Today, the ears have it

My life has suddenly been interrupted by a fuzzy little killer.
A kitten.
With two infected eyes (bilateral conjunctivitis, in the language of science), two ears infested with mites, and a belly bloated with gas, he literally fell into my basement a scared, crazed, questionably viable pound of fur and bones (I doubt the mites and gas weighed much).

One visit to the veterinarian told me he hadn't eaten in a day or two, needed ointment applied to his eyes twice daily, and was, at 18 ounces, the size of a 4-week kitten although his development was clearly beyond that at 7 to 8 weeks' coordination and socialization.

He needed me.

-[I needed him]-

I took him home.




I have known him for only 4 days, and my life has been swallowed whole.
So while I have suddenly been taken over by a kitten of happenstance, my ears have been wandering about the tubes of electronic bliss. In their travels, they have found this- Under Byen's song, "det er mig der holder traeerne sammen" which has left me utterly satisfied, if only in concept.

It may translate to- "It's me there holding the trees together."


I may be (and am most likely) incorrect. But I like that image.

Under Byen video [link]


I find myself needing good music more and more. It fills in the spaces.

Experimental

I've decided to run an experiment.
On my legs.

More specifically, I am only shaving one of them.
I could go on and on about how I regularly shaved my legs, and then decided to let one grow, but that would be a lie.

I actually just got super lazy over the winter, and stopped shaving my legs. A lot of us do that. You could rationalize it as insulation, but really- I just got lazy. Then it was Spring! And I WAS going to shave my legs- I even had a razor in my hand and was about to start the seasonal clean-up after I groomed my arm pits, but I suddenly imagined the razor clogging with one pass of the blade. So I thought to myself how I should just wax them anyway, before I enter shaving season and into a stubble issue (it's easier to wax hair that isn't stubbly / shaven). I imagined my silky-smooth getaway sticks of tomorrow, instead of the sticks I did have (get away!), and remained shaveless.

One Spring catastrophe after another, and I ended up suddenly without a need to shave my legs for any sort of hopeful reason. I hated people briefly, and wanted them all to go away. This depressed me. I remained hairy. April passed.

May was passing, and as my birthday approached I kept assessing the situation. Shave? Wax? Do I care? The answer was- not really.

And so it's June. Legs? I decided I may as well run an experiment. I shaved one.


Just to backtrack a bit before the big reveal, I decided to see what images would come up with a google search for "hairy legs."

The number one result actually specified ladies:

Girls with Hairy Legs [link]
Look at that ladyhair. Call me strange, but I don't find this appalling. I looked for more images of long leg-haired women, but the results when you add "girls" to a "hairy legs" search, require one to be over the age of 18 and in the mood for something a bit beyond what my intentions were set on.


A bit further into the cacophony of sexless, genderless "hairy legs" results was the following glorious image:

Mo'Nique at the Golden Globe Awards Ceremony [link]
I love her attitude, even if I don't love her legs. Brazen defiance of mores = awesome. But there is something rather satyr-like about long-haired legs in heels, and it just so happens that I am not a fan of "the look" of satyrs- they remind me of my ex.






But unshaven legs NOT in heels, that isn't so bad at all to me. Aesthetically speaking.

About those mores- as far as leg shaving goes, it's considered normal for us ladies in the USA. Part of the whole neotenous, borderline prepubescent fixation we have where youth = beauty. Wikipedia even has an article on leg shaving [link] that doesn't really get into the reasons behind our societal leg shaving. But lets face it, those of us who do not shave our legs are labeled as...hippies. Gah. To me, this is probably the strongest reason FOR shaving my legs that I can think of. Damn hippies.


All societal issues aside (as they frequently are for me), I actually like having leg hair. I can actually feel better with the hairy leg. For example, I am presently wearing jeans. If I flex and extend the ankle of my left (hairy) leg, I can actually feel the denim fabric moving against my leg: how heavy it is, its temperature and texture. The right (shaven) leg? I gather no temperature or texture data- my skin has already been in constant contact with the fabric. It's like being partially numb.

This must contribute to swimmers' reasoning for leg shaving. For while they DO shave their legs, they practice for the race with their legs covered and protected from the feel of the water. If your legs suddenly feel the water for the first time, it seems "increased sensitivity to the water makes competitive swimmers faster." Perhaps the sudden feel of water leads to a release of adrenaline? Wikipedia may be pulling my chain, but that's what I read at the leg-shaving link. It is mistakenly listed under the "Men" section, instead of being listed as a separate section about athletes in general (someone should edit that).



So.
Back to my legs.
The unshaven VS the shaven.

Comparison?


Yes, I know they are so pale, they would blind you at the beach. Aside from that, my shaven VS unshaven has little in common. Bulgy knees. Neither is particularly fantastic.

Contrasting the two, the shaven one definitely looks stereotypically more "feminine," clean, etc. But maybe that is because I am a brunette. I think if the hair were a little lighter, it wouldn't really stand out at all. And in the grand scheme of things, I guess my legs really are not that hairy. We're looking at months and months of hair growth, people. My ankle-area hair is probably the biggest issue.

So while I'm deciding which version of leg hair wins, I will leave you with the following link:
leg hair [link]

Eating Well

The Farmers' Market [link].

(image taken from our local Farmers' Market's fb page)

We're big fans of fresh produce, and the more locally grown, the better. We don't live in a desert and it isn't winter, so it's easy for me to say, "Buy local!" There really are a lot of reasons to support local growers [link]. Consider this blog a call to action for you to buy produce local to you.


One of the most obvious reasons to go to the Farmers' Market, of course, is for the fresh food.


Let me show you the spoils from our morning:


I'm starting off with the wonder of trees- a new (quart!) jug of maple syrup. Oh my. I've been out of maple syrup for a month or three, and had been really looking forward to making my next purchase. Voila! This should last through the summer ice & syrup phase and well into the autumnal pancake phase. We bought some fresh greens, too- you can see them peeking out from behind my cache of tree sugar.



Let us examine the phototrophs [link].


A better look, yes?
Perhaps you're eying the greenery with a hint of curiosity. "I say, are those what I think they are?" Well, how about a better look...




Mmmmmmmmm, garlic scapes [link]. SO delicious. My friend and I ate a bunch of these a few years ago when I was visiting her in Peterborough, Ontario [link]. SO delicious, it's hard to delay the cooking. Did I mention that they're SO delicious?


They are.


Think omelet greens or sauteed in butter. Yes.



And these? These would be fresh fiddleheads [link]. Just look at them. Wonderful.

They aren't quite as large as the ones I am used to, but they are still worth a try. I found a spot with some recipes here [click].




Shamefully hiding behind the greens are the baked goods (well, one teacake's worth), which I NEVER buy at the farmers market, but today something in my head turned off the barriers when I saw the "rhubarb" on the label. A free taste from the vendor didn't help me reestablish the limit.




Also on the counter were the coleus plants, which we picked up because we anticipated filling in the remaining two sections of a strawberry pot that is devoid of strawberry plants. I wanted the dark fuzzy coleus plants, but when you're eight years old with exceptional color vision, the contrast of borders to innards wins over dark fuzzies any day. I'm hoping these leaves become more vivid over time, because they're the sort of sickly pink that reminds me of decaying flesh.



There were a couple of other things we found today that should prove useful in the near-future. I have grand plans for them, anyway, and they'd best not resist me:

A tomato plant. I have nowhere to actually garden with my tiny downtown yard, but people grow tomatoes in containers all the time. If my new plant-friend recovers from what appears to be a momentary fatigue / dehydration / stress of replanting into a pot, we shall have tomatoes. These are supposedly a wonderful variety that is juicy and perfect. I'll report back to you once evidence to support (or reject) that claim is gathered.



One last item:


A basil plant. Life is complete.




So this is when I remind you to think globally, and act locally, or something [link]. Do what you want to do, people. But at least try your local farmers' market the next time you're buying fresh food. And that includes freshly slaughtered meat of all sorts. Just in case you're more the sort who is looking for things like buffalo or chicken or even eggs- all of which have been slaughtered just for you to buy, that day. Fresh meat always makes me think of GWAR [link], even though they use carrageenan. What can I say.


Need help finding a farmers' market near you [link to search tool]?



Enjoy.

thirty-seven

I'm there.



Portrait of Elisabetta Gonzaga, by Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino

Raphael died on his 37th birthday.


Mine (my birthday) was much less dramatic and deadly (AKA: better), although I'm pretty sure I looked about as excited as Ms. Gonzaga for most of the day.


Thirty-seven.

The number [link] is far more interesting than the year [link] (AD), yet (if you follow the links to see it yourself) check out those URLs. What is UP with THAT? You just give the "37" entry to the year, and force the number to be designated parenthetically as a number?

DUH!?
I mean, we KNOW it is a number. You don't have to say "37" is a number. It just IS a number. THAT is the default brain setting. Not the year. Aside from years 1066-2100, most of us will think of numbers just as numbers. Won't we? I mean, sure there are always the tangents and associations racing in and out of any mind that isn't defunct, but first and foremost, 37 is a quantity. Whole numbers just do that to us.

Wikipedia has many mysteries- add another. The YEAR gets the default link. No parenthetical description in its URL designating it as a year. Which, if you ask me, is really missing the boat. When I think, "thirty-seven," I think, firstly, of a quantity less than 40, greater than 30, and prime. Sorta like 31, only better. Maybe.

THEN I think of dozens. It is 3 dozen eggs, plus an extra that was still in the fridge. Of course.

Maybe cookies (common yield on recipes: "about 3 dozen" even when it's never really near 3 dozen).


Next, there are the images of a quarter, a dime, and two pennies. Perhaps 7 nickels and 2 pennies. Always two pennies. Apropos.


THEN I think of something entirely different. Not related to the number 37 at all, because 37 is OUT of obvious. We've moved on. The year 37 AD? Not even a tiny blip at the edge of my radar.

Until today, I suppose. Now I know that this is when Caligula's grandmother died.


"Meemamah? Is that you?"


It kind of sneaks up on you, information like that.



Thirty-seven.


So the coolest thing today (aside from reading about the number) I read about (the NUMBER) 37 was related to UHF broadcasting. Rather, UHF antibroadcasting. Nonbroadcasting? No-dirty-up-the-airwaves-casting? Hmmmm.

Channel 37 [link] = UHF silence.

In favor of radioastronomy [link] .


Yes, please.



Anyway... Raphael?




I win.

Holy Asimov!

I wasn't really expecting my first math post to be something of a tribute, but here it is.


I am going to share with you a very brief piece of section 10: Luke Warm at Forty Below

Luke checked the thermometer on his wrist. "Holy Asimov, I can't believe it! It's forty below!"



The story is about astronauts broadcasting their adventures back to earth, and into classrooms.

Someone in the classroom asks if they mean minus 40 Celsius or minus 40 Fahrenheit. The teacher isn't sure, but another student pipes up that it is minus 40 Celsius.

Surprised, the teacher asks if the student is sure.
The student says she isn't but she knows that she's right.

The tale ends by asking the reader why. Brilliant stuff.


Reading this book fed my hunger for trivia, and effecting a love and sense of puzzles that has never, ever faded.



The book, as excellent as it is, has not just one set of answers. When reading the first answer, you are given further story and questions, to lead you to a second set of answers. Repeat. There is a third set.

Beautiful.







I never forgot what I learned the day I read it.





I have had this book for twenty-seven years.




Thank you, sir, and R.I.P.

not just seeing things

I just saw this amazing image of the ISS and Atlantis together, passing between the Earth and the Sun in a magnificent photo op.


Go look at the photo by Thierry Legault by clicking here:

http://legault.perso.sfr.fr/iss_atlantis_transit2_2010.html

[You do need to see it in an enlarged form to have a chance of understanding what I'm about to suggest, so click it.]

I saw this, and yes it is awe-inducing and really cool...GREAT photo, Thierry. But there's something else I have to say- I was instantly reminded of the ATHF incident in Boston.
Remember that?

Do you see it?

Look harder.



Need help?
http://laughingsquid.com/wp-content/uploads/athf_led.jpg


Right?

Totally.

note

hiatus ending shortly.
getting a grip on the shape of the blog.
planning its SOUL.

since I haven't got one of my own.

it shall include a weekly interactive puzzle option, for those of you looking for one.


stay tuned.