The name sashimi literally means "pierced body". "刺身=sashimi" consists of "刺し=sashi(pierced/sticked)" and "身=mi(body/meat)".Well, that was the first Japanese word I thought of when I felt like naming my bunny so "Sashimi" it is.
Check him/her out!
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Thursday, March 08, 2007
AC46 Walking the Dog
Heading out for a walk in the park with your best friend? Dressed in this colorful dog sweater and your coordinating socks, both of you are sure to make a fashion statement. Knitting pattern is by Fiber Trends. Dog sweater is in 2 sizes, for dogs up to about 6 and 15 pounds. Pattern requires DK (Sport) weight yarn.
HA!
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
A Bee Buzzed.
A bee buzzed by Buzz.
Buzz said, "Hey! I'm the only Buzz around here."
The bee said, "Buzz."
Buzz said, "Yeah, well take this!"
And Buzz bit the bee.
The bee bit Buzz back.
On the lip, to defend his honor,
and his right to buzz.
Buzz said, "What the . . . !"
The bee said, "Now I must die."
He laid down and softly buzzed.
Buzz walked over to me and said,
"I think there's something on my lif."
I said, "Your lif?"
He said, "Yesh, but don'd toush ib."
I pulled out the stinger.
Buzz said, "Ow" "Bow-Wow-Ow"
I told Buzz to finish off the bee.
He contemplated the life and death of the bee.
I told him it wouldn't sting him again.
Buzz said, "Dumb bee."
Gulp.
The End.
A bee buzzed by Buzz.
Buzz said, "Hey! I'm the only Buzz around here."
The bee said, "Buzz."
Buzz said, "Yeah, well take this!"
And Buzz bit the bee.
The bee bit Buzz back.
On the lip, to defend his honor,
and his right to buzz.
Buzz said, "What the . . . !"
The bee said, "Now I must die."
He laid down and softly buzzed.
Buzz walked over to me and said,
"I think there's something on my lif."
I said, "Your lif?"
He said, "Yesh, but don'd toush ib."
I pulled out the stinger.
Buzz said, "Ow" "Bow-Wow-Ow"
I told Buzz to finish off the bee.
He contemplated the life and death of the bee.
I told him it wouldn't sting him again.
Buzz said, "Dumb bee."
Gulp.
The End.
Amigurumi- if I can figure how how to do it- it shall be my new hobby!
It is the Japanese art of crocheting small stuffed animals. Those Japanese- they think of the cutest things!
My co-worker said if any people on earth are really aliens- it's the Japanese. (and their cute-o toys!)
Behold what shall be one of my first attemps:
That's what it's supposed to look like- I'll let you know what it ends up looking like at my hands.
The job is killing me slowly with its lack of song.
I would talk about it more, but I've heard it's uncouthy to talk about work on your blog- at least while you still have said job.
My neighbors are killing me slowly with their laundry. You have no idea how incredibly loud laundry can be. This morning I actually screamed out loud from my bed in frustration over being woken up by village laundry again.
I don't even live in a freaking village- but I get all the joys of living in one- Let's all join together in happy thoughts about Shannon NOT strangling the laundry woman with her own wet soapy sari.
I would talk about it more, but I've heard it's uncouthy to talk about work on your blog- at least while you still have said job.
My neighbors are killing me slowly with their laundry. You have no idea how incredibly loud laundry can be. This morning I actually screamed out loud from my bed in frustration over being woken up by village laundry again.
I don't even live in a freaking village- but I get all the joys of living in one- Let's all join together in happy thoughts about Shannon NOT strangling the laundry woman with her own wet soapy sari.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
I've been out of the writing mood- things I have thought about writing about but never got around to it:
1. How annoying it is for my electricity to be out for hours at a time every day this week
2. My missing mystery tooth
3. What I've learned about "Hair nest" boils
4. http://whatnottocrochet.wordpress.com/ and http://whatnottoknit.wordpress.com/
5. My new Gucci rip off rhinestone studded glasses
6. My selfmade diagnosis of "dyscalculia"
7. How dandruff effects my sight
8. Mr. Dangley 2.0
9. The frightening aspects of Buzz on the prowl
10. The ugliest scarf I ever made and what I must do to atone for this grievous lack of
judgement.
1. How annoying it is for my electricity to be out for hours at a time every day this week
2. My missing mystery tooth
3. What I've learned about "Hair nest" boils
4. http://whatnottocrochet.wordpress.com/ and http://whatnottoknit.wordpress.com/
5. My new Gucci rip off rhinestone studded glasses
6. My selfmade diagnosis of "dyscalculia"
7. How dandruff effects my sight
8. Mr. Dangley 2.0
9. The frightening aspects of Buzz on the prowl
10. The ugliest scarf I ever made and what I must do to atone for this grievous lack of
judgement.
The long lost stories of Christmas 2006 . . . Heck I still haven't written about all the things I did Christmas 2005 . . .
We took an “indicar” from George’s to Munnar. Munnar is a tourist trap. It’s nestled up in the “Southern Himalayas.” Likely story- those peeks were barely foot hills in comparison, but they were beautiful nevertheless. There were miles and miles of tea plantations. Tea plantations must be the most orderly things in India. There are hillsides blanketed with perfectly trimmed, carefully placed and brilliantly colored shrubs.
There are men and woman sheathed in plastic aprons, brandishing clippers with attached bellows. Well, that’s what they looked like, really they were the collecting bags for the tea tips snipped at their peek of tastiness. I guess. I heard a nasty little rumor that all the best tea is sent to Europe or kept in country and the dredges were sent to the US- historically we are not looked well upon on account of the little “Boston Tea Party” incident- and they all figure our buds aren’t so discerning after all. The best part of the tea leaf is the tip. That’s why all the tea shrubs are perfectly trimmed.
The drive to Munnar was interesting enough- we went out of the back waters, out of the rubber plantations, out of the heat and into the cool-cool hills. Those hills were not nearly as cool as I’d heard tell, but any cool is nice when you’ve spent Christmas Day in a hammock swatting mosquitoes and gazing out at a rice patty surrounded by banana trees and palms.
About 20 kilometers out of Munnar our driver got the idea of a commission into his wee-little head and we stopped at every fancy resort he could find before we got into the “city” of Munnar. After picking us up from George’s I don’t know what would have possessed him to think we were going to pay for a resort hotel.
Being that is was peak travel time, all the nicer places were filled up. I wasn’t interested in staying out in the boonies again any way. I wanted to be able to walk to my choice of restaurant and shop for and assortment of useless shiny objects in a market. I urged him onward toward Munnar.
Once in Mun
nar I spotted a place mentioned in Lonely Planet as cheap but clean enough accommodation. I told the driver to go there. Suddenly everything was clandestine and he didn’t know English. He motioned us to role up the heavily tinted windows pointing at the police on the road. I told him to turn down the street toward the “Brothers Hotel.” He said it was a private car. I said “So what?” He said private cars couldn’t go down that street, and surely he would have to take us further on out of town to find a resort hotel for us. I told him to stop the car and we would walk our butts down to the Brothers and see if they had a room.
After a very little negotiation and a look at the room, we decided to stay with the Brothers. They’d been there since 1955. The rooms seemed to have the things we wanted: a bed with seemingly clean sheets, a bathroom with a shower and hot and cold taps, not to mention a hot water heater (!) Then we just had to convince the driver to drive his private car down the public street so we could unload.
Although they were adorable, we decided against eating with the Brothers. The older Brother wore an ancient looking, stretched out “monkey cap” (aka ski mask) the whole time we were there. The Brothers boasted of only one dish on their menu. It was the same dish which has been on the menu since 1955. Fish curry. I wouldn’t have doubted if was actually the very same fish curry they had been serving since 1955. I can’t believe we didn’t get a picture of the Brothers.
In Munnar I greatly enjoyed antagonizing all the salesmen at the tiny shops up and down the main road. I would go to one, unfold everything they had, try it on, debate about colors and prices and then leave. A few hours later, I’d go back and start again. I ended up buying one hot pink and gold shawl, one “luxury” bath mat (Which was, I might add a fine upgrade to our room at the Brothers.) and any number of tiny change purses with shiny elephants on them. I bought several shalwar sets, had them made up, and they turned out too small- I swear it really is
beyond the tailors here that I am quite as large as I am.
We took a day tour to see things like “The Honey Bee Tree.” It was a tree with a lot of honey bees- go figure. We also saw “Echo Point” where, try as you might you would never- ever hear an echo- I’m not sure how that bit got ruined. We saw some dams and some lakes and a pretty little elephant giving rides. We went to “Top Station” which according to the brochure is the “Toppest Most Station” in the area. Good to know.
Oh the things you can see in Munnar . . .
There are men and woman sheathed in plastic aprons, brandishing clippers with attached bellows. Well, that’s what they looked like, really they were the collecting bags for the tea tips snipped at their peek of tastiness. I guess. I heard a nasty little rumor that all the best tea is sent to Europe or kept in country and the dredges were sent to the US- historically we are not looked well upon on account of the little “Boston Tea Party” incident- and they all figure our buds aren’t so discerning after all. The best part of the tea leaf is the tip. That’s why all the tea shrubs are perfectly trimmed.
The drive to Munnar was interesting enough- we went out of the back waters, out of the rubber plantations, out of the heat and into the cool-cool hills. Those hills were not nearly as cool as I’d heard tell, but any cool is nice when you’ve spent Christmas Day in a hammock swatting mosquitoes and gazing out at a rice patty surrounded by banana trees and palms.
About 20 kilometers out of Munnar our driver got the idea of a commission into his wee-little head and we stopped at every fancy resort he could find before we got into the “city” of Munnar. After picking us up from George’s I don’t know what would have possessed him to think we were going to pay for a resort hotel.
Being that is was peak travel time, all the nicer places were filled up. I wasn’t interested in staying out in the boonies again any way. I wanted to be able to walk to my choice of restaurant and shop for and assortment of useless shiny objects in a market. I urged him onward toward Munnar.
Once in Mun
nar I spotted a place mentioned in Lonely Planet as cheap but clean enough accommodation. I told the driver to go there. Suddenly everything was clandestine and he didn’t know English. He motioned us to role up the heavily tinted windows pointing at the police on the road. I told him to turn down the street toward the “Brothers Hotel.” He said it was a private car. I said “So what?” He said private cars couldn’t go down that street, and surely he would have to take us further on out of town to find a resort hotel for us. I told him to stop the car and we would walk our butts down to the Brothers and see if they had a room.After a very little negotiation and a look at the room, we decided to stay with the Brothers. They’d been there since 1955. The rooms seemed to have the things we wanted: a bed with seemingly clean sheets, a bathroom with a shower and hot and cold taps, not to mention a hot water heater (!) Then we just had to convince the driver to drive his private car down the public street so we could unload.
Although they were adorable, we decided against eating with the Brothers. The older Brother wore an ancient looking, stretched out “monkey cap” (aka ski mask) the whole time we were there. The Brothers boasted of only one dish on their menu. It was the same dish which has been on the menu since 1955. Fish curry. I wouldn’t have doubted if was actually the very same fish curry they had been serving since 1955. I can’t believe we didn’t get a picture of the Brothers.
In Munnar I greatly enjoyed antagonizing all the salesmen at the tiny shops up and down the main road. I would go to one, unfold everything they had, try it on, debate about colors and prices and then leave. A few hours later, I’d go back and start again. I ended up buying one hot pink and gold shawl, one “luxury” bath mat (Which was, I might add a fine upgrade to our room at the Brothers.) and any number of tiny change purses with shiny elephants on them. I bought several shalwar sets, had them made up, and they turned out too small- I swear it really is
beyond the tailors here that I am quite as large as I am.We took a day tour to see things like “The Honey Bee Tree.” It was a tree with a lot of honey bees- go figure. We also saw “Echo Point” where, try as you might you would never- ever hear an echo- I’m not sure how that bit got ruined. We saw some dams and some lakes and a pretty little elephant giving rides. We went to “Top Station” which according to the brochure is the “Toppest Most Station” in the area. Good to know.
Oh the things you can see in Munnar . . .
Next time I'll tell about the way out of Munnar.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Monday, February 12, 2007
Being bored and annoyed has given me a headache all weekend.
Things I've done today:
Things I've done today:
- Woke up to the neighbor's laundry woman slapping away at her laundry
Heard a chipmunk in heat chirping at the top of its tiny little lungs for a mate.
Found the chipmunk in heat chirping at the top of its tiny little lungs for a mate sitting on a window overhang on the next building.
Got annoyed by the incredibly loud sound of the chipmunk chirping at the top of its tiny little lungs in the corridor between two cement buildings and echoing off every other cement building for miles around just to setting in my ear and bounce around in the most annoying manner
Looked for something to throw at the chipmunk
Highly enjoyed throwing 6 cups of water (one at a time) at the chipmunk until it shut up and ran away
I’ve been reading a book called Games Indians Play. It’s not about Cricket and Soccer if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s supposedly about why Indians throw trash on the street, pee on the sidewalks and always cheat. (Among other things.)
So far the author (Indian) has made the point that although Indians are smartest people in the world, it’s their huge brains that keep them from doing the right thing. Apparently it just doesn’t make any sense to do the right thing, especially in India where nobody is doing the right thing. Now, if, let’s say you were somewhere else, where everyone does the right thing (because they are after all not so smart as Indians) doing the right thing would be smart. But even when Indians go to a place where doing the right thing would be smart, they don’t do it because they are greedy.
Wow, right?
No wonder I have a headache.
I’ve also watched about 5 episodes of “House, MD” and knitted a tiny pink and purple sweater for my mp3 player. It’s adorable. I somewhat organized my junk, and even started packing up a few things. I’m thinking about having popcorn for dinner and watching the rest of season one of House while I knit a Christmas stocking or a sweater or a scarf or something else utterly useless at this moment in time.
If, let’s say, you wanted to go shopping in Bangalore on any given Saturday or Sunday you would feel like you were trying to wade your way through the last minutes shoppers in the mall on the day before Christmas Eve. There are humans as far as the eye can see in all directions; sifting through dupatttas and saris, bending over “imitation jewelry,” and examining all manner of sequined and gold studded sandals. They are used to each other. They bump into each other and ricochet off in all directions. They push through and push past, and they tell you to get out of the way for the V-V-VIPs.
I was looking for some elusive place to sit down and plug my ears with music and mind my own business. I wandered all around Bangalore looking for this place. Sometimes I can find these places- the corner of the book store, (crowded) the back of a café, (crowded) the outside courtyard of a fancy hotel (score!) I searched and searched and finally ended up in my own neighborhood. I walked all around the mall and hotel and located a little table on the edge of the terrace-facing the garden in the Leela Palace Hotel.
I had just plugged in the music and turned on my computer. I was settling into my fabulous new spot when a hotel employee came to me and said, “Would you mind moving into the lobby for just five minutes? We are getting a V-V-VIP.” And he didn’t have a stutter.
I’ve been spending most of my free time (which is all my time) today being annoyed about stupid crap, and this rubbed me the wrong way. I guess I don’t look good enough in my jeans and T-shirt to be sitting on the terrace when the V-V-VIP comes in. Or maybe it’s a security issue. I don’t see how that can be the case since now I’m sitting in the lobby where if I wanted to murder the Very-Very-Very Important Person I’d have an even better shot at it.
Now it’s been 30 minutes and no V-V-VIP so far.
30 minutes after that: The V-V-VIP has arrived- it’s nobody I want to murder. I bet these police with sticks are relieved that they don’t have to beat me into submission for my crime of annoyance.
I was looking for some elusive place to sit down and plug my ears with music and mind my own business. I wandered all around Bangalore looking for this place. Sometimes I can find these places- the corner of the book store, (crowded) the back of a café, (crowded) the outside courtyard of a fancy hotel (score!) I searched and searched and finally ended up in my own neighborhood. I walked all around the mall and hotel and located a little table on the edge of the terrace-facing the garden in the Leela Palace Hotel.
I had just plugged in the music and turned on my computer. I was settling into my fabulous new spot when a hotel employee came to me and said, “Would you mind moving into the lobby for just five minutes? We are getting a V-V-VIP.” And he didn’t have a stutter.
I’ve been spending most of my free time (which is all my time) today being annoyed about stupid crap, and this rubbed me the wrong way. I guess I don’t look good enough in my jeans and T-shirt to be sitting on the terrace when the V-V-VIP comes in. Or maybe it’s a security issue. I don’t see how that can be the case since now I’m sitting in the lobby where if I wanted to murder the Very-Very-Very Important Person I’d have an even better shot at it.
Now it’s been 30 minutes and no V-V-VIP so far.
30 minutes after that: The V-V-VIP has arrived- it’s nobody I want to murder. I bet these police with sticks are relieved that they don’t have to beat me into submission for my crime of annoyance.
Everyone (all three of you who read this) has been clamoring for MORE!
Well- here is some more.
I skipped out of work early on Friday. Real early. Like, before I usually show up. I went in for a few hours, did my work and left with my dog, who came to work with me.
We went to a Shabbat meal. I was going to crochet him a tiny a yamaka, but I knew he wouldn't wear it and I think making a dachshund wear a skull cap borders on sacrilegious.
Our host, the resident semi-practicing vegetarian gay Jew welcomed the small dog with much excitement. The party included one Canadian Hindu convert (there is debate as to if one can actually convert to Hinduism) married to an Indian, one Indian who I think was the boyfriend of the host, (but what do I know I have no gay-dar,) one American non-practicing Jew from Georgia, one American woman (whom I’m not sure what she practices, but she did say the prayer in Hebrew, suggested I read a book called –Jesus Lived in India and asked if anyone would be up for a séance,) one Canadian raised in by Hindu/Atheist parents, Buzz and me.
It was a night of many questions. “Why did your dog pee on my bed?” “Why didn’t Moses go into the Promised Land?” “Why is Easter and Passover always at the same time?” “How many more Shabbats will there be before it’s over?” And other interesting things that could have made my head explode.
It was fun.
Obviously I couldn't go back to work- you can't work once you've done Sabbath prayers with Hindus, Atheists and a dog!
Well- here is some more.
I skipped out of work early on Friday. Real early. Like, before I usually show up. I went in for a few hours, did my work and left with my dog, who came to work with me.
We went to a Shabbat meal. I was going to crochet him a tiny a yamaka, but I knew he wouldn't wear it and I think making a dachshund wear a skull cap borders on sacrilegious.
Our host, the resident semi-practicing vegetarian gay Jew welcomed the small dog with much excitement. The party included one Canadian Hindu convert (there is debate as to if one can actually convert to Hinduism) married to an Indian, one Indian who I think was the boyfriend of the host, (but what do I know I have no gay-dar,) one American non-practicing Jew from Georgia, one American woman (whom I’m not sure what she practices, but she did say the prayer in Hebrew, suggested I read a book called –Jesus Lived in India and asked if anyone would be up for a séance,) one Canadian raised in by Hindu/Atheist parents, Buzz and me.
It was a night of many questions. “Why did your dog pee on my bed?” “Why didn’t Moses go into the Promised Land?” “Why is Easter and Passover always at the same time?” “How many more Shabbats will there be before it’s over?” And other interesting things that could have made my head explode.
It was fun.
Obviously I couldn't go back to work- you can't work once you've done Sabbath prayers with Hindus, Atheists and a dog!
Friday, January 19, 2007
Teaching about sarcasim takes all the fun out of it.
I'm teaching a one week (8 hours a day) class about American culture and communication to a set of new support engineers. Poor darlings- they are just learning how crazy Americans can be- and how it will take a long time before they really understand what it is that we really mean when we say, "I'm fine."
Actually, there's no way to know what that means, esp if it is said by a woman.
They gave presentations today, one of them was talking about facts about the USA- one of them quoted the amount of money the US military spends each year and said, "they spend an alarming amount!" That made me giggle.
Much of what Americans do is alarming to the rest of the world.
I'm teaching a one week (8 hours a day) class about American culture and communication to a set of new support engineers. Poor darlings- they are just learning how crazy Americans can be- and how it will take a long time before they really understand what it is that we really mean when we say, "I'm fine."
Actually, there's no way to know what that means, esp if it is said by a woman.
They gave presentations today, one of them was talking about facts about the USA- one of them quoted the amount of money the US military spends each year and said, "they spend an alarming amount!" That made me giggle.
Much of what Americans do is alarming to the rest of the world.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
I have an announcement:
I am no longer happy little "P" I am now (unofficially) a jaded "J"!!
I'm
100% I
12% N
6%F
and
1% J!
http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp
Beneath the quiet exterior, INFJs hold deep convictions about the weightier matters of life. Those who are activists -- INFJs gravitate toward such a role -- are there for the cause, not for personal glory or political power.
INFJs are champions of the oppressed and downtrodden. They often are found in the wake of an emergency, rescuing those who are in acute distress. INFJs may fantasize about getting revenge on those who victimize the defenseless. The concept of 'poetic justice' is appealing to the INFJ.
"There's something rotten in Denmark." Accurately suspicious about others' motives, INFJs are not easily led. These are the people that you can rarely fool any of the time. Though affable and sympathetic to most, INFJs are selective about their friends. Such a friendship is a symbiotic bond that transcends mere words.
INFJs have a knack for fluency in language and facility in communication. In addition, nonverbal sensitivity enables the INFJ to know and be known by others intimately.
Writing, counseling, public service and even politics are areas where INFJs frequently find their niche.
I am no longer happy little "P" I am now (unofficially) a jaded "J"!!
I'm
100% I
12% N
6%F
and
1% J!
http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp
Beneath the quiet exterior, INFJs hold deep convictions about the weightier matters of life. Those who are activists -- INFJs gravitate toward such a role -- are there for the cause, not for personal glory or political power.
INFJs are champions of the oppressed and downtrodden. They often are found in the wake of an emergency, rescuing those who are in acute distress. INFJs may fantasize about getting revenge on those who victimize the defenseless. The concept of 'poetic justice' is appealing to the INFJ.
"There's something rotten in Denmark." Accurately suspicious about others' motives, INFJs are not easily led. These are the people that you can rarely fool any of the time. Though affable and sympathetic to most, INFJs are selective about their friends. Such a friendship is a symbiotic bond that transcends mere words.
INFJs have a knack for fluency in language and facility in communication. In addition, nonverbal sensitivity enables the INFJ to know and be known by others intimately.
Writing, counseling, public service and even politics are areas where INFJs frequently find their niche.
Friday, January 05, 2007
I had a dream on Christmas Eve- maybe it was Christmas day- being on vacation made everything blur together in such a way that I cannot define whether it was a good blur or not.
I took a nap in the afternoon- I usually don’t nap and when I do I usually don’t dream, but I did on Christmas Eve/Day.
I dreamed I was lying on the floor between two arm chairs. I had apparently laid there purposefully. I had a pillow and I was comfortable as though I’d been watching TV or such.
My brother, Michael, was sitting in the chair to my left. Jonnyreb was sitting in the chair to my right. I was trying to get up, but each time I tried I felt as though I was being pushed back down. I tried several times, but I wasn’t worried that I couldn’t get up, more dismayed.
I said, “Do you ever feel like you just can’t get up or move from where you are?” My brother said, “Nope” and got up and left.
Again I was troubled because I didn’t want to ask Jonny for help. So I laid there for a while longer wondering how I was going to get up. During that time Jonny had gotten up from his chair and he was standing by a door behind his chair.
He said, “Get up and come here.” I was up and at his side in an instant. I was so surprised to be standing there in front of him, to have so effortlessly obeyed his call that I woke up.
I thought that was such a strange dream when I woke up. Strange not because if it’s messianic overtones, but more so because I’ve had those kinds of dreams before and it’s usually Michael in the part of the one reminding me, calling me, stirring my spirit.
Michael, an unlikely Messiah in life, has been coming in my dreams for years as a subtle reminder of my spirituality. And here Michael was free to do what he wanted and I was held down and waiting for a call to action.
I’m not sure how Jonny got called into the picture. Although, pk and I had been discussing a thesis she had heard and he had been brought up as a refute earlier that day, (or maybe the day before see blur above.)
She said she had been told that if a man kisses your forehead it means that he really wants to kiss your mouth. The premise is that he is expecting you to look up at him so he can have easy access to your luscious lips.
I said I didn’t think that was always the case- it could be that he was just really fond of you and an affectionate person. Maybe he was a touch-flirty kind of guy and that’s just how he greeted his female friends. Maybe he was trying to convince other people that he wanted to kiss you on the mouth- or maybe those are just my experiences.
One time a French man kissed me on the nose and when I opened my mouth to tell him that was weird he stuck his tongue in my mouth- so maybe men really do have those crazy kinds of strategies.
I took a nap in the afternoon- I usually don’t nap and when I do I usually don’t dream, but I did on Christmas Eve/Day.
I dreamed I was lying on the floor between two arm chairs. I had apparently laid there purposefully. I had a pillow and I was comfortable as though I’d been watching TV or such.
My brother, Michael, was sitting in the chair to my left. Jonnyreb was sitting in the chair to my right. I was trying to get up, but each time I tried I felt as though I was being pushed back down. I tried several times, but I wasn’t worried that I couldn’t get up, more dismayed.
I said, “Do you ever feel like you just can’t get up or move from where you are?” My brother said, “Nope” and got up and left.
Again I was troubled because I didn’t want to ask Jonny for help. So I laid there for a while longer wondering how I was going to get up. During that time Jonny had gotten up from his chair and he was standing by a door behind his chair.
He said, “Get up and come here.” I was up and at his side in an instant. I was so surprised to be standing there in front of him, to have so effortlessly obeyed his call that I woke up.
I thought that was such a strange dream when I woke up. Strange not because if it’s messianic overtones, but more so because I’ve had those kinds of dreams before and it’s usually Michael in the part of the one reminding me, calling me, stirring my spirit.
Michael, an unlikely Messiah in life, has been coming in my dreams for years as a subtle reminder of my spirituality. And here Michael was free to do what he wanted and I was held down and waiting for a call to action.
I’m not sure how Jonny got called into the picture. Although, pk and I had been discussing a thesis she had heard and he had been brought up as a refute earlier that day, (or maybe the day before see blur above.)
She said she had been told that if a man kisses your forehead it means that he really wants to kiss your mouth. The premise is that he is expecting you to look up at him so he can have easy access to your luscious lips.
I said I didn’t think that was always the case- it could be that he was just really fond of you and an affectionate person. Maybe he was a touch-flirty kind of guy and that’s just how he greeted his female friends. Maybe he was trying to convince other people that he wanted to kiss you on the mouth- or maybe those are just my experiences.
One time a French man kissed me on the nose and when I opened my mouth to tell him that was weird he stuck his tongue in my mouth- so maybe men really do have those crazy kinds of strategies.
It was an early morning flight to Cochin- and I had to argue with the cab company to come pick us up at such an unheard of hour. Finally they over charged me and then raised the price when they had to call back three times to get directions in three different languages. I gave the guard a tip for explaining how to find the place twice and then finding someone off the street to explain in another language.
Hindi and English are the official languages of India; the problem is here in the South each state protects its regional language or languages with a vengeance. It’s their right, but it makes things difficult when business people only speak Kanada or Tamil and you want something in English (or Hindi I suppose.)
The driver from GK Homestay met us at the airport and packed us away into an old Ambassador. (Is there any other type of Ambassador?) The Ambassador was the first car made in India in 1948- It seems an entire army of 1948ish Ambassadors are
still roaming streets and paths all over the subcontinent. I had no idea how long the drive would be, but I suppose I had mentally pictured it being about an hour, maybe an hour and a half- two and a half hours later we were running out of road, but we were still going.
Road trips in India are bound to be interesting, and strangely enough not fun. While every other vehicle on the road is belching out black fumes our Ambassador seemed to leaking all it’s exhaust into the car. We drove through cities and villages and when pk s
aw an elephant working on the side of the road (which like the camel in Bangalore had escaped my notice) she commented on it forgetting that lots of people here have at least a rudimentary understanding of English- the driver stopped for a work elephant photo op- that was the oldest elephant I’ve ever seen- but he was working away as his tiny brown human commanded- moving huge logs from one pile to another pile.
We drove through rubber plant plantations- with trees dripping latex and pale rubber sheets drying on clothes lines all around us. We drove past coconut groves and over big wide rivers and kept on driving.
Eventually the paved road became a rutted dirt road, and the dirt road became a pocked tire worn path then it became nothing more than what looked like a foot path through the jungle and on past a rice patty. Thankfully the car stopped just before we had to wind our way through the trees. We had reached the end of the road and George Kutty was there to great us.
George showed us our room in his back yard- facing the quietest, greenest, only-est rice patty I’ve ever seen. George showed us the room, how to use the chalk to ward off the ants, how to turn on the shower, and how to warm water in a bucket “only if we needed it.” We noticed the hammocks stung up between a row of coconut palms before George whisked us off to second breakfast, (we’d already had first breakfast on the plane- Indian flights are lovely in that even if you only have a one hour domestic flight, they serve drinks and a meal- even though the drink was spiced butter milk, which is one of the nastiest things I’ve put to my lips the entire time I’ve been here- it’s a nice practice.)
Second breakfast, like every other meal, involved some form of coconut- as well as pineapple and bananas.
We proceeded to go collapse in the hammocks for the rest of the afternoon- when we roused ourselves to try to eat lunch- which was good but after two breakfasts- completely unnecessary.
That evening we took a canoe tour and visited the “Snake boats.” Our guide/rower was low on the English skills so we tried to make guesses as to what his gesticulations about the boats might indicate. We guessed that the numbers painted on the boat indicated seating positions- one of the boats held over 100 people. One on each side of the longest canoe you could imagine. We understood that the boat rode very low in the water- that the metal work was gold- I think.
We rowed on past neighborhood children- beautiful girls shy and hiding behind trees and boys waving as they splashed in the water. Occasionally they would ask for pens and practice their English lessons on us. “Hello! What is your name?” They would giggle when we answered. Each house along the water way had steps down to the water. Sometimes children splashed around in the warm water, in other places men descended the steps for a quiet bath- women scrubbed laundry on nearby rocks and we floated past curious fish traps and under foot bridges held up by massive palm trunks.
The backwaters in Kerala are considered as the Venice of India. People live and work all along the water- some villages don’t even have roads or paths, as all transportation and livelihood is made on the water. It’s an area of giant tiger prawns the size of lobsters and a steady diet of fish, coconut and rice.
On Christmas day we took a ferry down to the coast. The waters and the house boats we couldn’t afford were beautiful.
Hindi and English are the official languages of India; the problem is here in the South each state protects its regional language or languages with a vengeance. It’s their right, but it makes things difficult when business people only speak Kanada or Tamil and you want something in English (or Hindi I suppose.)
The driver from GK Homestay met us at the airport and packed us away into an old Ambassador. (Is there any other type of Ambassador?) The Ambassador was the first car made in India in 1948- It seems an entire army of 1948ish Ambassadors are
still roaming streets and paths all over the subcontinent. I had no idea how long the drive would be, but I suppose I had mentally pictured it being about an hour, maybe an hour and a half- two and a half hours later we were running out of road, but we were still going.Road trips in India are bound to be interesting, and strangely enough not fun. While every other vehicle on the road is belching out black fumes our Ambassador seemed to leaking all it’s exhaust into the car. We drove through cities and villages and when pk s
aw an elephant working on the side of the road (which like the camel in Bangalore had escaped my notice) she commented on it forgetting that lots of people here have at least a rudimentary understanding of English- the driver stopped for a work elephant photo op- that was the oldest elephant I’ve ever seen- but he was working away as his tiny brown human commanded- moving huge logs from one pile to another pile.We drove through rubber plant plantations- with trees dripping latex and pale rubber sheets drying on clothes lines all around us. We drove past coconut groves and over big wide rivers and kept on driving.
Eventually the paved road became a rutted dirt road, and the dirt road became a pocked tire worn path then it became nothing more than what looked like a foot path through the jungle and on past a rice patty. Thankfully the car stopped just before we had to wind our way through the trees. We had reached the end of the road and George Kutty was there to great us.
George showed us our room in his back yard- facing the quietest, greenest, only-est rice patty I’ve ever seen. George showed us the room, how to use the chalk to ward off the ants, how to turn on the shower, and how to warm water in a bucket “only if we needed it.” We noticed the hammocks stung up between a row of coconut palms before George whisked us off to second breakfast, (we’d already had first breakfast on the plane- Indian flights are lovely in that even if you only have a one hour domestic flight, they serve drinks and a meal- even though the drink was spiced butter milk, which is one of the nastiest things I’ve put to my lips the entire time I’ve been here- it’s a nice practice.)
Second breakfast, like every other meal, involved some form of coconut- as well as pineapple and bananas.
We proceeded to go collapse in the hammocks for the rest of the afternoon- when we roused ourselves to try to eat lunch- which was good but after two breakfasts- completely unnecessary.
That evening we took a canoe tour and visited the “Snake boats.” Our guide/rower was low on the English skills so we tried to make guesses as to what his gesticulations about the boats might indicate. We guessed that the numbers painted on the boat indicated seating positions- one of the boats held over 100 people. One on each side of the longest canoe you could imagine. We understood that the boat rode very low in the water- that the metal work was gold- I think.
We rowed on past neighborhood children- beautiful girls shy and hiding behind trees and boys waving as they splashed in the water. Occasionally they would ask for pens and practice their English lessons on us. “Hello! What is your name?” They would giggle when we answered. Each house along the water way had steps down to the water. Sometimes children splashed around in the warm water, in other places men descended the steps for a quiet bath- women scrubbed laundry on nearby rocks and we floated past curious fish traps and under foot bridges held up by massive palm trunks.
The backwaters in Kerala are considered as the Venice of India. People live and work all along the water- some villages don’t even have roads or paths, as all transportation and livelihood is made on the water. It’s an area of giant tiger prawns the size of lobsters and a steady diet of fish, coconut and rice.
On Christmas day we took a ferry down to the coast. The waters and the house boats we couldn’t afford were beautiful.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Here's a picture of me graduating from Headstart.
Today I got three Christmas cards and a birthday card. The birthday card, as far as I can tell, was actually sent at the beginning of September . . . I shall not comment further on the mail system here in India.
Two of the Christmas cards are from my great aunts who I haven't heard from in - well- ever! When I got the cards I looked at where they came from and thought- who is that?!
Well when I opened them I found they are from Aunt Muriel, and Aunt Barbara my Grandpa's sisters. Apparently he's been passing around cards and pictures. Now I remember Aunt Barbara because she was my Headstart teacher (aka as Aunt Mrs. Smith) And I can't say I really remember Aunt Muriel at all aside from my mother talking about her sometimes and I'm getting a vague picture of a little lady with short hair dyed dark brown . . .
The other card and box from Blondi and the B-day stuff from Shorty- thanks everybody!
Thursday, December 21, 2006
So I was walking down my street the other day when I noticed an elephant standing infront of the temple. My reaction: "I know it aint!" and I pulled out my camera. Actually there were two elephants. I snapped a few pictures and moved on thinking that to be a great addition to my "animals of Bangalore" list.
Later that evening I heard a parade coming from the temple down the street. Usually the parades are really funerals and are going towards the temple, acutally the grave yard- so I went out to see what was going on. Elephants of course! And dancing drummers, and lots of childrend with fire and some horn players who never actually played the horns.
My advice for anyone who is going to live in India for any amount of time- let's say a person who sometimes enjoys a little peace and quiet- DO NOT live 1. In a poor/low caste neighborhood I'm telling you- they are lound just for the fun of it. 2. a neighborhood with a temple a graveyard or a mosque. 3. Have lots of earplugs.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Thursday, December 14, 2006
I can't shake the feeling that the day before yesterday was something important. December 12- is it important for something I've forgotten? I keep thinking it's important.
Yesterday I thought "It would really suck to leave my keys here and be locked out when I got home."
And I was right, because when I got home I realized I had left my keys on my desk, right after thinking that thought.
Brilliant.
Yesterday I thought "It would really suck to leave my keys here and be locked out when I got home."
And I was right, because when I got home I realized I had left my keys on my desk, right after thinking that thought.
Brilliant.
Friday, December 08, 2006
I know this means nothing to you, but if it's in quotes it is something that was said in a weekly team meeting.
LS JARGON TEST
Highlight/Mark the most appropriate answer.
1. If Tony “bubbled up” to Rachel would she:
A. Slap him
B. Greet him with a smile
C. Give him a blank look
D. Call security
2. “Tighten” is to “Righten” as:
A “Short sharp” is to “options”
B. “Warm” is to “hand off”
C. “Dribble dribble” is to “Spurt Spurt”
D. All of the above.
3. On August 15, “driven” was mentioned how many times between the times of 5:30 and 6:00?
A. 6
B. 9
C. 12
D. 18
4. In this statement: “You will be as close to you business as possible.”
“business” refers to:
A. Your SEs
B. Microsoft
C. Spectrum
D. You know, your ‘busi-ness’
5. Match the Quote with the initials of the person who said it:
_____ A. “I’ve been gone for a way long time.”
_____ B. “That’s madness I say.”
_____ C. “I don’t think these parameters are . . . good.”
_____ D. “Is this meeting going to go to 100:00 o’clock?!”
_____ E. “We have things that happen to us when we’re doing stuff and things.”
_____ F. “I want you to be able to recognize the smelly stuff when it’s thrown at you.”
_____ G. “Most calls have very little information of any interest.”
_____ H. “We’re struggling against things we don’t understand”
BS JM MO SH SP TP – two sets of initials will be used more than once
6. Rank these in order from most desirable to least desirable most desirable 1 being
the least desirable and 6 being the least desirable:
_____ “A whole mess of good things”
_____ “A little bit of somethings”
_____ “A steady something- (not a big something or a small something)”
_____ “Good stuff”
_____ “Small quiet things”
_____ “The things that are moving in my head”
7. If you hear a “Giant sucking sound” you should:A. Run for your life!
B. “Align your offerings”
C. “Tighten and righten”
D. “Role up into” something
E. Look “through a glass darkly”
8. True of False: “Bubbling up to” someone is the same as “Rolling up into”
someone.
9. Which of these is actually a word?
A. “Howfor”
B. “Linkages”
C. “Standupidness”
D. All of the above
E. None of the above
10. If something is “Not what it needs to be or should be or could be” what is it?
________________________________________________________________
Bonus: Write your answer on a separate sheet of paper:
Explain the analogy of the tool box and the hammer given to the wife for the anniversary given in the November 28 meeting.
LS JARGON TEST
Highlight/Mark the most appropriate answer.
1. If Tony “bubbled up” to Rachel would she:
A. Slap him
B. Greet him with a smile
C. Give him a blank look
D. Call security
2. “Tighten” is to “Righten” as:
A “Short sharp” is to “options”
B. “Warm” is to “hand off”
C. “Dribble dribble” is to “Spurt Spurt”
D. All of the above.
3. On August 15, “driven” was mentioned how many times between the times of 5:30 and 6:00?
A. 6
B. 9
C. 12
D. 18
4. In this statement: “You will be as close to you business as possible.”
“business” refers to:
A. Your SEs
B. Microsoft
C. Spectrum
D. You know, your ‘busi-ness’
5. Match the Quote with the initials of the person who said it:
_____ A. “I’ve been gone for a way long time.”
_____ B. “That’s madness I say.”
_____ C. “I don’t think these parameters are . . . good.”
_____ D. “Is this meeting going to go to 100:00 o’clock?!”
_____ E. “We have things that happen to us when we’re doing stuff and things.”
_____ F. “I want you to be able to recognize the smelly stuff when it’s thrown at you.”
_____ G. “Most calls have very little information of any interest.”
_____ H. “We’re struggling against things we don’t understand”
BS JM MO SH SP TP – two sets of initials will be used more than once
6. Rank these in order from most desirable to least desirable most desirable 1 being
the least desirable and 6 being the least desirable:
_____ “A whole mess of good things”
_____ “A little bit of somethings”
_____ “A steady something- (not a big something or a small something)”
_____ “Good stuff”
_____ “Small quiet things”
_____ “The things that are moving in my head”
7. If you hear a “Giant sucking sound” you should:A. Run for your life!
B. “Align your offerings”
C. “Tighten and righten”
D. “Role up into” something
E. Look “through a glass darkly”
8. True of False: “Bubbling up to” someone is the same as “Rolling up into”
someone.
9. Which of these is actually a word?
A. “Howfor”
B. “Linkages”
C. “Standupidness”
D. All of the above
E. None of the above
10. If something is “Not what it needs to be or should be or could be” what is it?
________________________________________________________________
Bonus: Write your answer on a separate sheet of paper:
Explain the analogy of the tool box and the hammer given to the wife for the anniversary given in the November 28 meeting.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
alert
sexy
dumbHOLY COW!
Something important I discovered this week: I can alter an infant size T-shirt(about 3-6 months) to fit my barrel chested little dog perfectly. (Isn't he handsome in a V-neck?) This is revolutionary, right up there with the day we discovered we could dress Kermit in construction paper at NCH!
Dear Support group
First, you can’t stop me! Nobody can stop me! I am even now gathering an army of knitters- together we will knit our way into the UN with me as Queen of the Knitting Nation!
Second, you mentioned “Thou shalt not read about knitting.” I would like to let you know that is a common mistranslation. It actually reads “Thou shall not read about quiffing” Which was an ancient game played by the most wicked of people. It involved a baby pig, large forks and a vast quantity of honey. I can’t go into more detail, it’s simply too horrid.
The church of no-knit no-purl has been missing out on the many blessings of knitting (and purling) for many years. And Mr. Dangly resents the implication of being involved in such a gauche movement.
Finally I’ll have you know I’m no novice I’m right up there in upper intermediate!
I shall not engage you on this topic any further- so please be quiet about it or I’ll knit you a muzzle.
First, you can’t stop me! Nobody can stop me! I am even now gathering an army of knitters- together we will knit our way into the UN with me as Queen of the Knitting Nation!
Second, you mentioned “Thou shalt not read about knitting.” I would like to let you know that is a common mistranslation. It actually reads “Thou shall not read about quiffing” Which was an ancient game played by the most wicked of people. It involved a baby pig, large forks and a vast quantity of honey. I can’t go into more detail, it’s simply too horrid.
The church of no-knit no-purl has been missing out on the many blessings of knitting (and purling) for many years. And Mr. Dangly resents the implication of being involved in such a gauche movement.
Finally I’ll have you know I’m no novice I’m right up there in upper intermediate!
I shall not engage you on this topic any further- so please be quiet about it or I’ll knit you a muzzle.
What kind of knitting needles are you?
You are interchangeable.Fun, free, and into everything, you've got every eventuality covered and every opportunity just has to be taken. Every fiber is wonderful, and every day is a new beginning. You are good at so many things, it's amazing, but you can easily lose your place and forget to show up. They have row counters for people like you!Take this quiz!
http://www.quizilla.com/users/larissmix/quizzes/What%20kind%20of%20knitting%20needles%20are%20you%3F/
You are interchangeable.Fun, free, and into everything, you've got every eventuality covered and every opportunity just has to be taken. Every fiber is wonderful, and every day is a new beginning. You are good at so many things, it's amazing, but you can easily lose your place and forget to show up. They have row counters for people like you!Take this quiz!
http://www.quizilla.com/users/larissmix/quizzes/What%20kind%20of%20knitting%20needles%20are%20you%3F/
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Some things I know how to say in other languages:
I think everyone knows how to say something in at least one other language. It’s a small world and so: here are some of the things I know.
I will give the English translation and transliteration since I don’t know how to spell them in the original languages (exept French, but why show off?).
“Go away you piss, you fat cow!” “Go vektin piss de fai de cou!”
Norwegian- thank you Susan.
“Holy Cow!” “Gava mogadash!”
Farsi- Thank you Mohammad.
“Throw the cow!” “Pitchai la vash!”
Thank you Monty Python French taunters.
There seems to be a theme here . . .
I think everyone knows how to say something in at least one other language. It’s a small world and so: here are some of the things I know.
I will give the English translation and transliteration since I don’t know how to spell them in the original languages (exept French, but why show off?).
“Go away you piss, you fat cow!” “Go vektin piss de fai de cou!”
Norwegian- thank you Susan.
“Holy Cow!” “Gava mogadash!”
Farsi- Thank you Mohammad.
“Throw the cow!” “Pitchai la vash!”
Thank you Monty Python French taunters.
There seems to be a theme here . . .
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Knitting needles with lights in the tips! Knit anywhere...even in the dark! See each stitch clearly, even with fuzzy novelty yarns!
Size 6-10.5 measure 13'' (note the manufacturer does not offer a size 7) size 11-15 measure 14''.
Each needle is a different color plastic.
Batteries are held in the back needle knob
LED batteries (included) are extremely long lasting.
Replacement batteries may be needed at 400 hours of use.
OK! I'm going to shut up about knitting now but how fun are battery operated knitting needles?! Need them- must have them!
Thursday, November 30, 2006
I just read an article about knitting- and really enjoyed it. I giggled at a few statements, recognizing myself in the author’s words- then I realized what a freakin’ knitting nerd I am.
I mean, who “really enjoys” an article about knitting? Who even reads them? How many people out there (raise your hands) have ever “recognized themselves” in the words of article . . . about knitting?
Let me give you the address of the article so you may enjoy it yourself- but I know you won’t!
http://www.knitty.com/ISSUEwinter04/FEATdontgiveitaway.html
Let me give you a few quotes I loved:
“I sew up the seams of the poncho and rather innocently wear it to my local yarn store on a busy Sunday, for maximum effect, and receive a compliment from another customer.
"Why yes, I did make it," I respond with false modesty.
In turn, I eye what she's buying and ask, "What are you working on?" and maybe she'll say, "Some Nordic mittens" or "A knit bear" or "A tweedy cardigan" or "Oh, just a scarf. I only knit scarves." But I'll immediately sense the sophistication of the yarns she's knitting together for that scarf, or wish I had plans to knit mittens, or feel the sting of the inherent practicality of a cardigan or imagine how cute that bear would turn out. I'm consumed with jealousy.”
“I delight in the thought that selecting this particular yarn and pattern will mean that I will need to buy more needles.
Perfect.”
“I don't want that project over this one, or think the grass is greener on the other side. I think all the grass is green everywhere, and I want to be rolling in knitting projects. I suppose this is why people have stash problems.”
I have a stash problem and it’s not my fault! You know who you are who fed my addiction and sent way more yarn than I asked for! I’m not even going to talk about all the yarn I have in storage.
If knitting where my only hobby things might be . . . well not under control, but at least manageable- but no- I also like to glue things together and paint things and cut stuff up just to sew it back together; and cross stitch and look things up then write stuff down- and take pictures and tell stories- and although it may not be evident most of the I sometimes organize things for fun!
Let’s get back to knitting. My current knitting projects:
1. Shrug/wrap- almost finished, just need to sew up the arms
2. Three scarves two of the same pattern- neither of them using the suggested yarn in the pattern.
3. Sweater which I started the day God told Moses his personal name, no where near finished.
4. Christmas stocking I may actually finish this weekend.
5. A very very very small beaded purse which may never ever get finished.
I’m knitting with needles the size of tooth picks!
Knitting s trendy- has it always been trendy? My mother was a fantastic knitter. She could knit anything she had a picture of- for some reason she never got around to learning how to read a pattern.
I can read a pattern-sort of- and I have the modern miracle of the internet to show me how to do the rest.
I am not a fantastic knitter- but I’m working on it.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
How I almost got killed and /or seriously injured this weekend:
1. Stepped in front of a vehicle- (Almost- very close this one.)
2. Got hit by a tanker truck- (Not hard, but still!)
3. Gas leak in the kitchen- gas line into the range burst into flames.
4. Got too close to a monkey-dog fight (I thought it was monkey dog- but it was really just dog-dog fight.) Here is a picture of me with the not monkey-dog-dog fight going on behind me.
I've never had a nose bleed.
I was watching a TV show where someone died of a nose bleed- I had to look it up to see if that was possible- it seems it is possible, but very rare.
Some nose bleed information which may come in handy some day:
If you get a nose bleed you should pinch your nostriles together and hold your head forward, while standing or sitting up.
If that doesn't work for you, you can use nasal sponges, nasal tampon or nasal balloon to apply pressure from the inside. (Nasal tampons-euuu!)
To reduce the chance of recurrent nose bleeds you can coat your sensitive nasal passages with vasiline or KY jelly. (KY jelly in you nose eeuuuu!)
You may also want to put more fiber in your diet- it causes blood to clot quicker.
In Japan old wives believe sexual arousement is sometimes a cause for a nose bleed.
If an anime character gets a nose bleed: it's a sex scene.
nose bleed
the anime version of an erection (well, in most anime thats appropriote for ages 16 and below), were a male character will bleed profusely from the nose when sexually excited. seeing that girls dont have erections and they cant show her panties getting wet, girls experience extremely red blush across their faces.
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=nose+bleed
Attila the Hun died of a nose bleed just after his wedding. (How embarrassing and tragic at the same time.) He was drunk and choked to death on his own blood because he didn't pinch his nostrils and sit up. (Or is this just a Japanese wives' tale?)
So remember kids, if your nose starts hemorrhaging: Don't be like Attila the Hun after his wedding!
I was watching a TV show where someone died of a nose bleed- I had to look it up to see if that was possible- it seems it is possible, but very rare.
Some nose bleed information which may come in handy some day:
If you get a nose bleed you should pinch your nostriles together and hold your head forward, while standing or sitting up.
If that doesn't work for you, you can use nasal sponges, nasal tampon or nasal balloon to apply pressure from the inside. (Nasal tampons-euuu!)
To reduce the chance of recurrent nose bleeds you can coat your sensitive nasal passages with vasiline or KY jelly. (KY jelly in you nose eeuuuu!)
You may also want to put more fiber in your diet- it causes blood to clot quicker.
In Japan old wives believe sexual arousement is sometimes a cause for a nose bleed.
If an anime character gets a nose bleed: it's a sex scene.
nose bleed
the anime version of an erection (well, in most anime thats appropriote for ages 16 and below), were a male character will bleed profusely from the nose when sexually excited. seeing that girls dont have erections and they cant show her panties getting wet, girls experience extremely red blush across their faces.
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=nose+bleed
Attila the Hun died of a nose bleed just after his wedding. (How embarrassing and tragic at the same time.) He was drunk and choked to death on his own blood because he didn't pinch his nostrils and sit up. (Or is this just a Japanese wives' tale?)
So remember kids, if your nose starts hemorrhaging: Don't be like Attila the Hun after his wedding!
Friday, November 24, 2006
NV: I actually thought the feather was a challenge to the void; something to the effect of: if I throw this feather at you, you won't be void anymore and, aren't chickens smarter than voids b/c voids are nothing.
PK: I don't think chickens are smarter than voids, but I do think if the chicken indeed threw the feather; it was to show the void that it could be destroyed, as you mentioned. It wasn’t a void anymore... chickens are the voids of the animal world, so I think it's a pretty close race. If you threw a feather at a chicken, it would run.
PK: I don't think chickens are smarter than voids, but I do think if the chicken indeed threw the feather; it was to show the void that it could be destroyed, as you mentioned. It wasn’t a void anymore... chickens are the voids of the animal world, so I think it's a pretty close race. If you threw a feather at a chicken, it would run.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Shannon
I think the chicken symbolizes modern man in his attempt to fill his empty "void" life;
and the feather is the chicken's knowledge that he really doesn't know anything- knowing is really realizing you don't know.
I think if every chicken suddenly disappeared from earth, that would be confusing, but that's beside the point.
Sergio
I think the void symbolizes modern man and the chicken symbolizes all those that came before him and so we each have our chickens to face; many of those chickens are direct relatives
some are related by marriage. Others are food which makes things confusing,
but no more confusing than a egotistical void.
An egotistical void reads the New Yorker outdoors at coffee shops.
I guess such a void would be full of itself.
Shannon
If a void was full of it's self, would it still be void?
Sergio
It would be a void within a void.
Shannon
No, we are the chickens.
I think the chicken symbolizes modern man in his attempt to fill his empty "void" life;
and the feather is the chicken's knowledge that he really doesn't know anything- knowing is really realizing you don't know.
I think if every chicken suddenly disappeared from earth, that would be confusing, but that's beside the point.
Sergio
I think the void symbolizes modern man and the chicken symbolizes all those that came before him and so we each have our chickens to face; many of those chickens are direct relatives
some are related by marriage. Others are food which makes things confusing,
but no more confusing than a egotistical void.
An egotistical void reads the New Yorker outdoors at coffee shops.
I guess such a void would be full of itself.
Shannon
If a void was full of it's self, would it still be void?
Sergio
It would be a void within a void.
Shannon
No, we are the chickens.
the chicken and th void
The Chicken and the Void
The chicken stared into the void.
The void stared back.
The void said, “Chicken,
what do you see?”
The chicken said-
“nothing.”
“you’re a void.”
The void said, “Chicken,
you have much to learn.”
The chicken said,
“no, I don’t.”
“I’m a chicken.”
The chicken threw a single feather into the void.
Chicken = 1.
Void = 0.
What do the “chicken” and the “void” symbolize?
What do you think the author meant by the chicken’s gesture of throwing in the “single feather?”
What does “Chicken = 1” and “Void = 0” mean?
Why does the chicken tell the void he doesn’t have much to learn?
Why would the void ask the chicken what he saw in a void?
The chicken stared into the void.
The void stared back.
The void said, “Chicken,
what do you see?”
The chicken said-
“nothing.”
“you’re a void.”
The void said, “Chicken,
you have much to learn.”
The chicken said,
“no, I don’t.”
“I’m a chicken.”
The chicken threw a single feather into the void.
Chicken = 1.
Void = 0.
What do the “chicken” and the “void” symbolize?
What do you think the author meant by the chicken’s gesture of throwing in the “single feather?”
What does “Chicken = 1” and “Void = 0” mean?
Why does the chicken tell the void he doesn’t have much to learn?
Why would the void ask the chicken what he saw in a void?
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
I rented a scooter last week. I haven’t ridden it much though on account of: 1. I didn’t have a helmet and 2. I didn’t want to crack my melon on the streets of Bangalore.
A catalog of things I’ve almost run into with my scooter:
A car
A motorcycle
A motorcycle with a man on it
A bicycle with a man on it
A bus
A cow
A temple
An open sewage ditch
A gate
Two teenagers
I now have a helmet- I will avoid cracking my melon.
A catalog of things I’ve almost run into with my scooter:
A car
A motorcycle
A motorcycle with a man on it
A bicycle with a man on it
A bus
A cow
A temple
An open sewage ditch
A gate
Two teenagers
I now have a helmet- I will avoid cracking my melon.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Message from strange man:
hi
Message:
hello, i m manice from india, 29 years , male. I m married but i m seeking for a love affair realy. i m well qualified. if u have same mind set up and dont feel it as a taboo, then plz write me here **EMAIL ADDRESS BLOCKED**thnx
Message from me: No thanks hooker-man!
hi
Message:
hello, i m manice from india, 29 years , male. I m married but i m seeking for a love affair realy. i m well qualified. if u have same mind set up and dont feel it as a taboo, then plz write me here **EMAIL ADDRESS BLOCKED**thnx
Message from me: No thanks hooker-man!
Monday, November 20, 2006
mr.mohamadithe head of english institutemr
mohamadi willing to attract native english teachera and the maneger of this institute is eagerly abuot attration native english .this institute located in iran.facilitise:
1. free accomadtion
2. catering servise
3.sutible pay
4.50% is your ticket free(the institute pays it)
5. all facilitise do you need for comfortable life.
we wait for your cotacttanke a lot.
Mr. Mohamadithe,
I would do it (even with the obvious challenges) if only I were Canadian.
mohamadi willing to attract native english teachera and the maneger of this institute is eagerly abuot attration native english .this institute located in iran.facilitise:
1. free accomadtion
2. catering servise
3.sutible pay
4.50% is your ticket free(the institute pays it)
5. all facilitise do you need for comfortable life.
we wait for your cotacttanke a lot.
Mr. Mohamadithe,
I would do it (even with the obvious challenges) if only I were Canadian.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
The Thanksgiving information I gave the folks I work with- probably much more than they wanted to know- but I can't help it if I'm full of information!
____________________________________________________________________
You will all be happy to know that one week from today (next Thursday, November 23) is the American holiday of Thanksgiving!
Be thankful that your call volume should be way down; nobody in the USA wants to work on Thanksgiving!
I’m sure you know some things about American Thanksgiving already, but here is a short refresher and maybe some extra information:
Thanksgiving is celebrated every fourth Thursday of November. Traditionally it is held to remember the harvest feast shared by the Pilgrims (the first English settlers in North America) and the Native Americans, also known as “Indians” which was held in 1621.
Through the years many people privately celebrated Thanksgiving as a time to thank God for all the good things in their lives. In 1863 Abraham Lincoln declared the last Thursday in November to be Thanksgiving; and a national holiday.
In 1939 it was considered improper to start Christmas shopping and decorating before Thanksgiving. In the face of a national economic depression, President Franklin D. Roosevelt decided to move Thanksgiving from the last Thursday in November to the third Thursday in November to prolong the pre-Christmas sales season and help boost the economy.
Many Americans were unhappy with the change in the holiday’s date and continued to celebrate on the last Thursday of November, calling the third Thursday “Franksgiving” Day. In 1941 it was decided by the US Congress that Thanksgiving day would officially be the fourth Thursday in November, which means sometimes it is the last Thursday, and sometime it is the next to last Thursday.
Thanksgiving is celebrated by inviting friends and family over for a large feast. The feast traditionally includes turkey, pumpkin pie, potatoes and a large variety of other vegetables and breads. On Thanksgiving Day many people enjoy watching American football games and/or the Macy’s Day Parade on TV.
Every year the National Turkey Federation gives the White House four turkeys. Two are prepared for the feast and two are named and then “pardoned” or set free by the President.
Last year the pardoned turkeys were named Marshmallow and Yam.
The day after Thanksgiving us called “Black Friday.” It is usually given as a day off from work (Yeah for you) so that people can spend more time with their families or pursue other activities. The most popular activity is shopping. The day after Thanksgiving is the biggest shopping day of the year. It is the official kick of to the Christmas shopping season.
Feel free to greet your customers with “Happy Thanksgiving” next week, and you can ask them what plans they have for Thanksgiving for small talk, as well as what plans they have for the day after Thanksgiving.
See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thanksgiving for more information.
(Canadian Thanksgiving was last month.)
____________________________________________________________________
You will all be happy to know that one week from today (next Thursday, November 23) is the American holiday of Thanksgiving!
Be thankful that your call volume should be way down; nobody in the USA wants to work on Thanksgiving!
I’m sure you know some things about American Thanksgiving already, but here is a short refresher and maybe some extra information:
Thanksgiving is celebrated every fourth Thursday of November. Traditionally it is held to remember the harvest feast shared by the Pilgrims (the first English settlers in North America) and the Native Americans, also known as “Indians” which was held in 1621.
Through the years many people privately celebrated Thanksgiving as a time to thank God for all the good things in their lives. In 1863 Abraham Lincoln declared the last Thursday in November to be Thanksgiving; and a national holiday.
In 1939 it was considered improper to start Christmas shopping and decorating before Thanksgiving. In the face of a national economic depression, President Franklin D. Roosevelt decided to move Thanksgiving from the last Thursday in November to the third Thursday in November to prolong the pre-Christmas sales season and help boost the economy.
Many Americans were unhappy with the change in the holiday’s date and continued to celebrate on the last Thursday of November, calling the third Thursday “Franksgiving” Day. In 1941 it was decided by the US Congress that Thanksgiving day would officially be the fourth Thursday in November, which means sometimes it is the last Thursday, and sometime it is the next to last Thursday.
Thanksgiving is celebrated by inviting friends and family over for a large feast. The feast traditionally includes turkey, pumpkin pie, potatoes and a large variety of other vegetables and breads. On Thanksgiving Day many people enjoy watching American football games and/or the Macy’s Day Parade on TV.
Every year the National Turkey Federation gives the White House four turkeys. Two are prepared for the feast and two are named and then “pardoned” or set free by the President.
Last year the pardoned turkeys were named Marshmallow and Yam.
The day after Thanksgiving us called “Black Friday.” It is usually given as a day off from work (Yeah for you) so that people can spend more time with their families or pursue other activities. The most popular activity is shopping. The day after Thanksgiving is the biggest shopping day of the year. It is the official kick of to the Christmas shopping season.
Feel free to greet your customers with “Happy Thanksgiving” next week, and you can ask them what plans they have for Thanksgiving for small talk, as well as what plans they have for the day after Thanksgiving.
See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thanksgiving for more information.
(Canadian Thanksgiving was last month.)
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Puggle: Noun is A. A pink, plush stuffed toy
B. A new dog breed which is a mix between a pug and a beagle
C. A baby platypus
D. All of the above
E. A word Shannon made up to mess with me
It’s a tough question, but don’t waste your time googling it, I’ll tell you the answer.
Believe it or not the answer is D.
I’m not lying, I have proof.
puggle 1
puggle 2
puggle 3
Well, that’s not really proof, but if you do google it, you will find these fine examples of puggles.
Puggle: An imaginary animal from the lost forest which eats slip peas and is apparently tasty in pies. Nearly extinct- lives in holes . . . and bags. For more information see:
Lost Forest
Puggle: a mixed breed of a Pug and a Beagle, gaining popularity- distained by real dog breeders. You never know what you’ll get with a puggle- maybe a mild mannered lap dog like a pug, maybe a hyper hunting dog like a beagle. Puggles like children (to play with, not to eat). Puggles make good apartment dogs, but you may also look into getting a “pocket puggle” if you have a very small apartment.
Puggle: a baby platypus.
Some unsolicited information on platypuses:
According to Aboriginal legend, the first platypus were born after a young female duck mated with a lonely and persuasive water-rat. The duck's offspring had their mother's bill and webbed feet and their father's four legs and handsome brown fur.
water rat
duck
Dr. George Shaw was pretty sure the platypus was an elaborate hoax (Played by . . . the duck and the water rat?) when he first encountered the animal in 1799. He named the strange animal platypus, unfortunately that name had already been used for some kind of bug, so the official name became “ornithorhynchus anatinus” meaning “bird-like snout whatchamacallit.”
You can have one platypus or two platypus or you can have two platypuses, but you cannot have a gaggle of platypi, that one is right out.
You can have a gaggle of geese, but there is no collective noun for a group of platypuses- they are loners and don’t want to talk about it further.
(The following is my favorite part.)
The term “puggle” is considered a colloquial term for a baby platypus, as there is no accepted term for platypus young. Puggle is considered unacceptable on account of it is a copyrighted word supposedly exclusively to be used for the above mentioned plush toy. If you insist on calling a baby platypus a puggle legal action just might be taken against you.
Let me repeat, calling a baby platypus a “puggle” is possibly (but I’m not for sure on this) illegal, but defiantly ill-informed.
Henceforth, when speaking to your friends and relations about baby platypuses, you should refer to them as “platy-pups.”
Other interesting things about platypuses:
Platypuses are monotremes, which means they find their food by means of electroperception. Which means they detect electrical fields generated by muscular contractions of their prey. “The platypuses electrorecption is the most sensitive of any monotreme.”
Wikipedia told me so.
Platypuses eat worms, insect larvae, freshwater shrimp and yabbies. (What the heck is a yabby?) A yabby is a crayfish, or crawfish, or crawdad, or as they say in Louisiana, a “mudbug.” I wonder if that is copyrighted.
When a female platypus is ready to lay eggs (the only mammal to lay eggs) she digs a burrow and makes bedding of fallen leaves which she picks up and brings in with her multipurpose tail.
The female platypus has two ovaries, but only the left one works. (Such personal information right here on the internet!)
The female platypus produces milk for her platy-pups, but she doesn’t have any teats.
Milk is released through pores in her skin. (So I’ve never been a boob fan, but given this alternative, I’ll stop complaining.)
Now you know.
B. A new dog breed which is a mix between a pug and a beagle
C. A baby platypus
D. All of the above
E. A word Shannon made up to mess with me
It’s a tough question, but don’t waste your time googling it, I’ll tell you the answer.
Believe it or not the answer is D.
I’m not lying, I have proof.
puggle 1
puggle 2
puggle 3
Well, that’s not really proof, but if you do google it, you will find these fine examples of puggles.
Puggle: An imaginary animal from the lost forest which eats slip peas and is apparently tasty in pies. Nearly extinct- lives in holes . . . and bags. For more information see:
Lost Forest
Puggle: a mixed breed of a Pug and a Beagle, gaining popularity- distained by real dog breeders. You never know what you’ll get with a puggle- maybe a mild mannered lap dog like a pug, maybe a hyper hunting dog like a beagle. Puggles like children (to play with, not to eat). Puggles make good apartment dogs, but you may also look into getting a “pocket puggle” if you have a very small apartment.
Puggle: a baby platypus.
Some unsolicited information on platypuses:
According to Aboriginal legend, the first platypus were born after a young female duck mated with a lonely and persuasive water-rat. The duck's offspring had their mother's bill and webbed feet and their father's four legs and handsome brown fur.
water rat
duck
Dr. George Shaw was pretty sure the platypus was an elaborate hoax (Played by . . . the duck and the water rat?) when he first encountered the animal in 1799. He named the strange animal platypus, unfortunately that name had already been used for some kind of bug, so the official name became “ornithorhynchus anatinus” meaning “bird-like snout whatchamacallit.”
You can have one platypus or two platypus or you can have two platypuses, but you cannot have a gaggle of platypi, that one is right out.
You can have a gaggle of geese, but there is no collective noun for a group of platypuses- they are loners and don’t want to talk about it further.
(The following is my favorite part.)
The term “puggle” is considered a colloquial term for a baby platypus, as there is no accepted term for platypus young. Puggle is considered unacceptable on account of it is a copyrighted word supposedly exclusively to be used for the above mentioned plush toy. If you insist on calling a baby platypus a puggle legal action just might be taken against you.
Let me repeat, calling a baby platypus a “puggle” is possibly (but I’m not for sure on this) illegal, but defiantly ill-informed.
Henceforth, when speaking to your friends and relations about baby platypuses, you should refer to them as “platy-pups.”
Other interesting things about platypuses:
Platypuses are monotremes, which means they find their food by means of electroperception. Which means they detect electrical fields generated by muscular contractions of their prey. “The platypuses electrorecption is the most sensitive of any monotreme.”
Wikipedia told me so.
Platypuses eat worms, insect larvae, freshwater shrimp and yabbies. (What the heck is a yabby?) A yabby is a crayfish, or crawfish, or crawdad, or as they say in Louisiana, a “mudbug.” I wonder if that is copyrighted.
When a female platypus is ready to lay eggs (the only mammal to lay eggs) she digs a burrow and makes bedding of fallen leaves which she picks up and brings in with her multipurpose tail.
The female platypus has two ovaries, but only the left one works. (Such personal information right here on the internet!)
The female platypus produces milk for her platy-pups, but she doesn’t have any teats.
Milk is released through pores in her skin. (So I’ve never been a boob fan, but given this alternative, I’ll stop complaining.)
Now you know.
Monday, November 13, 2006
There are some things which I, Shannon Peterson, will never understand. Among them:
Algebra
Why some “modern art” is acclaimed
Why my dog can’t stop himself from peeing in the house
The mysterious inner workings of the Indian Postal System.
I got a call this morning that I had a package to pick up at the post office and that I would have to pay 618 Rupees for customs. I haven’t had to pay for customs for any other packages (ignoring that ordeal with the FedEx package.)
So I went to pick up this special package that somehow got caught in the customs trap that all my other packages escaped. It was smallish- it looked innocent enough. The post office guy gave me all the forms- had me sign them, I gave him my money and he looked at the package and said, “What’s in there?” (Or something close to that, at least that’s what I think he meant when he pointed at the package and mumbled something unintelligible to me.) I got the indication that he was just as mystified about the special attention from customs as I was. I told him I didn’t know- I didn’t even know who it was from.
When I got the package I saw it was one of the long lost birthday packages mailed back in August. When I got home to open it I found two books and some Cheezits and Cheetos. Opening the box did not solve the customs mystery- I still have no idea why they pulled that one aside and decided to charge for it, nor can I understand why Buzz likes to pee on my dirty clothes . . . some mysteries may never be solved.
Algebra
Why some “modern art” is acclaimed
Why my dog can’t stop himself from peeing in the house
The mysterious inner workings of the Indian Postal System.
I got a call this morning that I had a package to pick up at the post office and that I would have to pay 618 Rupees for customs. I haven’t had to pay for customs for any other packages (ignoring that ordeal with the FedEx package.)
So I went to pick up this special package that somehow got caught in the customs trap that all my other packages escaped. It was smallish- it looked innocent enough. The post office guy gave me all the forms- had me sign them, I gave him my money and he looked at the package and said, “What’s in there?” (Or something close to that, at least that’s what I think he meant when he pointed at the package and mumbled something unintelligible to me.) I got the indication that he was just as mystified about the special attention from customs as I was. I told him I didn’t know- I didn’t even know who it was from.
When I got the package I saw it was one of the long lost birthday packages mailed back in August. When I got home to open it I found two books and some Cheezits and Cheetos. Opening the box did not solve the customs mystery- I still have no idea why they pulled that one aside and decided to charge for it, nor can I understand why Buzz likes to pee on my dirty clothes . . . some mysteries may never be solved.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Here’s my Goa story:
Goa is the India beach hot spot- everyone agrees it’s the place to be on vacation- obviously I had to go.
I left Buzz with the son of my right hand and got out of town. I took the sea monkeys with me- I forgot to leave them with Buzz.
I had the guy from the guest house pick me up at the airport- he was also picking up another guest. When we both showed up we drove off to the village of Anjuna. Anjuna, it turns out, is where all the nouvue-hippies and Israelis hang out. When we got to the guest house it was dark. They showed us our rooms and I took stock of the situation 1. I had an attached bath, but no toilet paper. 2. I had large, well lit room, semi clean two beds, one outlet- no TV. 3. There was a market to one side of the house and a restaurant to the other side. 4. The beach was down the street. Everything seemed in order for a nice relaxing weekend of seclusion- I had my books, my knitting, my computer and some stationary.
The girl who came from the airport came into my room looking a little shocked and said, “Oh, your room is much nicer than mine!”
I said, “Huh, really?”
She said, “Yes!” and “Look at it!”
Well, it wasn’t quite as nice. Not so well lit- some cobwebs on the ceiling, but I didn’t want to volunteer to trade I was on vacation- my room was okay but I had no intention of down grading- mine was nicer after all but hers wasn’t so bad. She disagreed- she was sure she could not possibly sleep in such a room- anything could happen to her in that room.
She was nearing hysterics when she asked if we could share a room. I wasn’t sure- that hadn’t been the plan- but well I’m alone most of the time at home so why not share a room on vacation? So we became Goa buddies.
We were together the rest of the time. We went to eat- went to the market- went to the beach- then we went back to the guest house and started the cycle again. We got ripped off in the market, as should be expected in India. We laid around looking white at the beach- then we decided that Anjuna just wasn’t holding our attention.
We decided to go to Colva- it looked like a happening place on the map. So we packed up after the second night and taxi-ed down to South Goa. Colva is much larger than Anjuna- fewer hippies and Israelis. Beach-Food-Market.
The next day it was kind of cloudy so we decided to go to Old Goa- where the Portuguese used to hang out and force Indians to become Roman Catholics.
My new friend had met a friend on the flight to Goa. She contacted him and he took us to see the churches in Old Goa- and to an Island nearby. He was a local who had never bothered to look at the tourist places- apparently the task was taxing for him because he had to stop several times to take a few drags on his joint.
I was sitting in a car with two absolute strangers in India watching the driver smoke a joint, and listening to him reassure me that it was fine, he did it all the time and did I want some.
My Goa (Catholic) History:
The best church was Bom Jesus where the remains of St. Francis Xavier are present in a glass casket. (Ick.)
That guy- he was something else- he was about four feet tall, which goes to prove short people can do big things.
He was a cofounder of the Jesuits. In 1541 he left Spain to become a missionary in India. Then he was a missionary in Indonesia, Japan and China.
Now the weirdness.
He died on December 2, 1552. He was buried on a Chinese Island, then a few months later, dug up and moved to a church, then a year later moved to somebody’s house, then a few months later shipped to Goa, “having resisted extensive decay.”
Now- here’s what the tour guide told me, Xavier didn’t decay- first they buried him, but they decided that they were going to want to ship him off to India, so they dug him up he hadn’t decayed as expected so the dumped quick lime in his coffin. They expected after a few months that there would only be bones left making for easy shipping. But when they dug him out again he was still just laying there undecayed. So at that point it became a miracle the “living body” of a dead saint.
When they got him back to Goa they wrote to the Pope to ask for formal legislation concerning the sainthood. The Pope said he had to see it for himself and to send him to Rome. The converts in Goa said, “No! We don’t want to send him, India doesn’t get to keep anything!” (That’s what the guide said.) So they cut off his “blessing arm” which bore his signet ring and sent it off. The Pope agreed that it was Xavier’s arm and that it hadn’t decayed so he must be a saint.
The English get a bad rap in India- but from what I’ve read the Portuguese were a bunch of so-and-so’s too. Xavier requested an Inquisition in India in 1545. An Inquisition is bad news. It went on from 1560 to 1774- along the way thousands of Hindus were either converted to Christianity or tortured and killed. It wasn’t only Hindus, local Jews, Muslims and non-Catholic Christians were all so persecuted.
When the Portuguese got to India they were surprised to find Christians who didn’t know about the Pope. These were Christians using ancient practices and texts dating back to the first century- They referred to the tradition of Thomas the Apostle working in India. Those oh-so-curious Catholics burned the texts from these churches and killed the church leaders. “What followed was the literary holocaust of the St. Thomas Christian history and faith. Even the common prayer book was not spared. Every known item of literature was burnt and any priest professing independence was imprisoned.”
“The Portuguese let out their Negro slaves into the streets and as soon as they found a Hindu, they smeared the person's mouth with beef, making them untouchable in the eyes of other Hindus. Then they forcefully converted them.”
“The large Muslim population of Goa, was massacred and decimated by the Jesuits.”
“There was a large population of Jews in the Konkan region. Celebrating the Jewish Sabbath was enough to get a person burned at the stake.”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goa_Inquisition
(I know wikipedia- but I've read the same stories in books and other web pages)
Goa is the India beach hot spot- everyone agrees it’s the place to be on vacation- obviously I had to go.
I left Buzz with the son of my right hand and got out of town. I took the sea monkeys with me- I forgot to leave them with Buzz.
I had the guy from the guest house pick me up at the airport- he was also picking up another guest. When we both showed up we drove off to the village of Anjuna. Anjuna, it turns out, is where all the nouvue-hippies and Israelis hang out. When we got to the guest house it was dark. They showed us our rooms and I took stock of the situation 1. I had an attached bath, but no toilet paper. 2. I had large, well lit room, semi clean two beds, one outlet- no TV. 3. There was a market to one side of the house and a restaurant to the other side. 4. The beach was down the street. Everything seemed in order for a nice relaxing weekend of seclusion- I had my books, my knitting, my computer and some stationary.
The girl who came from the airport came into my room looking a little shocked and said, “Oh, your room is much nicer than mine!”
I said, “Huh, really?”
She said, “Yes!” and “Look at it!”
Well, it wasn’t quite as nice. Not so well lit- some cobwebs on the ceiling, but I didn’t want to volunteer to trade I was on vacation- my room was okay but I had no intention of down grading- mine was nicer after all but hers wasn’t so bad. She disagreed- she was sure she could not possibly sleep in such a room- anything could happen to her in that room.
She was nearing hysterics when she asked if we could share a room. I wasn’t sure- that hadn’t been the plan- but well I’m alone most of the time at home so why not share a room on vacation? So we became Goa buddies.
We were together the rest of the time. We went to eat- went to the market- went to the beach- then we went back to the guest house and started the cycle again. We got ripped off in the market, as should be expected in India. We laid around looking white at the beach- then we decided that Anjuna just wasn’t holding our attention.
We decided to go to Colva- it looked like a happening place on the map. So we packed up after the second night and taxi-ed down to South Goa. Colva is much larger than Anjuna- fewer hippies and Israelis. Beach-Food-Market.
The next day it was kind of cloudy so we decided to go to Old Goa- where the Portuguese used to hang out and force Indians to become Roman Catholics.
My new friend had met a friend on the flight to Goa. She contacted him and he took us to see the churches in Old Goa- and to an Island nearby. He was a local who had never bothered to look at the tourist places- apparently the task was taxing for him because he had to stop several times to take a few drags on his joint.
I was sitting in a car with two absolute strangers in India watching the driver smoke a joint, and listening to him reassure me that it was fine, he did it all the time and did I want some.
My Goa (Catholic) History:
The best church was Bom Jesus where the remains of St. Francis Xavier are present in a glass casket. (Ick.)
That guy- he was something else- he was about four feet tall, which goes to prove short people can do big things.
He was a cofounder of the Jesuits. In 1541 he left Spain to become a missionary in India. Then he was a missionary in Indonesia, Japan and China.
Now the weirdness.
He died on December 2, 1552. He was buried on a Chinese Island, then a few months later, dug up and moved to a church, then a year later moved to somebody’s house, then a few months later shipped to Goa, “having resisted extensive decay.”
Now- here’s what the tour guide told me, Xavier didn’t decay- first they buried him, but they decided that they were going to want to ship him off to India, so they dug him up he hadn’t decayed as expected so the dumped quick lime in his coffin. They expected after a few months that there would only be bones left making for easy shipping. But when they dug him out again he was still just laying there undecayed. So at that point it became a miracle the “living body” of a dead saint.
When they got him back to Goa they wrote to the Pope to ask for formal legislation concerning the sainthood. The Pope said he had to see it for himself and to send him to Rome. The converts in Goa said, “No! We don’t want to send him, India doesn’t get to keep anything!” (That’s what the guide said.) So they cut off his “blessing arm” which bore his signet ring and sent it off. The Pope agreed that it was Xavier’s arm and that it hadn’t decayed so he must be a saint.
The English get a bad rap in India- but from what I’ve read the Portuguese were a bunch of so-and-so’s too. Xavier requested an Inquisition in India in 1545. An Inquisition is bad news. It went on from 1560 to 1774- along the way thousands of Hindus were either converted to Christianity or tortured and killed. It wasn’t only Hindus, local Jews, Muslims and non-Catholic Christians were all so persecuted.
When the Portuguese got to India they were surprised to find Christians who didn’t know about the Pope. These were Christians using ancient practices and texts dating back to the first century- They referred to the tradition of Thomas the Apostle working in India. Those oh-so-curious Catholics burned the texts from these churches and killed the church leaders. “What followed was the literary holocaust of the St. Thomas Christian history and faith. Even the common prayer book was not spared. Every known item of literature was burnt and any priest professing independence was imprisoned.”
“The Portuguese let out their Negro slaves into the streets and as soon as they found a Hindu, they smeared the person's mouth with beef, making them untouchable in the eyes of other Hindus. Then they forcefully converted them.”
“The large Muslim population of Goa, was massacred and decimated by the Jesuits.”
“There was a large population of Jews in the Konkan region. Celebrating the Jewish Sabbath was enough to get a person burned at the stake.”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goa_Inquisition
(I know wikipedia- but I've read the same stories in books and other web pages)
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
I have received some “compliments” or perhaps just benign comments which remind me how other people view me.
Sometimes I look at people my age and think, “Do I look that old?” In my mind I don’t. Please no comments to the contrary- I like to believe my imagination on these matters.
I met a young woman while traveling and she asked me what kind of work I did. I told her I was a teacher. She said, “You look like a teacher.”
Now, in my opinion, there are some professions which may be noble and good and useful- I just don’t want to be pigeon-holed as “looking like” a stereo-typical member of .
On my list of professions I personally don’t want to “look like” are:
teacher
missionary
librarian
scientist
IHOP waitress
cafeteria lady
truck driver
I’ve worked as, or as assistant to all but two of the above professions. Actually I’ve known some very attractive people in these professions, but they are not the stereo-typical examples- they are a-typical, they are the ones about whom people say, “You’re a _________?! You don’t look like one.” And that is a compliment.
Similarly, there are some nationalities one may not want to be accused of being. This one varies from place to place and between situations. For example, in UAE I did not want to be called Russian- not because there was anything wrong with Russians, but because many of the Russian women in the area were known prostitutes.
This weekend someone asked me if I was from Finland. I said, “No.” He said that was funny because I look very Finnish. Honestly I don’t know what specific features Finnish people have, but in my imagination, which as I said, I like to believe, they are quite pale. Pale as in nearly see-through- hurts-your-eyes-in-the-sun pale with big blue veins. I get this image from seeing the tourists who would come to the beach in Cyprus, they were usually Scandinavian.
I know, I know not all Scandinavians are deathly pale and I’m sure there are some drop-dead gorgeous Finns- (can’t say I’ve known any personally) but the stereo-type . . .
Finally this Indian girl came up to me on the beach and said, “You are so milky.” It’s one of those things that yeah, okay-I know it’s a compliment in this culture- but it doesn’t translate well across cultures.
A white girl sitting on the beach doesn’t want to hear she is “milky.”
Indians have a large market for “fairness cream.” They take great pains to avoid getting darker skin. They use umbrellas on sunny days, they will fully cover to avoid the sun, the beach was more crowded at sunset than it was mid-day. Fair women in India are considered quite attractive. “Milky” is good, unless you are always “milky” and you are at the beach trying to look less Finnish and more Indian, when in fact you are neither one.
Sometimes I look at people my age and think, “Do I look that old?” In my mind I don’t. Please no comments to the contrary- I like to believe my imagination on these matters.
I met a young woman while traveling and she asked me what kind of work I did. I told her I was a teacher. She said, “You look like a teacher.”
Now, in my opinion, there are some professions which may be noble and good and useful- I just don’t want to be pigeon-holed as “looking like” a stereo-typical member of .
On my list of professions I personally don’t want to “look like” are:
teacher
missionary
librarian
scientist
IHOP waitress
cafeteria lady
truck driver
I’ve worked as, or as assistant to all but two of the above professions. Actually I’ve known some very attractive people in these professions, but they are not the stereo-typical examples- they are a-typical, they are the ones about whom people say, “You’re a _________?! You don’t look like one.” And that is a compliment.
Similarly, there are some nationalities one may not want to be accused of being. This one varies from place to place and between situations. For example, in UAE I did not want to be called Russian- not because there was anything wrong with Russians, but because many of the Russian women in the area were known prostitutes.
This weekend someone asked me if I was from Finland. I said, “No.” He said that was funny because I look very Finnish. Honestly I don’t know what specific features Finnish people have, but in my imagination, which as I said, I like to believe, they are quite pale. Pale as in nearly see-through- hurts-your-eyes-in-the-sun pale with big blue veins. I get this image from seeing the tourists who would come to the beach in Cyprus, they were usually Scandinavian.
I know, I know not all Scandinavians are deathly pale and I’m sure there are some drop-dead gorgeous Finns- (can’t say I’ve known any personally) but the stereo-type . . .
Finally this Indian girl came up to me on the beach and said, “You are so milky.” It’s one of those things that yeah, okay-I know it’s a compliment in this culture- but it doesn’t translate well across cultures.
A white girl sitting on the beach doesn’t want to hear she is “milky.”
Indians have a large market for “fairness cream.” They take great pains to avoid getting darker skin. They use umbrellas on sunny days, they will fully cover to avoid the sun, the beach was more crowded at sunset than it was mid-day. Fair women in India are considered quite attractive. “Milky” is good, unless you are always “milky” and you are at the beach trying to look less Finnish and more Indian, when in fact you are neither one.
Tickle says:
You are Balanced-brained
That means you are able to draw on the strengths of both the right and left hemispheres of your brain, depending upon a given situation. When you need to explain a complicated process to someone, or plan a detailed vacation, the left hemisphere of your brain, which is responsible for your ability to solve problems logically, might kick in. But if you were critiquing an art opening or coming up with an original way to file papers, the right side of your brain, which is responsible for noticing subtle details in things, might take over. While many people have clearly dominant left- or right-brained tendencies, you are able to draw on skills from both hemispheres of your brain. This rare combination makes you a very creative and flexible thinker. The down side to being balanced-brained is that you may sometimes feel paralyzed by indecision when the two hemispheres of your brain are competing to solve a problem in their own unique ways.
http://web.tickle.com/tests/brain/index_main.jsp
You are Balanced-brained
That means you are able to draw on the strengths of both the right and left hemispheres of your brain, depending upon a given situation. When you need to explain a complicated process to someone, or plan a detailed vacation, the left hemisphere of your brain, which is responsible for your ability to solve problems logically, might kick in. But if you were critiquing an art opening or coming up with an original way to file papers, the right side of your brain, which is responsible for noticing subtle details in things, might take over. While many people have clearly dominant left- or right-brained tendencies, you are able to draw on skills from both hemispheres of your brain. This rare combination makes you a very creative and flexible thinker. The down side to being balanced-brained is that you may sometimes feel paralyzed by indecision when the two hemispheres of your brain are competing to solve a problem in their own unique ways.
http://web.tickle.com/tests/brain/index_main.jsp
Saturday, October 28, 2006
This is Mr. Pistachio D. Dangley. He was born in a time of great tribulation- as a result he has deep emotional trauma (and a weak neck, but don't bring it up, he's sensitive about it.) He wears a fuzzy brown scarf to hide his neck- but nothing can hide his pain.
He acts out at the most inappropriate times. He's a pyromaniac and he's in love with a dog who doesn't know his name.
Under his minty exterior his bad through and through- even his stuffing is black-
I shall endeavor to rehabilitate him, but my hopes are slim for such a creature.
More on Mr. Dangley as he progresses through his treatments.
He acts out at the most inappropriate times. He's a pyromaniac and he's in love with a dog who doesn't know his name.
Under his minty exterior his bad through and through- even his stuffing is black-
I shall endeavor to rehabilitate him, but my hopes are slim for such a creature.
More on Mr. Dangley as he progresses through his treatments.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Yesterday was the big Divalli celebration- I went out twice to take Buzz- who was too nervous by all the goings on to do any strategic urination or defication- as a matter of fact he walked and poo-ed at the same time to save time in getting back to the apt.
There were constant fire works from 8 AM to 12AM yesterday. It was like living in a freaking war zone!
Today I'm sick- I'm guessing from all the gun powder smoke- ugh.
There are still some crackers going off today- but not nearly as many as yesterday.
I went to fine the scooter rental place today- but somebody gave me the wrong directions- or maybe I'm just blind- because I looked and looked and couldn't see it anywhere near where I was told it would be. Of course there's no listngin the Bangalore Yellow Pages.
I saw on line that I could buy a scooter for about $300. I should have thought of that months ago!
I'm hungry but I can't think of anything worth my effort to eat.
Being sick and scooterless sucks.
There were constant fire works from 8 AM to 12AM yesterday. It was like living in a freaking war zone!
Today I'm sick- I'm guessing from all the gun powder smoke- ugh.
There are still some crackers going off today- but not nearly as many as yesterday.
I went to fine the scooter rental place today- but somebody gave me the wrong directions- or maybe I'm just blind- because I looked and looked and couldn't see it anywhere near where I was told it would be. Of course there's no listngin the Bangalore Yellow Pages.
I saw on line that I could buy a scooter for about $300. I should have thought of that months ago!
I'm hungry but I can't think of anything worth my effort to eat.
Being sick and scooterless sucks.
To feel homely away from home, come see the facilities we provide for you at resonalabe cost for a safe stay near M S RAMAIAH HOSPITAL . 24 hour security,with parking.fully furnished hall with TV and . . .
I don't want to feel homely away from home!
Indian personal adds are full of men looking for "homely" women, which here means they know how to run a home. (I think)
I don't want to feel homely away from home!
Indian personal adds are full of men looking for "homely" women, which here means they know how to run a home. (I think)
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
I'm doing scooter research because I really like scooters. I want one- a Vespa I could afford- honestly Twikes are out of my range.
Here is an informative article I read: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/10862/a_beginners_guide_to_scooters.html
I point it out because at the bottem there are comments, one made by Dr. David Leader, who says: "I am a serious scooterist."
Is there such a thing as a serious scooterist? Because just the word scooter is silly let alone "scooterist." That's just over the top silly.
I will now dedicate my life to being a serious scooterist. This shall be my goal hensforth.
Here is an informative article I read: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/10862/a_beginners_guide_to_scooters.html
I point it out because at the bottem there are comments, one made by Dr. David Leader, who says: "I am a serious scooterist."
Is there such a thing as a serious scooterist? Because just the word scooter is silly let alone "scooterist." That's just over the top silly.
I will now dedicate my life to being a serious scooterist. This shall be my goal hensforth.
There was an accident in my part of town tonight. I saw my first "rescue van." Which looked to me like a fire truck. A had brake failure and lost control and killed ten pedestrians.
Then the people who saw it were so upset they set the van on fire.
The whole store is out of my range of understanding- at least it would have been before I came here.
First- it killed ten pedestrians? That's a lot of people! I was just walking in that area yesterday. I could have been killed by a runaway Volvo! Just walking down the street minding your own business and then you and nine of your sidewalk buddies are gone.
Then- when do you as a shocked bystander go from horror at seeing what you just saw to burning the van that caused the accident?
Then the people who saw it were so upset they set the van on fire.
The whole store is out of my range of understanding- at least it would have been before I came here.
First- it killed ten pedestrians? That's a lot of people! I was just walking in that area yesterday. I could have been killed by a runaway Volvo! Just walking down the street minding your own business and then you and nine of your sidewalk buddies are gone.
Then- when do you as a shocked bystander go from horror at seeing what you just saw to burning the van that caused the accident?
Friday, October 13, 2006
I have internet at home now-I have the power of the universe! HA-HAA!
I don't even care that it is now impossible to completely close my window- that there is a big fat crazy long grey cable running across the walk way to the front door that I will most likely trip over on a daily basis- I am on line! And I'm downloading Grey's Anatomy!
The world wide web is my oyster.
I don't even care that it is now impossible to completely close my window- that there is a big fat crazy long grey cable running across the walk way to the front door that I will most likely trip over on a daily basis- I am on line! And I'm downloading Grey's Anatomy!
The world wide web is my oyster.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Dear Ms.Peterson,
It is the payment of the duty/tax amount that is an issue at the moment. I do realize that at this point of time the delivery of the shipment is of utmost importance rather than the payment. Though procedure requires that these duties should be billed to the consignee, I have instructed the clearance team to have this charge credited to you along with the other charges as well as gesture of goodwill. We’d definitely like to avoid any further delay on this shipment. You will be informed about the procedure to proceed with the clearance tomorrow.
Once again, I apologise for all the inconvenience you have faced during the last three weeks.
This is the Indian way of say- "Okay we're tired of being yelled at about this! Give us a freaking break already! Here's your crap now get off our backs!"
I shall have it tomorrow Inshallah.
It is the payment of the duty/tax amount that is an issue at the moment. I do realize that at this point of time the delivery of the shipment is of utmost importance rather than the payment. Though procedure requires that these duties should be billed to the consignee, I have instructed the clearance team to have this charge credited to you along with the other charges as well as gesture of goodwill. We’d definitely like to avoid any further delay on this shipment. You will be informed about the procedure to proceed with the clearance tomorrow.
Once again, I apologise for all the inconvenience you have faced during the last three weeks.
This is the Indian way of say- "Okay we're tired of being yelled at about this! Give us a freaking break already! Here's your crap now get off our backs!"
I shall have it tomorrow Inshallah.
http://www.dallas.edu/News_Articles/10YrReunion/index.cfm
my college is having a ten year reunion now- jeez!
well, it's not really 10 for me yet, but it's a small school, so they are inviting three classes 95, 96, 97
anyway I saw a picture of myself on the announcement site :) I look so studious
my college is having a ten year reunion now- jeez!
well, it's not really 10 for me yet, but it's a small school, so they are inviting three classes 95, 96, 97
anyway I saw a picture of myself on the announcement site :) I look so studious
I just had a political argument. How silly of me. Admittedly I'm not politically inclined and since most people my age violently disagree with me I usually just stop listening and don’t comment. It is my opinion that no matter what a leader does in a time of crisis half of the population will think it was wrong. To be honest I’m just tired of every wrong in the world being placed on Bush.
She said: “Bush should not have gone to war with Iraq after 911.”
I asked: “What should he have done?”
She didn’t answer, so I kept asking, “What should he have done?”
Finally she said he should have done nothing.
So- when an iconic city of the Superpower of the world is attacked and thousands of civilians are senselessly killed, when the physical center of the government is targeted-then the leader of that Superpower should sit on his thumbs and say, “Gosh I wish that wouldn’t have happened.”
Makes sense to me.
My point was only I thought he had to do something. I’m not saying invading Iraq was the right something- but I also don’t think it was a totally wrong something. What happened in Iraq? 1. Lots of people got killed. – lots of people were being killed before we invaded. 2. Weapons of mass destruction were not found- well now we know right? If the UN would have been able to investigate in the first place it couldn't have been used as an excuse. 3. A cruel, murderous dictator and government officials were deposed and held accountable for war crimes and crimes against humanity. 4. Terrorists who may or may not have been aided by above cruel murderous dictator and government officials were at the very least distracted from further terrorist plans against the USA and warned that the Superpower wasn’t sitting on its thumbs.
I stand by the idea that he couldn’t do “nothing.” And starting with a known evil is better than waiting to get blown up.
If someone can tell me what he could have done and it makes more sense then:
“Nothing.”
Or
“He could have made up a pretend country and pretend people in that country and made a movie of a war and how we beat them up and won and shown it on the news” I will certainly listen to you and consider your point.
As long as I’m at it: Bill Clinton- liar, cheater, perjurer-- and anyone who doesn’t think he was serving his own self interests as much as W is must be delusional. A man who can not be trusted in his own home cannot be trusted at all.
She said it wasn't illegal to have an affair. Well why was he on trial? Seriously I was in Cyprus I missed the whole thing. Why did he perjurer himself if he didn't know it was wrong, and serious and illegal?
She said she would rather have a leader screwing his intern than one starting wars where thousands of Americans would die.
I thought (didn’t say because this gets to a point in an argument were people start looking at me like I’m an absolute monster) 1. Clinton didn’t have time to start a war as he was too busy lying, cheating and screwing. 2. Clinton didn’t have an occasion to start a war because his country wasn’t under attack. 3. (Here’s the monster part) Every soldier in Iraq was a military volunteer. They knew what they were getting into. I’ll join war protests the day there is a mention of a draft.
She said she was sure the USA would not longer be a country in 50 years.
She told me all the wrongs and I asked her how anything she mentioned was different than any other country in the world. She agreed they weren’t different- but the US was more afflicted.
Heck if it’s only going to last 50 years I better get back and enjoy it quick!
She said: “Bush should not have gone to war with Iraq after 911.”
I asked: “What should he have done?”
She didn’t answer, so I kept asking, “What should he have done?”
Finally she said he should have done nothing.
So- when an iconic city of the Superpower of the world is attacked and thousands of civilians are senselessly killed, when the physical center of the government is targeted-then the leader of that Superpower should sit on his thumbs and say, “Gosh I wish that wouldn’t have happened.”
Makes sense to me.
My point was only I thought he had to do something. I’m not saying invading Iraq was the right something- but I also don’t think it was a totally wrong something. What happened in Iraq? 1. Lots of people got killed. – lots of people were being killed before we invaded. 2. Weapons of mass destruction were not found- well now we know right? If the UN would have been able to investigate in the first place it couldn't have been used as an excuse. 3. A cruel, murderous dictator and government officials were deposed and held accountable for war crimes and crimes against humanity. 4. Terrorists who may or may not have been aided by above cruel murderous dictator and government officials were at the very least distracted from further terrorist plans against the USA and warned that the Superpower wasn’t sitting on its thumbs.
I stand by the idea that he couldn’t do “nothing.” And starting with a known evil is better than waiting to get blown up.
If someone can tell me what he could have done and it makes more sense then:
“Nothing.”
Or
“He could have made up a pretend country and pretend people in that country and made a movie of a war and how we beat them up and won and shown it on the news” I will certainly listen to you and consider your point.
As long as I’m at it: Bill Clinton- liar, cheater, perjurer-- and anyone who doesn’t think he was serving his own self interests as much as W is must be delusional. A man who can not be trusted in his own home cannot be trusted at all.
She said it wasn't illegal to have an affair. Well why was he on trial? Seriously I was in Cyprus I missed the whole thing. Why did he perjurer himself if he didn't know it was wrong, and serious and illegal?
She said she would rather have a leader screwing his intern than one starting wars where thousands of Americans would die.
I thought (didn’t say because this gets to a point in an argument were people start looking at me like I’m an absolute monster) 1. Clinton didn’t have time to start a war as he was too busy lying, cheating and screwing. 2. Clinton didn’t have an occasion to start a war because his country wasn’t under attack. 3. (Here’s the monster part) Every soldier in Iraq was a military volunteer. They knew what they were getting into. I’ll join war protests the day there is a mention of a draft.
She said she was sure the USA would not longer be a country in 50 years.
She told me all the wrongs and I asked her how anything she mentioned was different than any other country in the world. She agreed they weren’t different- but the US was more afflicted.
Heck if it’s only going to last 50 years I better get back and enjoy it quick!
Monday, October 09, 2006
I was at the grocery store the other day desperately seeking salsa- well truthfully I had given up on salsa deciding to make my own- and was at that point desperately seeking tortilla chips- but that doesn’t just roll off the tongue does it?
I hadn’t been to that store before so I was going over it very carefully- taking stock of what was available. In the soaps and shampoo isle I noticed a little bottle of hair oil used to get rid of lice. As soon as I saw it my head started violently itching and I was thoroughly convinced I had all manner of lice bugs living productive little lives on my scalp and hair.
I threw it in the basket. I went on to find tortilla chips and maple syrup. (Score!)
When I got home I tried not to think about the community living on my head. ‘This is one of the things I do.’ I told myself. I start thinking about lice and become convinced I have it. My head starts itching and every little bit of dandruff is suspect. I then told myself to calm down because first I needed to have this stuff handy when I really did get lice and second, it’s hair oil I’d have to leave in for hours. I didn’t really relish the thought of walking around with totally oily hair. That’s kinda icky.
I threw the anti-lice oil in a drawer and started eating bad tortilla chips.
As the days pasted, my head got itchier- I saw more little white specks- and every once in a while I would go outside and see women sitting together like monkeys picking through each other’s hair . . . Yesterday I noticed a tick the size of Montana between Buzz’s toes. I burned it off, but it sent me over the edge, I couldn’t take it any more! I just knew there were lice bugs getting fat off my blood!
(Just writing about this is making my head itchy.)
Today I greased my head up with the anti-lice hair oil. I noticed the puja kits Hindus use to get themselves ready for worship came with lice combs. I bought one. I came to work today with slicked back super oily hair. J
Several people commented that I looked tanner today. I think it was the greasy hair that made them associate me with someone with darker skin. I now understand why so many Indians use hair oil. Non-animal oils irritate lice. It really gets on their tiny little nerves and they will start fighting and breaking up with you if you keep using it.
I know this is true because my first best friend, Mikey’s, grandmother told me and my mom so when I was four. I got lice for real when I was four; and my mom went to tell Mikey’s grandmother (because he lived with her) that she better check him too because he probably had it. Mikey’s grandmother said, “Black folks don’t get no lice.” My mom said, “Oh,” and “Who woulda thunk?” and “Why not?” Mikey’s grandmother said it was because the lice don’t like the grease black folks use to keep their hair from getting too dried out and nappy.
What a happy by-product no naps and no lice.
Most Indians ain’t got no naps- they have beautiful full straight black hair. Oiled hair.
I didn’t know why they oiled it- but now I get it. It’s the happy by-product they are after.
I wonder if that's why Bible people poured oil on their heads and beards too.
I hadn’t been to that store before so I was going over it very carefully- taking stock of what was available. In the soaps and shampoo isle I noticed a little bottle of hair oil used to get rid of lice. As soon as I saw it my head started violently itching and I was thoroughly convinced I had all manner of lice bugs living productive little lives on my scalp and hair.
I threw it in the basket. I went on to find tortilla chips and maple syrup. (Score!)
When I got home I tried not to think about the community living on my head. ‘This is one of the things I do.’ I told myself. I start thinking about lice and become convinced I have it. My head starts itching and every little bit of dandruff is suspect. I then told myself to calm down because first I needed to have this stuff handy when I really did get lice and second, it’s hair oil I’d have to leave in for hours. I didn’t really relish the thought of walking around with totally oily hair. That’s kinda icky.
I threw the anti-lice oil in a drawer and started eating bad tortilla chips.
As the days pasted, my head got itchier- I saw more little white specks- and every once in a while I would go outside and see women sitting together like monkeys picking through each other’s hair . . . Yesterday I noticed a tick the size of Montana between Buzz’s toes. I burned it off, but it sent me over the edge, I couldn’t take it any more! I just knew there were lice bugs getting fat off my blood!
(Just writing about this is making my head itchy.)
Today I greased my head up with the anti-lice hair oil. I noticed the puja kits Hindus use to get themselves ready for worship came with lice combs. I bought one. I came to work today with slicked back super oily hair. J
Several people commented that I looked tanner today. I think it was the greasy hair that made them associate me with someone with darker skin. I now understand why so many Indians use hair oil. Non-animal oils irritate lice. It really gets on their tiny little nerves and they will start fighting and breaking up with you if you keep using it.
I know this is true because my first best friend, Mikey’s, grandmother told me and my mom so when I was four. I got lice for real when I was four; and my mom went to tell Mikey’s grandmother (because he lived with her) that she better check him too because he probably had it. Mikey’s grandmother said, “Black folks don’t get no lice.” My mom said, “Oh,” and “Who woulda thunk?” and “Why not?” Mikey’s grandmother said it was because the lice don’t like the grease black folks use to keep their hair from getting too dried out and nappy.
What a happy by-product no naps and no lice.
Most Indians ain’t got no naps- they have beautiful full straight black hair. Oiled hair.
I didn’t know why they oiled it- but now I get it. It’s the happy by-product they are after.
I wonder if that's why Bible people poured oil on their heads and beards too.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
I dreamed the other night that my brother studied "Smith numbers" and that these numbers had something to do with medicine.
I've never heard of "Smith numbers" before.
So I looked them up on Google, feeling pretty sure there was no such thing.
Behold my error:
http://www.math.eku.edu/PJCostello/smith.htm
Smith Numbers
One interesting property of some positive integers came into existence because of a phone call. In 1982, Harold Smith called his brother-in-law, mathematician Albert Wilansky of Lehigh University, with the observation that his phone number was composite and the sum of the digits in the phone number equals the sum of the digits in its prime factors. Wilansky published this observation [6] and it was the birth of Smith numbers.
We introduce two arithmetic functions and then restate the definition of Smith numbers in terms of these two functions. Let S(N) represent the sum of the digits in N. Let Sp(N) represent the sum of the digits in the primes in the factorization of N. For example, Sp(12) = Sp(2*2*3) = 2+2+3 =7.
Definition. A composite integer N is called Smith if S(N) = Sp(N).
Well, I don't know what all this means, nor do I know what they have to do with medicine.
I've never heard of "Smith numbers" before.
So I looked them up on Google, feeling pretty sure there was no such thing.
Behold my error:
http://www.math.eku.edu/PJCostello/smith.htm
Smith Numbers
One interesting property of some positive integers came into existence because of a phone call. In 1982, Harold Smith called his brother-in-law, mathematician Albert Wilansky of Lehigh University, with the observation that his phone number was composite and the sum of the digits in the phone number equals the sum of the digits in its prime factors. Wilansky published this observation [6] and it was the birth of Smith numbers.
We introduce two arithmetic functions and then restate the definition of Smith numbers in terms of these two functions. Let S(N) represent the sum of the digits in N. Let Sp(N) represent the sum of the digits in the primes in the factorization of N. For example, Sp(12) = Sp(2*2*3) = 2+2+3 =7.
Definition. A composite integer N is called Smith if S(N) = Sp(N).
Well, I don't know what all this means, nor do I know what they have to do with medicine.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Most people believe that a grain of sand defined by the power drill laughs and drinks all night with a nearest freight train, but they need to remember how accurately another spartan reactor procrastinates. If a parking lot carelessly requires assistance from the feline bottle of beer, then a defendant around a minivan daydreams. A jersey cow about a corporation is resplendent. Any parking lot can secretly admire a photon inside the fundraiser, but it takes a real class action suit to derive perverse satisfaction from the annoying paper napkin. A stovepipe somewhat pees on the paternal short order cook. A ball bearing defined by the skyscraper operates a small fruit stand with a hockey player over the sheriff. A tabloid beyond the wheelbarrow caricatures a squid about a vacuum cleaner. A lover caricatures the fairy related to the bottle of beer, and a worldly chain saw figures out an apartment building. The pig pen from a sandwich seeks a movie theater from a blood clot, but some cough syrup from some football team barely organizes a fighter pilot.
I got this as a junk email - this is only the first paragraph there was more than page of this stuff . . . strangly enough the punctuation, spelling and grammar all seem to be correct.
I got this as a junk email - this is only the first paragraph there was more than page of this stuff . . . strangly enough the punctuation, spelling and grammar all seem to be correct.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
The football boys.
The football boys came to me with a great story. I'd say a story worth at least the approximately $2.00 that I gave them. (FYI that is a crazy amount of money to give to people begging here in India, the general practice is to give not more than 5 or 6 Rupees which is about 15 cents.)
They introduced themselves as John, John and (don't remember the boy in red, but his shirt says "Christian Boys" and I thought that was cute. They told me they are good Christian boys. They told me their fathers were fishermen, but the water was too rough- and fishing wasn't good now. They told me they were very good football (soccer) players, and did I like football?
I told them I didn't really follow it. They told me their team could win a championship, but unfortunalty, they could not play. It was so sad. (They let me me know.) They told me the reason they could not win is because they could not play, and the reason they could not play was that (dramatic pause) they didn't have a football.
They told me that they could buy one and play if only they had 450 Rupees (about $9.00.) I told them I was not going to give them 450Rps. But I would give them some money- and if Igave them money they had to promise that they would not ask me for any more money the rest of the weekend.
They promised.
I have them 100 Rps. They were so happy! They promised they would dedicate the football to me- in a special ceremony and that the would always remember me when they played. (Great- dedicate a ball to me then remember me while they kick the crap out of it.)
Later in the weekend they had gathered around me again to follow me around the beach- and chat about their village and the Jesus statue on the beach and whatnot when another boy came to ask for money and they chased him away.
They were good boys after all.
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