Circular

This is a true story.

- It's almost like you live IN the salon!
- Yep. My apartment is a sauna in hot weather.
- It would be great to live in a sauna.
- Everything would smell like cedar. People should have cedar houses.
- Maybe not, though. I feel like cedar forests would get depleted.
- Maybe just one room, then. One special room. It could be called . . . a sauna.
- Someone has had this conversation before.

For your viewing pleasure, or horror, depending

Hello, readers. I'm sorry I have been neglecting you. As you are all probably aware because I talk about it ALL THE TIME in every outlet known to man, I am working on another novel. I'm aiming to finish the first draft by December, which means writing two chapters every month while simultaneously editing previous chapters, and doing research, and then rewriting what I got wrong because I hadn't done enough research yet when I wrote it the first time. The amount of time this takes up is excessive and it's surprising that I still have friends. (Thank you, friends, for not stabbing your voodoo doll of me every time I say, "I can't, I have to write!") It has not left much time for blogging, mainly because editing photos takes too long, and photos are at least fifty perfect of what goes on here. I have a whole list of things that will need a post, but getting around to it has been difficult, and posting will probably be extra-sporadic until the end of the year.

In contrast to the rest of my life, work has been incredibly slow and boring. While this can lead to many dispiriting afternoons of clock-watching (Tuesday afternoon in particular is neverending, just like the song says) it has also given me the chance to learn how to use Adobe Illustrator slightly better. My recent goal has simply been to learn how to draw things, which is surprisingly complicated and requires a lot of practice. For me, anyway. I'm not so good at it to begin with, even on paper, so doing it on a computer is even harder. Which is why the stuff I made while practicing turned out to be really weird, and two out of four are aliens. I've never had much of an interest in aliens, so I can't explain that other than to say that when you're just playing with lines and have nothing in particular in mind, the life forms that come out of it tend not to be recognizably human. Again, this may be a problem that only affects me. I don't think Adobe Illustrator has a built-in bias toward aliens, although that would explain some of its more difficult features.

Figure 1: MOOSE

You may be able to tell that this one started with me just making squiggles.

And then I decided, what the heck, let's make an anatomically incorrect animal out of it!

To be fair, this was my first attempt at actually doing anything with Illustrator.
Also I've never seen a moose.

Figure 2: Purple Alien

I think he/she must be in the same phylum as Jabba the Hutt.

Figure 3: Alien so happy!

I don't know. I really don't know.

Figure 4: You . . . shall not . . . pass!

This one was legitimately work-related. There's construction outside of one of the main exits, and by "construction" I mean there's going to be a giant hole on the other side of the doors. Consequently, the doors have been blocked off, and it seemed like they needed an attention-getting sign. This sign has already been made by like sixty people on the internet, but because I'm a perfectionist, I made my own. (I'm thinking about how to construct a giant flaming Balrog to put in the giant hole once it's been dug. The sign for that will say, "Too deep you delved here, and woke the nameless fear. Please exit to Lothlórien. Thank you.") As I was putting this up a student walked by and said, "Haha, that's kinda funny." And I was like, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, "KINDA"?" Kids these days are so hard to impress.

Other legitimately work-related things include:

Figure 5: How to use the library

This is for a web page that no one will ever use because they will probably never find it. But if they do, they will discovere this semi-faithful representation of Rush Rhees. Which took like ninety years because it was possibly the second time I used Illustrator.

Figure 6: Little Red Riding Hood

Last March, the semi-annual book sale needed signs to delineate the genres, so I made a bunch of these, but this is the only one I drew myself. It took eight hours and there were fifteen signs or so, and it didn't seem like a worthwhile use of my time to draw them all. However, I'm very proud of this one because of the strong resemblance the deformed wolf-buffalo hybrid bears to an actual wolf! So close! (This was actually made 3/4 in Photoshop, 1/4 in Illustrator, and assembled in InDesign. I like to do things the stupid and inefficient way.)

Hopefully this will tide you all over (because I know that when I don't post regularly you all start to look sad and gray in the face because life without Simon & Ivan is hardly a life at all) until the next post, whenever that will be. There will be alpacas in it, I know that much.

Transit of Venus

Since Simon & Ivan invented quasars and all, it seems only right that we should say something about happenings in the world of astronomy, such as the Transit of Venus last Tuesday. We should like to confirm that Venus did indeed transit successfully, but after such an arduous journey -- the second in eight years, which it feels is a little much to ask -- it took to its bed and refuses to get up again until we promise to make it some calves'-foot jelly and hold its hand for an hour or so every afternoon until it's quite recovered. When assured that it need not perform this feat again until 2117, it said peevishly that it should "bloody well hope not" and pulled the covers over its head.


The photographer wishes to be credited as "R. M. Jurnack, Historian, Esq.," for reasons known only to himself.

Monochromery at Linwood Gardens

Greenery at Linwood Gardens

Linwood Gardens is apparently magic, because every time I go there the weather is perfect, the grass is green, and I have a splendid day.

I've been reading a lot about the Genesee Valley lately, so it was nice to lay eyes on it. Although I guess technically I'm looking at it all the time because I sort of live in it. But it's hard to tell. I feel like you're only in a valley if you can see the other side of the valley. From your house. (If what you see is Russia, that means you're at Sarah Palin's house, and you should get out.)

Matt and Adam and I pondered whether these tennis courts were ever paved. Because if the ball can't bounce, aren't you actually playing badminton? But it turns out Wimbledon is played on grass. Who knew?

Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen.

The green, it's everywhere! It's coming in through the walls! It's going to get into your house! Pave it! Pave it fast! 

I imagine French country estates to look exactly like this. You can tell just from looking at it that the troubadour is about to enter stage left. Unfortunately, he will probably start singing insipid French romances and we'll regret that we invited him.

This shot is poorly framed because I took it by holding my camera over my heading and clicking about blindly. Matt was kind enough to actually take good pictures for me, but I like how this one is all green, no sky, with just the pool for blue. Also, I don't know what that tree is in the top center, but it's perfect and I'd like to picnic under it.

For today, frogs

The top frog may have ribbited suddenly, right after I took his portrait, and I may have shrieked and reeled backwards. Beware: frogs are very surprising!

Pink Way of Delight

I walk through this every day on the way to the library.

Which is probably why my sinuses are trying to kill me.

At least it's a pretty way to go.

Speediator's Eventful Day at Work

I brought my camera to work, initially, to photograph the oldest living resident of the supply cabinet. People think that I go into work early so that I can get things done without being interrupted, which is true 85% of the time. But 15% of the time, I'm doing things like photographing old office supplies. Although my coworkers are used to me doing strange things (see later in this post), I did not want to tell anyone, "Look, I'm photographing these hilariously ancient paper reinforcers," and have them answer with, "I bought those personally in 1967, what are you implying?!"

They are high-quality cloth reinforcements, because the library is not a cheapskate. I know, because it's my job to order office supplies now, and I have learned that if you buy the good stuff it works better. This is particularly relevant to super glue (see later in this post).

I still do not understand what "Spee-d-ADA" means. Are we to understand that Ada is speedy? Or will people call you Speediator when you use these labels because you're so fast? Beware, Ada! Rushing things isn't always a good idea. (See later in this post.)

What really stole my heart is how the little matchbox container is designed to look like a tiny book. So library-appropriate. I cannot wait to read Dennison's new thriller, Gummed Reinforcements, published by the US Patent Office. It sure looks like a hoot! (No need to see later in this post, because we are there already.)

Later In This Post

I recently installed signs at the end of each stack in the reference section, so that people can see which call numbers are in it and what subjects they cover. They are very useful. When they stay up. These signs had to have magnets glued to their backs, and because I ran out in the middle, I ended up using two different kinds of glue: Loctite super glue for all the signs on one end, and Scotch super glue on the other. It turned out I was unwittingly performing an experiment, the results of which told me that sign-holder-plastic is not among the "some plastics" that Scotch says it bonds with. You could pop the magnet off with one finger. Which I discovered when two of the signs fell down and broke. So I took them all down with the intention of regluing them with Loctite.

By this point, the trials and errors of this project were beginning to aggravate me deeply. I had already glued nineteen signs, and when I say "glue," that doesn't indicate how I first have to flatten the magnets for a week under old Office Max catalogs and whatever books are sitting on my table waiting to be transferred. (This is what I mean when I say my co-workers are used to me doing strange things. "Gosh, you have so much work!" "Oh no, I'm just flattening magnets.") Plus, the necessary magnets cannot be ordered through our supplier, so I had to keep going and buying them and getting reimbursed. In short, this whole thing, which was my idea in the first place, was a huge pain. So by the time I got to the last four signs, I was sick of the whole thing and rushing through it. Which is when I did this, but with my skin, and my two middle fingers:

Super glue, it bonds quickly. As soon as I thought, "Uh oh," it was already time for "UH OH." Wouldn't you know, we don't keep nail polish remover in the office, and the kind they sell in the campus store is acetone-free. The health service wanted me to make an appointment and see a nurse, which seemed excessive, so one of my coworkers, obviously in a ploy to get another Tardis card, kindly drove me to CVS. On the way we ran into one of my student workers, a Star Trek fan, who pointed out that I could no longer live long and prosper. (It was suggested that super gluing Spock's middle fingers would be a hilarious joke, until we realized he just wouldn't get it.) Another coworker, hoping my situation would soon be resolved, said, "Cross your fingers! Oh wait! You can't!"  HA  HA  HA.

I was in fact amused that I had glued myself together, an event which I think we all know has been a long time coming. Most of the jokes made at my expense that afternoon were my own. But, you would be correct to infer from the fact that I had my camera with me and did not stop to take a picture that the feeling of having your fingers conjoined is mentally, if not physically, uncomfortable. You can't quite stop thinking about how the glue is stronger than your skin, and that if one of them rips it won't be the glue.

Although it took an hour and a half to get the acetone, it worked in about ten minutes, and I was free to return to my gluing project. However, in spite of having the acetone readily at hand, the trauma was too fresh, so I put on latex gloves. (We have latex gloves, and LBJ-era gummed reinforcements, but we don't have acetone. I'm not sure what emergencies we're preparing for.) A couple of people saw the gloves and laughed and said things like, "Better safe than sorry!" To which I would respond, ". . . Yup!" And then, of course, I accidentally glued the gloves together. I was not anticipating photographing that when I got up in the morning.

What this experience taught me, or rather, what the conversation with my coworker taught me, is that there are much worse things you could glue together than two of your fingers. I could've glued my hands together. I could've glued my hand to my face. I could've glued myself to the magnet. Or the sign. Or the table. The Original Super Glue website even has advice for what to do if you glue your lid to your eyeball. Dear god.

Earlier in the day when I found the gummed reinforcements I was looking at the back of it, and I thought, What on earth is Ada so happy about, she's typing on labels all day for Pete's sake. But now I understand. She was enjoying not being glued to anything. It's a good feeling.

New Love

Macrauchenia. Want.

Yarn Bomb

When I went to one of our local libraries recently, I saw this on the way in:

Since I try to take oddities in stride -- that, or I'm a bit slow -- I said to myself, "Oh, what a nice pole-warmer for that lamp post," and went on my merry way.

But then I saw that there were also tree-trunk warmers. In fact, everything had a warmer. And the book return had a very large hat and scarf. For a moment I wondered whether I was about to be picked up by someone's hijacked Infinite Improbability Drive and turned into a yarn creature.

After the book return was sorted into Ravenclaw, I noticed something intriguing behind it -- something of a slightly higher quality that the simple tubes covering everything in the vicinity that a tube can be made to cover. It was a very impressive feat of knitting.

I later happened upon the library's website and saw that they had been yarn-bombed. I am not clear as to the purpose or advantage of yarn-bombing, particularly when it seems to involve mainly putting tubes on things, but the Alice in Wonderland lamp post cover was so remarkably excellent that I made a special trip back with my camera just so you could all admire it. Well done, knitters!

Perplexing

A few years ago, I bought a couple of platters. They are very cheap plastic, coated with silver paint or what you coat plates with. They're extremely plain and rather poor quality. It turned out I didn't need them for the thing I bought them for, and I've never needed them since. Every time I've thought, "Oh, maybe I can use those cheapo silver platters for this," they don't work for some reason. It has happened so often that I've only ever washed one of them, and never inspected the other. Well, I went through this whole process again this week, and I thought I might need both, so I got them down from above the fridge, and finally washed the second one. When I turned it over, I saw this curious statement printed on the back:

Oops! My mistake! When I bought this platter, I thought it was a platter. But apparently it's a plastic silver disc for decorative use only. The kicker is, this helpful warning isn't printed on the back of the other one, so I could have poisoned all of my friends and family by serving them cookies off of something platter-shaped that wasn't really a platter. What would possess a company to manufacture a serving dish that can't be used as a serving dish? Not to mention that I find it hard to believe that eating off of this would hurt you. My desk isn't a serving dish either, but I bet if I ate spaghetti directly off of it, I wouldn't suffer any ill effects. What is this platter made of that makes it so specifically unsuitable for food? Plasticized arsenic?

Fortunately for me, the same thing happened that always happens: I realized in the end that I didn't need them anyway. I think this time I might just throw them out. I have no decorative needs requiring two plastic silver discs.

OEDissimi

The reference department has recently resurrected its blog, and a few days ago, a co-worker stopped at my cubicle and asked if I thought a post on the Oxford English Dictionary would be a good idea. I did. Then she asked if I would like to write it. Is the Pope crazy? Of course I would. But before I wrote it, I thought I ought to explore it a little more thoroughly so I would sound like I knew what I was talking about. And that's how this blog post came about. Not the one for work -- I still have no idea what to write for that. But this blog post that you are about to read about obselete insults.

You see, the OED has this magnificent feature called "Categories." They work the same way as the wonderful reverse dictionary my mother gave me many years ago -- you can choose a topic, and then look at hundreds or thousands of words that relate to that topic. You can pick categories by subject, usage, region, or origin. For example, say you want to know what specialized terms might be used in reference to clocks. You go to the Crafts and Trades category, click on Clocks and Watches, and there you are! 482 words about clocks!

It's amazing! It's so useful! Because you can't look up a word when you don't know what it is. Except now you can. Thank you, good people at the OED. I love you.

So, armed with this new method of research, what did I immediately look up? Words relating to Agriculture and Horticulture? Words that came into English from Aleutian? Rare words?

No. I went right for insults. (Naturally, there was a category for it.) And that is where I found about twelve thousand derogatory ways to refer to Whigs. Whigs have been around since the 1600s in various forms, and I don't know much about them. I can't imagine every party that ever called itself Whig held all the same beliefs, and I don't even know what those beliefs would be. What I do know is that it's a word that lends itself beautifully to a variety of delightful endings.

• Whiggarchy or Whigocracy: government by Whigs
• Whiggify or Whiggize: to make Whiggish
• Whiggification: the process of making Whiggish
• Whiggissimi: extreme or absolute Whigs (coined by Jonathan Swift)
• Whiggological: relating to Whig principles
• Whiggery: Whig principles or practices
• Whiglet or Whigling: a small or petty Whig
• Whigship: the personality or quality of a Whig
• Whigster: a Whig

Three centuries this ridiculous word survived in common use. It originally comes (probably) from whiggamaire, from whig (to urge your horse onward) and mere (usually the sea or water, but more likely here, a boundary or border). In the late seventeenth century, a gang of Presbyterians marched across Scotland into Edinburgh and took over the government -- an event referred to as "the Whiggamore raid." Or possibly "road" because you can never tell what vowels Scots are trying to say. So, the word has been derogatory since the beginning. It surprises me a bit that any party wouldn't mind making themselves such easy targets, but I guess that's politics for you.

What Ivan would like you to know about the difference between manatees and dugongs

Manatees drink only billy tea and snack on mudbugs with a side of sweet chilli sauce
True story.
Dugongs eat more refined things
Only a savage would drink billy tea
Manatees
Geez

It's my fault for telling her that she should write a post about dugongs, and that it "need not be factual."

Leap Day

This is not a Leap Day-related post. I'm not sure what a Leap-Day related post would involve, except maybe writing about things I do every four years, like wash my car. Which is not interesting. So let's move on. I have things to share about the birthday present that I got from Ivan a couple of weeks ago.

Let's begin with this story about the tea she sent: "Bush tea: a surly tour guide made us some of this by putting it in a metal tin and attaching the tin to a chain. He then swung it around his head 10 times. It was so obvious he hated his job I bought some of the tea. It was good tea." I can only assume that after you drink it, you're immune to bitterness and dissatisfaction. Because it all got sucked into the tour guide.

There was also this terrifying creature, of which Ivan says: "Befana: Italian Christmas witch - who needs Santa when a hideous hag can enter your home to leave gifts! You don't even need to feed her cookies! Win! I found her at the Piazza Navona Xmas fair - she was the only one that didn't scream 'MADE IN CHINA' so I instantly fell in love."

Ivan's closing admonition: "Cherish her." Thanks, Ivan. She's hanging from my ceiling where she is certain to scare away evil spirits, burglars, and probably all my friends.

Last but not least, it's been too long since we spoke of dugongs. Have we ever spoken of dugongs? I'd be surprised if we haven't, for Ivan is slightly obsessed with them. I'm convinced the sole reason she went to Australia was to see dugongs, and perhaps to purchase this stuffed animal:

Please note that this is a dugong and NOT a manatee. I called it a manatee by accident and Ivan DID NOT LIKE THAT. Matt called it a "grumpshunk," however, and that amused her to no end, so frankly I feel she was a bit harsh with me. I was much closer than Matt was.

Ivan explained all the other presents, but all she wrote about the dugong was this:

Dugongs, they are self-explanatory.

Thank you for these and all the other delightful things, Ivan! I will cherish them.

Warning: Never Drink With a Sicilian

Adam has a nose for Princess Bride memorabilia. I have quite a collection, thanks to him.

But this amazing find pretty much takes the cake.

This is a bottle of wits. Flavor: As You Wish White.

It is iocane free . . . most likely.

Ivan, next time you're home, let's find out who is right

and who is dead.

Thanks, Adam!

Mr. Blue

Mr. Blue

Don't hold your head so low

that you can't see the sky

Turns out this is from a song called "Mr. Blue" by Catherine Feeny.

I learn things in the library.

Two people liked your wall post.

Literally.

Little known fact about Satan.

He's a big reader.

Happy Valentine's Day?

Something needs to be done about the rising rate

of hypocrisy in the slut population.

Monopoly

I've lost this game too many times to like it, but the Monopoly exhibit at the Museum of Play was really cool. The original 1933 board, hand-drawn by Charles Darrow, was round. It is extremely surreal to see the familiar illustrations on this board, just slightly different.

The original chance cards were not quite as decorative.

I do so love small things made big (in addition to big things made small).

The Landlord's Game was the precursor to Monopoly. It was patented by Elizabeth Magie, who hoped it would demonstrate the inherent problems in a system of land ownership in which rich people own everything and rent bits of it to poor people. This kind of game was popular in the early twentieth century, and people even made their own boards at home. The exhibit noted that Ivy League students played it, but changed the rules so that the winner was the person who could get the most money.

Probably the reason I never liked it is I'm basically a socialist.