Snow in Seattle?

Yes, it's snowing in Seattle . . .

It's fiercely cold in that damp, soaks-through-to-your-bone kind of way that characterizes Seattle winters. There's a little drift of snow outside my front door and it looks so pretty against the bamboo and the red berries on the tree whose name I don't know. The snow is wet and sticky, and is clinging to the bamboo leaves. If I look at it through the small viewfinder box I've made with my fingers, I can pretend that I'm in the Chinese highlands and that at any moment a panda bear will come sauntering through the bamboo thicket. The daydream is short lived though as the neighbors whoop and holler as they revel in the falling snow. That's definitely not what pandas sound like. I can only look forward to tomorrow when it will be bedlam in Seattle - in a city unused to snow, even this little sprinkling will wreak havoc if it sticks around.

Run turkey run!

I have been remiss in posting lately, haven't I? What can I say . . . there has been an onslaught of work lately and my head is just too full of academic nonsense to post anything interesting, unless you'd really like to hear about the value of social capital in Japanese neighborhood associations or the role of the Japanese government in disaster management. I know, it's just riveting isn't it?

So, Happy Thanksgiving! I hope everyone is eating lots of turkey or its dietary equivalent if you aren't a carnivore. Personally I love Thanksgiving for the pumpkin pie . . . yum! I love pie.

On this auspicious day of giving thanks and eating, I'd like to discuss some foods of interest. In accordance with my love of pie, I also enjoy savory dishes with pie like characteristics such as calzones, knishes, empanadas, and pasties. Basically foods that are wrapped in bread or dough are good in my book, they're so handy . . . a completely encased treat for optimal eating convenience(there are some exceptions, notably the corn dog . . . it's just scary and slightly weird). I am particularly fond of the Cornish pasty, those of you from Michigan should know what I'm talking about since one of the Upper Peninsula's official tourist attractions is Cornish pasty consumption. I'm so taken by the pasty that I'm seriously considering going to the pasty festival in Calumet just so that I can have lots of different pasties without having to drive all over the place. Another food festival that I'm curious to see is the pawpaw festival in Ohio. Anna told me about the pawpaw and I'm very intrigued, its a fruit of the banana family that is native to North America. It looks odd but delicious at the same time. Its supposed to have a custard like texture, if it tastes like custard too I'm sold! So, is anyone up for a 'taste testing' roadtrip next summer?

Poor kitty . . .

This was just priceless. I heard about it on Wait Wait Don't Tell Me this morning and despite feeling rather poorly (I have a cold. Damn those germy undergrads coughing and sniffling everywhere!), I had a giggling fit. Read it and you'll see, but for those of you who would like to keep reading this cryptic message . . . I'm as suspicious of voting machines as the next person but why did he have to use a little kitty? Then again who has a silver cat paper weight? Between you and me though, I think he could be starting a trend. Mark my words, next election day there'll be scores of paper weight yielding angsty voters. Spread the word. *smile*

She plays the tambourine

Me, disappointedly: "Anna, he plays 'sad bastard' music!"
Anna, laughingly: "Oh no"
Me: "I feel like telling him that he's going to have to take me on as his tambourine playing sidekick just so that I can rock it up a bit."
Anna: "How about playing a tambourine in a trench coat?"
Me, wryly: "Yeah, the trench coat will make it titillating because no one will know what I'm wearing under it."
Anna laughs
Me: "Actually, I think I should play the maracas instead. Tambourines are so passe."

Yes, I said tambourines are passe. You heard it here first. Really, some of the things that come out of my mouth . . . I don't even know where it comes from.

Maracas are the new tambourine. Just another Thursday night conversation at chez nous.

Raindrops keep falling on my head

I saw sunshine today for the first time in a week and I can't express to you how happy that made me. Despite what you may think, the 'shades of gray' don't refer to the Seattle sky or weather. Although it could have quite easily been referring to my state of mind the last couple of days. I knew that I was looking at a rainy winter when I moved out here, no illusions about that. But you'd think that someplace so used to rain would have the capacity to handle heavy rain, apparently not. Over the past couple days gutters have turned into streams and you can't step off a curb without looking to see how deep the puddle is and decide whether you want wet feet and shoes or really wet feet and shoes. I'm not exaggerating.

You'd think in an area where they get so much rain umbrellas would be more readily available. In Japan, umbrellas are so common they're treated just like any other accessory, like bags or hats. They have their own section in department stores and are sold year round, even sun parasols (not to be confused with beach parasols) are still quite common in Japan during the summer time. And the best part is that the umbrellas are fun! They're not all flimsy, collapsible, black numbers that are so common here. I remember the umbrellas I had growing up, they were memorable much like a favorite jacket or stuffed animal. One of my favorites had a red gingham check fabric and a wooden handle in the shape of a hippopotamus' head. And my grandmother's been using the same purple cotton eyelet sun parasol since before I was born. There is an umbrella subculture in Japan and I miss it - or maybe I just miss having umbrellas period. Why don't I have an umbrella here anyway?

I voted weeks ago. How about you?

Have you voted today? If you haven't you should because you know what they say, use it or lose it. It may not be today or tomorrow or even 10 years from now but if we don't get out there and exercise our right to vote, they might decided we don't really want it or need it and take it away. Call me crazy and paranoid if you want but I don't think the idea is too farfetched. Just remember that those of us who live in the US and can vote are a relatively small portion of the world population that has the option to vote for who and what we want, let alone to vote without the fear of the repercussions for voting the "wrong" way. So, get out there and rock the vote!

It's all mini - mini pizzas, mini celebrities

Alright, Irfan this time you actually did have a starring role in my dream - how happy are you? *grin*

Here's what happened, Irfan and I had to go get lunch for ourselves and 8 friends (apparently they weren't important enough to be in the dream although the number of people was very important). So, we drove around debating which grocery store we should go to and finally we decide on one with a super tiny parking lot (only room for 4 cars!). Once inside we split up because I was in charge of beverages and Irfan was in charge of food. For whatever reason I decide that we don't really need beverages and decide that I should help Irfan pick out food. I find Irfan in the deli section, except it wasn't so much a deli as it was 6 giant stainless steel industrial ovens in a cluster. Irfan is, as usual, super excited about his selection of food and insists that I take a look inside the box he's prepared while he gets something out of the oven. I look in the box and find that Irfan's selected 8 tiny slices of pizza, each could fit in the palm of my hand, and 2 tiny burritos, which for some reason aren't folded up but instead stuffed into Dixie cups. Obviously at this point my eyebrows are raised and I'm giving Irfan a cynical look, "That's it? This is what you chose to feed 10 ravenously hungry people?!" Meanwhile, Irfan is excitedly heating his own mini pizza slice in the oven but insists on watching it with the oven door open, which incidentally, he happens to be laying on as though it's a piece of furniture. At this point I say, "Irfan, careful you don't burn your eyebrows off," to which Irfan replies, "Don't worry, I won't do that again." In reality I don't remember Irfan having ever burned off his eyebrows so I don't know what that's about. Irfan, that hasn't happened to you, has it?

Anyway, at this point, as can only happen in dreams, we're instantaneously transported back to wherever it is that we came from. I still can't see the other people that we're hanging out with but we're sitting at a rectangular table that in my mind is most definitely a poker table. It actually looks sort of like a foosball table, because the center is sunken in and the sides have a considerable lip. The surface is green like a games table and everyone's cards are propped up against the lip of the table facing outwards so that you can see everyone's cards but your own, bizarre no? Anyway, the strangest part was that as part of the game there was a miniature Owen Wilson frantically running around the table moving everybody's cards! Not a robotic miniature but a real live Owen Wilson who was only 3 inches tall! And that's when I woke up.

How weird is that? I don't even know where to start . . . except to say that if I could, I really would like to have a miniature Owen Wilson. And I wish I could remember what this bizarre version of poker was because the whole idea of playing an entire game without seeing your own cards seemed crazy and yet wildly exciting.

There's no accounting for taste

It's the wee hours of Friday and I feel that it's only appropriate that I should start the day off with a lovely list of 5 random things. Today's list will be . . . five foreign musicians or bands that are hugely popular in Japan (to this day) for reasons that are beyond me, well that's not entirely true . . . but oh whatever.

1. ABBA
2. The Beatles
3. Queen
4. Elvis Presley
5. The Carpenters

Doesn't that seem like an odd bunch? The only thing that they have in common is that their songs all have relatively easy lyrics, in the sense that even if you didn't know what the words meant you could still recognize them. They're all of a certain era too. And they're not all necessarily very quality writers either, not that I'm knocking their skills but have you actually listened to ABBA lyrics? They're certainly catchy but they really make very little sense.

On this list I find Elvis' presence to be the most amusing. Not only is he an American icon but he also happens to be the former Japanese Prime Minister Koizumi's favorite musician. In the heyday of Koizumi's popularity he released an album of his favorite Elvis tunes. Mind you, Koizumi didn't actually sing or do anything on the album besides pick out the songs. Isn't that bizarre? And of course how can we forget that he burst into song while visiting Graceland with President Bush . . . oh such priceless moments. I can only hope that the new Prime Minister Abe comes out with a compilation album of his own.

Elephants and monkeys and spiders, oh my!

This morning I've been doing a bit of e-mail catch up and blog reading. I know I just said e-mail catch up but that doesn't mean that anyone should actually expect e-mail from me, I'm not that on the ball yet. So, I was reading all about D's adventures in southeast Asia and, dare I say it, I'm slightly envious. I know that in theory I've just settled down for the foreseeable future but it sounds so exciting to be navigating the cities and outback of Thailand and Cambodia. As much as I love being at "home" I will always be plagued by wanderlust.

Fire in the hole!

. . . and I mean that literally. I caused a minor fire in the apartment today. All I wanted to do was bake some chocolate chip scones, I have a great recipe and I've been craving them for days. So, when I came home for my lunch break I set about baking. To make a long story short, when I opened the oven to check on the scones, flames came leaping out at me. Now, don't worry I didn't panic. I quickly closed the oven door to make sure the fire stayed relatively contained and then I turned off the power to the oven. For a split second I debated between practicality and extra precaution, the latter being the choice to use the fire extinguisher. Practicality won out in the end. I figured that if I used the fire extinguisher on the flames I'd have to tell our landlord about it and then something would have to be done 'professionally' to the oven and I really didn't think that I could handle that financially . . . plus it was a relatively tiny fire . . . I think.

Anyway, what did I do, you ask? I took a quick look at the flames again to make sure it wasn't electrical items burning and then took a mug of water and flung the contents at the flames. Probably not the best choice and I can just hear the collective gasp of horror that's coming out of you all as you read this. The water did the trick though and out went the flames. The apartment was filled with smoke and even now, hours later, still smells slightly smoky . . . although more like bonfire than oven fire, which is kind of nice. And the icing on the cake is that the scones still turned out wonderfully despite being licked by flames! It's not the way I would recommend baking them but if I added, "Don't do this at home kids," to the end of the story I feel like it can be like any other public service announcement. All's well that ends well though, the fire is out, the oven is fine, no one got hurt and I don't have to pay to replace an appliance that I can't afford in the first place. I will be cleaning out the oven thoroughly though so that there isn't anything else that can catch on fire and I think I make take a hiatus from baking just as a precaution.

I heart candy and pumpkins

Yet again I'm blogging when I should be working . . . oh the procrastination gene is my bane! But what can I do? It was inherited and I have no control over it, *sly grin* although I'm sure my father would protest.

Halloween has crept up on me this year. A quick trip to Target this evening proved that I was clearly behind the times, most of the decorations had long since been swiped up and I wasn't impressed by what was left behind. Rubber heads with pre-recorded creepy voices and glowing eyes that move a little when you press a button are so uninspired as a decoration and left me wanting more. Not that I'm a Halloween fanatic but I must admit that I do like Halloween for these two reasons: 1) The candy 2) The pumpkins.

So, pumpkins . . . well, they're just fun, aren't they? Their subdued shades of orange seem so appropriate for fall, cozy and warm. And of course there's pumpkin pie, a favorite of mine, and roasted pumpkin seeds too, such yummy treats for this time of year.

And any excuse to have lots of candy, especially chocolate, is great in my point of view. The notable exception to this being Easter. Easter is tainted for me by its inextricable association with Peeps, which (as Sherry knows only too well) I absolutely HATE! They are creepy and unnatural, should we really be eating something that can be run over by a steamroller and still regain it's former shape? Absolutely not. And the colors are absolutely garish too. Items in shades of neon pink and yellow should never be consumed. I mean please, there's a reason why neon fashion didn't make it past the 80s, it was nauseating and horrifying to look at, let alone eat!

Okay, now that I have that little rant out of my system . . . a happy Friday to you all. And if you are celebrating Halloween early over the weekend, as many people are, Happy Halloween.

The vivid unreality

There was a time when I had extremely vivid dreams on a regular basis. And when I say vivid I mean sometimes I wasn't sure if I had merely dreamt things or if they had actually happened . . . which is frankly unnerving. It's been a while since I've had such a vivid dream but last night's was a doozy. Not that it was elaborate, just so realistic that I was really confused when I woke up this morning. In the dream I was with Sarah and Carolyn and we were riding in a steam engine locomotive with a chef (in full chef garb) and some guy dressed up as Abraham Lincoln (minus the beard). Now, this wasn't just any ol' locomotive, we were in a train carriage made out of a hot-air-balloon basket. And even though everyone else was nicely dressed I was wearing my pajamas . . . but not the pajamas that I was actually wearing as I slept, if that makes sense. Anyway, the locomotive was traveling across plains of tall amber colored grass and it looked so beautiful, then we suddenly crossed a large river and the water was glittering in the sunlight and I was breathless from the perfection of it all. At which point we plunged, locomotive and all, into a futuristic tourist village enclosed in a giant glass arcade with too cute to be real antique storefronts. That's when I woke up . . . although I swear I saw a giant Christmas tree out of the corner of my eye before I woke up, and it wasn't anywhere near Christmas time.

Sometimes I wish we had more control over what we dreamed about . . . be with people that we miss or see places that we have yet to go to or return to places we've enjoyed. But the completely random nature of dreams is what makes them so amusing in the first place, so perhaps having such control over them would render them pointless, just another daydream. Either way, when dreams can be so sweet it's hard not to wish that we could stay in that unreality rather than to open our eyes to the reality that is our lives.

TGIF

Heavens to Betsy, it's Friday! How does the week go by so quickly? It was just Tuesday . . . and now it's Friday. Anyway, I should be reading an article for my next class but I'm being indulgent and blogging instead. Besides reading the article would mean printing some of it out and my ink cartridge has been dying a slow and colorful death. I ran out of black ink the day before yesterday and the paper I printed out for class this morning started out in navy and slowly faded to a mauve-ish violet color. I hope my professor has a sense of humor about it.

Something special for Friday . . . well, for some reason the acronym TGIF always makes me think of ice cream and since I had a lovely homemade ice cream sandwich after lunch I'm going to make a short list (in no particular order) of ice cream flavors that make my world go round. Please add or suggest at your leisure . . .

1. Strawberry Cheesecake
2. Cake Batter - which I've only ever had in Michigan
3. Butter Pecan
4. Mint Chocolate Chip - but not the artificially green kind b/c that's a little scary
5. Moose Tracks (or Traxx)
6. Neapolitan - a classic; three flavors in one, what more could you ask for?

Purple waves

It's such an autumnal day today. There's a chill in the air and a haze is draped over the city hiding the building tops. I can feel the cold in my bones and that's the true sign that winter is coming in Seattle. Sarah sent me pictures of snow in Michigan and crazy though it sounds, I'm slightly envious. I know that I won't see snow around here this winter except on the mountain peaks in the distance.

As I was walking through campus earlier today I saw two bridal parties taking photos on the grounds. It's definitely a pretty spot, especially with the leaves changing colors now. It was funny though since there were tailgaters everywhere in anticipation of the football game. The contrast between the bridal parties and the purple clad sports fans . . . well you can imagine. Have I mentioned yet that I love that purple is one of UW's school colors? I think it's just great, mainly because I like purple but also because it means that everyone else wears purple around here too. So, on game days like today there are just seas of people in purple. How cool is that? I would probably be highly amused by the fans at the stadium but I don't follow the football, too bad.

It's Wednesday

It has been far too long since I last posted. I haven't got a good excuse . . . maybe that school is keeping me busy or in reality kicking my tush. Just a few random thoughts from life lately.

Academic reading can be fascinating at times and dry as day-old bread crumbs at others. Sometimes though we're fortunate enough to run across little gems hidden in amongst the wordy muddle. Just such a gem that I encountered lately,

"Are low trusters social idiots?"

Yes, really. I didn't think the word "idiot" could be used in academic writing, but there it was. And no, low trusters aren't social idiots in case you were wondering.

And in random people sitings, I saw the Shoebox Greeting Card granny. You know who I'm talking about, the sassy old granny with the wavy white hair and sunglasses who is always on the Shoebox Greeting cards. I know she's supposed to be a fictitious person but I saw her . . . except she had shorter hair. She was waiting to cross the street with me in front of the hotdog shop on 45th. I wanted to say something to her just to see if she'd comeback with a saucy remark but thought better of it. After all, actually talking to her could have ruined my little encounter.

I bought yarn for myself for the first time in ages, it seemed so extravagant. With a limited income of late, I've only let myself buy yarn that would go into gifts for other people. But since I moved to Seattle without my stash (well, a very small portion came with me) I don't have any yarn to play with, so indulged myself and got a beautiful hank of Manos del Uruguay which I've been eyeing covetously for ages. Now, I have to fight the urge to knit or at least fight it until I've done my homework for the day, then out come the knitting needles and it will be time to play!

The leaps and bounds of my brain

I forgot how dry the theory of social sciences can be and despite my best efforts to the contrary my mind starts to wander in class. We were discussing the comparison of nonprofits internationally through nonprofit organizations with worldwide chapters. Someone raised the example of Greenpeace and how it was started in the UK but spread worldwide through chapters in different countries. Since the course focuses on civil society in Japan, our professor connects the example back to Japan by saying that we could compare the Greenpeace chapter in Japan with those in other countries. Oddly enough this is where my mind went off on a totally ridiculous tangent. In my head, all I could think about was how in Japanese Greenpeace has the same phonetic pronunciation as 'green peas' which is what peas are commonly referred to there. Now, I can only imagine that the chapter of Greenpeace in Japan has to deal with a lot of miscommunication regarding it and the consumption of peas. Here my brain automatically connects the phonetic blip of peas with Pocari Sweat, a popular Japanese sports drink that they tried to launch in the US but failed miserably for what I would think are obvious reasons. I mean, who wants to drink anything called 'Sweat'? Although, people do seem to enjoy Pimp Juice and Crunk which sound equally distasteful to me. But what I really want to know is, how did I get from peas to Pocari Sweat?

PS - If you go to the Greenpeace Japan website, please know that when they say the "True Food Prize" went to Bourbon they are in fact talking about a snack food manufacturer, not the whiskey beverage. Though I'm sure there are those who would argue that bourbon is indeed a true food.

Ships in the night

The concept of the soul mate is so nebulous. I think some of us can spend lifetimes pondering their presence and existence. Have you ever thought that you've met your soul mate? If we are so lucky, then I feel that surely we must know and recognize our good fortune beyond a doubt.

The other day I met someone who, had we been in a different time and place, would have been my soul mate. Our interaction was not long but everything that was said had a profound resonance, it was so easy without intention and comfortable without effort. In the here and now though, we are strangers who had a chance meeting, ships passing in the night only glimpsing the far off glitter of lights reflected in the calm dark waters.

In every stranger lies the promise and possibility of a friend. In every friend lies the promise and possibility of a soul mate. So, how is it that the shadow of a soul mate can be seen in a stranger too? I have had some of the most truthful, meaningful, and heartening interactions of my life with relative strangers. With ever growing conviction, I believe in the true and extraordinary kindness of strangers.

Princess Procrastinator

School has barely started and I'm already behind! Well, not entirely . . . if I can actually finish the 100 plus pages that I have yet to read for class tomorrow then I won't be behind. However, I have only 15 hours until that class begins and I intend to sleep for the next 8 hours and then go to another class for two hours . . . so really I don't see this reading getting done. Whoever said there were 24 perfectly usable hours in a day was seriously deranged, as can only be expected from someone who doesn't treat sleep as a valuable commodity. Some of you (notably Blythe) may chide me for leaving my homework till the last moment and reverting to my old procrastinating ways but I assure you this wasn't done intentionally. And I certainly have no intention of sacrificing sleep to get work done, the days of pulling all-nighters have come and gone. I really don't think I could manage it anymore, and ridiculous though it may sound coming from someone in their mid-20s, I'm too old for that shit! Procrastinator or not this princess needs her beauty sleep.

Now I can go to Morocco

Alright, I'm back in Seattle and feeling the crunch of grad school. However, that's not stopping me from doing superfluous research. After my previous post regarding the purchase or trade of myself for a thousand camels I was curious to know how much a camel really goes for. I found that the market is rather varied and is dependent upon age, gender, and type of camel - if you're interested take a look here. For example female bactrian camels go for much more than male dromedaries. Actually bactrians appear to be more expensive in general, who knew that having one more hump on your back could make you so much more valuable - if only that were true of humans too.

Anyway, it looks like my going price could be anywhere between $5 million and $30 million . . . not too shabby, although I'd like to think that I'm priceless *cheeky grin* We should have asked for the details of the transaction before turning the salesman down. Carolyn was really passing up on quite a fortune and now instead of being a millionaire she's merely made it onto the shortlist (or short list, for it consists of only one person) of people I would be willing to travel to Morocco with. Call me crazy but the big fear holding me back from going to Morocco has always been that I would end up going with someone who would inadvertently or maybe even purposely sell me to the Bedouin tribes. Although now I'm starting to think it wasn't such a crazy fear afterall . . . I mean we were pretty sure he was joking, but being pretty sure isn't the same as knowing he was joking.

How much for that camel in the window? And I'm not talking about the cigarettes . . .

So yesterday, I went with Carolyn to buy a going-away present for one of her co-workers. We ended up in a little Egyptian imports store that shall remain nameless for reasons that will become evident later. As we walk in the salesman motions us towards the jewelry counter where he's standing and proceeds to dab our wrists with scented oils so we can smell them as we browse around. I think it would be safe to say that Carolyn and I both rued the moment we let the oil touch our skin, we reeked all day even after vigorous scrubbing with soap. Anyway, we're browsing and making polite chitchat with the guy and end up back at the jewelry counter where Carolyn decided on getting a pretty pendant. It sounds simple enough but even picking out the pendant was an endeavor with the salesman chatting us up . . . especially with questionable conversation topics which included a discussion of 'the key of life' and him vehemently refusing to believe that I was 100% American before I had said anything at all let alone something that could be refuted. Finally, the pendant has been paid for and we think we're going to make it out of the store but we're accosted yet again and the salesman insists on giving us his card. At the door he turns to Carolyn and says, "You know your friend is very pretty," and since I can't take a compliment I just smile and feel embarrassed thinking that'll be the end of it but he goes on, "If we were in Egypt I would make you an Egyptian offer, I'd give you a thousand camels for her." If my face weren't frozen in an awkward smile my jaw would have dropped to the floor. Really, I know he was joking but that may have been the most ridiculous comment of the day. Carolyn laughed and said, "No." Thank goodness. Someone needed to say no and I don't think I had the wherewithal to do it.

As we were walking down the sidewalk all I could think was, "How much are a thousand camels worth? Was Carolyn getting a lowball deal?" Silly me, camels are notorious spitters and I don't spit at all, so clearly I'm worth more than a thousand camels - at least that's my logic and I'm sticking to it. So, the moral for today is: if you go into an Egyptian import store be a good friend and don't sell your shopping buddy for a thousand camels.