Deviant Dispatches

This is from my last semester of college at Ripon, when I was training for a half marathon through a psych class called "Topics in Motivation." I will admit, I am very prone to bouts of stupidity. Often, I accidentally do the wrong homework assignment, interpret clear things incorrectly, and say ridiculous things. But this time, I went too far. Literally. I went too far. Today was supposed to be my first five-mile run in training for the half-marathon. Considering that last week's four-mile run ended up being not quite four miles, I was a bit apprehensive, but excited to break another of my running records. So I measured the mileage with my car last night, in the dark. I decided to run my usual two-mile loop and then go on a nice three-mile excursion, just outside of Ripon. Mind you, I've never seen this intersection in the daylight. There's a delightfully intimidating hill before this intersection as well. Intelligent as I am at times, I decided to run my new r

When I was little, we moved a lot within the same city. By the time I was six, we'd lived in six different places. But we finally settled in an awesome little house, where we stayed until my mom recently remarried. This awesome little house was awesome for several reasons. Even though my room was always freezing in the winter, I thought it was the absolute best to have a crawlspace under my room. When I was first allowed to explore them, I found graffiti all over the walls from previous owners, and I was allowed to add my own name to the denizens of the past. I was eight and allowed to write on the walls. Awesome points. We built our own swingset and slide out back not long after moving in. But that wasn't what made the backyard awesome. It helped, sure, but the nature already in place was what rocked the backyard. First, there was the tree. An enormous old "helicopter tree," as we called it, because of the little whirligigs that stuffed our gutters and sprouted mi

Just because I felt like posting the German today. This is Sunday's sunset.

This weekend, I was finally able to start belly dancing again. Last summer, I had a painful pinched nerve that led to stomach pains as well, resulting in my not really being able to exercise much because of the agony it induced. Yes, I've pretty much been hurting every day since last summer. I've finally started seeing a chiropractor who's able to help me not hurt so much - yay for that. Boo for this town having really stupid doctors who didn't "get" what was hurting me. Anyway, so this Saturday I danced for almost a half hour, and the only thing that hurt after was my left leg. But that's an old injury, from the time I accidentally ran to another town. Don't worry, if you haven't heard that story, I'll post it here sometime soon. Getting to dance again without pain made me way excited, as did paying my monthly bills and having one less student loan to pay. So I figured I could allot myself the amount I usually pay for that loan, and use it tow

So, I haven't really written about our wedding here at all. But thanks to the lovely post on Offbeat Bride (written by yours truly), I don't really need to. Sure, there are lots of other awesome moments that happened during the day, but right now, they're not coming to mind. Our flickr page features photos taken by our professional photographer, Mary . But it doesn't show the disposable camera pictures - many of which are awesome in their own right. And it's Friday. I deserve to slack off a little, I think. Besides, you don't really feel like reading right now, do you? Bring on the pictures! Spousal Unit and his dad I didn't know candles were such a delicacy till I saw this picture. "We shall rule over all this land, and we will call it... This Land."

Last night, Spousal Unit and I went to a wonderful concert. He'd had his eye on Slide , the band, for a couple of weeks, and wanted so much to see them that we actually wrote it on the calendar. (Usually, the only things on there are birthdays and Spousal Unit's thesis achievement stars - bronze through gold.) They were well worth the wait. The five guys are from various parts of Ireland, and they are incredibly talented, playing at least ten instruments between them during the show, including several flutes, a concertina, and lots of stringed stuff. At first, Spousal Unit and I didn't see any percussion - not until someone started playing the bodhrán, an Irish hand-held drum. They didn't play it for every song, and didn't need to; other instruments kept the beat quite well, along with the audience's clapping. About 20 minutes into the show, they asked us each to make our "special noise" for them - "You know, everyone's got that one noise they

Several years ago, I read Connie Willis' The Doomsday Book. It was magically delicious. The Doomsday Book reads much more like a historical novel (with a dash of time travel) than anything else. It's the most realistic time travel book I've ever read - authors will often ignore the difficulties and unrealistic aspects of time travel because they just need to use it in their book, and readers happily suspend disbelief for 300 pages to enjoy the good stuff. Willis actually went to the trouble of explaining time travel - to some degree - in that book. Many precautions are taken to make sure no one sees travelers arrive and no one's life is radically altered by the his/her stay (because changing the past is detrimental to our present well-being, duh). [insert in your mind the picture of The Doomsday Book that blogger wouldn't let me upload] Many, many years after that delightful book won Willis the Hugo and the Nebula (scifi's two biggest awards), she's got

Some shots of the awesome moon when it was super close last weekend. And a shot to show you that while my digital camera rocks, it's also just another camera. I almost forgot: My favorite informational video of the moon EVAR .

The answers and suggestions everyone gave me after last Friday's post added up to a resounding, "Yes, you should eat the bacon. Go for it. You will not be a cheater-pants." So, still weighing the question in my mind, I went to the local health food store, where I stared at the meat in question, pondering what friend Sandy asked: would I be happy with myself for eating a former pig, or would it weigh on me too much? As I pondered my inner happiness (while gazing at raw meat), coworker Vera (whom I call Auntie) came up to me. Surprise! "That's really good," she said, pointing to the object of my confusion and desire. "I had some a while ago." Pause. "Why are you looking at meat?" I explained my predicament, and she left me in peace to make my decision. After a bit more pondering, I considered my reasons for going vegetarian. 1.) Factory farms/butchers are unnecessarily cruel to animals, who live and die in horrible conditions. The pig that

Though it is not graphic, this post discusses humane and non-humane animal slaughter. You have been warned. A couple of weeks ago, I found some bacon. Not Facon (fake bacon) but real bacon. I kind of want to eat it. It's produced by Applegate Farms, and the packaging proclaims that it lets the pigs have their self-imposed hierarchy and social organization - pigs are very smart, complex animals, and most farms cause them great distress by splitting them up and not letting that social order fall into place. They're also never given antibiotics (unlike farms that pump animals full of them every day) and are fed a natural grain diet (instead of being fed other animals). The only question their packaging and their website didn't answer for me was about their slaughter methods. They seemed likely to have humane slaughter methods in place, but I wanted to be sure. So I emailed them. And I didn't hear back for weeks. Earlier this week, I finally did. "Our standards include

I swear that every time upper management leaves the store and I'm the only one in charge, the crazies come out and Chaos reigns supreme. This doesn't just happen occasionally, either. Without fail, as soon as The Universe sniffs out that I'm the one everything is going to, it sends out its trusty minion Chaos to royally screw me over. As happened last night. Manager's been out for the week anyway, and the other two ladies in charge left early yesterday, around 4 p.m. or so. Let the countdown begin: two hours to closing. Can we make it that long without the store catching fire? I nervously glance over my shoulder, hoping The Universe doesn't catch word of my crossed fingers and the empty offices upstairs. People begin sauntering in, casually picking up every book in sight and piling them on the floor. In the back, three teenage girls wander in, acting like teenage girls. I keep my eye on them, but gave them space. The tall one with bedhead behaves most oddly. Chaos h

Dear Dove, I totally *heart* your dark chocolates. Especially the little square individually wrapped ones. They're perfect for munching during a movie, and even better with popcorn. But I have a small problem with them. You know those sayings you put inside the wrappers, things like, "Live your dreams" and all that jazz? I hate to break it to you, but... Your sayings are really lame. Now calm down a second, don't start crying or anything. Or yelling. This wasn't always the case. When you first released your foil-wrapped chocolate units to the dangerous marketing wilderness and told them to fly, they came equipped with some nice phrases, which helped them get off the ground. Don't ask me what they were; it's been too long since I saw them, though I distinctly have a vague recollection of good language. But then you must have fired your chocolate writer, or your product became a teenager and wanted more "exciting" language. And then Suck City arri

...I'm offering you 100% natural beauty. Ta da! What, you think this is just sour cream? Well guess again, because when you remove the lid, you get... Little River Falls, Alabama! Man, what a deal. For the price of a container of sour cream, I got a real, natural waterfall printed on a beautiful foil lid, right in my kitchen. I may have to frame it.

Mostly, though, I like tea. Coffee's great for those particularly lethargic mornings, or times when I feel homesick. Coming from a Norwegian Lutheran family, coffee is one of those bonding beverages. We drank it with dessert after dinner at home, pretty much every night, and whenever I visit my grandparents, we have a cup of brew and cookies while we talk, just like when I was little. Except I had milk back then. And I was more interested in making a ghost story theater in the basement or building sand castles in the driveway than sitting around talking with the adults. Anyway. As far as taste goes, I enjoy tea much more. Not to mention all the gorgeous tea sets that exist in the world. Someday soon, I hope, when Spousal Unit and I are no longer moving hither and thither like road runners on crack, I will buy myself a gorgeous tea set. In the meantime, I have a solitary cup to keep me company. My mom's Spousal Unit, formerly my German teacher (long story for a later post), aske

There was an 8.9 magnitude earthquake in Japan early today, the worst ever recorded in Japan. This link will show you some video of the destruction - walls of water topped with fire rushing toward highways, for example. This article provides more in-depth information, such as is available thus far. Hundreds are dead. A ship with a hundred on board was washed away by the tsunami. Japan's earthquake-proof buildings shook. There is information here about the quake and tsunami, and how to contact relatives and friends in Japan. There is a link on that page to donate also. As a friend of mine said this morning: don't assume someone else will donate. Do what you can to help. Update: This article by the BBC provides good information, including some video and graphs. A passenger train is missing. The nuclear power plant that was evacuated has not suffered leaks so far. Update: Tsunami waves have reached the West coast of the U.S. Docks have been destroyed and people swept out to s

Dear Scott Walker, I'm really trying to wrap my head around this. I am. But I just don't get it, and can't find any reliable Republican sources (meaning not Tea Party) who could explain it to me. Please tell me why all but one Republican voted to remove collective bargaining at last night's shotgun meeting, rather than doing as they are required by their posts and voting the will of the people. I really don't understand why they would want to so completely demolish the opposition, when Wisconsin has been a swing state for years. Doesn't the Republican party have any interest in winning fairly? In properly representing the people, who are clearly not all Republican? Please tell me why it wasn't good enough that the unions agreed to every fiscal element of the former budget bill. You insist that unions are a bad thing, by citing obscure examples, or examples taken out of context . The bottom line is this: teachers are not bad for the economy, and you are destr

You'd think I would learn. About two weeks ago, I realized it had been quite some time since I made a delicious curry dish. Usually, I use my auntie's homemade curry mix, but I always have trouble getting a good, creamy sauce going unless I happen to have coconut milk. So, rather than just buy coconut milk, I decided to buy this: Mmm, green curry sauce. Of course, I wasn't planning to add the recommended meat, so I thought it would all work out fine. At home, I pulled out various awesome ingredients (including tofu) and decided I should probably read the label. Here's what the label told me: Anchovies?? Are they serious? Of all the possible ingredients, why anchovies? Did they need so badly for this stuff to smell and taste uber-fishy? And this was not a cheap jar of crap, either. This is ridiculous, I thought to myself, and tossed the jar away with a reckless abandon. Fast forward to last night, when I decided to try making tofu and mushroom stroganoff, which we both

Because sunsets are not the only beauty in the sky. (Remember, you can click to enlarge!)

Part I I began anew, looking over my shoulder after each stitch, lest The Universe should sneak up on me and thwart my sweater attempts yet again. This pattern was the easiest I could find while still seeming moderately attractive: a single piece of garment, not requiring separately made sleeves, or a separate front and back. Bliss! No universe would be able to destroy this sweater, let alone The Universe. I was a bit too confident in that regard. Days passed. The sweater grew beneath my hands. Gauge was more or less followed - along with The Universe, Gauge is a mortal enemy of mine, and, I believe, The Universe's personal henchman. It is very ignorant of the garments I make and always throws them off course. I follow the requirements and measure, as I must, but then Gauge will jump out from behind a trash can in a dark alley (wearing a dark cape of indeterminate size) and shout, "Ha HA! You have been thwarted once again, sad little knitter! Thusly must you rip apart yo

The first time I started The Sweater That The Universe Denied, I had a different pattern all together. Yes, back in those days, those lovely skeins of Prairie-shaded yarn had a different fate. But The Universe looked down at the project I had begun and said, "Well, you've had some good projects lately. They've gone very well for you. We think you need a change." The Universe's use of the royal 'we' was very intimidating. Its deep, resonating tone caused me to misinterpret the pattern I was following on size 8 needles with 140 stitches per row. The error was not brought to light until several days and three inches of sweater later. I screamed, pulled at my hair and clothes, poured ashes on my head and ripped the newborn stitches out. Three weeks later, I decided perhaps the sweater could use another try, what with a three-day weekend ahead of me. With an easier, more user-friendly pattern in hand, I cast on with a vengeance. An afternoon's work re

I just want to tell you all how super freakin' happy I am to be with Spousal Unit. Our vows said it all, but I could always, always say it again and in more words. I adore that boy. All he has to tell me is that he dreamt he was working on his thesis in a canoe with the Boy Scouts and it makes me all smiley. I love that, in the morning, his curly, dark hair is a tangled rat's nest that points in a million different directions. As motivation for working on his thesis, we've worked out a 'star' system of bronze, silver, and gold, depending on the quality and quantity of the day's work. Yesterday he achieved a gold star - first one in a week and a half (not three weeks, as he was quick to point out) - and he was positively giddy about it all evening. All I have to do is think of how happy he was and it makes me smile.

Spousal Unit, ever since I first met him, has been what I would call a meatatarian. He eats meat whenever it's available, in large quantities, covered with sloppings of barbeque sauce. BBQ ribs, brats, and hamburgers top his list of favorite meats. Last summer, Spousal Unit said, "Hey, let's try not eating any meat for a week." I just about fell over. I've never been much for meat, especially beef or things that ooze grease when poked. I'd always wanted to try it out, but it's hard to do so when living with another person. The idea of cooking two meals, or cooking one and setting aside the meat in your dish, is not very appealing. So I jumped on it. Week One went very well. Spousal Unit wanted to shoot for two, so we did. Yum, yum, veggies. And that led to our routine of eating meat only once a month. And then I read a book. Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer discusses how the animals we eat become meat. Everything from fish and shrimp to fowl and pig