Saturday, February 25, 2006
Their better instincts?
I got a pretty good fright on last night when, just past 8:30, there was an earthquake tremor. Tremors are always somewhere between "cool!" and "Oh shit. What if this continues and gets worse?", and last night's was no exception. It was disconcerting, but what really frightened me was the fact that, immediately after the shaking stopped, my birds (who had been sleeping peacefully) went completely berserk in their cage, screeching and bashing themselves against the bars as they tried desperately (I'm guessing) to flee the danger.
At first I didn't know what the sound was, it was so loud and strange. I had a split second of thinking that the wall was coming down or the roof was caving in. That's how out-of-place and weird it was. Of course I realized after that split second that it was the birds. I couldn't shake the feeling that they might know that another, worse tremor was coming. Then D. said "Well, they didn't really predict the first one, did they? I mean they only woke up when it was done."
Oooh yeah... Stupid birds!
I got a pretty good fright on last night when, just past 8:30, there was an earthquake tremor. Tremors are always somewhere between "cool!" and "Oh shit. What if this continues and gets worse?", and last night's was no exception. It was disconcerting, but what really frightened me was the fact that, immediately after the shaking stopped, my birds (who had been sleeping peacefully) went completely berserk in their cage, screeching and bashing themselves against the bars as they tried desperately (I'm guessing) to flee the danger.
At first I didn't know what the sound was, it was so loud and strange. I had a split second of thinking that the wall was coming down or the roof was caving in. That's how out-of-place and weird it was. Of course I realized after that split second that it was the birds. I couldn't shake the feeling that they might know that another, worse tremor was coming. Then D. said "Well, they didn't really predict the first one, did they? I mean they only woke up when it was done."
Oooh yeah... Stupid birds!
Thursday, February 23, 2006
A day in the life
Feeling quite ill today. I knew I was sick (well sicker than I have been for the almost 3 weeks that I've been kinda sick) when I got up yesterday because I felt that what I really needed was to stay in bed. But, being a mother and freelance worker I just had to laugh at my poor body and get up and:
...get the kids off to school, play with the baby and clean the house, put the baby down for a nap and work for 2 hours, rush upstairs and dress and get the baby up and dressed and out to pick up my friend's son, take my little one and my friends' little one to the park for fun and picnicking, come back, pick up the older ones from the bus stop, walk our little guest home, come home and do homework and make snacks for the kids while trying to keep the baby happy, clean the filthy upstairs bathroom, start supper (D. took over when he got home), eat supper, do dishes, tidy the house, make lunches and go to badminton. I was late for badminton and so I dragged my badminton friend to a local bistro and had a half of Guiness, then came home, had a hot bath and went to bed, only to be awakened 4 times to go to the baby during the night.
Feeling quite ill today. I knew I was sick (well sicker than I have been for the almost 3 weeks that I've been kinda sick) when I got up yesterday because I felt that what I really needed was to stay in bed. But, being a mother and freelance worker I just had to laugh at my poor body and get up and:
...get the kids off to school, play with the baby and clean the house, put the baby down for a nap and work for 2 hours, rush upstairs and dress and get the baby up and dressed and out to pick up my friend's son, take my little one and my friends' little one to the park for fun and picnicking, come back, pick up the older ones from the bus stop, walk our little guest home, come home and do homework and make snacks for the kids while trying to keep the baby happy, clean the filthy upstairs bathroom, start supper (D. took over when he got home), eat supper, do dishes, tidy the house, make lunches and go to badminton. I was late for badminton and so I dragged my badminton friend to a local bistro and had a half of Guiness, then came home, had a hot bath and went to bed, only to be awakened 4 times to go to the baby during the night.
Monday, February 20, 2006
He cracks me up
In my previous post I mentioned those horrible rotten pistachios you get sometimes, that taste so incredibly bad they make you want to rip your tongue out and scrub it under the tap.
Well, on Friday night I was telling D. what I had found out about pistachios (He doesn't read my blog and this kind of thing interests him.) and we got to talking about those hideous-tasting ones. After all my searching for the best way to describe them, D. came up with the perfect simile:
"It's like eating a piece of mummy."
Hee!
In my previous post I mentioned those horrible rotten pistachios you get sometimes, that taste so incredibly bad they make you want to rip your tongue out and scrub it under the tap.
Well, on Friday night I was telling D. what I had found out about pistachios (He doesn't read my blog and this kind of thing interests him.) and we got to talking about those hideous-tasting ones. After all my searching for the best way to describe them, D. came up with the perfect simile:
"It's like eating a piece of mummy."
Hee!
Friday, February 17, 2006
Of Pistachios and Wild Cherry
Answer time!
Why, oh why, do they charge more for plain pistachios than for dyed ones?
(Thanks Linda!)
Well, I phoned two stores that carry good-quality nuts in bulk: Sunsource foods in Westmount and the glorious Marche Akhavan on Sherbrooke West in good old ND of G. At the first store the red pistachios were actually more expensive than the plain ones, and at the second store they didn't carry red pistachios but the very helpful man on the line told me that the size of pistachios is what determines the price, and that in general red pistachios are lower quality nuts, and should be sold at a lower price.
So that answers the question why you sometimes (but not always) find red pistachios at a lower price than plain. They're poor quality, smaller nuts.
It also leads to the question of why some pistachios are dyed red at all:
Now, most experts agree with my Akhavan friend that pistachios are dyed red because of poor quality. In the past the shells were dyed because they had blemishes on them (no longer a problem with machine-picking), and when they were sold in vending machines the red colour helped them to stand out among the other colourful candies. Because of this sales advantage, the market for red pistachios remained, but largely for vending machines. My own research seems to bear this out, as most of the distributors selling red ones were targeting the vending machine market.
I did find another plausible theory on Zenobianut.com:
In the Middle East, pistachios were often left in their reddish husks and were brined before roasting. This gave the shells a pink cast. When pistachios were first imported into the U.S., processors attempted imitating the color by using red dye. They found that the coloring made the nuts more noticeable in retail displays and made the nuts even redder! (Middle Eastern people, who until recently were the biggest pistachio consumers, were accustomed to eating nuts with blemished shells and wouldn't care whether or not the nuts were dyed.)
Amidst current trends toward more “natural” foods, consumption of dyed red pistachios has declined dramatically in recent years.
Answer time!
Why, oh why, do they charge more for plain pistachios than for dyed ones?
(Thanks Linda!)
Well, I phoned two stores that carry good-quality nuts in bulk: Sunsource foods in Westmount and the glorious Marche Akhavan on Sherbrooke West in good old ND of G. At the first store the red pistachios were actually more expensive than the plain ones, and at the second store they didn't carry red pistachios but the very helpful man on the line told me that the size of pistachios is what determines the price, and that in general red pistachios are lower quality nuts, and should be sold at a lower price.
So that answers the question why you sometimes (but not always) find red pistachios at a lower price than plain. They're poor quality, smaller nuts.
It also leads to the question of why some pistachios are dyed red at all:
Now, most experts agree with my Akhavan friend that pistachios are dyed red because of poor quality. In the past the shells were dyed because they had blemishes on them (no longer a problem with machine-picking), and when they were sold in vending machines the red colour helped them to stand out among the other colourful candies. Because of this sales advantage, the market for red pistachios remained, but largely for vending machines. My own research seems to bear this out, as most of the distributors selling red ones were targeting the vending machine market.
I did find another plausible theory on Zenobianut.com:
In the Middle East, pistachios were often left in their reddish husks and were brined before roasting. This gave the shells a pink cast. When pistachios were first imported into the U.S., processors attempted imitating the color by using red dye. They found that the coloring made the nuts more noticeable in retail displays and made the nuts even redder! (Middle Eastern people, who until recently were the biggest pistachio consumers, were accustomed to eating nuts with blemished shells and wouldn't care whether or not the nuts were dyed.)
Amidst current trends toward more “natural” foods, consumption of dyed red pistachios has declined dramatically in recent years.
So if you buy pistachios, stick to the big, healthy plain ones. They may be more expensive, but they won't leave your hands all red and you'll get fewer of those ghastly rotten nuts that taste like death.
Question the Second:
Who was the guitarist who played the solo on the tune "Play That Funky Music" by the group Wild Cherry?
(Thank you Lyle!)
I couldn't find a credit for the solo itself, but it seems logical to assume that the solo was by the lead guitarist and singer Rob Parissi, who also wrote the song.
From http://www.artistdirect.com/nad/music/artist/bio/0,,509717,00.html#bio
"The group was still mostly rock-based and with the public's attention shifting to more dance-oriented styles (namely disco), the group was accosted nightly between sets by fans who wanted them to "Play that funky music." It wasn't long before Parissi took heed and penned a song under the same title, an infectious ditty that merged funk and rock together. The quintet entered a studio shortly thereafter to record the track (although they felt that a cover of the Commodores song "I Feel Sanctified" stood more of a chance of becoming a hit). A friend of an engineer at the studio overheard the track, eventually bringing it to the attention of Epic Records, which in turn signed the group."
Oh, and Parissi says that the name Wild Cherry was inspired by a throat lozenge.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Morbid? It depends
Lately I've been having dreams where I am with someone who is dying. I mean really dying, in hospital and only a few minutes away from slipping away forever. This leaves me feeling very sad and unsettled when I wake up. Even though the dying person in the dream is never someone I know in my waking life, I think she is an amalgam of several people.
When I was in the middle of one of these dreams my baby woke up and I stumbled out of bed to get her. While sitting there on the couch in her room I was still half asleep and thinking about dying in a hospital with people around my bed. Then I thought about what it would be like if my mother were dying in a hospital bed or her own bed, with all of us around her. To me, that has always seemed like a good way to go, surrounded by your loved ones, etc. But in that sleepy state I thought no, that's not good enough. I would want to crawl into her bed and snuggle, hold her close to me while she left this world, so that she could feel warmth and human skin and muscles and smell the smell of someone who loved her.
So I've told Dave that that's what he has to do for me if it ever comes to that. I needed to be held close when I came into this world, and I hope I can be held close when I pass out of it.
Lately I've been having dreams where I am with someone who is dying. I mean really dying, in hospital and only a few minutes away from slipping away forever. This leaves me feeling very sad and unsettled when I wake up. Even though the dying person in the dream is never someone I know in my waking life, I think she is an amalgam of several people.
When I was in the middle of one of these dreams my baby woke up and I stumbled out of bed to get her. While sitting there on the couch in her room I was still half asleep and thinking about dying in a hospital with people around my bed. Then I thought about what it would be like if my mother were dying in a hospital bed or her own bed, with all of us around her. To me, that has always seemed like a good way to go, surrounded by your loved ones, etc. But in that sleepy state I thought no, that's not good enough. I would want to crawl into her bed and snuggle, hold her close to me while she left this world, so that she could feel warmth and human skin and muscles and smell the smell of someone who loved her.
So I've told Dave that that's what he has to do for me if it ever comes to that. I needed to be held close when I came into this world, and I hope I can be held close when I pass out of it.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
It's that time...
Time to Ask Me Anything (TM).
Always wondered where toejam comes from? Got a sticky etiquette question? Let me do the research for you! Or if you just want to know what my favourite -- um -- yoga position is, ask away. I will answer your question to the best of my ability, or give up the whole endeavour. Whatever.
Time to Ask Me Anything (TM).
Always wondered where toejam comes from? Got a sticky etiquette question? Let me do the research for you! Or if you just want to know what my favourite -- um -- yoga position is, ask away. I will answer your question to the best of my ability, or give up the whole endeavour. Whatever.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
A sucker for roses
Happy Valentine's Day. We had a lovely little exchange of chocolates and cards this morning at breakfast. Homemade cards are so sweet.
Yesterday the kids were at our friends' house. The dad in this family of friends works for an organic-fair-trade flower wholesaler, and apparently he came home with flowers when my kids were there. Well, I don't know how she did it, but my daughter managed to snag TWO DOZEN white roses and brought them home. They are so frickin' beautiful, I can't walk by them without smiling. A rose is a decadent flower, don't you think? Two dozen of them are unselfconsciously magnetic, like a gaggle of gorgeous girls talking and laughing on the bus. You can't help but look at them, admire them, envy them a little the simplicity of being truly, effortlessly beautiful.
Again with the wishing for a digital camera. Oysh.
Happy Valentine's Day. We had a lovely little exchange of chocolates and cards this morning at breakfast. Homemade cards are so sweet.
Yesterday the kids were at our friends' house. The dad in this family of friends works for an organic-fair-trade flower wholesaler, and apparently he came home with flowers when my kids were there. Well, I don't know how she did it, but my daughter managed to snag TWO DOZEN white roses and brought them home. They are so frickin' beautiful, I can't walk by them without smiling. A rose is a decadent flower, don't you think? Two dozen of them are unselfconsciously magnetic, like a gaggle of gorgeous girls talking and laughing on the bus. You can't help but look at them, admire them, envy them a little the simplicity of being truly, effortlessly beautiful.
Again with the wishing for a digital camera. Oysh.
Monday, February 13, 2006
When Monday feels like the weekend
I got to the end of this past weekend feeling like I'd been run over by a truck. Our life as a family was so insanely busy that the house got twice as messy as it usually does on a weekend, and I forgot to bake the chocolate muffins that I had promised to contribute to my kids' school's Teacher Appreciation Week. The parents make a little catered luncheon every day and fix up the teachers' lounge during the week. I always contribute something, but this time I plum forgot!
A contributing factor in the exhaustedness of Sunday evening was the fact that we went to a rockin' party on Saturday night. Excellent fun, and we got to see friends we haven't seen in years. We left the babysitter, a young boy from next door, sitting on the couch with his book and came back to find him in exactly the same position, so we assumed things had gone well. We were wrong. The baby had woken up and had been very upset and he had been unable to console her. And you know what? My wonderful big girl (8 years old) got up to help, cuddled her baby sister and brought her into bed with her and stayed awake with her until she was sleepy enough to go to bed happily. I'm so proud of my sweet daughter. I'll bet our babysitter was glad to have her there, too! Boy everybody was tired the next day, though.
After running all weekend, today feels a little like sanity, even though I've had to come into work and deal with a crazy unexpected deadline crisis. It's all relative.
I got to the end of this past weekend feeling like I'd been run over by a truck. Our life as a family was so insanely busy that the house got twice as messy as it usually does on a weekend, and I forgot to bake the chocolate muffins that I had promised to contribute to my kids' school's Teacher Appreciation Week. The parents make a little catered luncheon every day and fix up the teachers' lounge during the week. I always contribute something, but this time I plum forgot!
A contributing factor in the exhaustedness of Sunday evening was the fact that we went to a rockin' party on Saturday night. Excellent fun, and we got to see friends we haven't seen in years. We left the babysitter, a young boy from next door, sitting on the couch with his book and came back to find him in exactly the same position, so we assumed things had gone well. We were wrong. The baby had woken up and had been very upset and he had been unable to console her. And you know what? My wonderful big girl (8 years old) got up to help, cuddled her baby sister and brought her into bed with her and stayed awake with her until she was sleepy enough to go to bed happily. I'm so proud of my sweet daughter. I'll bet our babysitter was glad to have her there, too! Boy everybody was tired the next day, though.
After running all weekend, today feels a little like sanity, even though I've had to come into work and deal with a crazy unexpected deadline crisis. It's all relative.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Ask! Me! Anything!
If you could snap a finger and have any life you could imagine, what would that life be?
(Thanks Lyle!)
I suppose the only life I've always wanted and don't have now is the life of a writer, or what I imagine that life to be. In my imagination, it is quiet and solitary for much of the day, writing and researching and thinking 'bout thangs. It includes a New York apartment and sometimes a waterfront cabin somewhere. It's not fame and celebrity, but appreciation for one's thoughts and ideas and the artful expression of them, as well as the opportunity to meet truly intelligent, wise and curious people. All of that appeals to me immensely.
I also yearn for travel. There are so many places I want to experience, to fill my senses with their newness and strangeness. When I fantasize about disappearing from my life it is to China, a place where I feel you could reinvent yourself if you were so inclined. It's a new frontier, a place in flux, changing and moving quickly, and I'd like to be there to see that and feel that.
The funny thing is that I don't see these as lives I can't have. I feel like I could choose to try to become a writer. But what if I didn't succeed? What if I fell flat on my face? And I feel like I will travel. Maybe not everywhere, maybe not even to China, but I will, unless I die first, which is always a possibility of which I am aware.
The older I get the more I realize that I'm happy with the life I have. It's not glamourous but it's fun and interesting and rich and full of love and all the good things that life has to offer: children, food, beauty, sex, laughter, etc... I don't even think that I would prefer to call any other country home, though I might like to live in Italy or New York or somewhere for a time.
There is one thing I'd like to snap my fingers for -- not an alternate life, but an alternate place: If I could, I would live by the ocean. My soul is called to the ocean.
What is/are your guilty pleasure(s) when it comes to reading?
(Thank you Maggie!)
Strangely enough I don't have any right now. For the past year or so I've been doing fairly "serious" reading, to the exclusion of anything else except the Ikea catalogue in my bathroom (and I don't feel guilty about that. I love Ikea!) However, in the past I have had some guilty reading pleasures. One that I don't feel so very guilty about is the Ayla series (Clan of The Cave Bear, etc.) by Jean Auel. I love them, and although they're pretty lame in terms of character and preposterous in terms of romance they're still so cool because they're full of cave people and neanderthals! What's not to love?
An embarrassing admission: I used to love trashy sex novels, like those by Sidney Sheldon and Jackie Collins. I was sexually curious and frustrated, I guess, and I read and re-read them like crazy when I was in my late teens, early twenties. Something I'm curious about is erotica. I wouldn't mind reading some good erotic stuff. Funnily enough, I think I'm going to have to for the job I'm doing, so Woohoo!
And I still love Archie comic books. But that's nothing to feel guilty about, is it?
If you could snap a finger and have any life you could imagine, what would that life be?
(Thanks Lyle!)
I suppose the only life I've always wanted and don't have now is the life of a writer, or what I imagine that life to be. In my imagination, it is quiet and solitary for much of the day, writing and researching and thinking 'bout thangs. It includes a New York apartment and sometimes a waterfront cabin somewhere. It's not fame and celebrity, but appreciation for one's thoughts and ideas and the artful expression of them, as well as the opportunity to meet truly intelligent, wise and curious people. All of that appeals to me immensely.
I also yearn for travel. There are so many places I want to experience, to fill my senses with their newness and strangeness. When I fantasize about disappearing from my life it is to China, a place where I feel you could reinvent yourself if you were so inclined. It's a new frontier, a place in flux, changing and moving quickly, and I'd like to be there to see that and feel that.
The funny thing is that I don't see these as lives I can't have. I feel like I could choose to try to become a writer. But what if I didn't succeed? What if I fell flat on my face? And I feel like I will travel. Maybe not everywhere, maybe not even to China, but I will, unless I die first, which is always a possibility of which I am aware.
The older I get the more I realize that I'm happy with the life I have. It's not glamourous but it's fun and interesting and rich and full of love and all the good things that life has to offer: children, food, beauty, sex, laughter, etc... I don't even think that I would prefer to call any other country home, though I might like to live in Italy or New York or somewhere for a time.
There is one thing I'd like to snap my fingers for -- not an alternate life, but an alternate place: If I could, I would live by the ocean. My soul is called to the ocean.
What is/are your guilty pleasure(s) when it comes to reading?
(Thank you Maggie!)
Strangely enough I don't have any right now. For the past year or so I've been doing fairly "serious" reading, to the exclusion of anything else except the Ikea catalogue in my bathroom (and I don't feel guilty about that. I love Ikea!) However, in the past I have had some guilty reading pleasures. One that I don't feel so very guilty about is the Ayla series (Clan of The Cave Bear, etc.) by Jean Auel. I love them, and although they're pretty lame in terms of character and preposterous in terms of romance they're still so cool because they're full of cave people and neanderthals! What's not to love?
An embarrassing admission: I used to love trashy sex novels, like those by Sidney Sheldon and Jackie Collins. I was sexually curious and frustrated, I guess, and I read and re-read them like crazy when I was in my late teens, early twenties. Something I'm curious about is erotica. I wouldn't mind reading some good erotic stuff. Funnily enough, I think I'm going to have to for the job I'm doing, so Woohoo!
And I still love Archie comic books. But that's nothing to feel guilty about, is it?
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Hum tee tum tee tum...
Well, no questions yet for my shiny new blog column, and I will not, NOT I say! resort to writing the questions myself and pretending they came from someone else. This is supposed to be an experiment in honesty, after all. Maybe I'll have to be honest with myself and say Hey, self! noone's innerested!
The sun is shining, the remaining birds are singing, it's a beautiful day. My big girl is sick at home for the 3rd day, but I'm going to drag her outside anyway. I'm sick of being stuck indoors, and it'll probably do her good. See ya!
Well, no questions yet for my shiny new blog column, and I will not, NOT I say! resort to writing the questions myself and pretending they came from someone else. This is supposed to be an experiment in honesty, after all. Maybe I'll have to be honest with myself and say Hey, self! noone's innerested!
The sun is shining, the remaining birds are singing, it's a beautiful day. My big girl is sick at home for the 3rd day, but I'm going to drag her outside anyway. I'm sick of being stuck indoors, and it'll probably do her good. See ya!
Monday, February 06, 2006
Renovating
I've been thinking for a while about how to go about changing/improving the blog. I've treated it as a kind of personal journal that people close to me can look at when/if they think "hmm, wonder what becca's up to." But I'd like it to be a little bit more, so I have two ideas that I want to run up the flag pole:
Guest bloggers -- Where I get friends, relatives, interesting people to write something for me and post it. Sometimes as an interview, sometimes an essay, or poem, or anything else that strikes their fancy.
Ask me Anything -- Where I try to answer any question, no matter how intricate or personal, honestly and openly. Now, when I say ask me anything, I mean anything, from advice (ha!) to something that I need to research ( like Jeeves), or something about me or my views on the world, the universe and everything. Not because I'm fascinating y'understand, but just because you can ask me ANYTHING, and I'll try to answer. Until someone stumps me, when I must give up the whole thing. By stumping me, I mean asking something I can't answer, for any reason.
Obviously I won't say anything that could hurt or harm anyone in my family or my friends, but I think I can be honest about most things without doing that.
This latter idea would require participation from my few readers, so I'll know soon enough if you think it's worth doing. You can ask a question in the comments, or e-mail me. I'll put up that e-mail linking thingy when I figure out how.
I'll change the template too, if I do make these content changes.
I've been thinking for a while about how to go about changing/improving the blog. I've treated it as a kind of personal journal that people close to me can look at when/if they think "hmm, wonder what becca's up to." But I'd like it to be a little bit more, so I have two ideas that I want to run up the flag pole:
Guest bloggers -- Where I get friends, relatives, interesting people to write something for me and post it. Sometimes as an interview, sometimes an essay, or poem, or anything else that strikes their fancy.
Ask me Anything -- Where I try to answer any question, no matter how intricate or personal, honestly and openly. Now, when I say ask me anything, I mean anything, from advice (ha!) to something that I need to research ( like Jeeves), or something about me or my views on the world, the universe and everything. Not because I'm fascinating y'understand, but just because you can ask me ANYTHING, and I'll try to answer. Until someone stumps me, when I must give up the whole thing. By stumping me, I mean asking something I can't answer, for any reason.
Obviously I won't say anything that could hurt or harm anyone in my family or my friends, but I think I can be honest about most things without doing that.
This latter idea would require participation from my few readers, so I'll know soon enough if you think it's worth doing. You can ask a question in the comments, or e-mail me. I'll put up that e-mail linking thingy when I figure out how.
I'll change the template too, if I do make these content changes.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Exile on mainstream
Ooo, Survivor can make me feel bad sometimes, in a very detached and judgemental way. Last night's Episode One of Exile Island had some fun moments. I'd have to say that the greatest innovation to the Survivor format is not the 4 teams, not the exile punishment, but bringing in a guy who's using Survivor as de-tox from a 3-pack-a-day smoking habit! Hoo-weee, if that doesn't make for entertaining TV, then I don't know TV.
What made me feel bad was, of course, the end, where the "Older women" team voted out the "Lumber Jill" (who knew?) Tina. The poor, poor woman had just lost her 16-year-old son, her only child, in a car accident 4 months before shooting. When she went to the beach to think about him and have a little cry, the other women on her team were all like, "What's she doing. She's all alone. That's just weird." Jesus! That's why I could never be on Survivor. I could eat bugs, maybe even chew up unborn birds in their eggs, but I couldn't hack the team-group-think bullshit that seems to result in the weak yes-person making it to the final 2 every time. On Survivor "flying under the radar" = going along with what the strong, leader-type people do while plotting behind their backs. It's a reflection of society, and a lesson for getting ahead in life, but it sucks. If you can't go off and be alone and think your own thoughts, you are in exile. From yourself.
Ooo, Survivor can make me feel bad sometimes, in a very detached and judgemental way. Last night's Episode One of Exile Island had some fun moments. I'd have to say that the greatest innovation to the Survivor format is not the 4 teams, not the exile punishment, but bringing in a guy who's using Survivor as de-tox from a 3-pack-a-day smoking habit! Hoo-weee, if that doesn't make for entertaining TV, then I don't know TV.
What made me feel bad was, of course, the end, where the "Older women" team voted out the "Lumber Jill" (who knew?) Tina. The poor, poor woman had just lost her 16-year-old son, her only child, in a car accident 4 months before shooting. When she went to the beach to think about him and have a little cry, the other women on her team were all like, "What's she doing. She's all alone. That's just weird." Jesus! That's why I could never be on Survivor. I could eat bugs, maybe even chew up unborn birds in their eggs, but I couldn't hack the team-group-think bullshit that seems to result in the weak yes-person making it to the final 2 every time. On Survivor "flying under the radar" = going along with what the strong, leader-type people do while plotting behind their backs. It's a reflection of society, and a lesson for getting ahead in life, but it sucks. If you can't go off and be alone and think your own thoughts, you are in exile. From yourself.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Picking twigs and leaves from my hair
Whew! I'm newly-emerged from that dense little copse of work. While I wish I had loads of fascinating thoughts to put down for your information and edification, I find myself strangely emptied of words for the moment. All I got is this: My birds like to eat carrots and lettuce. Feeding them vegetables makes me happy. Also, Glenn Gould was incredible. I'm listening to his playing now.
I'll be back a little later with something better, I promise. I wish I had a digital camera so I could post pictures when I've nothing worth saying.
Whew! I'm newly-emerged from that dense little copse of work. While I wish I had loads of fascinating thoughts to put down for your information and edification, I find myself strangely emptied of words for the moment. All I got is this: My birds like to eat carrots and lettuce. Feeding them vegetables makes me happy. Also, Glenn Gould was incredible. I'm listening to his playing now.
I'll be back a little later with something better, I promise. I wish I had a digital camera so I could post pictures when I've nothing worth saying.
