehead. Tonight when I called her Bobble Head, Ron asked me what I meant. I told him. He said - and I swear if I'd looked at him his eyes would have been glued to the TV as he was speaking - "Does she even have a head?" I kicked the ottoman out from underneath his feet. Does she even have a head? Pa-lease!
Friday, January 11, 2008
Of Wisdom Lost
As your kids get older, the rites of passage become more and more spread out. On Wednesday, Tyler completed his final rite as a teen (I think). He got his wisdom teeth surgically (and I'm sure, forcefully) removed.
The last time Tyler went under anesthesia he was about nine months old. He had to have his tear ducts drilled. Show of hands . . . anyone? Did you know that was even possible? I was a basket case when they took him away behind those cold, metal doors. This time, I barely looked up from the "Entertainment Weekly" magazine I was reading. "What? Ok, yeah. See ya later." In less than an hour I was called back to see my wounded baby. All I can say is that he was NOT wearing a cute little Children's Mercy Hospital t-shirt. Here was this big ole' guy barely hanging on to a recliner, head thrown back with a slack jaw. I rubbed his hair and his eyes rolled around and finally attempted to focus on me. For about a split second. Then he was gone again. The nurse came in and asked me if I thought he'd want the teeth, the ones formerly housed in his mouth. Tyler halfway sat up, eyes WIDE open and he said, "YETH!" Then he was out again. It was pretty funny. At least I thought it was funny. The nurse was acting rather bored by the whole thing, but I guess she's seen worse (or funnier).
I finally got Tyler home - after telling him eight times that we were NOT going to stop at Ahni (Sonic) because he could not have carbonated drinks. Each time he screwed up his face (which was also funny because he couldn't really move his muscles) like he was going to cry and said, "Wha?" (Why?) I about had a million wrecks because I couldn't understand him at all, but could kind of make out what he was saying if I looked at him while he was talking, which is really not advisable when you're driving on the highway at a high rate of speed (unless you're Ron Martin and then it's practically a requirement - driving at high speeds while not looking at the road, I mean).
Ron and I had to nearly hogtie Tyler to make him stay home. Tyler kept giving us the old "It's my last week at home. I have SO MUCH to do." I told him it wasn't my fault that he grew four wisdom teeth and had to have them surgically removed. I told him I only had TWO wisdom teeth. He looked at me like, "Well, that explains A LOT."
Maybe it's a good thing it's his last week at home.
The last time Tyler went under anesthesia he was about nine months old. He had to have his tear ducts drilled. Show of hands . . . anyone? Did you know that was even possible? I was a basket case when they took him away behind those cold, metal doors. This time, I barely looked up from the "Entertainment Weekly" magazine I was reading. "What? Ok, yeah. See ya later." In less than an hour I was called back to see my wounded baby. All I can say is that he was NOT wearing a cute little Children's Mercy Hospital t-shirt. Here was this big ole' guy barely hanging on to a recliner, head thrown back with a slack jaw. I rubbed his hair and his eyes rolled around and finally attempted to focus on me. For about a split second. Then he was gone again. The nurse came in and asked me if I thought he'd want the teeth, the ones formerly housed in his mouth. Tyler halfway sat up, eyes WIDE open and he said, "YETH!" Then he was out again. It was pretty funny. At least I thought it was funny. The nurse was acting rather bored by the whole thing, but I guess she's seen worse (or funnier).
I finally got Tyler home - after telling him eight times that we were NOT going to stop at Ahni (Sonic) because he could not have carbonated drinks. Each time he screwed up his face (which was also funny because he couldn't really move his muscles) like he was going to cry and said, "Wha?" (Why?) I about had a million wrecks because I couldn't understand him at all, but could kind of make out what he was saying if I looked at him while he was talking, which is really not advisable when you're driving on the highway at a high rate of speed (unless you're Ron Martin and then it's practically a requirement - driving at high speeds while not looking at the road, I mean).
Ron and I had to nearly hogtie Tyler to make him stay home. Tyler kept giving us the old "It's my last week at home. I have SO MUCH to do." I told him it wasn't my fault that he grew four wisdom teeth and had to have them surgically removed. I told him I only had TWO wisdom teeth. He looked at me like, "Well, that explains A LOT."
Maybe it's a good thing it's his last week at home.
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