Deviant Dispatches

Coming back to Wisconsin has made me fairly nostalgic for many things, especially things that tie to family or college somehow. I've reminisced on days when I was still looking forward to having two digits in my age, lazing around Grandma and Grandpa's or spending time just with Mom. I've rejoiced in spending time with college friends again - or at least knowing they're much closer than two days away. I've thrilled at having a variety of good-quality fruits and veggies close at hand (the fridge makes my heart jump excitedly sometimes). But there is one thing I've really been wanting and haven't been able to have, because it's a meat-product. Bratwurst is your first guess, I bet. Nope, not bratwurst. Nor hamburger or any other cookout food. The food I've been missing and craving more than anything lately is pickled herring. Such a delicacy is a thing often served at salad bars in Wisconsin (for some odd reason). There was usually a jar at Easter or Th

1. Going to the library. I picked up The Poisonwood Bible , the graphic novel version of Neverwhere, a book on card making , and a book on modular knitting - how to knit without a pattern. I've only looked at the card and knitting books so far, and they're both awesome. Side note: I asked the librarian for graphic novels, and she took me to the manga. There's a noticeable difference there, Librarian. 2. Having two interviews in one week. Sure, the one I had yesterday was a very low-paying thing, but it's still potential money being dangled in front of my nose. I have another Friday morning at a different place! 3. Those times when I feel like what I've made for dinner is going to fail, but it still tastes good. Last night was Thai Peanut Noodles - without peanuts, and with peas that were supposed to be shelled. Whoops. (The last ones we got didn't need to be.) We just stripped out the innards and it was still delicious. 4. Spousal Unit's love letters from w

Once upon a time, ages and millennia before my current color preferences, I loved and adored the color pink from one end of the world to the other. I'm sure this was in part my mom's fault - she practically rained a slew of pink upon me. Pink comforter, pink shirts, pink hair clips, pink My Little Ponies (although, my first one was blue and fuzzy). Pink was a constant companion and I loved it eternally. For years, my family even had a pink plastic plate, which was the "special" plate and you knew you were being honored and respected and eternally loved (for the evening) if you got to eat from it. For those who know me, this may be surprising. These days, I pretty much wouldn't be caught dead in anything pink. At some point, I simply flipped a switch and gave up the dresses, the curly hair, the white tights, and even the pink comforter. I decided I couldn't stand that color, and started climbing trees and wearing holes in my jeans and hitting baseballs as hard

Pardon the terrible pun; I could not resist it. The first couple of photos are from the usual lookout, and the last one is Ohioan. Even if what I saw of the state was kinda blah, they still get sunsets right.

Well, we survived our incredible getaway weekend in wonderful Toledo, Ohio. Here are some pictures to help you understand our trip and why Toledo is, as they say, "still a great place to live." Really. That's what they say. The first thing that told us of Toledo's excellency was the exquisite beauty of our hotel. Why, right outside our room were modern works of found art, such as our ceiling. Gorgeous work. I can't imagine doing it any differently. Another great piece we found was the Washington Township Fire Department. They seem perfectly content to ignore strange acronyms. We went to Lake Erie - I'd never been there before. We drove past a very nice oil refinery to get there. The lake itself was kind of a sickly color, at least at that beach, so I did not wade in the waters. But I did explore a bit, and managed to find this odd little thing, henceforth referred to as "the barnacle." We're not sure at all what it is. It looks like suckers f

I'm writing to you from the future, and the future is Toledo. Be afraid. It's an hour ahead here, and it was plain to see why the moment we pulled off the exit ramp and into our Days Inn parking lot. Looks very promising, doesn't it? At the least, the building shape seems to suggest a unique establishment bristling with interest. Well, kinda . We were astounded from the start. It's clear that this hotel sees routine maintenance. Why, even when we checked in, they were sending maintenance folk hither and yon on a mission to repair various AC units. Understandable, as there's a high of 98 today, and on the bright side, we were upgraded to a suite for free because our room's AC was also out. In the hallway, I noticed several large, grey bells - the round ones you typically see in old cartoons, or in boxing matches. *DING* "In this corner, we have..." All I could think when I saw them was, it would really suck to hear that go off tonight. In the room, we

I've spent my morning looking for a bunch of random weird crap for you to enjoy. You're welcome. At Seventh Sanctum , you can generate weird names. Not weird like Severus or Zebediah. Weird like Ensorceled Duke Who is in the Vault. Or Haunted Emperor Caressed by Indigo Terror. Or The Innocent Chaotic Emperor, with Locks of Malachite and the Coat of Final Confusion. Great for games where you need an unusual name, or if you're planning to take over the world and need a new identity. To the left on that website, you can find lists of other weird random generators, like evil animal minions and the B-movie film namer . These are my new favorite things on the internets. Everyone loves those stories featured on slow news days - guy builds roller coaster in his back yard, Nessie on vacation, and the dog who wanted sushi . I think it's usually more interesting when legal issues get involved, hence my amusement with Legally Weird . Things like... a porn bus full of ducks and gees

Dear Obnoxious Heat Wave, Nobody likes you, everybody hates you, you should eat some worms. Except don't, because then it will rain fried worms on everyone's heads. Really, there is only so much heat we humans can take. Another day in the upper 90s? And tomorrow, too? This is fairly ridiculous. It's cooler in Panama City right now. It's cooler in the Everglades. The one place it's not cooler is in Ohio . Which is where we're going this weekend. They have a high of 105 tomorrow. Obnoxious Heat Wave, you are too large for your own good, and too angry. Bring that hot temper down a couple of notches. I bet you'd feel much better if you just sat on someone's front porch in a nice rocking chair, had a frosty glass of lemonade, and listened to an episode of A Prairie Home Companion . Only problem is you would evaporate the lemonade before ingesting it, and then the air would literally be sticky. For comparison, try hiding yourself in someone's freezer for a

Literally, the title means "sleep of the sun" in French, much more poetic than the German Sonnenuntergang . Below are some wonderful pictures, taken by Spousal Unit while he was in Grenoble, France. Most of them were taken from the dorms where he was staying. For a couple of weeks, he had a sunset in the mountains right outside his door every night, so it was like old times in New Mexico again. Except the sun was French, and so were the Alps.

This weekend, my beloved Spousal Unit came back from France, and we were absolutely horrible to each other. Usually, we get along very well. Even when we're yelling at each other about something, it's with a teasing tone and we laugh and kiss and have done with it in a matter of minutes. And Friday was like that - we were disgustingly lovey, and Spousal Unit was crabby and tired but caught up in reunion nostalgia. By Sunday, the tables had turned. It didn't help that we drove back to Madison in 90-degree heat, the kind that raises the temperature of your cloth car seats so that your butt fuses to them when you sit down. The kind that makes AC obsolete if you're sitting in the sun. The kind that makes Spousal Unit decide that complaining about the heat will make it run away in fear. Spousal Unit was still tired and jet-lagged, and didn't get to watch the soccer game, making him crabby. I was tired and not quite hungover from all the red wine Saturday night, but didn

While Spousal Unit was gone, I took a few pictures - with my film camera. I loaded it with black and white and took at least one picture every day. It was very exciting for me - something about film is so much more thrilling and tangible than digital, and I missed my old camera. Unfortunately, the roll didn't come out as well as I was hoping. Some of the shots were still pretty good, but I may go strictly digital after this. (Takes me longer than most to catch on.) I'll try another roll before deciding that for certain, because maybe I'm just not used to my camera anymore after six months of disuse. But even I must admit there are certain advantages to digital versus film - like it doesn't cost $15 to develop 24 pictures. Ugh. I'd still love to get the digital version of my camera someday - a Canon Rebel . My Rebel G - with me despite being dropped down a mountain - might have to be retired. Spousal Unit is somewhere over the Atlantic right now. While I go to retrie

For those of you who don't know, the reason I haven't had my camera these last two weeks is that it's in France. So is Spousal Unit. He attended a nine-day bioarchaeology field school, high in the Alps, where he's been measuring, analyzing, and learning about a large set of skeletons. The program was small and intense, lasting from 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. every day. That's not to mention the late nights he's had, where he didn't get back until three in the morning. I encouraged him in that - not that he needed my prodding. When you're in any foreign country for a limited time, the tendency is to live it up. I've definitely enjoyed bits of the last couple of weeks. I went on a couple of outings - to see my family, the art fair, and the concert-esque thing at the capitol. Last weekend, I had the house (which is not mine) all to myself, so I spent a day watching bad movies in my pajamas and finished half a box of mint chocolate chip ice cream. It was delightfu

*Many thanks to Miss Lizzy-B for this post idea.* In high school, I thought that awkward teenager stage would never end. I grew so fast I tripped over my own feet constantly. My clothes never fit well. I always thought the crowd over by the door was laughing at me. And I never knew what to say, which often resulted in the weirdest things coming out of my mouth. So... like now, but on accident. When I got to college, that phase was stripped away in layers, like old wallpaper. I loved the color of the walls underneath: a sign that things were gorgeous on the other side. That was until I realized the walls were plastered with spreadsheets, and I found out it wasn't over yet. By that, I mean nobody told me there was a second awkward stage: stepping into adulthood. Now that I'm 26, I feel like there are certain things I should know. What a mortgage actually does, why it's called a 401k, something - anything - about actually budgeting rather than just guessing how much to spend

Last night, I made a multi-facetedly awesome dinner. (I now declare multi-facetedly to be a real word.) Above is not a picture of the dinner. Because I am cameraless, it's a picture of someone else's strawberry and tofu salad... but mine looked way better. Usually, I at least pretend to follow a recipe or two when cooking. It's easier to build off of something that already exists, and if you don't know what else to add, there are suggestions ripe for the picking. This meal was unusual in that it wasn't inspired by another recipe - it came into my brain matter from nowhere. That means, like usual, I didn't measure anything that went into the salad. The liquids are most likely to be off - feel free to adjust numbers if you make that one. I worried that this meal wouldn't be filling enough. It was plenty filling. Friend whose house we've invaded started a new job yesterday, and it was ridiculously hot and humid, just like it's supposed to be today. I o

Today, I present for your enjoyment some poems I've written in the last several months. Only lightly edited, and they still need improvement, but I'm willing to let them see daylight. Summer, 1990 Give me the farm instead, fresh manure on the breeze in bean fields, the cloying oil of musty dog stuck tightly to each finger as I separate berries from the vine. Give me the farm and naked, dusty feet where I search for burrs and snakes but never broken glass where love is all around in a faded yellow jingle, and no shattered paper cups listing in the dust. Give me the farm and a broken grey barn and a road where one car is commotion. Where a mud puddle stagnates midst corn all summer and mosquitoes feast on sweaty, red flesh. Give me the farm and you can keep the rest. Toxin Overnight, my food has turned to flower. Damp roots have sprouted deadly blossom and stare out from the pantry daring me to grasp dark purple petals. Tubers are now a morning delicacy, a glory I eagerly devour,

One of the weirder things I've ever purchased was a lavender string-wicker bunny figurine, just after Easter. The weird thing about this wasn't that I was 18 at the time, or that I was buying a bunny. It was made much like string art draped over balloons - you know, like when you dip the string in glue and wind it around the balloon, let it dry, and then pop the balloon so you have string art in its place. The bunny's outer purple string was draped over innner wire. He had two little purple buttons for eyes. But none of these things were particularly weird, either. This bunny was demonic, I tell you. One of his little purple "eye sockets" must have been damaged during the original transit to the store, hence ending up on the clearance shelf. That one eye was sunken in, giving him an otherworldly, I-am-plotting-heinous-evil look. All it took was one glance at him, and you knew this little purple string dude was bent on world domination, killing puppies, and forcin

I learned something amazing about the history of today, and it makes me wonder about the integrity of our country. Knowing today's incredible past, as I do now, makes me wonder why it isn't a national holiday, or why the banks aren't at least closed. It makes me wonder if we truly appreciate what this day has given us, and if we would even notice it being yanked away from us. So let us stop, at least for this moment, to savor the day's momentousness, to acknowledge its contribution to our society and, in fact, the world. Ladies and gentlemen: I present the anniversary of sliced bread. First sold to the public on this day in 1928 (not 1924 as Wikipedia mentions at first), you can read about it here and here while I go off to my interview and cry about the fact that this entry used to be twice as long, and I lost the whole thing for some inexplicable reason. Don't forget to read about the sliced bread ban on the Wikipedia page. Write to congress and help sliced bread

Among other things, I read John Scalzi's blog on a regular basis. He has a feature called The Big Idea where he lets authors plug their books, and he posts pictures of the stacks and stacks of advances he receives by mail. I love finding new reading material this way, and I trust his opinion of all things scifi (or bacon). I first heard about Perdido Street Station in this blog post , where Scalzi talks about why his book isn't necessarily the best of the decade, and why he thinks China Miéville’s book is. Some high praise coming from a guy who knows the ins and outs of scifi and fantasy - plus, he mentioned world-building, one of my favorite elements of any book. So I grabbed a copy. Months later, I've finally started reading. This book is amazing. Lin, to her mortal horror, was running late. It did not help that she was not an aficionado of Bonetown. The cross-bred architecture of that outlandish quarter confused her: a syncresis of industrialism and the gaudy domestic

Because I have no camera right now, there will be no sunset pictures for the next couple of weeks. I know, sadness. So instead, for today, we have some pretty awesome fireworks pictures my mom took last night at our personal little fireworks display. Some amazing shots for a little Nikon. And last but not least, the picture my mom took of me: Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters...

My camera is rather far away from me right now, so for today's post, I shall use my powers of Incredibly Accurate Description to provide you with details. Also, that would be a great super power which would look really lame in the face of Flight or something. I've been on a roll with the crafting lately. My recent decision was to do my best to work only on projects I already have going, and to avoid starting a new one till I finish some of those in progress. Last week, I finished my grandma's shawl and sent it for her birthday. It's made of a French blue chenille-esque yarn, a slightly lighter shade than you would see on traditional blue-on-white china plates. It's long - about four and a half feet, I think - but thin, a foot wide at most. The pattern I made up features shell-shaped curves and loops throughout and includes three colors of beads along the length. Pearlescent green, purple, and silver decorate the edges, making the shawl look fancier than it is. Despi

On this day in 1979, Sony shared the marvellous idea of Walkman casette players with the rest of the world. This marked the invention of the first personal carry-along music device, leading teenagers everywhere to plug in, tune out, and generally annoy adults more than anyone had thought possible. The Germans are responsible for mass production of casettes, starting in 1964, but true popularization thereof didn't happen until the Walkman was introduced. But I didn't come here to give you a history of casettes. I came here to tell you about my favorite tapes. Now that I've looked at that word for too long, it looks incredibly fake to me, and I don't know if I'll be able to use it again in this post. Looks like an extremely naughty word now, or something related to ant eaters. Don't ask me why; I have no clue. One of the earliest casettes I remember owning was a book and tape set of Disney's Peter Pan. Or Cinderella. Or something like that. In any case, it was