Areas of Unrest

QOTD: "When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained." - Mark Twain

Reading: Lilian Jackson Braun, Short & Tall Tales (which is truly atrocious, but I'm finishing it anyway and my mother will love it when I give it to her)

Listening to: the original cast recording of Closer Than Ever

Decluttering accomplishments: got rid of various scraps of paper, organized some crafts supplies

5 January 2003 - New Year Miscellany

Other than things like having to remember what year to write on checks and being back to larger deductions from my paycheck, the first of January is a marginal milestone for me. The year logically starts in September, in my opinion, because that's when my birthday is. Couple that with the Jewish year and too many years of school and who needs this January nonsense?

We started 2003 here with record rainfall. At least it was decently warm. That's changed by now and it snowed today. I was smart enough to go out shopping early in the morning and got home just as the first flakes were falling. I'd have been back before there was any snow if I hadn't had to make a second stop because Giant didn't have mirin (sort of the Japanese equivalent of cooking sherry). Fortunately, Whole Foods did. I'd expected the toughest item on my shopping list to be escarole, but that proved to be no problem at all. (This is "clean out file drawers and try new recipes" time. This week's dinners will include soba with shiitake mushrooms, which is what I needed the mirin for, and a chick pea and escarole soup.) I had vaguely thought about going to a movie this afternoon, but there was nothing I wanted to see enough to actually go out in the snow. It's not like there was a shortage of stuff to do at home, though I'm not sure I can pinpoint anything I did other than reading the newspaper. And I had gone out yesterday (which was just cold and windy, but dry). The National Museum of Women in the Arts had two exhibits that were closing this weekend. I was only moderately interested in each of them, but the combination made it worth going into the city for. The Judy Chicago retrospective was disappointing because a lot of the exhibit consisted of preliminary sketches and test pieces for pieces that are installed elsewhere right now. I also have mixed feelings about her work. Much of it is interesting, but I prefer art that's more subtle in its politics. And I think she exploits the women who do much of her needlework. I recognize the economic difficulty, but it still makes me uncomfortable that the needleworkers put in thousands of hours with no pay and minimal recognition.

The Books as Art exhibit was more satisfying. I was particularly taken with one installation that had books shaped as things like slices of cake and arranged on a table. Another artist had a book that was shaped as a bowl of lettuce. However, I'd have enjoyed the exhibit more if the two women working in the gallery it was in had not been having a very loud conversation. I don't expect museums to be hushed libraries, but this was really distracting and annoying.

Just to finish up on what I've actually been doing, I have an amusing work-related story. The satellites I work on have been launched on a particular type of rocket for many years. The last one is going to be launched on a different rocket, which meant that they needed to design a new interface. Basically, you can think of this as a sort of gasket used to attach the satellite to the rocket. This week I found out about a little, er, glitch. You see, a couple of weeks ago, they measured the satellite with the new interface. And they measured the door they need to go through to get the whole thing out of the building where they attach the interface. It turns out that satellite with the interface attached is a half-inch taller than the door. This is a solvable problem, but it still provided some entertainment value.

I also have several notes about things to write about. I can't remember what I wanted to say about Mwai Kibaki, other than that reforming Kenya seems a daunting task. The more interesting African news story was the vampire rumors in Malawi. Apparently, several people have claimed to be attacked by vampires, usually blaming Western missionaries and/or the government. I guess renaming that village to "Sunnydale" was a bad idea, eh? I liked this news story not only because of its inherent amusingness, but because it gave me an excuse to talk about Malawi. I usually only mention Malawi in conjunction with the old pun we had when traveling there. Whenever we talked about needing to go to Lilongwe, somebody would inevitably ask if we could go "Le Short Way" instead. Lilongwe is notable as being the only place for miles around with a good supermarket, by the way. You didn't ask, I know, but should you happen to be meandering around that part of the world and want things like eggs and yogurt and any vegetables other than tomatoes or onions, go to the supermarket in Lilongwe.

Two of my notes have to do with my commute. There's a guy at my metro station who sells the New York Times. He sort of chants, "New York Times, New York Times, Washington Edition of the New York Times." It strikes me that this is exactly like the old vendor cries I associate with Dickensian London. My other commute note also has to do with music - namely, the metro hymn singer. This is a middle-aged Asian man who gets on the train, says, "Excuse me, good morning" and then sings a hymn. As we get into the next station, he says, "Glory Hallelujah" and runs out the door and to the next train car. I seem to see him at least once a week. In December, he was singing Christmas carols. It's fairly obvious that English is not his native language, as he has difficulty pronouncing several of the lyrics. One of my colleagues told me that this guy is well-known as a D.C. character and has been written up in the newspaper. What was really surprising is that one weekend I took the metro over to the Pentagon City mall about 11 in the morning - and the hymn singer was there on the Blue Line. It was obvious that most of the other people on the train were not familiar with him and didn't know what to make of this. Not that I actually know quite what to make of him, but I'm inclined to think this sort of harmless eccentricity is good for local character.

Another note has to do with a couple of words I've run across recently. Neither of these is a "real" word (i.e., neither is blessed by Merriam-Webster) but both should be. The first one is "acluistic," meaning "without a clue." The other word (which I saw in some editorial or other) is "sandalista." That strikes me as a great description of the Birkenstock-wearing liberal crowd.

The newspaper "year in review" columns also provide interesting fodder. For example, my celebrity death watch did note Ted Williams and Adolph Green, but I don't think I mentioned Thor Heyerdahl (who died in April) or Abba Eban (who died in November). An interesting bit of trivia regarding the latter is that Oliver Sacks (the neurologist and writer) was his cousin. The most overlooked celebrity death I ran across was that of Alan Lomax (in July). Lomax was one of the major collectors and popularizers of American folk music, right up there with the Seeger family. The lack of attention to his death is an indication of how marginal folk culture has become in these days.

The wrap-ups of weird news stories are too easy a target. But I still can't help mentioning the story of the officials judging the Iowa State Math Championship, who added up the scores wrong, naming the wrong team as the winner. Maybe they're the same people who designed our satellite interface?

And then there was the follow-up on the color of the universe. The precise shade of beige is now officially named "Cosmic Latte." Of the suggestions I saw, the one I thought was best was "Skyvory." But I'm still hoping they'll reconsider and decide the universe is really a color I like better. Maybe I need to go to one of those alternate universes that comic book writers are so fond of. Make mine teal, please.

Let's see... ah, yes, apparently the city of Kokomo, Indiana has a problem with a low-frequency hum that some residents have complained about. They say it sounds like "an idling tractor trailer's diesel engine." Hmmm, Indiana... tractor... ya think just maybe there's a connection? In the meantime, some people in Hartford, Connecticut are suing Mister Softee because they don't like hearing the ice cream truck play "Turkey in the Straw" repeatedly. Maybe they could send it to Kokomo where it can drown out the mysterious hum? In my opinion, you're really sinking low to object to the chimes of an ice cream truck. I can't imagine how these people would react to my newspaper vendor or the metro hymn singer.

Even with these forms of noise pollution, the residents of Kokomo and Hartford are better off than the woman in Montbello, Colorado who got trapped in her house by giant tumbleweeds. I mention this because I've had my own tumbleweed encounters and they're always a bit surreal. One time, I was driving down I-25 in Weld County, Colorado and a tumbleweed impaled itself in the front fender of my rental car. It wasn't like there was an obvious place to pull off the highway and disentangle it. And even if I could have gotten it free, there were all these other tumbleweeds just lurking out there, ready to replace it. All I could think about was that I had 40 miles to drive with a bloody tree stuck to my car. I can't imagine what other drivers were thinking. Fortunately, when I turned eastwards towards the airport, the change in wind direction freed the plant so the rental car guys were none the wiser.

I also have a clipping here about the alleged growing popularity of pantyhose for men. I think I'm just going to let that stand on its own merits.

On a more serious note, one of the old magazines I threw out (part of the ongoing decluttering effort) had the following ten questions to test your "community quotient," which I repeat with my answers:

1. If you have children, do/did they attend public or private schools? Not applicable as I have neither children nor plans to have any, but if I did, it would depend on where I lived. The public school system here (Fairfax County, Virginia) has an excellent reputation, for example. I should note that I went to public schools, but had we stayed in the Bronx, my parents would probably have sent me to a Jewish day school up to high school.

2. When was the last time you took public transportation? Yesterday. More to the point, I regularly commute by metro and often use it for weekend excursions.

3. Have you given blood recently? No, but they don't want my blood. It's that whole "travel in malaria-infested hell holes and take mefloquine as a preventative" thing.

4. Do you do volunteer work in your community? No, but I will once I'm more settled in here. I do contribute to various causes and, most importantly from the standpoint of time commitment, do charity knitting/crochet projects.

5. Do you attend a church, synagogue, or mosque? I go to synagogue on major holidays, but very infrequently at other times.

6. Have you ever served on a jury? Three times - two criminal cases, one civil.

7. How many of your neighbors do you know by name? None. The last place I lived in L.A., I knew my next door neighbor. But several of my friends lived within a couple of miles.

8. When was the last time you checked out a book from the local library? I barely know where the local library here is. When I lived in L.A., I used to use various libraries for research, but pretty much read stuff there. The last time I checked out books from the library regularly was when I was in grad school.

9. When was the last time you went to a free public event or amusement like a museum or a zoo? I go to museums a lot, though the last couple I went to weren't free. So it's probably been maybe a month. I can't think of any free public events here other than stuff like book signings. Oh, wait, some of the story swaps are free! Does that count?

10. Do you use primarily private clubs or public parks for your recreation and exercise? I use the gym in my apartment complex some and I expect I'll use the pool a lot come the summer. That's sort of in-between public and private, but closer to private. However, walking is one of my major forms of exercise and I do use public streets for that!

Today's Washington Post had various people prognosticating about 2003 and one odd bit of trivia came up in the offering of the guy who wrote about food trends. He claimed, "In 1993, 99 percent of households had a skillet. In 2003, that number dropped to 93 percent." Assuming that whoever came up with those numbers accounted for regional terminology variations (I say "skillet" but lots of folks say "frying pan" and there are still some New Hampshire-ites who call it a "spider"), I find this mind-boggling. How do you survive without at least one skillet? I'd consider a minimally equipped kitchen to have a skillet, a saucepan, a bowl, cutting board, and a good knife. Beyond that, you add ovenware and more of the same in other sizes. I can't really imagine having less. I guess the skillet-free people live on take-out and microwaved dinners? The mind boggles.

One final clipping has to do with Bill Frist. In discussing the Senate Republican leader, an editorial in last week's Washington Post called him a romantic figure (largely because he spends his spare time flying his own plane to Africa to treat AIDS patients) and said, "It's like getting Lord Byron on your condo board." Let's see. "Oh, Anne, your offenses to me have been grievous. Next time, pay your association fees on time."