RadioLab's most recent episode

If you haven't caught RadioLab's most recent episode, I think it's worth a bit of your time.

I was most interested in the section about mirror images, what we see in the mirror vs. what the world sees.

Have you ever looked in the mirror and thought, "Who is that person? Oh right, it's me" only to have to really sit there and convince yourself that it is indeed you in the mirror? I have. It only lasts for a moment or two and then fades. And I've actually thought quite a bit about this and how our perceptions of ourselves differ from those of others just because what we see in the mirror is just that, a mirror image. How can a mirror image be so different? It's crazy. You'll have to listen to the show.

Anyway, I think you'd like this show on symmetry. I know I've enjoyed the first half (still listening to the second).

what if you lose

This is what I've been dealing with for the past few months.

Constant condensation. Constant.

Being a desert dweller, I'm out of my element here. Where I come from, things dry out over time. Apparently, that isn't true everywhere. Especially not here on my windows... every single beloved, sunshine-bringing one.

And I'm told this is normal so I'm cool.

But I reserve the right to not like it.

resolution

Here is the tail end of my resolution list speaking for itself. That's right folks, once science thing a week.

You've been in that situation before. I know you have. You know the one where you think to yourself, "Oh, right... I keep making this mistake. Next time, I'll remember not to."

I do this all the time. But recently I've realized I keep making the one particular mistake over and over again more "over again" than the others. And that mistake is:

thinking that if a recipe asks for 1 or 2 teaspoons of "fresh lemon juice" then the whole lemon will do.

Folks, it's simply not true. There is way more juice in one lemon than 1 or 2 teaspoons. I know this. You probably know this. But each time I find myself saying to myself, "How am I ever going to use half a lemon before it spoils? What they hey, juicing the full lemon won't hurt anyone," only to be reminded moments later that yes, it does hurt the dish. Bleh.

Are there any mistakes that seem to be set on repeat for you? Coming back to jackie smaz not included.

three musts for this Valentine's Day season

I love Valentine's day.

And pun most definitely intended. I've always loved this holiday and I almost wish it was a season we celebrated all month. Reds, pinks, friends, family, loves, everything about it.

This year there are three staples for my Valentine's season. I can't wait for February one.

Ginger ale

Poppies

(blogger conveniently has a poppy pattern!)

Chocolate Covered Cinnamon Bears

What are you doing to celebrate this year? Or in other words, what foods will you be dying pink?

some things should never change

Watched this clip with my nephew over the Christmas break. Not sure who enjoyed it more, him or me.

swiftly by

I'm jumping on the quinoa bandwagon, folks. My mother-in-law has convinced me (it didn't take much convincing).

But now I need some recipe ideas. If you have one, let me know. Here we come a quinoa-ing!

we've got a smoker

I recently ventured to an antique book shop in a small town near ours. I'm not an expert in literature, ancient books, or anything old really, I just like the way the shops feel and the ambiance inside them. I also like taking a book off the shelf and thinking, "Somebody purchased this book way back when and it's been read and reread and saved until somehow it made it here." Not to mention, it's fun to read what's written inside the front cover and imagine who wrote it and why.

But on this day, I have something new to add to reasons why I love these mysterious places. As I was scanning the children's book titles (I ultimately settled on the The Story of Babar. I loved that book as a kid, but did you remember how sad it is? I didn't). Anyway, as I was getting reacquainted with the story of Babar, I hear from the front desk,

"Oh yes, we've got ghosts. Plenty of them. There are ghost throughout this place." The owner of the shop and a patron were in mid-conversation. The patron continued,

"We've got ghosts as well. A few of them actually."

"Yeah? You know, one of them here requires room in the bed and will knock you square between the shoulder blades until you give 'em a place to sleep."

"Oh really?"

"Really. And we've got a smoker."

I strained against the noise of another patron entering the shop to see if I could catch the details of this newest smoking ghost and unfortunately couldn't catch a word. But what struck me as unusual was how casually these two women were discussing their "ghosts", as if they were discussing clothing or furniture. You know, like a "We've got a really nice sofa." "Oh yeah? Me too" kind of thing. They made it sound like in order to be categorized among the cool kids, one had to have a ghost. I'll admit I even felt a little left out. But you can bet that I'll be on the lookout for my own ghost so that I'll have something to report at my next visit to the shop... you know, because anybody who is anybody has a ghost.

crimped or baked?

Dear Pasty,

You have once again lured me into ordering you and, just like last time, disappointed me. It's not that you're aren't a cherished meal, nor is it that I believe you're trying to pull the wool over my eyes. It's just, well, it's just that I'm wondering why it is that I don't like you. You seem to have it all: beef, potatoes, wrapped in a pastry, served with ketchup. This kind of thing is right down my alley. But you'll notice, I've eaten the coleslaw first... and coleslaw and I, we've never been on good terms. But when you are looming it seems we are the best of friends. So I guess what I'm saying is: I'm sending you this note to let you know. I'll order you again sometime, and please, please, please... try to be delicious.

Yours ever,
jackie

the Fix-It-Up Chappie

My friends, I think (after long consideration) it is time that I begin a new blog in addition to our dear jackie smaz. This new blog will be filled with the various and sundry adventures of, well, my family. Now, I wouldn't dare assume that you'd be interested in that kind of thing, but I thought I'd just put it out there just in case. So if you are interested, drop me a line or leave me a comment. When I've got the new blog up and running, I'll let you know.

fake smiles vs. genuine smiles

I followed this link from a friend this morning and was truly fascinated. It only takes a moment and I'd be curious about your results.

I took the survey this morning thinking I was a pretty good judge of genuine vs. fake smiles and I must say, I totally misjudged several of the smiles and ended with a 15 out of 20. A 75%. I'll admit I wasn't expecting that.

So, if you wouldn't mind and you have a moment take this short survey and tell me two things:
1. how you thought you would do, and
2. what you actually scored.

Plus, I think you'll have a bit of fun with it too.

BBC "Spot The Fake Smile" Survey

Enjoy!

rebel stripes II

Several years later, (almost as long as this second post has taken), I had almost forgotten about the notes page of my owner's manual. Occasionally I would need to look something up and I'd find it again and wonder what happened to this couple. Did they ever reconcile their differences? Was Shawn a total jerk or did he understand where this girl was coming from? Maybe it was Shawn that deserved my empathy. I had no idea, but I still wondered about them.

Until one day, I found it. It was in that hard to reach space where the glove box rubs against the part of the car that holds it there. I remember seeing it and thinking, "I've found it! The answer to all my questions!" I spent quite a bit of time trying to pry it from its place. It must have been hastily shoved in the glove box in anger. Or perhaps it was so loved that it was placed there so she could read it several times a day. I didn't know. I tried to retrieve it until my fingers ached. And slowly, eventually it was mine! It was covered with dust and grime from so many years being stuffed in corner and forgotten. It could have been a grocery list, or a phone number, but somehow, I knew it had to be the next chapter in our story. I read it with excitement:

And now a name to the mysterious writer. Tiffany. Tiffany and Shawn. Many conversations aimed at defining their relationship must have been had in this very car that I now owned. Conversations that they probably never wanted anyone to know about, and here I was, privy to just a short snippet of what they went through. I felt like I had had violated some sort of trust by entering their world without permission. But on the other hand, perhaps I was supposed to learn something from their story. I just didn't know what.

I'll admit, I had a hard time trying to decide who's side I was on. I would find myself at one point feeling sorry for Tiffany and her longing to find someone to love her for who she was, and still other times I would wonder about Shawn and if he'd every be able to trust anyone.

For many years after that, I waited for the day when I'd find an engagement ring box or a break-up CD telling me the conclusion to the story. I did find a CD, Red Hot Chili Peppers I think (Tiffany didn't do a very good job of cleaning before she traded in her car), but by the time someone turned left in front of me and our Rebel Stripes was gone forever (don't worry, all were safe and unscathed... other than my beloved car), I found nothing that ever finished their story for me.

I imagine, however, that this relationship ended and probably not easily. I imagine Tiffany thinking that a new car might be just the thing she needed--to let go of old memories and start a new life--decided it was time for a used Mercury Cougar.

But it could have been a great many things. They may have started a great life together, or slowly and amicably fell out of love and I'm curious what other people might imagine happened to these two.

What do you think? Pray, tell.

rebel stripes

During high school and most of college, I drove a used Dodge Neon, black with sliver racing stripes. A true rebel. I'm pretty sure carting me around to my various and mundane activities was only his day job.

Just to show you how awesome this car truly was, here is the front cover of the owner's manual. Check out that awesome teal ...


I've always wanted to find a secret key to an overgrown garden or step through a closet and find a parallel universe (both of which have been done already... darn). But the Neon brought me a chance.

One cold day, while looking through the tattered owner's manual for the correct PSI for the tires, or something of the like, I discovered a hidden gem... the notes section.

I couldn't believe it. My own personal Soap Opera unfolding right there in my own glove box. And a mystery to boot! Questions swirled... who was "Shawn" and who was our mysterious author? Would they ever be together? Could her "guards" ever be let down?!?

I would never know! How could I ever find out? It was all lost to the cosmos...

To be continued...

your thoughts appreciated

Thank you to all who added their thoughts to my previous post. I must say they were much appreciated. And I think you all know how much I love a good conversation!

May I write freely for a moment?

I've been thinking a lot (as of late) about my journey through my short-stack o' years, and I've been beating myself up. I've made many mistakes. Most of them involving the neglect of friends, family, or myself. I guess I should put it this way: in an misguided effort to improve relationships, I neglected them, giving myself irrational justification for doing so. This arises, I believe, from a faulty degree of desired perfection. Perfection I demand in myself and consequently the world around me. So, my reasoning was as follows: if you can't be the perfect [insert friend, sibling, self] avoid that relationship until you can. If this all sounds ridiculous, it's because it is and I think I'm finally ready to acknowledge that fact. I don't think it will be easy to give up my steady regimen of "be perfect!" juice, but I'm sure going to try.

So I thank you for weighing in on my question and for your thoughts, all of which were insightful but more importantly, helpful.

And after this rare moment of introspection (for this blog):
...AND NOW, back to your regularly scheduled program.

your thoughts requested:

Dare to be mediocre.


This is a phrase I read in a book my sister recommended and I've been thinking about for a while.

I'd like your input.

Your thoughts, please?

come on, y'all

in short disclaimer : I may disappoint some (sorry Linds H) when I say that this blog will stay rather unconnected with the brand new event in our lives. But suffice it to say, there has been a brand new event and I cannot believe I have embarked on one of the most exciting, challenging, amazing, wonderful, and everything-in-between adventures of my life. I'm ready, though, and can't wait to see what unfolds.



I did, however, begin the following post before this grand event occurred (it surprised us). I hope you enjoy.



For Memorial Day weekend we took Friday off and made a weekend of it complete with a written list of stuff we wanted to do that weekend (we needed a break, can you tell?). The list was full to the brim with things we've always wanted to do. Among them was a trip to what is affectionately called "Brat Fest" by the locals but what I found to be officially named "The Worlds Largest Brat Fest". This thing breaks all kinds of bratwurst related world records I'm told.Turns out, Brat Fest was going on right outside our big city hotel and was a mere walk from our room. As we passed the parking lot volunteers we thought it ironic that the Fest would be held right across from a pre-race marathon gala.

I ordered the Veggie Brat. The man helping us thought I was crazy, but I was intrigued and curious. I am however, curious no more and wouldn't recommend the Veggie Brat no matter how much delicious mustard and sauerkraut you put on it.Good ol' K didn't break from character (it's amazing I still get surprised) and went big with the "Double Johnny" or something like that. Yes, that is two brats in one bun. Crazy.

But I did have to have a bite.

All in all, a grand time. And now I feel a little more like a Wisconsinite. A Wisonsiner. A Winsconsinan.

white coral bells upon a slender stalk

God knew what he was doing when he created families.

and

God knew what he was doing when he created sisters.

hey, Victor

Does it ever bother you that there is an endless amount of knowledge of which you will never know anything about?

I go through this realization almost weekly.

Saturday night... actually, I should say Sunday morning, I came to this realization once again as I awoke at 3:30AM and couldn't regain sleep.

Normally, I would explain my seeming insomnia to a worry or concern. But for the first time in my life, I awoke early in the morning only to remain awake because I was thinking about, well, not much.

The topics my brain chose to linger upon were these:

Homemade tortillas

and

Iron Man 2

I don't have much to say about Iron Man 2 except that my brain tends to run through an entire movie in my head several times after I've seen it once. Not really sure why, but nevertheless it does.

The the homemade tortillas, however, are what bring me to the question with which I began this post. Will I ever know everything there is to know about how to make a good tortilla? The answer, of course, is no. And this is aggravating. Most especially because I've yet to attempt to make even one homemade tortilla. Not only that, but there are so many other things I have yet to learn about and/or try out.

So my question to you. Does this thought ever bother you? Do you ever feel that no matter how many Nova's you watch on black holes you still feel like there is nothing intelligent you can say about them? That no matter how many "facts" you can cram in your brain, you'll never get them all in there?

If so, know you have a friend in your frustration.

why this place just keeps getting better and better

Peeps.

So it wasn't someone starting their motorcycle on our front porch.

Turns out it was a meteor. Yep. You heard me correctly. An actual meteor.

Lesson learned: If a meteor big enough to destroy just one apartment ever came our way... sadly, I may not be saved. I came to discover that several people called the police to report the noise and to inquire as to its origin.

And what did I do?

I hit the hay.

Lesson learned, my friends. Lesson learned, indeed.

photo taken by UW Madison webcam,

found on chicagobreakingnews.com

thus far... one more thing

A film festival. That's what came to our little town and I can't tell you how excited I am. The films, many of them, are a few years old. But that didn't matter to us. Something to do on Friday night! And free!

We watched the documentary Garbage Dreams which followed three Zaballeen teens as they navigate a couple of those rough growing-up years in the trash trade in Cairo.

A couple of things I know absolutely nothing about? Cairo. The trash trade there.

But we both enjoyed this film quite a bit and now I know a couple of things about Cairo and the trash trade and I tell you, I've never been quite so inspired to recycle (Sorry Al Gore, no offense of course). Those teens know more about recycling than I think I'll know in my lifetime.

Enjoy this trailer, if for no other reason than that I finally learned how to embed (very simple) code.


www.documentary.org