Penultimate Grooviness

Sweet

2007-04-24T16:11:00.000-04:00

Check out my brother's website - it's awesome!

In other news, still pregnant. Yeah.

This is what we pay taxes for?

2007-03-09T09:09:00.000-05:00

So get this - the city sent us a letter a few weeks ago, stating their intention to replace our water meter and desiring us to set up an appointment for said replacement. Fine. Whatever. Appointment made.

The friendly lady from the water department came, attempted her work, pronounced it not good, and announced that, prior to replacing the meter, we would have to shell out for a plumber to come replace a valve (also involving the tearing up of concrete around selfsame valve). If this work were not completed in a timely matter, friendly lady informed, our water would be summarily shut off. We would then still have to pay for a plumber, and from thence the meter would be replaced and our water restored.

So, curiosity being what it is, I inquired as to the reason behind replacing the meter at all. Friendly lady said she didn't know, it was possible it was faulty, but more likely, said she, was that "some of the new girls in the office were just generating random lists".

WHAT???????

Come on!

2007-02-15T13:11:00.000-05:00

I mean, seriously.

Dear old Rabbie Burns

2007-01-25T15:36:00.000-05:00

Many thanks to the Mother of all Jurries, who alerted me that yesterday was the birthday of Robert Burns, the Bard of Scotland, and therefore the holiday known the world round as Burns night. Unfortunately the Birns did not have a traditional Burns dinner, though if we had...

We would have dined in style on cock-a-leekie soup, haggis, tatties and neeps (mashed potatoes and rutabagas), clootie dumpling pudding, and other such Scottish delicacies. All of this washed down with adequate amounts of the "water of life" (Scotch whiskey, naturally). We would have read the Address to a Haggis, with appropriate amounts of irony and humor, of course.

A time of "immortal memory" would have followed, with reminiscences of Burn's life and works expounded on at length. Steve would've proposed a toast to the lassy who had prepared the meal, along with sharing his views on womankind. I would then return the favor, with a toast to the laddy and a general ruminating on the shortcomings of men. This done, we'd have read our favorite Burns poems, sung our favorite Burns songs, and danced the Highland Fling. Festivities over, we'd have sung Auld Lang Syne, and called it a night.

Sadly, we didn't do any of this. I did make shortbread for prayer meeting though. It was good.

Selkirk Grace

Some hae meat and cannot eat.
Some cannot eat that want it:
But we hae meat and we can eat,
Sae let the Lord be thankit.

Finally!

2007-01-05T12:25:00.000-05:00

At long last I get around to putting the ultrasound pictures. We're so glad that our son seems to be healthy and well. He certainly is an active boy, with an apparent enthusiasm (and corresponding lack of talent) for dancing, particularly (but not limited to) between 2 and 4 in the morning. This dancing of course stops as I want to have Steve feel the baby's movements. A very stubborn boy, our Stuart.

Early this morning while the baby danced himself silly, I laid awake thinking big, ponderous thoughts. Well, honestly, most of my thoughts were of how much I wanted to be sleeping, but I did have some good thoughts. And the thing that strikes me about the middle of the night is how it's a perfect time for prayer. There are none of the distractions (well, besides rhythm-impaired infants) that exist during the day. No chores to be done, no blogs to be checked (it's been 2 minutes - there might be something new!), no errands to run, no calls to be made, no barking and dissenting dogs to discipline, no pretty, sparkly, brightly colored objects to be distracted by. It's 2 in the morning, it's dark, the bed is comfy and therefore a better alternative to being up, and things are generally pretty peaceful.

I won't say all that I prayed for, except to say that there were very fervent thanks to God for the man who invented Tums (I'm very grateful to this man, whomever he might be). I will say that I am very grateful to God for all His blessings in my life, including unborn white boys who can't dance. :-)

It's a boy!

2006-12-19T10:17:00.000-05:00

Yes folks, it's a boy. Stuart Mark Birn is due April 27, 2007, and those who know such things inform me that he is healthy and well and developmentally on track. We give thanks to God for this blessing, and covet prayers for continued health.

Ultrasound pictures are forthcoming.

BTW - I think little Stuart would look really cute in one of these (and for those of you who were sure it was a girl and wanted to order one of these, remember, Stuart might have a sister someday :-) )

Mmmmmmmmmm. Let's eat.

2006-12-11T10:14:00.000-05:00

Well, well. You've all done very well. Your suggestions for local eateries all sounded good, and were mostly within the boundaries of the rules. I was pleased to see some of my favorite spots recommended, some more than once. As I said, I figured this out earlier. But.... now I've rethought it several times. So the revised list goes as follows:

Breakfast: Now this is hard. I happen to love Wolfgang's Eggs Benedict, and though I've never tried them at Real Food Cafe or the Red Geranium, I'm sure they're scrumptious there as well. Still, all things considered, I'm going to stick with Brandywine. The Brandy Benedict is amazing (loaded with chicken, spinach, tomato, and cheese - yum), and comes with potatoes. Since I'm boring and only drink water when I go out, my total here is $7.50.

Lunch: Again, I am conflicted. I love the Cottage Bar (no one else in town makes better burgers, except of course my dear Mr B), enjoy Two Choppers (the almost Soup Nazi-ish style of ordering is worth it when you've got a yummy gyro to show for it), and am partial to the Real Food Cafe (I'm convinced they make everything with a stick of butter. How bad could that be?). I have to give a shout out to Russ' here, and say that as long as you don't order the hot turkey sandwich, most of the sandwiches are delightful. However, I had a big breakfast, and want something light. Therefore, a trip to Marie Catrib's is in order, where the hummus and tabbouleh pita is delish. I can't remember exactly how much that costs, but I'm going to guess it's in the neighborhood of $7.00.

Snack: A little slice of happiness in the form of Arnie's Dutch Chocolate Torte. It's dark chocolate, so it's good for you. Yeah. Costs somewhere around $3.00.

Dinner: San Chez is really really good. So is Tre Cugini. So is Pietros. And One Trick Pony, and Yen Ching (though sadly, as noted before, the good Yen Ching is closed), and Osta's and so many more. But right now I'm in the mood for chicken vesuvio, and no one makes it better (if they make it at all) than Olive's in East GR. The large portion goes for about $14.00, and comes with yummy potatoes and artichokes.

Dessert: The only no contest question. Any of the yummerific confections at La Dolce Vita, taking out that last $8.00. Yes, I know I got cake for snack. Shut up. It's good cake and I ate a light lunch. And La Dolce Vita is not to be missed. It's fantastic. Seriously.

Total cost:
$39.50

I think I want cake now. In fact, I think I need cake. The baby needs cake. Mmmmm....

Let's all play $40 a Day!

2006-12-01T14:18:00.000-05:00

Those of you who read my husband's blog know that he recently posted about our fascination with and loathing for tv cook Rachael Ray. It would be as well to say here that we do occasionally use her recipes and certainly her general ideas when creating the daily gourmet feast known as dinner at the Birns. However, the queen of perkiness does grate on the nerves after not too long. Why do we watch? Clearly we're sick. Shut up. We can stop whenever we want to. Yeah.

Anyway, where I'm going with this is: amongst her many shows, Rachael Ray hosts a program entitled $40 a Day, wherin she visits different cities (usually American, though she has gone to Europe). The gimmick is that she has a budget of $40 per day (duh) with which to feed herself (breakfast, lunch, and dinner, sometimes with a drink or snack thrown in). She patronizes only local establishments, and often supposedly gets the opinion of the yocals as to where the best places are.

SO... my question is this, where would you go here in the greater Grand Rapids area* with $40 to blow? Now, in order to play this little game of mine, you have to give recommendations for breakfast, lunch, and dinner (if you think you'd have monies to spare for a snack or drink, please share where you'd spend them) . If you have favorite dishes at your restaurants, please name them, and better still, if you have a general idea of cost, include that. You don't have to figure in tips - Rachael Ray only does when it suits her. No going out of your way to impress me with your thriftiness either. If you happen to come in severely under budget, so be it, but the point is to get the most out of your forty bucks. Local chains are allowed, but no national chains or big box eateries. Them's the rules, baby. **

Where would I go? I figured it out earlier. I'll tell you later. I want to see if other people have the same ideas as I do. In fact, I'm really looking forward to seeing where y'all would go. Mostly because I'm nosy, but also because I'm hungry, despite a very delish lunch at a place that may well show up on some lists here.

Isn't this a fun game? We can all sit and think about food. Not much better than that, I'm thinking.

*To those reading outside GR that would still like to play, go ahead. I'll have no choice but to trust your recommendations. :)

**A note to certain wise guys who work at a certain local chain who may or may not be related to me - entries listing breakfast, lunch, and dinner all deriving from the same local chain (even if they are different locations) are considered invalid. Nice try.

Confession

2006-11-14T14:23:00.000-05:00

Today I ate a whole can of French's Onion Rings - the cheesy kind to boot - all by myself.

Further confession - I feel no remorse.

Items of Interest

2006-10-24T14:55:00.000-04:00

First of all and most importantly of all, I have joyous news to impart. As of last week, D&W (otherwise a mostly worthless and overpriced grocery, but I say nothing) is carrying a line of stir-fry sauces from Yen Ching. This line includes General Tso sauce - hooray! Now I just have to figure out how to make the tempura chicken. That'll be easy, right?

As my dear Mr B has recorded already, last week found us in Chicago. There, as you will certainly gather from his account, we ate like pigs who had lost interest in life and really let themselves go. Not recorded in his posts are the visits to the Ghiradelli, Hershey, and Lindt stores. To all who anticipate travel to the Windy City, note this: each of these stores offers free samples upon entering the store, and the person handing out free samples never looks up. You can go through again and again and they never catch on. Fun times. All I can say is that the baby wanted chocolate. And as far as the Morton's dinner went... well, clearly the baby wanted beef and lots of it. They say protein is important during pregnancy, right?

We attended the Chicago Symphony Orchestra's performance of Mahler's Third Symphony. Firstly, the positives. The building is very beautiful. The symphony orchestra itself is a very talented group, with the brass section in particular getting a chance to shine. Michelle DeYoung was the visiting mezzo-soprano and she does have a very lovely voice (though girlfriend should consider some anti-frizz treatment for her hair). I hadn't been to a symphony performance so far this year, and thoroughly enjoyed going again. I really do enjoy classical music and am always ready to jump at an opportunity to attend a performance.

Now. The negatives. I have two main complaints, neither of which I expect sympathy for, but which I shall share nonetheless. First of all, while flanked on the left by my dear Mr B, seated next to me on the right was a gentleman of considerable girth and not so apparent standards of hygiene. That is to say, he stunk to high heaven. In addition to these considerable disadvantages, he appeared to suffer from emphysema or COPD or some such respiratory distress. This distress he made worse by silently weeping throughout the duration of the performance. The pattern of the evening was then to weep and wheeze, alternately, with some apparently moving sections producing heavier weeping and the resultant desperate wheezing and clutching for air. Strangely, all this silent but copious emotion and pulminary distress seemed to make the stench worse. Most distressing.

The second negative is that the symphony was written by Mahler. Now, it may well be that Herr Mahler was a convivial sort, perhaps even a barrel of laughs. I don't know much about his life. What I do know is that he wrote some really awful music. The 3rd Symphony, which we heard, was apparently based off a work of Nietzsche. Not a good indicator of what was to come. His music is why people think they hate classical music. It's the sort of music that goes on and on and on being quiet and boring only to startle all of the dozing audience by having the trumpets and drums come crashing in pointlessly. If the Symphony we heard was any indication of Mahler's other works, he seemed to be a fan of the endless ending. That's when the music gives every indication that it is coming to an end, and in fact seems to have ended, only to, against all reason, continue and give at least five more false endings before finally, mercifully, coming to a stop. They should consider playing Mahler down at Club Gitmo. While awful in a different way than Britney Spears, it might be just as effective.

That said, it was fun to go and I'm glad we went. We had fun times shopping on Michigan Ave and certainly enjoyed the trip over all. Fun times, y'all.

In other news, the ignitor went out on my oven, but will be replaced tomorrow (let the peasants rejoice).

Last night Mr B and I went to a dismally boring training session on how to be poll challengers. I hope the job isn't as boring as the training and I really hope I don't have to work with some of the yutzes who were asking stupid questions and prolonging the agony for all of us. I am anxious to see which ghetto precinct they're going to put me into and whether or not I'll have to do much challenging. I actually hope I get to challenge something and feel like I did my part to keep election procedures fair, legal, and etc. Also, I think I will bring cookies so the poll workers will like me.

Hmmm... what else? Probably not so much. Mayhap I will write more soon, but I wouldn't count on it if I were you. Also, how is it one updates to this Beta Blogger, and is it worth it? Hmm...

Major craving alert

2006-10-16T10:27:00.000-04:00

Right now I desperately want to eat General Tso chicken from Yen Ching. But not Yen Ching on 28th St. They don't make it right there. I want General Tso chicken from Yen Ching downtown, which of course has been closed for a couple of years. And no other Chinese place will do. If it be not Yen Ching, it be not worthwhile. I thusly recognize that this craving is impossible to fufill. That, however, does not mean I can focus on anything else. All I can think about is lovely General Tso chicken. Yummy spicy crispy chicken. With sticky rice. Or maybe fried rice. Yeah, fried rice. And crab rangoon. And that tea they made at Yen Ching (downtown, of course). Oy. It's gonna be a long day.

I hate snow

2006-10-12T10:57:00.000-04:00

I'm not ready for winter yet.

Well well

2006-09-17T12:50:00.000-04:00

Sentient Nebulae!

2006-09-01T08:01:00.000-04:00

Heh. I really just wanted to use that for a post title. I have no earthly idea what this post will actually be about. How fun for you, the reader.

Weeeeellllllllllllllll.......... lessee. This week.... hmmmm.... well, we discovered that we're quite good at making gumbo, and quite awful at thinking ahead. I suppose if we had thought ahead, we could've cut the recipe in half, or maybe even quarters. But no. We aren't smart like that. We instead made a vat full of it, and I'm quite serious when I say that I can't stand the sight of it anymore. But it is delicious. Maybe we'll airmail it to some starving goodish sized country.

Also discovered this week was the third floor here at Chez Birn. Mrs P was so good as to accompany me on this adventure, and will bear witness to the extreme coolness of said attic. Lovely wood floors, exposed brick, nifty windows - I'm quite excited.

Is it cheating to link to something someone else just linked? Very well, then, I'm a cheat. My brother John linked this WAY awesome music video several weeks ago and since I'm a big old dork, I still think it's cool despite repeated viewings and the fact that it's probably really not cool at all to begin with. That's ok. I'm good with being a dork.

So tomorrow begins MSU football season. Oy. Not going to tomorrow's game, but instead will experience football widowhood for the first time. Maybe I'll go shopping. Yeah. And get new football widowhood shoes. Ok, maybe I can live with this.

Anyway, another boring post concluded. I really ought to start a nice educational series of posts soon. Yes. Yes, indeed. I shall.

Maybe.

Rant

2006-08-26T17:19:00.000-04:00

Well, Mr B and I returned from our stint as delegates at the Michigan Republican Convention. It was an interesting time, frought with amusement.

It also resurrected one of my 314 (or so) pet peeves and personal bugaboos. That is the apparent ignorance on the part of those in government as to what system of government operates in this country. I couldn't blame you if you thought you lived in a democracy. All our state officials think so too. As a matter of fact, our president seems under that impression as well. Sadly, all of them are wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. Because the United States of America is not a democracy.

That's right, I said it. We don't live in a democracy. We live in a representative republic. There's a difference. Now, those representatives are voted into office in a democratic fashion. This is admirable. But it does not a true democracy make. It merely means that democratic principles are upheld within the context of a representative republic.

So the next time you hear some politician talking about this great democracy that we live in, scratch your head a bit and wonder : does this person live in a different country (like California?) and does he or she think we live there too? or is he or she just plain ignorant? Maybe they weren't paying attention in grade school (which is when I learned this), or worse, maybe it's just not taught anymore. Either way is a sad state of affairs.

Pfui.

A Bright, Shiny, New Day in Brogging

2006-08-21T14:29:00.000-04:00

This is only like the coolest brog ever. It's wonderful! I love it! It's great! Well, it's pretty good. It's not too bad. There are some parts that aren't that great. It actually could be a lot better. I don't really like it all that much. It's pretty terrible. It's awful, as a matter of fact.

Sodium related query

2006-08-17T16:14:00.000-04:00

Who do you think it was that first looked at salt and thought, "Hey, I'll eat that!", and more importantly, why?

Singin la la la la la-la-la la

2006-08-09T15:52:00.000-04:00

Well, folks, even grooviness, penultimate though it be, takes a vacation now and then. But all vacations must come to an end sooner or later. Elstwise they would not be vacations, would they? Exactly.

At any rate, grooviness and coolness are abounding. For serious. For instance, yesterday I went to vote in the primaries and got to vote for my own husband. How cool is that? I mean, really. That's pretty sweet stuff there.

Mrs P has returned from her sojurn in Canada bearing news of a new Ikea store in Canton. The excitement is pert near too much, I can tell you. I've got a little list...

I've often thought about the kind of bakery I would open, given half a chance. I found it, last Saturday, whilst in Detroit. Mr B, who is always spot on when it comes to predicting what I will and will not like, assured me I would love the Astoria Pastry Shop in Greektown. I doubted, to my shame, and was proved wrong in a big way. This place is amazing. I found, to my dissapointment, that my husband did not intend to buy me one of everything so I could sample the full range of yumminess. I instead contented myself with the chocolate mousse, a cookie, and a promise that every future sporting event I am dragged to in the Motor City will be rewarded by a visit to my new favorite bakery. I think I can live with that.

I promised several posts re: our Italian adventures. I will try to scrabble something together later. For now, I will tell the tale of a very obnoxious American tourist. We were seated in a lovely trattoria, enjoying the customary long pause between ordering and receiving our food, when we couldn't help overhearing a loud, brightly dressed, very American woman. She was surveying her menu (full of unbelievably delicious Italian food) and was unable to find that which she sought after. She then interrogated the waiter, "Do you have spaghetti and meatballs? You know, meatballs? You make them with hamburger and breadcrumbs and egg? Meatballs? They're Italian!" It was at that moment that I clearly saw why Europeans hate Americans. And I really can't say as I blame them.

Well, well. Can't sit around typing all day. Must move along. On a final note of coolness, I just want to say welcome back to blogging, Loretta. Very cool.

There

2006-07-13T12:09:00.000-04:00

I updated.

"There seems to be a proponderance of naked men..."

2006-06-10T11:02:00.000-04:00

Scared ya there, didn't I? Heh. The above quote was first uttered by a passing British tourist, in regards to Florentine statuary. Said tourist was correct, incidentally.

Italy was absolutely amazing. I will post about our travels in greater detail later on, suffice it to say for now that it was beautiful. Florence and Siena were my favorites, though I loved the Cinque Terre. We spent one day in Bologna and that was one day too many, I regret to say. Venice was at once decrepit and lovely. That said, it wasn't my fav. Since hardly anyone actually lives there, it's mostly tourists, and that tries the nerves.

The tourists, you see, are an interesting lot. There were the Germans, who were rude and obnoxious and also still seem under the impression that Italy belongs to them. There were the Japanese, who raced after their tour guide's uplifted umbrella, determined to see the five things they came to see and nothing else. The Brits were hilarious, providing hours of entertainment and education to the casual eavesdropper. They seem to work in teams - they all take turns providing opportunities for each other to pontificate on art, history, botany, or whatever happens to be the topic du jour. I'll give 'em this much - they did their homework before they came.

And then there are the Americans. Oy. How embarrassing. There's nothing worse than realizing that your countrymen visiting abroad are treating the place like Epcot. A hint to those who would travel - Europe is not a zoo. I'll be writing a rant about obnoxious American tourists at some point this week. I've got issues with these folk.

The food, should you wish to know, was far and away the best I've had ever. I loved loved loved loved loved the gelato (and whaddya know? there's a stand on every corner!) and we got some chocolate yummiliciousness at the pasticherrias as well. I'm somewhat addicted to prosciutto and fresh mozzerella sandwiches now, as well as Nutella and biscuits for breakfast. And someday maybe I'll be able to eat pasta at a resturant here in the states, but it won't be soon. It's just too soon to desecrate the memory of real Italian pasta.

The countryside was spectacular. We had really lovely views from our rooms while in Tuscany, and the Mediterrianian is breathtakingly beautiful. I think we were able to balance seeing really important sights and living somewhat like locals, albeit rather odd locals. We visited world famous art museums, and sat in a local laundromat. We walked in a grand palace and skulked around in it's dungeons. We walked and walked and walked and walked and walked (we NEEDED the gelato for energy! yeah! that's the ticket!), and spent some lovely hours hanging out in the piazzas

Ah yes, so much to write about, but frankly, I'm jet-lagged and have had to re-type almost every word. This won't do at all. I'll write more later. By the way, the links in the second paragraph are to our pictures. These aren't all of them, but they're by far the best. Ciao ciao!

Somebody's getting marrrieeeed!!!!!

2006-05-26T08:39:00.000-04:00

Bears:
Extra! Extra! Somebody's getting married!
Somebody's getting married? HEY, somebody's getting married!
Whoa, somebody's getting married!
Pops: Somebody's getting married???
Lew Zealand: Somebody's getting marrrrieeeed!
Group:
Somebody's getting married! Somebody's getting married! Somebody's getting somebody's getting somebody's getting somebody somebody somebody somebody...!
Kermit, Gonzo, Fozzie, Scooter:
Somebody get some flowers!
Somebody get a ring!
Somebody get a chapel and a choir to sing!
Kermit: Somebody get an organ to play!
Singing Tuxedos: Cause somebody's getting married today!
Miss Piggy, Janice, Camilla:
Somebody get a preacher!
Somebody bake a cake!
Somebody get some shoes and rice and presents to take!
Miss Piggy: Somebody get a sweet negilee!
Singing Veils: Cause somebody's getting married today!
Swedish Chef: Veddeeng! Veddeeng! Peeg und fruggeee veddeeng!
Men:
Somebody get champagne!
Somebody rent a room!
Girls:
Somebody get the lovely bride!
And somebody get the-
Men: Somebody get the-
Both: Somebody somebody somebody somebody somebody--!
Female Voices: Somebody get this wedding underway!
Swedish Chef: Coose-a sumebudy's getteeng merreeed toodey!
Bear Family: Somebody's getting married....today!
Ernie: Are they here yet, are they here yet, did I miss it, am I late?
Bert: No, they're be here any minute!
Cookie Monster: Oh boy, me can hardly wait.
Pops: Isn't this exciting--it's the wedding of the year!
Sam The Eagle: Well, can't we start without them?
Muppet News Anchorman: No, you can't until they're here.
Sam: Hmm.
Chorus of Penguins: They're finally getting married now!

I'm getting married tomorrow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh I say, that's rather splendid, isn't it?

2006-05-24T10:36:00.000-04:00

Huzzah and hurrah for those good old crumpets, my brothers. These chaps rallied round and made me a rather splendid present of the complete Jeeves and Wooster series on DVD. Absolutely topping and all that. Words fail to express gratitude, etc for said marvelous gift.

My nephew is here!!!!!!

2006-05-23T15:00:00.000-04:00

Congratulations to Justin and Marion Pickering on the birth of their precious baby boy, George Brice!!! He's here!!!!!!

Five days to go

2006-05-22T15:08:00.000-04:00

Everyone keeps asking me if I'm nervous yet. This makes me nervous.

Sufficiently Decayed

2006-05-16T11:56:00.000-04:00

So I've had this song stuck in my head all day; and as I see it, the best way to rid myself of it is to, that's right, blog about it. Or not so much blog about it as simply put up the lyrics. Though it's worth mentioning that the version with Eric Idle (as pictured above) is quite amusing. OK. So this is a complete cop-out of a post. Shut up. I'll write about interesting things again this summer. Maybe. We'll see. Read the lyrics. Gah.

Katisha:
There is beauty in the bellow of the blast,
There is grandeur in the growling of the gale,
There is eloquent outpouring
When the lion is a-roaring,
And the tiger is a-lashing of his tail!

Ko-Ko:

Yes, I like to see a tiger
From the Congo or the Niger,
And especially when lashing of his tail!

Katisha:

Volcanoes have a splendour that is grim,
And earthquakes only terrify the dolts,
But to him who's scientific
There's nothing that's terrific
In the falling of a flight of thunderbolts!

Ko-Ko:

Yes, in spite of all my meekness,
If I have a little weakness,
It's a passion for a flight of thunderbolts!

Both:

If that is so,
Sing derry down derry!
It's evident, very,
Our tastes are one.
Away we'll go,
And merrily marry,
Nor tardily tarry
Till day is done!

Ko-Ko:

There is beauty in extreme old age —
Do you fancy you are elderly enough?
Information I'm requesting
On a subject interesting:
Is a maiden all the better when she's tough?

Katisha:

Throughout this wide dominion
It's the general opinion
That she'll last a good deal longer when she's tough.

Ko-Ko:

Are you old enough to marry, do you think?
Won't you wait till you are eighty in the shade?
There's a fascination frantic
In a ruin that's romantic;
Do you think you are sufficiently decayed?

Katisha:

To the matter that you mention
I have given some attention,
And I think I am sufficiently decayed.

Both:
If that is so,
Sing derry down derry!
It's evident, very,
Our tastes are one.
Away we'll go,
And merrily marry,
Nor tardily tarry
Till day is done!

If that is so,
Sing derry down derry!
It's evident, very,
Our tastes are one.
Away we'll go,
And merrily marry,
Nor tardily tarry
Till day is done!

Sing derry down derry!
We'll merrily marry,
Nor tardily tarry
Till day is done!

Wheel of morality, turn, turn, turn. Tell us the lesson that we should learn.

2006-05-09T12:43:00.000-04:00

So ever since John and Chuck posted about Animaniacs stuff on YouTube, I've been struck with how educational a show my favorite cartoon really was. That's right. I said it was educational. Not a waste of time at all. No. It was educational. Yeah. That's my story. I'm stickin' with it. It was instructive and informative. Note, if you will, the geographical lessons - nations of the world, states and capitols, even planets of our solar system. The senses song is classic, of course, but nothing, no nothing, can possibly compete with the coolest song ever. Neuroanatomy rocks, y'all.

fol-der-ol and fid-dle-dy-dee

2006-04-28T13:56:00.000-04:00

OK, just some random thoughts today, written in a self absorbed manner, not unlike a livejournal or similar wanna be blog. I really should be cleaning, but sitting down and typing whatever fool thing comes to my head sounded much better. That's right. I'm cool like that.

On the subject of Lebanese food in Grand Rapids - first of all, I just want to say that I am a fan. Second of all, I thought it over, and really, Marie Catrib's has the best hummus. But Osta's Chicken Tawook is amazing and the baklava was the best I've had in a long time. So really, you can't miss.

On the subject of cleaning, which isn't sounding any better at the moment, frankly - I have waaaayyyy too much stuff here in my room. Seriously, it'd be easier to set fire to it than take care of it. Don't worry, Mom, I won't. I shall instead inflict all this stuff upon the poor. Yeah.

On the subject of shopping - again, I'm a fan. Blue Turtle Books (I'm pretty sure that's what the name was) at Godfrey and Hall is a way fun place. I intend to go there often. There is no finer smell in the world than used books. Except perhaps rubber cement. But that's probably just me.

Also on the subject of shopping - Rumor is that The Pepperberry closed. I hope this isn't true. I liked that place. Didn't often buy there, which is probably why they're closed, but I liked wandering around there.

On the subject of very exciting events - yesterday I got to feel little George Pickering kicking his poor mother. He's going to be here soon! I can't wait to hold him!

On a related subject, but with a strange and slightly depressing thought - Chances are really good that said George will be taller than me when he's ten. Great. I'll be his old and short Aunt Janna. He'll probably pat me on the head. Gah.

Back to cleaning - Haley's Hints is a great book, but what I wonder is who decided in the first place to try some of these things? I mean, I wouldn't look at a stain and think, "well, I'll mix some vinegar and toothpaste and salt and water softener and baking soda, spread it on a cut lemon, rub it on, and hope for the best!". But all these hints seem to work, so bully to whoever thought outside the box.

On the subject of still avoiding actual work - I could go for some waffles right now. Mmmmm.....

On the subject of things a certain brother is going to install on my computer - The Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam has this nifty widget thingy whereby they send you a different painting from their collection every single day. Also, it must be said, the Rijksmuseum website is much, much, much nicer and more informative than the Uffizi site. Not that that does me a bit of good, but still, there it is.

On the subject of waitressing - well, the less said about that the better. I'm almost done. I'll miss my coworkers at Russ' for sure. They're a great bunch of people. That said, I'm sick of getting pocket change and gospel tracts for tips. Cheap Dutchies, leaving me carefully counted out pennies, as if I work there for fun and the pennies are a pleasant bonus, rather than my main form of income. And then there was that Jew who came in the other night, insisted I wait on his table, and then made me give him a penny to help cover his bill. Gosh. Who let him in?

On the subject of the wedding - it's only four weeks away. Wow. It seems like everything's coming together. I don't know. I feel like I'm forgetting something. Oh well. It probably isn't anything important. Hopefully.

On the subject of things annoying, irritating, and generally pesky - My hair. It's a disaster. Seriously, growing it out sounds all fine and well, but it has no style now. I'd cut it all off, but for the wedding. I swear, I will get it cut in Italy.

On the subject of fun times - getting reply cards from wedding invites makes me happy. Of course, getting mail generally always makes me happy. There's something about a letter coming in the mail that can never be matched by email. The only thing better is getting a package from UPS. Oh yeah. I've got two coming. Excitement.

OK - I've slacked off WAY too long now. Back to work. This is a long post, so I don't expect I'll get more that 10 comments. Had I posted, "lalalalalalalalala", I might have gotten something like 87 comments, but I've been given to understand that that is demoralizing to fellow broggers, and we can't have that. No, indeedy. Also, I'm realizing that there's no way to end this post, except abruptly.

Alas! for these are degenerate times...

2006-04-05T11:51:00.000-04:00

Woe to us that we should see the day! Ruffians and hooligans are wandering the streets of the previously halycon Grandville, egging the unoffending vehicles of the citizenry at will! Dissipation and profligacy abound! Will Grandville become the next ghetto? Will all cars be vulnerable to the evil intentions of various rotters and bad eggs (punny)? We fear. We tremble. We are dashed well shaken to the core. Or not. Either, really.

Am I going nuts or is that you?

2006-03-28T04:04:00.000-05:00

So this was freaky weird. I looked at the clock, and it said 3:43. I looked again what surely seemed to be a minute later and the clock still said 3:43. I gazed upon the timepiece for what seemed to be a lifetime, and it remained at 3:43. I concluded the clock had become frozen. I couldn't resist one last look only seconds later - imagine my suprise when I saw that not only was 3:43 done and over, but the clock had seemingly given 3:44 a miss and gone straight to 3:45. I'm now scared of my obviously possessed clock.

It also occurs to me that perhaps 4 in the morning is not the wisest time to be shopping on Ebay. Too bad, that.

A New Post?

2006-03-14T15:14:00.000-05:00

So it seems.

There really are people like that out there

2006-03-06T10:45:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking lately about my days spent at the flower shop. People have the mistaken impression that what florists do all day is make daisy chains or something. Would that this were true. Mose of the time, a flower shop employee is dealing with the lunatic demands of the nouveau riche; all the while knowing that, no matter what, there will be nasty complaint calls to deal with. Some of our customers had extremely vivid imaginations and would conjure up, not only the most ghastly ideas for floral arrangements, but extreme conspiracy theories about how we were trying to make them look bad.

The best complaint call I ever had was in reference to an order I had only taken under duress (at Valentine's, no less). A man of dubious charm decided that nothing would do but to send a bud vase with a dead red rose, a dead white rose, and a perfect pink rose. He had dreamed up some sappy symbolism about how he and his girlfriend were, separately, like the dead roses, in that they were imperfect. But, and this is where the sap levels rise dangerously, put together they made a perfect combination, i.e. the pink rose. It was all really stupid and I told him so. I argued and argued that we, as a professional florist, could not send dead flowers intentionally. He demanded to speak to the owner, and finally after a valiant battle, said owner relented.

Well, the moron didn't convey his hidden meaning in his card message. The girlfriend called and was furious. She was, she said, the laughingstock of the office (question: who laughs at someone who gets dead roses? Who is really that cruel? Most likely, the coworkers didn't care or notice. but I digress). Only after several minutes of screaming, sobbing, and angry recriminations and threats was I able to get a word in edgewise. I explained her idiot boyfriend's thought process and then had to deal with the enraptured gushings and bleating sobs of a thoroughly snowed woman. She thought that her boyfriend was about the sweetest thing ever and couldn't believe how thoughtful and creative he was. She seemed pleased by my observation that they seemed perfect for each other (thank goodness she missed the sarcasm!), and no doubt thinks of the shop fondly.

I miss the wackos.

Forced by Public Outcry...

2006-02-22T13:04:00.000-05:00

Rejoice, all ye who have longed to better understand the enigma that is Present Reality! Our pleadings have not been in vain! Check out the newest brog! Judging by the first post, I would say that this is going to be an extremely interesting and just a little bizarre spot in the brogosphere.

Parlo un po' l'italiano

2006-02-20T13:30:00.000-05:00

C'e qualcuno qui che parla l'inglese?

A Gem of Wisdom Imparted at Pal's Diner

2006-02-18T23:29:00.000-05:00

Congrats to Mrs P, who came up with the quote of the week:

"Ah! Mayo! Sweet nectar of life!!!"

Sweet, indeed.

Plant you now and dig you later

2006-02-09T11:38:00.000-05:00

Does it get any better than swing slang? I don't think so.

What About Bob?

2006-02-02T18:46:00.000-05:00

I mean, really, what about him?

What Day Is It?

2006-01-25T10:04:00.000-05:00

Maybe it's tomorrow, and maybe it's not,

Maybe it's yesterday, I done forgot!

Hey, what day is it? Could you please tell me?

What day is it? What day is it? I'm confused, you see! OH!

Charge it!!!

2006-01-23T00:57:00.000-05:00

Here at Penultimate Grooviness, capitalism is very much encouraged. In efforts to support the free market, many purchases are made (hey! I'm being patriotic! right? right? oh...) and the search is always on for appropriate places for those funny little slips of paper we call money to be spent at.

Well, I am pleased to report that a new e-store has been opened! Nate, of Presbyterian Thoughts and Life on Union Avenue fame, has designed a number of items, both useful and decorative. Amongst the favorites of yours truly are the Girlie Presbyterian shirt and the Calvin the Blogger apron. Also on my wish list are the ARC of GR sweatshirt and notebook (useful for keeping up with Rev Lanning, and definitely helpful for up and coming conventricles (sp?)!), though one wonders about the man bag.

So, chickens, run out and do your patriotic duty (and help pay someone's seminary tuition!) and buy, buy, buy!

If I ran the world...

2006-01-19T18:06:00.000-05:00

... socks would stay in the ownership of those who had purchased them and not disappear for seemingly no reason.
... catalogues would come in the mail everyday. Good ones too, full of crap you never knew you wanted.
... gas would be free, as well as car insurance. Also, cars would be free to people I liked. But not to morons, because they shouldn't be on the road. Actually, I'd get to choose who got to drive. yeah.
... there would be no billiards clocks. ;-)
... passports would be free. And there would be no obnoxious lines at the post office full of whiny old people would can't handle standing and waiting for five minutes. Also, there would be a rule about postal workers having to be witty and charming and thus interesting to converse with.
... there would be a minimum 25% tipping law enforced at Grandville Russ', regardless of quality of care. yeah.
... everyone else's blogs would be updated daily, and I'd never have to update, but still get hundreds of comments.

Woot!!!

2006-01-13T01:04:00.000-05:00

Yes, it's true.

Yes, I'm very happy.

Yes, I've been blessed beyond all reason.

May 27, people...

Curious Deaths of some Burmese Kings

2006-01-04T15:05:00.000-05:00

Theinhko: killed by a farmer whose cucumbers he ate without permission. Theinkho’s Queen, fearing civil disorder, smuggled the farmer into the royal palace and dressed him in royal robes. He was proclaimed King Nyaung-U Sawrhan, and was known as the ‘Cucumber King’. He later transformed his cucumber plantation into a spacious and pleasant royal garden. (931 AD)

Anawrahta: gored by a buffalo during a military campaign. (1077 AD)

Uzana: trampled to death by an elephant. (1254 AD)

Narathihapate: forced at knife-point to take poison. (1287 AD)

Minrekyawsa: crushed to death by his own elephant. (1417 AD)

Razadarit: died after becoming entangled in the rope with which he was lassoing elephants. (1423 AD)

Tabinshweti: beheaded by his chamberlains while searching for a fictitious white elephant. (1551 AD)

Nandabayin: laughed to death when informed, by a visiting Italian merchant, that Venice was a free state without a king. (1599 AD)

Yet another shameless bid for comments to feed my gluttonous blogger ego

2006-01-01T13:55:00.000-05:00

What titles would you contribute to a list of books every child should read?
All genres are fair game.

Oh, why not?

2005-12-29T10:54:00.000-05:00

Well, seeing as it's so in vogue these days to have at least two blogs per person, I have opened a new division of the Ministry of the World. The Ministry of Food promises to be quite the entertaining little spot on the web; do please check it out!

Well, I laughed...

2005-12-26T10:35:00.000-05:00

The other night I was out and about, and after the out and aboutness had almost ceased, was standing on an unnamed street with a certain person saying goodnight when our attention was distracted in a most amusing way.

Down the road a piece was a chain link fence. This fence was further topped with barbed wire fencing. The whyness of the barbed wire is something that remains a mystery, especially considering said fence surrounds a building that is not of what one would believe to be of the barbed wire persuasion. Anyways, what drew attention to the otherwise rather humdrum fence was the fact that a pickup had backed into a driveway alongside of it. Out of the truck emerged several men of the youngish, kinda longhaired variety. They began to hurl snowballs rather energetically at something, and spoke rather loudly about how "angry it looks" and how "it's gonna come after us!". Well, being as it was after 2:30 in the afternoon, it was rather dark out, so we thought about wandering over and seeing what was up. One of the seemly young men, moved by the emotion of the evening, decided a song was called for and began to sing that old favorite, "Eye of the Tiger"; a move that of course cinched the deal. We trudged over.

Well, caught in the barbed wire was an extremely irate looking possum. The boys had ceased to pelt snowballs at this point, evidently deciding that that method had not been successful in dislodging the beast. In a baffling turn of events, they retrieved the snow shovels they were inexplicably carrying in the truck. These shovels they then used to try and pry the wire apart far enough to free the livid rodent. The rodent, however, would have none of it, causing one kinda long haired guy to say, "Man, little dude. If you're not gonna help yourself, we're not gonna help you."

Despite this ominous threat, the young men continued pluckily to rescue their unwilling hostage. The possum looked as if it were ready to jump and gnaw their faces off, and probably the faces of all innocent bystanders. We stepped back. Just when all seemed lost, the possum shuffled on off the fence suddenly. There was a terrifying moment when uncertainty reigned; no one knowing what way the animal would travel. After what could best be described as a withering glance at his rescuers, the ungrateful wretch stalked offwards into the night, and the show was over.

Good story, huh?

Merry Christmas!

2005-12-23T12:45:00.000-05:00


When I'm worried and I can't sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep
Counting my blessings
When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep
Counting my blessings

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads
And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds
If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep
Counting your blessings

Random Stuff

2005-12-15T19:23:00.001-05:00

Well, the semester is over! Hurrah! I managed to pull through finals creditably and now don't care to think about school until January.

Christmas is coming and I still have to buy gifts. Hmmm...

Not enough people appreciate Abba music. It's about as cool as it gets. Disco rocks, y'all.

Could it be that the gnomes of Wendler Avenue have come here to Pineview for the sole purpose of stealing my socks? It would explain a lot.

My sister Grace has a pretty sweet series going on her blog. Muppets are the reason for the season! Oh... wait...

Well, that's probably enough randomness for this evening. A new blog series is forthcoming on the rising architectural trend of neo-urbanism. I know, I know. It sounds thrilling. Try and calm yourselves.

This is worth 40% of your grade...

2005-12-12T19:08:00.000-05:00

Magdeburg or Dresden?

Why?

They Glorifed Mary, We Glorifed Rice

2005-12-09T10:06:00.000-05:00

I've been cleaning up my favorites bookmarks and came across a bunch of "You Might Be A .... IF..." lists. They're really too funny. The best were from the Lutheran, Presbyterian, and Dutch Reformed lists. The sad thing is that I relate to most of these.

You might Be Dutch Reformed IF...

you get excited at the thought of salted licorice

you don't think twice when someone mentions their Oma

you insist on singing the Dutch words to Ere Zig Gott

you get a sun burn when you read under a lamp.

you consider 30°F in the winter is warm.

you take off your shoes before entering the house

your last name begins with "Van"

you decided to form a study committee to add items to this list.

your study committee submitted a majority and minority report.

you develop a craving for ham buns.

you hear "tulip" and think "total depravity, unconditional election,..."

you visit another church and the second question you're asked is, "Are you related to...."

you can't think of any use for peppermints outside of church.

you've heard of a guy named Dooyeweerd.

you think kids who go to public school are strange.

a church picnic isn't the place to find Ms. or Mr. Right -- because everyone's related.

you get agitated and start looking at your watch when the minister says, "And my 4th point is...."

You Might Be a Lutheran IF...

you give a party and don't tell anyone where it is

during the entire service you hold your hymnal open but never look down at it

rather than introducing yourself to a visitor at church, you check their name out in the guestbook.

you think Garrison Keillor's stories are totally factual.

you have your wedding reception in the fellowship hall and feel guilty about not staying to help clean up.

you forget to put water in the baptismal font but never forget to put water in the coffee pot.

you don't make eye contact when passing someone in the hall because you think it's impolite.

your choir believes volume is a fair substitute for tonality.

in response to someone jumping up and shouting "Praise the Lord!", you politely remind him or her that we don't do that around here.

you think a meeting isn't legitimate unless it's at least three hours long.

you don't know what was sooo funny about dat movie "Fargo" then.

you make change in the offering plate for a ten.

you think butter is a spice.

you know what a "dead spread" is

you hear something really funny and smile as loud as you can.

you carry silverware in your pocket to church just in case there's a potluck.

you read your Catechism and start arguing theology with yourself because no one else is around.

You Might Be Presbyterian IF...

You can spell ~~supralapsrian~~ , ~~suprlapsarian~~, ~~suralapsrian~~, supralapsarian.

You know the meaning of most or all of the following - PCA, PCUS, PCUSA, PC(USA), PC(U.S.A.), PCUSA(NS), PCUSA(OS), RPCES, RPCNA-GS, RPCNA, EPC, OPC, ARP, NAPARC, CRC, RCA, BPC, BPC-Collingswood, BPC-Columbus, CPC, TE, RE, WCF, WLC, WSC, BCO, UPC, UPCNA, UPCUSA, NPC,

You secretly suspect that John Calvin was a liberal because of his compromise on the Sabbath issue.

They aren't "catholics," or even "Roman Catholics." They're "Romanists," or "Papists."

When someone asks you a question about the Bible, you answer, "Well, the confession says . . . " or "the catechism says . . . "

When the spirit comes upon you in power, you don't raise your hands and shout Hallelujuah, rather you scratch your chin, turn to your neighbor and whisper "hmmm, . . . that was a good point."

Your children's names all begin with "covenant." In other words, normal people have babies, boys, girls, kids, and/or children. Presbyterians, on the other hand have "covenant" children. Instead of introducing your kids as Billy, Bobby and Suzy, it would be more proper to introduce them as Covenant-Bill, Covenant-Bob, and Covenant-Sue.

Feeling Nostalgic... for the 90s? What? I Need Help...

2005-12-06T11:13:00.000-05:00

Poll time!

What songs would you put on an ultimate 90s music CD? The first person to say MmmBop by Hanson gets smacked upside the head.

Aren't you glad you aren't this guy's neighbor?

2005-12-03T12:43:00.000-05:00

This is, um, interesting...

For the record, it is really fun to try this with kitchen lights. Good times at the Jurries.

A Good Question, Indeed...

2005-12-01T23:59:00.000-05:00

"Is it not strange that sheeps' guts should hail the souls out of men's bodies?"

Three generations on one day! Isn't that the limit?

2005-11-29T14:02:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday to my dear Mom and my wonderful Grandpa!
I am lucky to share a day with two of my favorite people!
I guarantee you all this will be the only picture of myself
I'll ever post on this brog.
All that said, I think my cake looks the yummiest.

The Knowledge

2005-11-28T16:34:00.000-05:00

In order for a common bloke to obtain a job as a cabbie in London, he must know quite a bit. Indeed, in order to be licensed to drive the famous black cabs, he must know more than quite a bit. Those wishing for such a license must learn no less than 320 routes in central London. These routes are all within a 6 mile radius of Charring Cross. Not only must they learn these routes, they must learn all the intersections and turnabouts along the way, the many names a single street has and where such names apply, and every single theatre, restaurant, club, police station, public building, hospital, hotel, railway station, park, shop, institute of learning, and place of worship, to name a few. In short, they must know where everything is. This is referred to as The Knowledge.

On average, most would-be cabbies study The Knowledge for almost three years in order to make an "Appearance". At the Appearance, the "Knowledge Boy" (or girl as the case may be) will be given two point within London. They then have to, without the aid of a map, find the shortest and most expedicious route, along with all intersections, roundabouts, and turns. In addition to this, they must name what buildings and points of interest they would be passing. Needless to say, hardly anyone passes the Appearance on their first shot. In fact, it's more common for someone to make up to 10 Appearances before receiving their license. The end result is an extremely knowledgable cabbie who knows the labyrinth of downtown London like the back of his hand; and will probably be able to tell you all about the history of each particular building to boot.

What does this have to do with the shape of the brain? Well, scientists in England have recorded the impact of studying for the Knowledge. Tests have proven that over time, as the daunting amouts of knowledge are acquired, the posterior portion of the right hippocampus actually grows. Studies also show that the more veteran cabbies had still larger hippocampi. This is incredible - the human brain has a certain amount of plasticity to it then. It will take all the information thrown at it and alter its shape to accomodate new knowledge. Or at least navagation knowledge.

The cabbies themselves seem nonplused. Said one, "I really try not to think about it myself. But people constantly get in my cab and say, 'My goodness! What a large hippocampus you have!' and I say 'Well, yes'. It's all very embarrassing." Another averred that he "really couldn't remember the hippocampus growing. It makes you wonder what happened to the rest of it." At least we know it didn't affect his sense of humor.

It has been said that no one really fails the Knowledge, they just give up. Science seems to back this up. It really is amazing when you think about it - that the human brain will alter its shape to accomodate more information. Guess that old "my brain is full" excuse doesn't work anymore, does it?

Hungry Hungry Hippocampus

2005-11-23T12:51:00.000-05:00

Well, kidlets, did you know you can change the shape of your brain? Yes, indeed. There are fascinating studies out there showing that gained knowledge, particularly navigational knowledge, can increase the actual size of the hippocampus region of your brain. It appears that smart though you may be, cab drivers in London actually have a bigger brain. Weird, huh? More to come as regards these cabbies. (I'll bet you can't wait!)

I ain't A-Fib-bing!

2005-11-20T23:00:00.000-05:00

Atrial fibrillation. All semester long I've been researching this blasted condition. One paper done, one presentation done, and one presentation to go. I know so much about it now that I don't know a thing. Yep. I'm that cool.

This year, I'm most thankful for Thanksgiving break. Yeah.

Another Wodehouse gem

2005-11-18T16:05:00.000-05:00

"She was feeling like a mother who, in addition to notifying him that there is no candy, has been compelled to strike a loved child on the base of the skull with a stocking full of sand."

A Royal Imposition

2005-11-15T16:00:00.000-05:00

Since we're talking about royalty and all, we might as well talk about a wonderful hoax from the early 1800s. That is the imposture of Princess Caraboo.

In 1817, a strangely dressed and seemingly confused young lady was found wandering the English countryside. She spoke no English. Now at the time in Britain, because of the Napoleonic wars, foreigners were treated with extreme suspicion. Fearing that the girl was a Corsican spy, she was brought before the Overseer of the Poor in Bristol, who in turn brought her to the local magistrate, a Mr Worrell. Mrs Worrell took an interest in the young lady and invited her to stay at her home, Knoll Park.

The Worrells soon deduced that the girls name was Caraboo, but they could not understand anything that she said. Finally, a sailor came along who claimed her could speak her language. Apparently, Caraboo was a royal princess from the island of Javasu. She had been kidnapped by pirates, but she managed to escape from them near England. She had swum to shore through the Bristol Channel.

Well, imagine the Worrells' excitement! They had a real live princess on their hands! What's more, a beautiful, exotic princess who fenced, used a bow and arrow, and swam naked in the lake. For almost three months that corner of Britain was captivated by the "savage princess". That is, until her former boss showed up.

A Mrs Neale saw a picture of Princess Caraboo in the newspaper. She immediately recognized her as Mary Baker, a former servant, who had often entertained the Neale children with her made up languages. The Worrells very kindly paid for Mary's passage to Philadelphia, where it is said she attempted the same hoax again, with no sucess. She eventually returned to England and made guest appearances (really!) from time to time as Princess Caraboo. She died in 1865. But the world has not forgotten the servant girl from Dover who pulled one over on the upper middle classes in England. One can only imagine how much fun she had pulling off such a sucessful hoax.

The Hawaiian Monarchy

2005-11-11T11:12:00.000-05:00

The first monarch of Hawaii was Kamehameha the Great, a fierce warrior who united by force the separate fuedal societies of the islands. His dynasty, beginning in 1810, continued through five kings. When the last of the Kamehameha dynasty, Kamehameha V (known as Lot) died in 1872, he named Princess Bernice to be his heir. She, however, refused the crown, preferring a retired life with her husband.

This decision by Bernice left vacant the throne. The legislature therefore nominated some distant relatives of the Kamehameha line and declared an election. Hawaii's first elected king, Lunalilo, was royalty for less than a year when he unexpectedly died. He had not named an heir. SO... the country decided to elect a next monarch. This election was famously heated and nasty. The two candidates, David Kalakaua and Queen Emma, widow of one of the Kamehameha kings, did not much care for the other and rumors and mudslinging and general ugliness ensued. In the end, Queen Emma was defeated and the Kalakaua dynasty began.

Being a smart man, one of the first things Kalakaua did was to create a line of sucession. This came in handy when he passed away in 1891. His sister Lili-uokalani was made queen, and her niece Victoria Ka'iulani named Crown Princess. The government of Hawaii was overthrown in 1893 and the monarchy was abrogated. However then royal line does continue to this day. After the early, tragic death of Ka'iulani, Lili-uokalani named David Kawananakoa, nephew to David Kalakaua's wife, as her heir. We now come to the Kawananakoa Dynasty in waiting - the presumptive heirs to the throne of Hawaii.

David Kawananakoa was a significant character in the life of Ka'iulani. There are many indications that the two were secretly engaged, however, nothing can be known for certain. He did marry eventually to Abigail Wahiikaahuula Campbell. In what was doubtlessly a scandal, he refused to acknowledge paternity for her first child; however, officially this child, also named Abigail, was next in the line of succession. Her son Edward Kawananakoa was next in line, and then his son, Quentin Kawananakoa, who currently is the heir-presumptive to the defunct kingdom and the head ali'i, or chief, of Hawaii. The Kawananakoa family is closely tied to the Hawaiian Republican Party - in fact, Quentin Kawananakoa was the minority leader in the Hawaiian Legislature during the 1990s. His son Kincaid (a dreadful name) is next in the line of succession.

This is very interesting, actually. Many people talk about the Kennedy's being the American royals, or the Bush family, or whoever happens to be in vogue at the moment. What most people do not realize is that the Kawananakoa family is actually recognized as royalty, with titles of Prince and Princess still conferred. They are the only true royals in the United States. Very interesting, eh?

Pua o Hawaii

2005-11-10T15:21:00.000-05:00

Forth from her land to mine she goes,
The Island maid, the Island rose,
Light of heart and bright of face,
The daughter of a double race.

Her Islands here in southern sun
Shall mourn their Ka`iulani gone.
And I, in her dear banyan’s shade,
Look vainly for the little maid.

But our Scots Islands far away
Shall glitter with unwonted day,
And cast for once their tempest by
To smile in Ka`iulani’s eye.

These words were written by Ka'iulani's dear childhood friend, Robert Louis Stevenson, before she went away to school in England. There is a great deal of nonsense published both in print and on the internet about a romance between the two. This is all utterly baseless. Ka'iulani was 13 years old when Stevenson came to Hawaii with his family. He took a paternal interest in her and she was fascinated by his storytelling abilities. They said farewell four months after they met each other, and never would meet in person again. Stevenson passed away at his plantation in Samoa while Ka'iulani was still in Britain.

The Peacock Princess

2005-11-09T23:23:00.000-05:00

Hawaiian Crown Princess Victoria Kawekiu Lunalilo Kalahinuiahilapalapa Ka'iulani Cleghorn (Ka'iulani, as she was commonly known by), was what you could call an unexpected heroine. A young woman of strong faith, sharp intellect, and striking beauty; she represented her country with spirit and bore affliction with dignity.

Ka'iulani was born on October 16, 1875 to Archie Cleghorn, a Scottish financier, and his wife, Princess Miriam Likelike, the sister of the king of Hawaii. The king (Kalākaua) and his wife (Queen Kapi'olani) had no children, and Ka'iulani was second in line to the throne. After the death of the king, her aunt Lydia Lili‘uokalani became queen. At the age of fifteen, while at school in England, Ka'iulani learned she was now the Crown Princess. Unfortunately, two years later the government in Hawaii was overthrown and the queen deposed. It was at this point that the Peacock Princess (so called for her love of the peacocks that lived on her estate in Waikiki) stepped onto the public stage. She decided to travel to America and plead her countries cause.She was 17 years old.

The American press, being as obnoxious then as now, touted her visit as that of a barbarian princess from an uncivilized country. How shocked the people must have been to have seen the intelligent, refined, and mannered young princess! She gave a speech, the first public speech of her life, after she landed in America. "Seventy years ago Christian America sent over Christian men and women to give religion and civilization to Hawai'i. Today, three of the sons of those missionaries are at your capitol asking you to undo their father’s work. Who sent them? Who gave them the authority to break the Constitution which they swore they would uphold? Today, I, a poor weak girl with not one of my people with me and all these ‘Hawaiian’ statesmen against me, have strength to stand up for the rights of my people. Even now I can hear their wail in my heart and it gives me strength and courage and I am strong - strong in the faith of God, strong in the knowledge that I am right, strong in the strength of seventy million people who in this free land will hear my cry and will refuse to let their flag cover dishonor to mine!"

Not bad for a beginner, eh? Ka'iulani spent much time in America, eventually meeting President Glover Cleveland, who was very interesting in her cause. She dispelled all myths about the heathen nature of her country and dazzled society with her beauty. She spoke excellent English, in additon to Hawaiian, French, and German. Her guardian while in America was Theo Davies, who said this about her, "...Ka'iulani is not a mere worldling; she feels that her life is to be one of service to the King of Kings, and that she is to help her own people to live near Him. It is a solemn question for you to ask yourself how you can best help Ka'iulani in this work... I know it is Kaiulani's great desire to help the Hawaiian girls into lives of Christianity and purity."

However, politics being what they are (and I'm not even going to begin on the many reasons involved), the quest to restore the kingdom of Hawaii was not sucessful. It is thought that if the Spanish-American War not taken place, Ka'iulani might have been sucessful in regaining the throne for her aunt and, eventually, herself. This was however, not to be. The Princess returned to Hawaii. Her expected role in life was now forever taken from her, yet she bore her lot with dignity. She seemed to care more for her people's welfare under their new government than her own. She lived quietly at her estate until her death at the age 0f 23.

Throughout her short life, Ka'iulani made a great impression, first upon her nation who loved her devotedly, and then upon the world, who came to respect and admire her.

The Language of...oh whatever...

2005-11-09T16:18:00.000-05:00

Well, gentle readers, our foray into the hidden languages of the Victorians is coming to a close. We have seen the two most important and widely used hidden languages - that of the fan and of flowers - and seen the suprising usage of the humble glove. There are also languages of the handkerchief, the parasol, the postage stamp, and the calling card (Folding the upper right corner meant the card had been left in person, not by way of a servant. Folding the upper left corner meant congratulations, folding the lower right corner meant goodbye. Folding the lower left corner signified condolence). Apparently, there was also a language developed around a gentleman's top hat; however, I cannot locate any information on this.

So we see that the Victorians found many ways of saying things without ever actually saying them, as it were. Whether or not this was a good thing, it does make for some mighty interesting research.

We shall not be leaving the world of Victoria behind us - the next post (hopefully tonight) will be on a great Victorian era princess.

The Language of Flowers

2005-11-05T14:07:00.000-05:00

"Flowers have a language of their own, and it is this bright particular language that we would teach our readers. How charmingly a young gentleman can speak to a young lady, and with what eloquent silence in this delightful language. How delicately she can respond, the beautiful little flowers telling her tale in perfumed words; what a delicate story the myrtle or the rose tells! How unhappy that which basil, or yellow rose reveals, while ivy is the most faithful of all." or so says Colliers Cyclopedia of Commercial and Social Information and Treasury of Useful and Entertaining Knowledge (pub.1882).

The language of flowers is quite well developed, and were the whole of it published, would go on for pages and pages. Thusly, we shall confine our attention to roses, that most expressive of all flowers, and one or two other flowers.

Roses, besides fufilling their job of being lovely, often pulled double-duty. Much could be said with a rose, depending upon the colour, degree of openness, and how it is arranged. Roses almost always signify love - the above mentioned variations determine the degree and type of love the presenter feels. Note how some rose colours have several meanings - yet another opportunity for confusion!

Red Rose - true, deep, romantic love
White Rose - eternal love, innocence, purity, secrecy, unrequited love, I am worthy of you
Withered or Dried White Rose - dead love, death is preferable to loss of virtue
Yellow Rose - decrease in love, jealousy, friendship, try to care
Pink Rose - perfect happiness, sweetness, indecision
Dark Pink Rose - thankfulness
Light Pink Rose - grace, joy
Burgundy Rose - unconscious beauty
Deep Crimson Rose - mourning, bashfulness, shame
Peach Rose - immortality, modesty
Coral Rose - desire
Damask Rose - brilliant complexion, freshness, Persian ambassador of love
Orange Rose - fascination
Lavendar Rose - enchantment
Rosebud - youth and beauty, a heart innocent of love
Red Rosebud - pure and lovely
White Rosebud - a heart ignorant of love, girlhood
11 red roses and one yellow rose - love and passion
Bouquet of full bloom roses - gratitude
One full bloom roses over two rose buds - secrecy
White Rose and Red Rose together - unity
Single Full Bloom - I truly love you, I still love you, simplicity
Thornless Single Rose - love at first sight
A Rose given daily - "Thy smile I aspire to"
Rose Leaf - you may hope

This, again, is not an exhaustive list. There were meanings for almost every known variety of roses! And there are many more meanings involved with the arrangement and degree of openness. As far as other flowers go, consider, if you will, that entire books were published on this subject. To even attempt to compile a list here would be insane. However, some flower meanings are more interesting than others. For example - a Venus fly trap means (suprise!) "caught at last". A lady who wished to get rid of a dense suitor would hope he would get the message when she offered him a bachelors button for his boutonniere. Dandelions even held a meaning (faithfulness), showing that even obnoxious weeds were not beyond the Victorians grasp. Ivy means fidelity, which explains it's popularity in Victorian bridal bouquets.

There are dozens and dozens of websites devoted to elucidating the meanings of flowers. Some even give examples of bouquets with their meanings. My personal favorite was, "I'm sorry I was a drunken fool. Please forgive me, I'm only human.". Some things obviously never change.

Good Night, Ladies

2005-11-04T12:31:00.000-05:00

The Victorians had many hidden languages, as we've discovered. But none was so widely used and so extensive as the language of flowers. The amount of information involved is staggering, so it will be at least this evening before the flower post goes up.

In the meantime, I'm very pleased to welcome yet another new blog. My sister Grace has opened up Ace's Place. This blog is devoted to her affinity for the death, destruction, and mayhem that occur with catastrophic storms, and whatever else happens to tickle her fancy. Check it out, y'all.

The Language of Gloves

2005-11-01T14:45:00.000-05:00


Having established the various communications that might be made with the fan, we turn our attention to the hidden language of a ladies glove. Once again, the Victorians found ways to use commonplace items to circumvent social rules.

Biting the tips - I wish to be rid of you soon

Clenching the gloves, rolled up in the right hand - No

Drawing half way on left hand - Indifference

Dropping both gloves - I love you

Dropping one glove - Yes

Folding up carefully - Go away

Holding the tips downward - I wish to be acquainted

Holding them loose in the right hand - Be contented

Holding them loose in the left hand - I am satisfied

Left hand with the naked thumb exposed - Do you love me?

Putting gloves away - I am most vexed

Right hand with the naked thumb exposed - Kiss me

Smoothing gloves gently - I wish I were with you

Striking gloves over the shoulder - Follow me

Tapping the chin - I love another

Tossing the gloves up gently - I am engaged

Turning them inside out - I hate you

Twisting them around the fingers - Be careful, we are being watched

Using them as a fan - Introduce me to your friends

Striking gloves over the hand - I am displeased

The Language of the Fan

2005-10-31T23:19:00.000-05:00

Ah, the Victorian Era. A fascinating time. The Victorians lived in a time of great change, as social structures shifted, exploration, discovery, and invention flourished, and etiquette was raised to a whole new level (a level not matched since in Western culture). The elaborate etiquette rules did not allow for the type of emotional vomiting that is so in vogue today. However, being an ingenious people, they possessed a myriad of hidden languages to convey their affections and intentions. These languages are to be the subject of a series of posts here at Penultimate Grooviness. Over the next week or so, we will cover the languages of flowers, calling cards, postage stamps, gloves, parasols, handkerchiefs, and, today, fans.

You see, even the most well brought up Victorian girl was likely to fall in love at some point in her life. Regretable, but true. Being well brought up, she naturally could not speak of her feelings directly to the object of her affection. She could indirectly, however, "speak" through a variety of means, the most fascinating and telling of which is the fan. Below you see a list of what different gestures really meant.

Holding the handle to the lips - Kiss me (and you thought the Victorians were prudes!)

Letting fan rest on right cheek - Yes

Letting fan rest on left cheek - No

Drawing across cheek - I love you

Drawing across forehead - We are being watched

Carrying in left hand - Desires your acquaintance

Carrying in right hand - You are too willing

Carrying in right hand in front of face - Follow me

Closing fan - I wish to speak to you

Fan open wide - Wait for me

Drawing across eyes - I am sorry

Open and shut - You are cruel

Placing fan on left ear - You have changed

Twirling in left hand - I wish to get rid of you

Twirling in right hand - I love another

Drawing through hand - I dislike you

Dropping the fan - We are friends

Fanning slowly - I'm married

Fanning fast - I love you very much

Closing an open fan very slowly - I promise to marry you

Gently touching one finger to the edge of the fan - I need to speak to you

Covering left ear with open fan - Don't betray our secret

Fanning with left hand - Stop flirting with other women, you idiot.

Closed fan dangling from left wrist - I'm engaged

Closed fan dangling from right wrist - I want to be engaged

And the list goes on and on. This list is by no means comprehensive, but gives you a slightish idea of the amount of things that could be "said" at a typical evening party. Can you imagine having to remember all of this? What if you were really just overheated? Fanning yourself very fast would send a message of true love to some loathsome young tarantula! Or if you were talking to someone you really liked and started absently twirling the fan in your left hand - the poor boy would think you wish him gone and far away! A system frought with potential of disaster! Oh dear...

I hope you're not going to spoil things with lower-middle class humor.

2005-10-27T16:20:00.000-04:00

"And if people should mistake me for someone aristocratic, I don't want you telling them I'm not. It would simply confuse them. It's only good manners to let them believe it."

Notting Hill

2005-10-24T21:15:00.000-04:00

This unfortunate impasse was breached by the arrival of James the shaggy British accountant.

“Hi girls!”

Hazel and Molly smiled their welcome, and inquired after his latest romantic endeavors (it will be remembered that when last seen he’d been intent on a weekend of “Speed Dating”).

“Oh it was horrible! Complete flop! Luke and I decided to watch the women going into the pub before going in ourselves- good thing too. They were all these nasty biker girls with tattoos and leather. Why do biker girls go speed dating anyway?”

The girls shrugged and said they had no idea. Hazel, who’d come dangerously close to asking why anyone would go speed dating then asked, “So what did you do?”

“Oh, we went back to my place and looked up a few of the internet dating services. Luke wrote profiles for us both, and I’ve met a few really nice girls. I think they’re nice anyway. Never can tell till you’ve met them though. And I’m a bit anxious about meeting them.”

“Shy with strangers?” inquired Molly.
“No,” replied James, rather sheepishly. “Luke slightly exaggerated a few bits on the profile.”

“Slightly?” said Hazel, who was well acquainted with the enterprising Luke and his ways.

“Well, actually he flat out lied about a few things. So I can’t really meet up with the girls with a free conscience. Not unless I actually start training Paws with a Cause dogs and listening to Jewel. Oh,” he tittered nervously “And making six figures.”

Both ladies slapped their heads. Groaning a deep sigh, Hazel asked, “WHY did you let Luke say those things?”

“Oh, well the rest of it was quite brilliant really! He said the most beautiful things, and the internet girls are going crazy over it! One girl said she thought we must be soul mates after reading it! And she was stunning! Blonde and blue eyed…’ He sighed dreamily. “She said that any straight guy who’s favorite film was Notting Hill was destined to be her dream man. What’s Notting Hill all about anyway? I may have been through it once or twice. Some sort of travelogue?”

“Not quite. Rent it. You’ll see.” Molly was highly amused by this latest development in James’ love life, or lack thereof. Who needed soap operas when there was James?

‘Right. Well I’m off- was going to watch football tonight, but I suppose I’ll pop by Blockbuster and learn about Notting Hill.” He puttered off.

An Open House, eh?

2005-10-23T00:12:00.000-04:00

So tonight (well, strictly speaking, last night...), I was talking with Paige and B when the conversation came around to an interesting and little dealt-with topic. The topic is that of the Open House. Now, apparently, this is somewhat of a regional "thing". People around here do not typically have parties, nor do they often invite guests for dinner. This is because they employ another method of "socialization" and "hospitality", which is the open house.

Now the correct definition of "open house" is this: an event at which your voluntary presence is mandatory. In other words, you don't have to show up... you just have to show up. The other defining feature of an open house is the food. For any occasion, be it birth, baptism, birthday, graduation, profession of faith, engagement, new house, old house, returning from a trip to anyplace but Branson, recovery from surgery, new job, anniversary, and ultimately death, the same meal will be served with only slight variations. This meal will involve ham buns, meatballs of dubious origin, potato salad, limp carrot sticks, a suspect looking molded jello, and red punch. A dead spread, if you will.

Even the church is not immune; dead spreads were created by the ministering ancient biddies of church catering commitees. And churches often put on open houses, though sometimes under different names. Not sure if your church function is an open house? Was it in the fellowship hall? If so, and if it is not a potluck, it is an open house. However, if the function occurred outside on church property (e.g. the parking lot), it was an ice cream social. What's that? There was no ice cream? And no socializing? Doesn't matter - it was still an ice cream social.

Which brings us to an important point. If you attend a private open house during the fine weather months, realize that the words "open" and "house" are not strictly speaking correct. The hosts welcome you into their driveway, garage, and sometimes their front yard. You will not be seeing the interior of the house. And don't even think about asking to use their bathroom. This is simply not done. Why! You might track dirt into their home! The very thought! Just ease up on the red punch and try a piece of cake. Yeah, cake. Mmmmmm.

'Hebt gij de Krakelwok geveld?

2005-10-18T22:31:00.000-04:00

Well, while the rest of you have been engaged in pointless debate over postmil toddlers, I have been engaged in loftier pursuits. Oh yes. You can not even begin to imagine the heights of intellectual thought I have been dwelling in. Because I, gentle reader, have been google-ing random stuff. And the results of this random google-ing are truly astounding. For what I found was so profound, so supernaturally and awe-inspiringly wonderful. I found a site which provides a long-needed public service. The propietors of this site have translated the lovely poem "Jabberwocky" into many languages. The Wycliffes of the borogoves, if you will. And the mimsy raths. Not to forget the slithy toves and frumious Bandersnatches. They have taken this work of linguistic art and made it accesible to those who speak Spanish, French, Italian, Dutch, Esperanto, Afrikaans, Hebrew, Latin, and even the oft-neglected Klingon. What I'm keen to know is why these good people have not received a Nobel Prize for their tremendous contribution to mankind. It seems an injustice.

Happiness

2005-10-17T13:57:00.000-04:00

A fun thing happened to me the other night while I was driving to work. My radio was set to the oldies station and upon starting the car, I discovered they were just beginning to play "Old Time Rock and Roll". Well, "Cool" says I, "but I don't particularily want to listen to this song". Thusly, I hit one of my handy-dandy preset buttons to discover that they were playing "Old Time Rock and Roll" as well. In fact, they were about one measure behind the oldies station. This amused me, but I still didn't want to listen to the song. I hit yet another preset button. Against all odds, the third station too was playing "Old Time Rock and Roll", this time being two measures behind the second station. I began to laugh uncontrollably. Then I arrived at work. And that's pretty much the story. So... what do you think about mullets?

Who are you going to be for Reformation Day? Hmmmm?

2005-10-15T13:36:00.000-04:00

It's that time of year again! October's finest holiday is fast approaching... that's right, kiddies, Reformation Day. Time to dress up as your favorite protestant leader and eat all that candy that's conveniently on sale for the other holiday. What's that you say? You don't know what to do to celebrate this festal day? You don't know who to dress up as? You don't know what to serve at your Reformation Day dinner? Well, the dears at Old Lutheran have your back. With everything from Marty and Katy Luther bobble heads (boxes double as jello molds!) to ideas for the "Mightest Fortress" block building contest, these folks know how to throw a great party! And in case you are inclined to entertain your guests musically, they have provided the lyrics for that always popular rollicking old favorite, the Reformation Polka.

[Sung to the tune of "Supercalifragilistic-expialidocious"]

When I was just ein junger Mann I studied canon law;
While Erfurt was a challenge, it was just to please my Pa.
Then came the storm, the lightning struck, I called upon Saint Anne,
I shaved my head, I took my vows, an Augustinian! Oh...

Chorus:
Papal bulls, indulgences, and transubstantiation
Speak your mind against them and face excommunication!
Nail your theses to the door, let's start a Reformation!
Papal bulls, indulgences, and transubstantiation!

When Tetzel came near Wittenberg, St. Peter's profits soared,
I wrote a little notice for the All Saints' Bull'tin board:
"You cannot purchase merits, for we're justified by grace!
Here's 95 more reasons, Brother Tetzel, in your face!" Oh...

They loved my tracts, adored my wit, all were exempleror;
The Pope, however, hauled me up before the Emperor.
"Are these your books? Do you recant?" King Charles did demand,
"I will not change my Diet, Sir, God help me here I stand!" Oh...

Chorus:
Papal bulls, indulgences, and transubstantiation -
Speak your mind against them and face excommunication!
Nail your theses to the door, let's start a Reformation!
Papal bulls, indulgences, and transubstantiation!

Duke Frederick took the Wise approach, responding to my words,
By knighting "George" as hostage in the Kingdom of the Birds.
Use Brother Martin's model if the languages you seek,
Stay locked inside a castle with your Hebrew and your Greek! Oh...

Let's raise our steins and Concord Books while gathered in this place,
And spread the word that 'catholic' is spelled with lower case;
The Word remains unfettered when the Spirit gets his chance,
So come on, Katy, drop your lute, and join us in our dance! Oh...

Fluff

2005-10-15T00:04:00.000-04:00

This evening I went out with a bunch of good girlfriends from work. We had a great time - mini golf, which is yet another non-sport at which I do not excel (we're not even going to talk about how bad my score was), and dinner at Logans, where I ate more rolls than was good for me. We then went back to one of the girls' place to eat ice cream and watch sappy movies. It is about these movies that I will now rant. Ahem -

They are unreasonable! PLEASE!!! Life does not happen like it seems to in A Walk to Remember! Way to give young women an unattainable standard! Men do not act in real life like they do in these silly movies. Of course girls get sappy and weepy at these movies - the men act like women! And then said girls can't understand why real-life men don't treat them like Shane West treats Mandy Moore. Guess what, ladies? You wouldn't want Shane West. And you wouldn't want life to be sweet and sugary like it is in a chick flick. You'd end up in a diabetic coma. And then Nicholas Sparks would write yet another trashy book/screenplay about you. Could you live with that? I couldn't.

There. That's my rant for this evening. Lest there be confusion - I really did have a fabulous time, and I love my friends to death. I am so glad I got to have a good old fashioned girls night - I just think I might need to supply the movies from now on. Mix in a little reason with the fluff, you know.

Also - has anyone else noticed what an appallingly large forehead Shane West has? I mean, it's freakish, unnatural, and odd!

Piratical Pontificating

2005-10-12T19:26:00.000-04:00

This will make you grateful for Presbyterianism if nothing else will.

A wonderful blessing

2005-10-10T20:13:00.000-04:00

Congratulations to Justin and Marion!

Very good, very good.

2005-10-09T20:21:00.000-04:00

"He who looks upon a plate of bacon and eggs, to lust after it, hath already commited breakfast in his heart" - CS Lewis

Saltatory Conduction and other Epic Ideas

2005-10-06T00:43:00.000-04:00

Yesterday during the 15 minute break in Anatomy and Physiology, I began a short story. The piece, entitled "The Nodes of Ranvier - an epic tale of neurology", chronicles the life of an action potential, pondering the best way to get across the sea of myelin. I am rather fond of this story and find it to be full of both pathos and humor. Perhaps someday when it is finished I will publish it here. I'll bet you can't wait.

On a related (A&P) note - the prof took away the classes favorite word yesterday. For weeks now we have been drilling the muscle name sternocleidomastoid into our heads. My classmates and I agreed that it is the coolest word we ever have learned. So now, the prof tells us that no one in the biz actually refers to it as sternocleidomastoid, but as SCM! What a rip-off! SCM has none of the cadence and briliance of sternocleidomastoid! Alas that medical terminology should turn away from poetic words and turn onto cold, clinical abbreviations!

Is there just the slightest possibility that I'm taking A&P too seriously?

Hail to the victors

2005-10-01T15:49:00.000-04:00

U-M 34
MSU 31

Hail! To the victors, valiant,
Hail! To the conqu'ring heroes
Hail! Hail! To Michigan the leaders and best
Hail! To the victors, valiant,
Hail! To the conqu'ring heroes
Hail! Hail! To Michigan the champions of the West!

Johnny's Day - a day in the life of a stereotypical homeschooler

2005-10-01T14:40:00.000-04:00

My dear friend Mrs P over at the Ministry of Vocabulary has posted a blast from the past - an article from our wildly sucessful (despite it limited - two copies - distribution) lifestyle mag entitled "Homeschooling - the Sad Reality". This was, as our disclaimer stated, "a newsletter dedicated to revealing the truth about homeschooling. We are also commited to making fun of the stereotypical homeschooler. " Homeschoolers, you see, are oft times stereotyped. As Mrs P herself wrote, "When you hear the word (homeschooler) it automatically brings to mind people very much like the Amish, who love to do their Saxon Math.". As articles are unearthed, they will be published for you to enjoy. Here is Marion's front page contribution.

Hello there! My name is Johnny Blake. I am a homeschooler. This is a typical day in my life. Thanks to my mom, who always does what's best for me, I have a great routine - so all the days in my week are pretty much the same.
Mom wakes me up at 5:30 every morning (On Saturdays we like to be lazy and get up at 6:00). I jump right up, take a cold shower (very good for blood circulation), get dressed in my homemade (even the material) clothes, and run outside to feed the chickens. They are my science project. They are doing very well. Then I come in to have a wonderful and nutritious breakfast of oatmeal and carrot juice. Sometimes Mom gives us a real treat and serves all natural granola. We NEVER eat sugar if we can help it. It gives us the heebie jeebies. We finish our meal with devotions and mutual sharing time. We all sharing interesting dreams we had during the night.
Well, by then it's nearly 7:00 - School time! This is my favorite time of day - next to mutual sharing time, of course. I never have to be told to start my work. I do four hours of Saxon Math followed by another four hours of Saxon Math. Then I work on a few science projects that I have lying aroud. I think the lima bean experiment is pretty neat. My littlest sister Tabitha (the littlest of 14 - I'm 12 and I'm the oldest) often helps me. Then we all sit down to lunch, usually vegatable dishes. Mom says that a vegetarian lifestyle is extremely healthy - in fact, I'm glad she does. Who on earth would want pizza when they could have delicious asparagus served in bean sauce? After lunch we have devotions and another mutual sharing time. We share all the interesting experiences we've had since breakfast. We are all very considerate and take our turns. I always let the younger ones go first.
Well then it's back to school work. I work on some more Saxon Math and then I do other subjects, like history - which I don't really enjoy but still fully apply myself to. The time flies and suddenly it's time for supper - usually something scrumptious like vegetarian lasagna. We close with devotions and another mutual sharing time. We all turn in early, and go to sleep happy in the knowledge that Mom and Dad always do what's best for all us 14 kids. And that's what a day in my life is like. Thank you for reading my humble work!

In praise of the maize and blue

2005-09-30T16:03:00.000-04:00

Now for a cheer they are here, triumphant!

Here they come with banners flying.

In stalwart step they're nighing.

With shouts of vict'ry crying.

We hurrah, hurrah, we greet you now, Hail!

Far we their praises sing

For the glory and fame they've bro't us,

Loud let the bells them ring,

For here they come with banners flying

Far we their praises tell

For the glory and fame they've bro't us,

Loud let the bells them ring

For here they come with banners flying

Here they come, Hurrah!

Hail! To the victors, valiant,

Hail! To the conqu'ring heroes

Hail! Hail! To Michigan the leaders and best

Hail! To the victors, valiant,

Hail! To the conqu'ring heroes

Hail! Hail! To Michigan the champions of the West!

Tulip Mania

2005-09-27T15:08:00.000-04:00

One of the greatest economic crashes of all time came in the 1600s in the Netherlands. People just went berserk over tulips and pretty well based their economy on them. Naturally, this couldn't last and the market crashed rather spectacularly. But it is a fascinating period of time to study. Extreme measures would be taken to secure a rare tulip bulb. Apparently, at the height of the craze, one bulb was traded for the following :
• four tons of wheat
• eight tons of rye
• one bed
• four oxen
• eight pigs
• 12 sheep
• one suit of clothes
• two casks of wine
• four tons of beer
• two tons of butter
• 1,000 pounds of cheese
• one silver drinking cup.

That's a lot of gouda, people.

Meet Murray

2005-09-24T23:55:00.000-04:00

On this particular Thursday Molly, Hazel, Will, and several other C-Cubed attendees pulled up to “The Pad.” One never knew quite what to expect from these little soirees, but this evening brought greater surprise that usual. When Moll and Hazel arrived, Tyler, Bo, and Wilkes were painting a rusting 15 passenger van with paint rollers and brooms, in a shade of hi-gloss latex interior paint which Bo informed them was “Poison Pen.” Mike DeGraaf shook his head doubtfully, and said “Huh. Looks like black to me.” and shuffled on into the house.

“Philistine!” huffed Bo.
“Bo… what are you doing” inquired Molly.
“Sister dear” said Bo with a flourish of his paint roller, “meet Murray!”
“Bo,” said Molly patiently, “I’m going to ask you again. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Tyler poked his head round the enormous back end of the van. “We decided we needed a band wagon. For our air band. And other stuff. Vans are cool.”

“Yep, agreed Wilkes, slapping more black paint on the hood, “We saw this beaut parked by Aldi’s. They were selling it for $500, so we all pitched in and bought it.”

After a brief silence, Hazel slowly drawled “Whhhhhhyyy?”

Bo swiped at the right fender with a roller. “Tyler just told you. It’s for our air band.”

Molly realized that further inquiry was useless, and headed for the house. Hazel and Dana shrugged and followed. Upon entering the living room, they were hardly surprised to see that “Murray” had been incorporated into the décor. Four tattered benches from the bowels of the van were scattered about. Tyler wandered in, intent on his hostly duties, and said, “Whadya think of the new furniture? Cool, huh?”

“Yeah, nothing says stylish, yet safe, like a couch with seat belts.” Hazel observed.

Molly joined in “Nothing says class like duct tape chic!”

Tyler appeared to be pleased with these compliments and strolled off. Wilkes suddenly came crashing through the front door, hollering for garbage bags “AND QUICK!”

“Bo-Bo the clown stepped in the paint tray and it’s all OVER!” screeched Wilkes. Bo’s retort drifted in through the open door. “Yeah well if Wee Willy Wilkinson hadn’t left it out in the middle of everything, I wouldn’t have stepped in it!”

Bo’s shoe was drenched in Poison Pen. When it had dried sufficiently it became a piece of postmodern art, which Bo often spoke of entering in competitions sponsored by the local art museum.

Just another night at “The Pad”.

"Concerning a Young Woman who loved Art with a capitol A, and who appeared not to love Dishwashing."

2005-09-23T12:20:00.000-04:00

I bring forth yet another book for your consideration, gentle readers. The name of this book is Parables of a Country Parson and it was written by William E. Barton. Seeing as I fully expect every last one of you to read the book, and therefore to read the preface, I see little need to explain in painstaking detail the history of Barton's life. Suffice it to say, he was a pastor, author, and speaker in the early twentieth century. In fact, if you are within reach of your 1930 copy of Who's Who, you will see that the entry regarding Barton is the longest. His contributions to the world of print are many and varied, but his most beloved are certainly his long running syndicated column, Safed the Sage. Safed is a barely veiled autobiographical character, and Safed's wife Keturah is most definitely written with Mrs Barton in mind. Parables of a Country Parson is a collection of some of these short stories and parables. Short indeed, at two to three pages each, they're perfect for the ADHD reader of today. Barton had a unique voice in his writing, possessing a style that is wise, humorous, and wonderfully down to earth. He was, quite simply, a story-teller. Here a just a few samples (punctuation and capitalization are as is):

"So I ate of the Doughnuts, and I said, Behold, these are just like all of thy Doughnuts. And she said, I am glad that thou dost think so. For they are so made that they absorb less Fat; therefore they are the more Wholesome. And I said, Go not too far with me in the Wholesome stunt; I do not want things to be too Wholesome; I can digest anything save it be Health Foods."

"...it would have been difficult to select a Finer Place of abode for a Moth of Sedentiary Habits."

"Keturah said, "Safed, dost thou not remember the Hopkins family that lived nigh unto us when we were first married?" And I said, "Yea, I remember them, to my sorrow." And she said, "Dost thou not remember that the first of all the evil things they did to us was the Present the Wished on us at our Wedding? Dost thou remember what it was?" And my heart fell within me, and I answered, "I think it was a Vase, but Very Unlike This One." And she laughed again, till she wept."

"And one day I returned from my Garden, and I was weary. And I ate my bread in the sweat of my face. and I said, "O Keturah, I am a Punk Gardener." And Keturah answered, "It would not be becoming in me to Dispute my husband." And I said, "Behold, my fathers before me were Punk Gardeners. My first Ancestor was a Gardener, and he could not Hold Down his Job.""

"My dear, I am not sure why Delilah delivered Samson over to the Philestines, but I think he had forgotten to mail her letters."

"Now the foot which he set upon the Soap flew eastward toward the Sunrise, and the other foot started on an expedition of its own toward the going down of the Sun. And the Millionaire sat down upon the Topmost Step, but he did not remain there. As it had been his Intention to Descend, so he Descended, but not in the manner of his Original Design. And as he descended he struck each step with a sound as if it had been a Drum. And the Scrublady stood aside courteously, and let him go."

"Then began the little maiden to consider how she could Support the Family with the Unearned Increment from her Teeth."

"The daughter of the daughter of Keturah sat upon the Curb, and she looked like a Small Sized Picture of Dejection."

I've seen it... it's rubbish

2005-09-14T14:51:00.000-04:00

Let the peasants rejoice! The Hitchhiker's Guide to the galaxy is now available on DVD! Woot! Funny stuff, obviously. I personally have a deep affinity for Marvin, the paranoid android. Special features on the DVD include deleted scenes, fake deleted scenes, and a Hangman game with Marvin. Also a singalong feature for "So Long and Thanks For All the Fish", a lovely song. Good times, good times.

Stuff

2005-09-11T22:46:00.000-04:00

One of my assignments in my English class is to write an observatory essay about a place. Anyplace. It could be anywhere I wanted. I knew right away where I wanted to go. Obviously, it doesn't get more interesting than Urban Mill. While I was there, dutifully observing and not so dutifully instant messaging friends, I realized that everything I was writing was stuff I could've written from memory... even describing some of the crazies that frequent the place! Does this mean I'm very observant of mindless details generally? Or do I just spend too much time at the coffeeshop? Hmmm....

How long is too long for a car to go between oil changes? Just curious.

In which I exhibit true blogging arrogance and assume you care about what I read

2005-09-07T22:30:00.000-04:00

I have been reading this evening. I love reading, and try to keep up on three to five books at a time. The current picks are good ones, but I have generously decided to burden you with the description of only one. I do, however, expect a comprehensive book report from each of you by Monday. This report must by at least 12 pages long, single spaced. I will be deducting 10 points from your grade for every day it is late. You've been warned.

Ella Minnow Pea is a lovely book written by a dashed clever man by the name of Mark Dunn. This is an immensely entertaining book - a fiction written in the form of letters. Our charming main character, for whom the book is named, lives on a small island nation off the coast of South Carolina. This nation is named for Nevin Nollop, coiner of the phrase "the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog". The people of Nollop have devoted themselves to study of the liberal arts and the veneration of their famous native son. When letters of the alphabet begin to fall off the memorial to Nevin, they become banned from all use by the island council on pain of several forms of punishment. The letters show the results of these strange new rules, as phonetical spellings are used and new words are invented. Funny premise, no?

This is a linquist's dream book. (I know that the esteemed director of the Ministry of Vocabulary would appriciate it.) Can you imagine the work it took to write something like this? That's way more work than I would be willing to put in.

At any rate, I'd reccomend the book to you all. It's worth a look.

Also, for those who did not get the memo - on Friday night there will be fireworks in downtown GR. For those who wish to watch the pyrotechnical feast with myself, my brothers, and other cool people, there will be a group forming on Pearl St. bridge.

That is all.

There are two types of people in this world. Those who like chocolate and communists.

2005-09-05T00:23:00.000-04:00

Since sharing with you, gentle reader, the crushing embarassment of the mousse incident, it has occured to me that some of you may not know how obsessed I am with making desserts. I have in times past earned the title "evil" and wore it proudly. I'm very happy that we are again approaching baking weather. Cheesecakes will soon be forthcoming! Hurrah! I have several concepts to try out in the realm of cheesecake-dom. In the meantime, I promised this recipe to several people, and this seemed as good of a way to provide it to them as any. :-)

1 package of cream cheese, softened
1 stick of butter (not margarine), softened
1 tspn vanilla
3/4 cup powdered sugar
3 to 4 tblspns brown sugar (Original recipe calls for 2 tblspns. I'm a "taste it and see" kind of cook, and after tasting decided it needed something yet. Go with however much you like)
1 cup miniature chocolate chips, more or less. (Go ahead and eat some. After all, they might just be bad, and you can't serve that, can you?)
1 cup toasted, chopped pecans, divided

Cream together cream cheese, butter, vanilla, and sugars until well combined. Stir in chocolate chips and 1/4 cup pecans. Cover and refridgerate for 2 hours. Form into ball, roll in remaining pecans. Chill for at least an hour. Serve with chocolate wafers, graham crackers, vanilla wafers, or forget the cookies and grab a spoon (My personal recommendation).

Talk amongst yourselves

2005-09-02T21:39:00.000-04:00

Well, y'all. I don't feel like posting anything educational or profound tonight. But I do want comments, so I shall give you a topic for discussion.

The topic is (drum roll please) : why the parking ramp in front of Rivertown Mall is STILL broken after having been "fixed" three times since it's construction and whether you feel safe parking either on top or underneath said ramp.

That is all.

School is in, summer is out

2005-08-29T15:06:00.000-04:00

Fall is here,hear the yell
back to school,ring the bell
brand new shoes,walking blues
climb the fence,books and pens
I can tell that we're going to be friends

Walk with me,Suzy Lee
through the park and by the tree
we will rest upon the ground
and look at all the bugs we found
then safely walk to school
without a sound

Well here we are,no one else
we walked to school all by ourselves
there's dirt on our uniforms
from chasing all the ants and worms
we clean up and now its time to learn

Numbers,letters,learn to spell
nouns,and books,and show and tell
at playtime we will throw the ball
back to class,through the hall
teacher marks our height
against the wall

And we don't notice any time pass
we don't notice anything
we sit side by side in every class
teacher thinks that I sound funny
but she likes the way you sing

Tonight I'll dream while I'm in bed
when silly thoughts go through my head
about the bugs and alphbet
and when I wake tommorow I'll bet
that you and I will walk together again
cause I can tell that we're going to be friends

Credit where credit is due, of course, (we will not tolerate plagiarism) this song is by the White Stripes. Classes started today, amazingly enough, my favorite class so far is Anatomy and Physiology. Not so excited about the English class. This is precisely opposite of what I had anticipated. Hmmm

A call for prayer

2005-08-28T23:16:00.000-04:00

Hurricane Katrina is hurtling toward land. This is a terrifyingly large, strong, and destructive storm and will quite possibly lay waste to parts of the Gulf Coast. Many have evacuated, but still, many are for various reasons unable to leave. We should all be in prayer for the safety of those in the path of this storm and for strength and consolation for those who must deal with the aftermath.

In accordance with prophecy...

2005-08-27T01:29:00.000-04:00

My brother John has started a blog. Yes. Another brother. Making a grand total of 4 blogging Jurries, meaning exactly half of my parents' children spew forth their nonsense onto the internet. I'm sure they're very proud. John's blog promises to be informative (about stuff you never knew you wanted to know) and humorous (humor being a grand tradition in the Jurries blogging world). Check it out and leave him a comment. Let's make him feel at home in the brogosphere, y'all!

FYI

2005-08-26T15:29:00.000-04:00

Just so y'all know, chocolate mousse doesn't taste the same at all when you've mistaken sea salt for sugar.
That is all.

Another installment in the great American novel...

2005-08-24T21:20:00.000-04:00

The girls had settled in with their weekly order of buckeye bar and tea when the shaggy British accountant toddled over to their booth. “Hi girls! Sorry to interrupt! Was just going to come over when Tomas popped by. You’ll never guess what Luke and I have got going this weekend!”

Molly and Hazel eyed one another, not quite sure what to expect. With James, one never knew.

“We’re going Speed Dating!”

Stunned, the girls stared at James, then at each other, then at James again. Hazel found her voice first and managed to croak, “WHAT?”

“Yeah! Speed Dating!” James bopped his head enthusiastically and sat down next to Hazel. “Crazy, isn’t it?”

Crazy, indeed it was, but it was only the latest in James and Luke’s string of increasingly desperate attempts at finding girlfriends. Though not members of any church or professors of any particular religion, they were nonetheless semi-regular attendees at the singles group of a local mega-church, where they had been told the females outnumbered the males 3-1.

“How exactly does one ’speed date’?” queried Hazel.

“Well! You all sign up and everyone gets a card with some questions printed on it. You go about the room and ask these questions and jot down the answers. Then, when you go home, you read over the card and if there’s someone you’d like to contact, you ring the speed dating coordinator. He contacts the girl, and if she’s interested she tells him to give you her number. Then you can ring her and ask her out. Much less chance of rejection this way.”

“How so? Can’t she still say no?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s much less painful hearing it from the coordinator than from the girl.”

The girls deliberately avoided eye contact with one another. One glance, and the buckeye bar in Molly’s mouth would spew all over.

“Anyway,” continued James, optimistically, “Luke and I are going to put on suits and ties, you know, really put on the dog, and totally slay those girls. We figure that most of the guys there will be losers who don’t know how to dress, and our suits will give us an advantage. First impressions you know. Hazel, which tie do you think looks better? The blue pinstripe, or the red?”

Comida Criolla

2005-08-23T13:20:00.000-04:00

Because I, frankly, don't feel like writing about the Perons quite yet, I am going to write instead about Argentinian food. These people have been doing the whole "global fusion cooking" thing for years and years now. Good stuff, my friends. Mediterranean (largely Spanish and Italian) meets native Indian. Yum. Not to mention the influence had by large groups of immigrants from Wales, Lebanon, Germany, and Asia.

There are several national gastrointestinal delights, the least of which is certainly not their beef. The Argentinian people are obsessively proud of their beef. Some even claim to be able to identify the breed of cow by the taste of the steak. Steak is the most common cut, and a grateful world thanks Argentina for chimmichurri sauce, which is delightful. Apparently, American palattes take time to get used to Argentinian beef. We're used to aged beef (which the Argentines think tastes "cadavorous") and eating beef fresh is quite the experience.

Never ones to waste, these resourceful folk pretty much eat all of the cow. And I mean ALL of it. Eew. Lamb and goat are also popular in this protein crazy nation. Another popular meat item is the empanada, which is a fried pastry pocket stuffed full of meat, cheese, and whatever else happens to be lying about the place.

Dulce de Leche is quite definitely the greatest contribution the Argentine people have made to the world of sweets. This sauce, made by boiling sweetened milk and sugar for hours and hours and hours, is a thick caramel suitable for filling pastries and spreading on anything (Dulce de Leche is to Argentina as peanut butter is to America, and Nutella is to Europe). Some sickos use it to make flan, which is a particularily nasty and slimy concoction. Decent people pour it on their ice cream. Which is more likely in Argentina to be ice cream's creamier cousin gelato because...

Italian cooking is extremely popular, especially in Buenos Aires. Pizzarias positively litter the city, and some seem to believe Italian food is more popular in Argentina than in Italy. This seems a silly idea, but some people will have their crazy notions...

Outside of the city the food is less sophisticated, it seems. The yocals take advantage of the many fresh products, making stews and meats pies and such. If you enjoy stuff made with beans, maize, squash, pumpkin, and chiles, then you'll want to leave Buenos Aires. You won't find it there.

In all my vast research into the topic of Argentinian cuisine, one thing continually cropped up. In addition to beef and dulce de leche, one thing unites this diverse country. That is yerba mate (mate to locals). Yerba mate is a brewed herb drink (questionable? oh yeah!) and apparently tastes something like green tea, though other sites I checked said it's closer to coffee. Yerba is a plant in the holly family and is, seemingly, quite caffinated. Still seems a bit sketchy to me...

Well, I've only scratched the surface of Argentinian food, but I figure as long as you remember that the beef is way good, the pizza plentiful, the dulce de leche yummy, and the mate rather questionable, you'll be okay.

That is all.

Housecleaning

2005-08-20T14:00:00.000-04:00

It being the weekend and all, there will be no educational posts. Saturdays are meant for relaxing and housecleaning, and even blogs need occasional tidying.

First off, I will be eating potato salad for the rest of my life. I made WAY too much for the party the other night. Next year I'll just skip it. And get more torches. And more Christmas lights. And a croquet set. Yeah.

Secondly, there have been unstable brogospheric conditions this week. Due to reasons beyond the control of both, "In My Opinion" and "The Ministry of Vocabulary" have been shut down. Also, "Don't Write Yourself Off Yet" closed it's doors for business. These are all sad developments. However, do not be downcast. Maggie is reportedly working on a new blog (yay!) and there are rumors afoot that the MOV may resume with it's humanitarian mission to improve the world through better English. I am also pleased to announce new blogs on my links list - Petey's Pro-Action Pics and Life on Union Avenue. I also have been given to understand that yet another new blog is in pre-production. News updates on this as they become available.

Thirdly, in what I consider to be a fine move, ABC reality show "Dancing with the Stars" will be holding a Dance-Off on Sept 20 (results on sept 22). Many (including myself) felt that Kelly and Alex's win over John and Charlotte was somewhat unfair. I resigned myself to their loss though. After all, I have a tendency to root for the losers. (I still wish Bo Bice had won American Idol) For deadpan grannies out there, no, I do not watch alot of reality TV. Just these two. So don't even start.

Fourthly and lastly, Celebration on the Grand is coming up! That means fireworks on Friday, Sept 9! I'll be camped out on Pearl Street bridge, which is the best spot for fireworks viewing. I'll be saving seats for all interested parties. Who knows, maybe I'll bring potato salad...

Tango Argentino

2005-08-18T00:12:00.000-04:00

To keep y'all entertained while top notch research into the Peronist era of Argentina is being conducted, I have provided a link on the history of .....The Tango. We see again how the many immigrants to Buenos Aires influenced the culture of the entire country. Good stuff, this.

Early Argentine history in ten minutes or less

2005-08-16T14:56:00.000-04:00

Amerigo Vespucci, being an enterprising gentleman, was in 1502 the first European to visit the region of South America. Prior to the arrival of the European, the country was sparsely inhabited by various native Indian tribes (with lovely names such as the Diaquita) and groups of rabidly carnivorous nomads. The Spaniards being at the time mad for exploration and colonization, sent Juan Diaz de Solis round and about 1516. He, with the help of his minions, established the colony of Buenos Aires. It remained a backwater for a century or two. Much of the region remained poor, with the exception of estancieros (ranchers) and gauchos (cowboys), who capitalized on the, um, cash cow that was beef.

So in 1776, while we here in America were otherwise occupied, the Spanish integrated Argentina into the Viceroyalty of the Rio de la Plata. Buenos Aires became the capitol of said viceroyalty, and flourished. The rabble, as is their wont, became discontent, and this soon spread to all levels of Argentine society. They had, they felt, outgrown their need for Spain. Things festered and simmered until the need for change became overwhelming, and in 1810 they decided to hold a revolution. General Jose San de Martin led what the Argentines still revere as a brilliant campaign, and independance was secured in 1816.

The problem was, you see, that no one had much considered what to do once Spain buggered out. The reality was that there were many factions, and that each faction would have been highly gratified to rule the country with an iron fist. It eventually boiled down to two main rivaling parties. The estancieros, gauchos, and rural working classes were in favor of the Federalists, who rather liked the idea of provincial autonomy. They were opposed by the Unitarists, a party comprised of mostly urban peoples who favored European immigrants and European ideas, and they were inclined to belive that authority should be centralized in Buenos Aires. After a diastrous try at the Federalists' plan, the Unitarists took over, and eventually (1853) adapted a constitution.

Under this government, the usual mixed bag of results took place. There was quite a bit of growth and prosperity, as the province of Pampas in particular was developed and cereal crops were propogated. Sheep were introduced to the country, and trade with and investments from Europe enriched the economy. Buenos Aires itself became a microsm of Europe as immigration increased, and the exploration and settling of Patagonia by General Roca fascinated the world. By the end of the century, Argentina was one of the world ten wealthiest nations. However, power had been placed in the hands of too few, and the economy was largely at the mercy of world economic downturns and whims and such. This did not bode well...

I'm just here for the steak...

2005-08-16T00:16:00.000-04:00

Argentina is quite a fascinating country. More to come.

Advice for life

2005-08-13T23:39:00.000-04:00

Be courteous, kind and forgiving,
Be gentle and peaceful each day,
Be warm and human and grateful,
And have a good thing to say.

Be thoughtful and trustful and childlike,
Be witty and happy and wise,
Be honest and love all your neighbours,
Be obsequious, purple, and clairvoyant.

Be pompus, obese, and eat cactus,
Be dull, and boring, and omnipresent,
Criticize things you don't know about,
Be oblong and have your knees removed.

Be tasteless, rude, and offensive,
Live in a swamp and be three dimentional,
Put a live chicken in your underwear,
Get all excited and go to a yawning festival.

Be courteous, kind and forgiving,
Be gentle and peaceful each day,
Be warm and human and grateful,
And have a good thing to say.

Be thoughtful and trustful and childlike,
Be witty and happy and wise,
Be honest and love all your neighbours,
Be obsequious, purple, and clairvoyant.

Be pompus, obese, and eat cactus,
Be dull, and boring, and omnipresent,
Criticize things you don't know about,
Be oblong and have your knees removed.

Be tasteless, rude, and offensive,
Live in a swamp and be three dimentional,
Put a live chicken in your underwear,
Go into a closet and suck eggs.

Unseen, in the background, Fate was quietly slipping the lead into the boxing glove.

2005-08-10T20:34:00.000-04:00

Nothing can brighten your day more than a good old P.G. Wodehouse quote. I'd go into all the details of Plum's volumnious career, but no doubt he shall be featured one of these days as a linquist of the week on the MOV. Details thus spared, I'll provide you with a few favorites.

""What ho!'' I said.
"What ho!'' said Monty.
"What ho! What ho!''
"What ho! What ho! What ho!''
After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation."

"Chumps always make the best husbands. When you marry, Sally, grab a chump. Tap his head first, and if it rings solid, don't hesitate. All the unhappy marriages come from husbands having brains. What good are brains to a man? They only unsettle him."

"The only thing that prevented a father's love from faltering was the fact that there was in his possession a photograph of himself at the same early age, in which he, too, looked like a homicidal fried egg."

"I can detach myself from the world. If there is a better world to detach oneself from than the one functioning at the moment I have yet to hear of it."

"He settled down to dictate a letter to the Consolidated Nailfile and Eyebrow Tweezer Corporation of Scranton, Pa., which would make them realize that life is stern and earnest and Nailfile and Eyebrow Tweezer Corporations are not put in this world for pleasure alone."

"Alf Todd,'' said Ukridge, soaring to an impressive burst of imagery, ``has about as much chance as a one-armed blind man in a dark room trying to shove a pound of melted butter into a wild cat's left ear with a red-hot needle.''

"Into the face of the young man who sat on the terrace of the Hotel Magnifique at Cannes there had crept a look of furtive shame, the shifty hangdog look which announces that an Englishman is about to speak French."

In Memoriam

2005-08-07T16:00:00.000-04:00

They say time heals all wounds. Yet, even after all these years, we still miss him. That way he sat there, exchanging c02 for o... it seems like it was yesterday. Out of respect, we republish his obituary.

Chia Pet, Nigel - age unknown
passed away recently of a rare combination
of underwatering, overwatering, and owner separation anxiety.
Nigel passed on to his eternal reward alone and thirsty,
devoid of the love and support of family or friends.
Mr. Pet was a former Green Beret and an avid tap-dancer.
He loved a good drink every now and then
which was, unfortunately, his ruination.
Survivors:
owner, Marion Lanning,
last seen in the ironically green mountains of Vermont;
caretaker, Joy "Dr. Death" Jurries;
life partner, "Mr. Turkey" Baster;
a host of nieces and nephews.
Composting to be performed pending notification of next of kin.
Nigel (what there is of him) reposes on the kitchen counter;
there will be no visitation.
No flowers, please.
Memorials may be made to Miracle-Gro or Chia Pets for Life.
Arrangements by Ronco Fine Family Undertakers
(Fine Families Undertaken Daily)
"To know Nigel was to love him"