Milwaukee Public Museum

 

This morning Travalon and I hit the road, stopping at Lapham Peak to powder our noses. Was it ever crowded there! The whole world seemed to be there for cross-country skiing. Then we met Tiffy at the Park and Ride we usually meet at, and we drove downtown to the parking ramp for the Milwaukee Public Museum. We walked to a nearby "fast food" Mediterranean restaurant for lunch; my chicken shawarma "sandwich" was actually a wrap, which is a bummer because I love pita bread, but even with less bread I could only eat half of it. (Fortunately in this weather, I could leave the other half in the car and it would be fine.) Then we met my old college pal (who is Tiffy's old high school pal) and her friend at the Milwaukee Public Museum. Because our old pal is a member, she could get Tiffy in for free, and the other lady became a member right then, so she could get me in for free. Only poor Travalon had to pay for his entry, but it's not that expensive. He'd been wanting to go, since this is the last year they will be in their current location, and the new location is smaller and will not have room for the Streets of Old Milwaukee display.

We started with that display, which was still decorated for Christmas and still had Christmas carols playing in the background. Travalon took some photos. For some reason these loaded in the opposite order I requested, so this is a balalaika and a mandolin at the end of the exhibit.

I took this photo of the mandolin.

This is the Irish House, or Teach na Gaelge. I don't like the fake people - Uncanny Valley overload!

This is the Polish House.

I'm pretty sure this is the Croatian House. Note the tamburitzas, or small stringed instruments.

This is the Hungarian House.

We went to all the exhibits in the museum. Travalon took some photos from the Butterfly Room.

I loved the West African and Polynesian art, but I didn't take any photos of it, and neither did Travalon. He took photos of the animals - our old pal said, "It's good to see they found a use for the animals from the zoo once they die!" Here are some photos.

The one lady and I were at one point sitting and waiting for the others when we saw a display of all sorts of fancy birds (macaws, ibises, lories, pheasants, etc.), and a chicken was in with them. I laughed about that, but she pointed out that the "chicken" had a long tail, so now we really wonder what it was. It wasn't even a brown chicken, like you might expect in the wild, but a pure white one with a big red comb and wattles. Oh yeah, I got a free patch which I forgot to take a photo of. I really need to find something to put all these patches on, because I also have a bunch from all those years of doing the Mammoth Hike Challenge.

Once we had seen everything in the museum, we went to a place called Wonita which has a great deal: for a set price, you can have as much sushi as you want, as many appetizers as you want, as much dessert as you want, and an entree. I had miso soup, a sushi roll, a taro bun, a green tea mochi, and some red bean ice cream that I shared with everyone else so I didn't eat all that much of it. The waitress even said that since we were all getting the "all you can eat" deal, we could share food, so Tiffy said next time we should plan it better so we could treat it like tapas. The catch is that you can't take anything home if you get the deal, so I had considered eating a la carte, because with this diet drug my appetite is not huge lately, but I did decide to go for the deal. They probably loved me - I wasn't eating a ton like everyone else. I saw two guys sitting at a table eating vast quantities of sushi. Did I even get my money's worth? Maybe if you added up everything I had, it would have been more than the price of the deal. Maybe. Anyway, we loved this place and would happily go back.

Jilly Moose sent this photo of Chambord, a moose we gave her.

A different sort of stuffed animal than the ones we saw at the museum today. Travalon and I did buy a tiny stuffed dinosaur for almost nothing, especially after the "member discount" I got for being a member's guest. There was a surprisingly expensive dragon that I loved, so I may have to go back for it next week.

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Neon Knee-High Argyle Socks

 

Today I worked from home; I thought my sorta-boss might make me go into the office today to make up for working from home on Monday, but he was off today, and my actual boss didn't care. She and I had a meeting late morning that really helped me with a couple of issues, and my morning pop-up meeting was very helpful too. I wanted to go to the protest downtown and could leave a little early, but my neighbor was already going in a full car, Hardingfele said it was too cold, and my Union buddy who looks like a leprechaun never responded to my text. I didn't want to go alone, so I just stayed at home and worked. Usually I take a walk at three, but I went a little later and thought, "Man, it's so cold, I could never make it through a whole protest! I can barely make it through this Divine Mercy Chaplet!" I headed toward the bridge where you can see sun art this time of year, when suddenly there was a sound like a helicopter was approaching, and I wondered if it had something to do with the protest, but it was in fact a cute little train with one engine and three cars. I never see trains midday anymore, and it seemed like a sign from God that I was in exactly the right place at the right time, so I was never meant to go to the protest. Then when I got home, there was a wonderful package in the mail:

When we went to the Burns dinner, I just loved the highland dancers' plaid kilts and knee-high argyle socks in matching colors. While I would never look that cute at my age in a kilt and socks, I still googled knee-high argyle socks, and the first one that came up was this pair in neon colors.

I thought, "Those ought to glow in blacklight!" and indeed they do!

Though oddly the yellow does not. Now I just need to find a neon kilt to match... If Travalon and I ever play blacklight miniature golf, I am all set!

Tonight we were going to go to the classical guitar showcase at Lakeside Cafe, but we just felt like staying in, since it's still in single digits outside. Also, Travalon did not want to hear the guy who comes to it and plays the lute. Then the Daughter of Denni texted that now there's a lute club in town, and they would have a concert in March. I asked if she had gone to the classical guitar showcase, since her brother-in-law is a flamenco guitarist who always plays there, and she said yes, so good thing Travalon didn't go - sounds like it was Lute Night tonight.

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Blood Donation and Bollywood Dancing

 

Today I worked on campus, and when I had mentioned signing up for the blood drive yesterday with my FART 5 peeps, one of them signed up for the same time so we could go over together. She did mention that she is a type they aren't really looking for, I think AB, whereas I am Type O so they are always pestering me to give. I sometimes feel like I'm being followed by a vampire toddler: "Give me your blood! Give me your blood! Give me your blood!" So today we went to the blood drive, and she got through the preliminary stuff quickly while I had the odd luck of being the person they used to train a new guy, so it took quite a while. On the other hand, I'm a very quick donor, like five minutes and I'm done, while she had said it takes her a while to fill the bag. I got a phlebotomist who asked my birthdate and then said, "Capricorn sisters!" so I made the mistake of thinking we were now friends and kept talking about random things. She must have gotten fed up, because she had some other phlebotomist finish taking care of me. Then I was sitting in the canteen, eating all sorts of snacks while waiting for my fifteen minutes to be up, when my FART 5 buddy finally got done. She said, "You didn't have to wait for me," and I said, "Well, they told me to wait fifteen minutes, so I'm still not supposed to leave." Apparently they didn't give her the same instructions, so she just had a couple of snacks (and took some to go), then we left. When I got back to the office, my coworker said once he and some other people were having a contest to see who could give the fastest, and you can speed it up by squeezing the ball more often than they tell you to, so I wonder if my speediness is just me squeezing the ball too quickly. My coworker said they tell you not to do that, because if you give blood too quickly, you'll get light-headed. However, I felt fine.

Because I am the Queen of Planning, I scheduled this blood donation on the day I was supposed to have a Bollywood dance lesson right after work. I asked four different people at the blood drive if this would be okay, and I got four different answers, ranging from "No way!" to "I don't see what the problem would be." The lessons at the Monona Terrace are free ones with tons of people, like the bachata lesson I went to last year, and although they make you get a ticket, I doubted anyone would notice if one person who signed up didn't show up. I did decide to brave the dance lesson, figuring I could always leave if it seemed too strenuous. Not a problem at all - nobody was watching me, we were all too busy watching the instructor, so if I wanted to do a move less energetically than everyone else, nobody cared. It was so much fun! It turns out the instructor gives regular lessons, and I am tempted, because if there's one thing I need in my life, it's yet another crazy hobby. She played this song that I loved so much that I had to ask her about it afterwards, and she let me take a photo of it on her phone.

"Mundian to Bach Ke" by Panjabi MC. Google it and listen to it right now. You're welcome.

I realize that I know a lot of people, because it was crazy enough that the Daughter of Denni and our faculty member's twin sister were on the same cancer journey until their paths diverged, but I remembered that I know someone else who lost her identical twin sister to cancer - my Shamrock Club buddy! I asked the faculty member if she would like to talk to her, and she said, "Yes, give her my email address," so I did. So crazy to think I know two people who have been in this situation - I can't imagine what it must be like to lose your twin, since I don't have one. I used to wish I had an identical twin sister, but when I would tell people that, they'd say, "Ugh, I can't imagine TWO of you!" And maybe we would have driven each other crazy. It's been a long time since I've thought about wanting to have a twin, so maybe I just feel more connected to other people now, and that was a need I thought a twin would fulfill. I do know some other sets of identical twins, but thankfully both twins are still living. 

So far I have not noticed any ill effects from Bollywood dancing after a blood donation. Let's hope it stays that way!

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Where Was My Brain Today?

 

Today I worked on campus, and my brain was mush. I locked my keys in my office, which I have never done before (though other coworkers and faculty and grad students do it all the time), so the coworker whose office is next to mine came to my rescue. Then, a little later, I walked into his office and we looked at each other, confused.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I thought I was going into my own office," I said, and he laughed and reminded me that he had done the same thing to me some years ago.

Seabird told me there were donuts, so I went up to the shared office where a bunch of FART 5 peeps are, but they were just lame donuts, not like Bismarcks or anything so not worth the calories. We all talked about all kinds of stuff, work and sailing and me trying to convince my one coworker to take my grandmother's Cancer pendant made of a coconut because it's super cool but I'm a Capricorn. Then our boss came in, so we all yakked some more. Finally I thought I'd better get down to my own office, but I ran into Famie in the hall because she works on that floor. While I was talking to her, I felt like I could smell my own body odor, and I thought, "Oh no! Did I forget to put on deodorant too?" And then when I got downstairs, I once again forgot my keys in my office, but at least this time I hadn't closed the door, so it didn't matter. 

At lunch Seabird and I braved the elements and went to the nearby greenhouses. I saw a jade plant had lost some leaves, and I was going to pick them up to grow one in my office, but just then a bunch of students came into that greenhouse and were doing some kind of Botany 101 treasure hunt. I did pick up a peperomia leaf in another greenhouse, but it might be too far gone to grow. I mean, there was a reason it fell off the plant in the first place - it's not in good shape. Still, I took it back to my office and stuck it in a pot with another succulent leaf, that one from a plant that a faculty member asked me to take care of over the summer. It isn't dead yet, but it's been months and there's no sign that it's growing. Kind of like my black ZZ plant that I injured by watering it with old coffee - it's not dead, the leaf stumps are still green and alive, but it's been almost a year with no new growth. Will it ever recover?

Speaking of plants, my aunt sent this cheery photo of geraniums she's growing inside.

I think she has them outside when it's warm, but right now nothing should be outside.

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Wynton Marsalis

 

Today I worked from home, so nothing too exciting about that. My boss didn't make me come to campus to make up for working from home yesterday, and so far he hasn't said I have to come to campus Friday either. Travalon, meanwhile, has a new buddy at work.

After work I went to Adoration, as is usual for a Tuesday, and then Travalon met me at the church and we went to the Overture Center to see Wynton Marsalis and the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra. Just before the concert started, I felt a tickle in my throat, so I asked Travalon for a cough drop since he always has like fifteen on his person, but he couldn't find one in any of his pockets. The woman next to me offered me Tic Tacs, and to my surprise those worked. 

The concert was so good! They did a song by Chick Corea called "Tones for Joan's Bones" and another tune that was just the drum, the bass, and a guy whistling, among other pieces. The title of the concert was "Duke in Africa," but in the first half they didn't play any Duke Ellington, so I was like, what the heck? But then, guess what? The whole second half was nothing but Duke Ellington! The one disappointment I had with this concert, okay two, is that they didn't do an encore, and right up front by the piano there was what looked like some big tropical drum with a maraca on it, and apparently it was just for decoration because they never used it once. See I lied, I had a third disappointment, but not with the concert per se: at intermission, Travalon and I waited in line forever to get a drink, and I was all excited about the special mocktail for the concert that had blood orange and lime in it, but when we finally got to the front of the line, they said their credit card readers had just stopped working, so we could only pay in cash. Since we didn't have any cash, we couldn't get drinks. And in all the confusion over drinks, I forgot to take a photo of how beautiful the windows overlooking the Capitol were, with white Christmas lights and a blue glow. I'll just have to go back again sometime to take a photo.

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Another Short and Silly Story

 

Today I asked my sorta-boss if I could work from home because it's so cold out, and to my surprise he had no issue with that. Which makes for a relaxing day, but not much to blog about. What to do in that case? Why, write another story in the writing prompt journal I got with the gift card from Cecil Markovitch! This one was based on the prompt: "Write a story about the assistant of Marco Polo."

When Marco and I got to China, we had some incredible food, especially the noodles and ice cream.

"Marco," I said, "This stuff would be a big hit back home."

"Nah, Luigi," he replied. "Nobody will like this stuff."

Good thing I didn't listen to him. When we got back to Italy, I'd had enough of being a valet, and I opened my own restaurant, the first Chinese restaurant in Rome. But did we serve kung pao chicken and sizzling rice? No, we did not. What I liked was that ice cream and those noodles, but I didn't know what to call them. The Chinese names would be too exotic for the usual clientele. So I asked my brother-in-law, Giuseppe, what he thought I should call them.

"This cold stuff," he said, "call it 'gelato,' because gelato sell a lot of this! It's delicious!"

"Gelato. Got it. And what about the long, slurpy things?"

"Hm." He slurped up a noodle as he considered the question. "I'd call it 'pasta' because I wouldn't put it pasta to make a million lire selling this stuff!"

So Luigi's House of Pasta and Gelato was a great success, and I'm happy to say that both dishes caught on, so that now everyone thinks they're homegrown Italian cuisine.

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Samba Sunday

 

Once again today, the parking lot was completely full at church, but we saw a couple leaving so we grabbed their spot quickly as others also circled around like sharks, looking for one. There was a baptism, which was probably part of the cause, and there were also kids from the school singing with the praise band, all dressed in neon shirts. They sure were cute. So many cute kids at church! Then Travalon and I did the process for recycling the plastic, and the guy who taught us last week was hovering around to help. The most complicated part is getting the luggage scale to work. I don't know what the company does with most of the plastic it recycles, but the church recycled enough last year that it got a plastic bench that I have personally sat upon. Maybe we'll get another one this year.

Today at my drum lesson it really started to click. Last week was helpful, with the singer and other instruments, but today I really, really heard how all the drum parts fit together, and how the drumming goes with the stepping. It's like a dance, and like choral singing. We were really playing samba! To my right were two other surdo players, including a really good one, and I was trying to follow what they were doing. To my left was the guy playing the reposta, and he was really screwing around and being on the wrong foot. He kept talking at one point, prompting the teacher to tell him to zip it. The really good surdo player said of course I couldn't keep track of where I was with him crashing into me. The reposta is the second biggest drum, playing a slightly higher note while the marcaçao plays the deepest note, and I could find my rhythm when the reposta player was in the right spot. They go boom BOOM boom BOOM, on the beat, and we are doing syncopated rhythms against them. When it all fits together, like the parts in a Victoria choral work, it's magical. And in case you are wondering, the reposta is pronounced heh-POST-ah because of course it is. In Brazilian Portuguese, all starting R's are pronounced as H's.  

Meanwhile, there was a protest I didn't learn about until later, and Travalon was watching the Badgers men's basketball team lose by 2 points in a heartbreaker against USC. When he got home, we ate dinner and then he took me to band practice. It was at the house of our newest fiddler, with her adorable toddler son, her husband, and her in-laws who are from Romania. Our leader the guitarist was there too, so at first she played the chords, and I played the melody to help the new fiddler who doesn't know the tunes, but this was on the mandolin so it doesn't make as much sound. Then Hardingfele came, and she is a strong fiddler who knows the tunes, so I went back to chords and ornaments and was having a great time when the leader asked what time it was. I suddenly realized it was the time Travalon was going to pick me up, and then he texted, so I headed outside. He brought me a decaf pandan latte, and as we drove home, we listened to "National Brotherhood Week" by Tom Lehrer because it seemed relevant. It felt even more relevant when I was on Night Prayer and someone was praying for these thugs who are murdering people in Minneapolis and justifying the murders. To quote Tom Lehrer, "Some people do not love their fellow man, and I hate people like that!" I intensely disliked this person from the get-go and felt very bad about that until finding out their extreme political position - now I feel justified in my disgust. 

For the last few days I have felt like something wonderful is coming, even though I have no evidence for this and things just keep getting worse in this country. I did feel like something terrible was coming just before the pandemic, but upon further reflection maybe my joy is just from making a lot of music with other people lately. I did have a wonderful dream several nights ago about all the joy I've shared with Travalon when we stood in shared awe together, but then again I also had a dream very recently where the Pink Panther ran a restaurant, and all the employees were also Pink Panthers, but they were dressed in Brazilian costumes and playing music instead of working. Travalon had one recently about a purple bridge with a cartoon face trying to kill him. Do any of these dreams mean anything? I think one of mine just means I have samba on the brain. With apologies to Peter Tosh, I have samba-myelitis.

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Scottish Saturday

 

Today was still very, very cold, and I hibernated until almost nine. Travalon watched the Wolves while I did a lot of DuoLingo, and we didn't leave the house until after noon, to get to the Union by one for the Balkan singing session that was part of the Folk Ball. We thought Cecil Markovitch was going to join us, but he had come for an earlier Folk Ball event and hadn't found anyone there, so he had gone home. We managed to find a parking spot right in front of the Union somehow, and we joined a bunch of other people to sing songs in Macedonian, Bulgarian, and Croation. Travalon made a couple of videos.

Our luck continued because the event ended just before our parking meter was going to run out. We went home for a little bit before swinging by Mamastep's house to pick her up on the way to the Burns dinner. I wore the plaid scarf I'd gotten at the random gas station in Kentucky that was selling all sorts of things, with a pin that used to belong to my grandmother. It kind of looks like a marijuana leaf on it, but Mamastep said she thinks it's more likely a palm tree. Which makes more sense, knowing my grandma.

Travalon wore the scarf I got at the Highland Night Forward game, which was fitting because we were in the Forward clubhouse. 

You should have seen the room. So much plaid! So many kilts! We found a table for four and were joined by a gregarious woman who was there with her husband, son, and daughter-in-law, but they all had to sit at adjacent tables because other people with smaller groups had taken all the tables. On the tables were little bags full of Scottie dog-shaped shortbread. It was Happy Hour when we got there, but at six there was a short prayer, something along the lines of, "Some have meat and cannot eat, and some have none but would, but we have meat and we can eat so all thanks be to God," but with a brogue. Then a piper led the guy carrying the plate of haggis, who recited a Robert Burns poem over it before cutting it with a huge knife. We each got a tiny shot glass of whiskey to toast the haggis, and we each had a small cup of haggis. I had thought Burns dinners were always haggis, neeps, and tatties, but ours was bangers and mash, which means sausage and mashed potatoes. Since Travalon hates sausage (he thinks it's the wurst!), I told him to ask if there was more haggis. The answer was no, but he came back with a big pile of mashed potatoes, so that was the tatties part. As far as the neeps part, we didn't have smashed turnips like all the Burns dinner photos online, but we did have a mix of root vegetables, so I'm guessing there were some turnips in there.

After dinner some very cute little girls did highland dancing, then a trad band played, and then there were the toasts to the lassies and laddies, which were hilarious and not G-rated. The Scottish country dancers gave a demonstration and then had some audience members join them, and then the leader was presented with some service award. At the end everyone sang "Auld Lang Syne." There was also a silent auction, and I really wanted an adorable pillow of a plaid "heeland coo," so I told Travalon to go look at it and see if he liked it too. He did, and he put a ridiculously high bid on it. Here's the pillow.

Somehow, at the last minute, he was outbid, so we did not get the pillow. Mamastep bid on a set with a shortbread mold and a cookbook (I think?), and every time she checked, she was still winning, but at the last minute she was outbid too. There were highland dance lessons, and I was tempted to bid on those, but I'm too old and fat, and my knees are too bad, to do all that leaping around. Still, I'd love to wear a cute little kilt and knee-high argyle socks. (Nobody else would want to see that, though!) 

On the way there, we had seen the flavor of the day at Culver's was "Georgia peach." We remembered fondly some peach ice cream we'd had in Georgia some years ago, so on our way home Travalon wondered if we should stop. I said, "We can afford it, since we saved $80 on not winning a pillow," and it was good, but not as good as what must have been homemade ice cream that I believe we got at a gas station. It was right up there with the peanut butter ice cream we also got in Georgia, in Jimmy Carter's hometown. (I got way too much because I ordered mine in a commemorative cup, but then it was super helpful having the cup along on the trip.) Of course, that was probably homemade too, and the best ice cream I ever had was the time that guy made some at a party at Rich's house, out of cream, sugar, and freshly-picked strawberries, and then he made it with liquid nitrogen so mist rose off of it like it was a witch's potion. I thought it was just a cool party trick, but after tasting it I realized how much better ice cream is when it's made with simple ingredients. So if you want good ice cream, either go to Georgia or to Rich's house. Though there was the time someone at Rich's house made vanilla fume ice cream when she burned the sugar trying to do something clever... so this rule doesn't always hold true.

Famous Hat

Frigid Friday

 

Today classes at the university were canceled. Seabird had said the university was closed due to the extreme cold, but I wasn't sure if we still had to work, so this morning I logged in, and sure enough, we had to work. My meeting (the one I had to reschedule my dental appointment for) still happened. Come to think of it, I didn't notice Seabird logged in, so I hope she doesn't get in trouble... Madison schools were also closed, so Travalon had the day off of work, since his work shuts down when the schools shut down. We walked around the house a bit, listening to reggae and Delta blues (his latest interest), and at lunch I ran around the house, listening to salsa with my bluetooth headphones, now that they are charged. I got enough steps and enough active minutes today, but still not enough cardio load, whatever that is. I had 54 and the Fitbit wanted me to have 68, but I don't even know what the units are.

Travalon wasn't sure he wanted to brave the cold to meet Cecil Markovitch and the Single B-Boy for the St. James Spaghetti Dinner, but I guess a whole day around the house doing nothing bored him enough that he decided we could risk it. I wore my warmest hoodie and the neck thing they gave us back when we did the Turkey Trot, pulling it up over my nose, and with my warm, new gloves, my fixed-up super long, warm coat, and my Third Eye toque, I was good to go in the polar temperatures. We drove across town without incident and met the guys at the church, where we enjoyed the food and the company. Another guy arrived just as things were shutting down and we were thinking of leaving, so we did stay longer than expected. We got back home without incident (Travalon's car started just fine both ways), and now we are snuggled into the warmth of our house. Our faucets are all dribbling a little bit to keep our pipes from bursting (the guy who came late had burst pipes in his house - yikes!), so it sounds like we are living in the little fountain I used to have on my desk at work years ago. It's a soothing sound.

The B-Boy asked me an interesting question tonight: which do I prefer, Nashville or Memphis? While Nashville has such a cool museum and is a fun town, I just love the vibe of cities on the river. Not just Memphis, but the Twin Cities and Dubuque and St. Louis and even little towns like Hannibal, Missouri. And of course the Queen of all River Cities, New Orleans. It's so hard to explain, but there's just a feeling to those river towns. Kansas City is a river town too, though of course it's not on the Mississippi but the Missouri, but it also kind of has that vibe. It's like a little bit grimy, a little bit rough, but also a little bit cosmopolitan. I would love to drive down the Mississippi, or even better go down by boat. Maybe I'm channeling Mark Twain a little bit here. I love the ocean even more, but I do love the river. And lakes too - let me not neglect the charm of lake cities like Chicago. Of course, Chicago has its own river, and honestly the two most magical boat rides I've taken have been on the Chicago River, the one where the buildings were lit up red, white and blue for the Fourth of July, and the one where the river was dyed green for St. Patrick's Day. I think I just love being near water. A fortune teller once told me when I was young that I have a need to be by water, and she must be right. Give me a water city, and I'll adore it.

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Thirsty Thursday

 

Today Seabird worked on campus, which isn't usual for a Thursday, so I went up and talked to her in the morning, and then at lunch we walked all around in our building since it was so cold out. The students are back, so it's harder to walk around in our building, but not impossible. I had two meetings this afternoon (yawn!), then after work I drove to the Nitty Gritty in Sun Prairie to join Mamastep and her eclectic group of friends for her birthday party. We were supposed to wear crowns or tiaras, and Mamastep had an impressive headdress with ram's horns and flowers, but I was the only other person who wore something, the rather underwhelming tiara from my wedding. Somehow I remembered it being more crownlike, but it's really just a fancy headband. I also wore the red plaid scarf or shawl type thing I got at a random gas station in Kentucky and never blogged about before, over my green sweater. This seems like it might be a good outfit for the Burns dinner. Travalon joined the party over an hour late due to his work schedule, but he was not even the last person to arrive. I really enjoy seeing Mamastep's friends - they are a great group of people. 

Then Seabird texted me that the university will be closed tomorrow due to the extreme cold. I am not clear on if this means I don't have to work, since I was going to work from home anyway. I was supposed to have a dentist appointment tomorrow at 11:30, but then they changed it to noon, and so I rescheduled because I have a meeting at one. Just as glad not to have to leave the house tomorrow, but I'm not sure if my meeting (which is an online one) is still happening.

I drank a lot of water at the birthday party (a LOT of water), but no alcohol. Still, while driving home, I somehow took a wrong turn at the roundabout on Highway 19 and started heading toward Waunakee. Travalon had been following me the whole way, but I noted that he did not copy my mistake. I should have just taken River Road, and then I wouldn't have looked so stupid. Can't blame it on my excessive water intake.

I got a new sticker from DuoLingo, and the owl appears to be stoned:

I texted it to Travalon, who responded with an owl that appears to be drunk:

I am doing Spanish, and one of the exercises will have English words on the left and Spanish words on the right, and I'm supposed to match them. But then I thought DuoLingo was making things up, because one of the (allegedly) English words was "bezorging," and I have spoken this language for over half a century but don't know that word, so I had to figure it out by the process of elimination. I thought, "Go home, DuoLingo, you're drunk!" Now it's making up English words? But in fact it's a real word... in Dutch. It means delivery. So why does DuoLingo think a Dutch word is an English one? Is it losing its mind? Is it just trying to see if I'm paying attention? Is it going to try to teach me Dutch by slipping words in now and then? What's even happening?? At least in my department I can find someone to help me translate any Dutch words I come across.

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Woodrow Wednesday

 

Today I worked on campus, and at lunch there was an early music concert, so I sat with the Former Professor Formerly Known as Lute Player, and she gave me a new instrument. It's called a woodrow, and it's strung like a mountain dulcimer but shaped like a small rebec. It's very cute, and because I had my ukulele with me, and the Snark tuner in the case pocket, I was able to tune the woodrow. It's tuned with the lowest string a D, then the next one an A above that, and the top two a D an octave above the bottom string. Seabird came down to see the new instrument, and then another colleague stopped in, so the three of us were yakking about work and other stuff, and at one point I pulled out the ukulele and strummed a few chords. That got the attention of our chair, and he stopped over and asked who was playing music, so I admitted that it was me. Oddly, while the ukulele was in tune with itself, it was a little bit flat, so that means all the strings went flat at exactly the same rate. 

After work I drove to the Lone Girl for the ukulele strum. I got there a little early, so I wasn't concerned that it was only the two leaders, the woman taking our money at the door (we pay $5 to help cover the cost of the room rental), and another guy... but then nobody else came. Was it the weather? The other guy said he had seen some other ukulele regulars downstairs having beers, so we joked about sending someone down to collect them, but we finally gave up and started playing, and a few other people trickled in, then half an hour later the big group from downstairs showed up, thinking that we were starting half an hour later than we did. They even argued that the email said that, but I'm quite sure it didn't, otherwise I wouldn't have had to leave work a bit early to get there in time. I thought the theme of today's strum was going to be country music, so I was going to title this post "Western Wednesday" to keep up the alliteration theme, but it was actually "Songs that Have Been Covered a Lot." I really enjoyed this strum, and Travalon came in and listened to us toward the end, and he said he enjoyed this music too. Afterwards he and I had dinner at the Lone Girl, and he had a really good toffee-flavored beer. Apparently over the holidays they had a spicy chocolate chestnut beer - wish I'd gotten to try that! Sounds amazing.

It was snowing when we headed home, so I was hoping to go at a comfortable speed, but of course there were always people behind me in a big hurry, despite the late hour and bad weather. I went to the Kwik Trip near our house to top off my tires with air before the cold weather hits, but their machine was out of order, just like the one in Waunakee. Hopefully my tires don't get too low in the cold! Are there any working machines in town?

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Tribulation Tuesday

 

Today I worked from home - not too much to say about that. But I was trying to straighten out some messes, like the Burns dinner cluster munch. Mamastep really wanted to go, but it was sold out, and now our Shamrock Club buddy can't go so she was going to give Mamastep her ticket. However, Mamastep couldn't get a hold of either her or the St. Andrews club to verify this. Meanwhile, I had a strange charge on my play money credit card, and I couldn't remember what it was for and couldn't find a receipt. (Did I think to look in my spam folder? No. Because I'm an idiot.) The name of the business made no sense, and when I googled it, it seemed to be a software company, so I reported the charge because I knew I had not purchased any software. This was last week, and then in the middle of the night last night I remembered it was for the Burns dinner - oh no!!! Maybe they had canceled our reservations when I disputed the charge! Of course the credit card company is always reachable, and the customer support employees all seem to live in India so it was probably daytime for them. They told me the dispute is already working its way through the system and I can't stop it. So I emailed the St. Andrews club, and Mamastep suggested contacting them via social media, which turned out to be a really effective way to do it, because I heard back right away that they hadn't heard anything about a dispute, my reservations were still good to go, and if there was a problem I could just pay another way. Phew! Though now it turns out Travalon has been to not one but two Burns dinners already, only he didn't know that's what they were because they were part of a tour of Scotland. He is not excited about another dinner of haggis with neeps and tatties. Well, maybe the tatties. (Translation: dinner will be a mix of organ meat and oatmeal with turnips and potatoes on the side.) I have never been to a Burns dinner, in honor of the great Scottish poet Robert Burns and his ode to haggis. Honestly, I think Travalon only agreed to go because it's in the Forward clubhouse, which isn't very big so I don't know how they're going to get all these people in there for dinner, plus bagpipers, plus a band for a ceilidh. Anyway, they had also switched our Shamrock Club buddy's name to Mamastep's, so we are all good to go... for the moment. And I got my new credit card today. 

I am beginning to wonder if Dear Leader sold his soul to the devil, the way he says he knows he's not going to Heaven. One thing is sure, he doesn't know what joy is because he puts all his value on the wrong things. He seems to be very jealous of those of us who do feel joy, and I wonder if he knows his time is short so he wants to destroy us all with him. How else to explain his stubborn insistence on starting World War III by invading Greenland? He never talks this much about doing something without eventually doing it. We all know he's mad about not winning the Nobel Peace Prize, but I did have to laugh at his text to the Norwegian Prime Minister that since he didn't win it, he doesn't care about peace right now. Way to say the quiet part out loud. I just saw a video by a death doula who says people are even more themselves as they are dying, so narcissists are almost unbearable. I wonder if the Supreme Malignant Narcissist is in the process of dying, and so any pretense he had of caring about anything or anyone else is getting tossed to the side. He wants Greenland? He's taking Greenland. And, of course, it does distract from everyone saying, "Release the Epstein files, already!" Those have got to be really bad for him if he's working so hard to change the conversation, after running on how he would immediately release them. Of course, if he gets in the way of the filthy rich, they will just take him out. Hold on, things are about to get really interesting. I can see why the blessing is: "May you live in uninteresting times."

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Merganser Monday

 

First of all, congratulations to the Hoosiers on their perfect season and college football championship.

Today was so, so cold out. We had a relaxed morning; I meant to do some more plant care and cleaning, but instead I wrote to Mariah and screwed around on social media. Eventually Travalon and I did venture out to Sauk to see eagles; we saw a few eagles flying around, but mostly what we saw were mergansers. These are mostly common mergansers, and the white ones with black heads and red bills are males, while the gray ones with reddish-brown heads and perky crests are females.

In the following picture, it looks like a male goldeneye is pursuing a female merganser.

I don't know what these little birds on the phone line are, but they are cute.

Wait, what? There are still mallards around too? 

This looks like it could be a male red-breasted merganser, but it's hard to tell. It could be a female common merganser.

This guy is like, "I am outta here!"

And he's gone!

We stopped by Pheasant Branch to see if we could find the eagles' nest, but you must have to get out of the car to see it, and we were too cold. We did see three very cute deer up close, in someone's yard, and Travalon said if the deer were in his yard, he'd invite them in for some corn when it's so cold out.

Then we came home and I had an edible we had gotten in Galena, so a while ago but it didn't expire until this coming April. I remember taking a whole one and being way too stoned, and then I saw that it said to cut it in half. Why is this my problem? Why not just make two small ones instead of one big one? But I did their work for them for no pay, and... it seemed just as potent. Time slowed down, but music was amazing. I could hear each part of the music distinctly, and the lyrics seemed to stand out more. While in this state, I wrote another story in my story prompt journal, using the prompt, "The best thing that ever happened":

"The best thing that ever happened was that God became man and then died for our sins. That story has already been written by four other guys, maybe you've heard of them? Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. That's a lot of perspectives, but do you know whose is missing? A woman's! And I was right there to see it all - no, not Mary Magdalene - me, Johanna. At least one of them mentioned me being right there under the cross. Yeah, I saw it all, and could I tell you stories! Hmm, no advance and 20% of net sales? Let me think about it. I'm not in any hurry, people have already waited two thousand years to hear my side of things, they can wait a few more months. Just think, I can answer all your questions about Jesus, like how tall he was, what color his eyes were, whether he had a favorite song - you know, the things men never seem to remember. Is his best friend of thirty years married? He thinks so, and he's pretty sure her name is Pam, or is that the girlfriend he got after the divorce, or was that his friend John he was thinking of...? They have no idea."

OK, so pretty sexist at the end there, and really just a stream of conscience blather, not a story, although you get the idea she's pitching it to a literary agent. Then I got sucked into watching the football game. Travalon really wanted Indiana to win, but he also wanted Miami to make it a game, and they did - they were just about to win by one point when the ball was intercepted. Which reminds me, Wolverhampton got their first and (so far) only win on my birthday. If I were the huge fan instead of Travalon, I'd say that was a birthday present for me. But I'm still a bit stoned even all these hours later, so maybe I'll wrap up this post before it becomes as stream-of-concience as my "story."

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