it was such a long trip back we decided to buy a car.
Honda Fit here we come
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Friday, February 09, 2007
Another day - another ban
It seems that the US's ability to justify anything from war through to the banning of pink fluffy bunny slippers in public places by means of using a quick chart knocked up in Excel continues.
Today Philly voted to join New York City in banning transfats from restaurant menus. Now transfats are bad. They make you fat. They clog your arteries. They may well give you cancer. They do terrible things to the nation's healthcare system. That said they do store well at ambient temperatures and don't look runny when you take the top off your margerine in the morning.
I'm all for warning people about the dangers of transfats. And all for telling people when transfats are in the food that they're eating... but a ban? really?
I can understand a ban on smoking in public places. Smoke drifts. It gets into other people's hair and clothing and lungs and leaves them feeling like an ashtray. It's a health hazzard that spreads indiscriminately - so great ban it to protect the people who haven't chiosen to smoke from its nasty side effects.
But to the best of my knowledge the inside of my Custard Cream biscuit (100% transfat) does not wander around the restaurant smearing itself upon people's hair and clothes and finding a way into their lungs and bloodstream. No it's contained (deliciously between layers of crispy biscuit) and thus I should be free to eat it - having made a choice based on the fact of what's in it and my own particular weakness for 'cream' filled biscuits.
So Philly, City of Brotherly Love - get off your high horses and stick to label warnings - or the next thing you'll be banning might be gypsies... and you know where that leads....
Today Philly voted to join New York City in banning transfats from restaurant menus. Now transfats are bad. They make you fat. They clog your arteries. They may well give you cancer. They do terrible things to the nation's healthcare system. That said they do store well at ambient temperatures and don't look runny when you take the top off your margerine in the morning.
I'm all for warning people about the dangers of transfats. And all for telling people when transfats are in the food that they're eating... but a ban? really?
I can understand a ban on smoking in public places. Smoke drifts. It gets into other people's hair and clothing and lungs and leaves them feeling like an ashtray. It's a health hazzard that spreads indiscriminately - so great ban it to protect the people who haven't chiosen to smoke from its nasty side effects.
But to the best of my knowledge the inside of my Custard Cream biscuit (100% transfat) does not wander around the restaurant smearing itself upon people's hair and clothes and finding a way into their lungs and bloodstream. No it's contained (deliciously between layers of crispy biscuit) and thus I should be free to eat it - having made a choice based on the fact of what's in it and my own particular weakness for 'cream' filled biscuits.
So Philly, City of Brotherly Love - get off your high horses and stick to label warnings - or the next thing you'll be banning might be gypsies... and you know where that leads....
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Oh well
I woke this morning full of expectation... last night I'd turned on the $5 Craigslist bread machine and I was expecting an oaty, slightly crunchy loaf this morning.
Alas I think that I may have gone heavy on the oats as what I have instead is a loaf that looks like the surface of a witch's nose, cuts with a crack like the earth itself splitting and a taste somewhere between honey and hemp. Oh well it was an experiement in middle class noddling doomed to fail from the beginning.
I do love the way that once essential working class skills are now becoming middle class hobbies or even eyebrow raised hipster entertainment. Baking, knitting, sewing (even cooking) - they're all now genteel or drunken pastimes rather than the essential tools in the housewife's armoury.
Oddly they're skills that Judith seems to miraculously possess - along with the ability to fix a puncture, speak almost any language thrown at her, paint, draw, handle statistical models that prove eye wateringly complex at second view, handle animals, hack up donkeys and of course the essential ability to program the DVR without erasing any of my crap reality shows (Top Design, Survivor, Amazing Race, Beauty and the Geek...)
I only the other hand am a whizz with shaded arrows in powerpoint
Alas I think that I may have gone heavy on the oats as what I have instead is a loaf that looks like the surface of a witch's nose, cuts with a crack like the earth itself splitting and a taste somewhere between honey and hemp. Oh well it was an experiement in middle class noddling doomed to fail from the beginning.
I do love the way that once essential working class skills are now becoming middle class hobbies or even eyebrow raised hipster entertainment. Baking, knitting, sewing (even cooking) - they're all now genteel or drunken pastimes rather than the essential tools in the housewife's armoury.
Oddly they're skills that Judith seems to miraculously possess - along with the ability to fix a puncture, speak almost any language thrown at her, paint, draw, handle statistical models that prove eye wateringly complex at second view, handle animals, hack up donkeys and of course the essential ability to program the DVR without erasing any of my crap reality shows (Top Design, Survivor, Amazing Race, Beauty and the Geek...)
I only the other hand am a whizz with shaded arrows in powerpoint
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Thinking of warmer climes
With the winter continuing its brutal onslaught (-11c outside right now) and with Jude getting closer to completion of her PhD it's time to start thinking about how much of the summer we can spend together and where that time might be spent.
To date there's time in the diary for Jude and her mom to take off in May to a Caribbean island somewhere. A sort of celebration of freedom from the tyranny of deadlines. After which Jude has booked herself close to eight weeks in Africa. All in that means her being away from the middle of May through to the end of July. A long old time. More time than I have vacation. Which is why I need to choose carefully.
My ideal would be to head off mid May for Caribbean sun and then early July for African winter. That way we don't spend much more than 4 weeks at a time apart. Manageable for all, you'd hope.
Still it's nice to have one eye on the sun (even if the other is on the bank balance) when all that you see outside is grey and icy
To date there's time in the diary for Jude and her mom to take off in May to a Caribbean island somewhere. A sort of celebration of freedom from the tyranny of deadlines. After which Jude has booked herself close to eight weeks in Africa. All in that means her being away from the middle of May through to the end of July. A long old time. More time than I have vacation. Which is why I need to choose carefully.
My ideal would be to head off mid May for Caribbean sun and then early July for African winter. That way we don't spend much more than 4 weeks at a time apart. Manageable for all, you'd hope.
Still it's nice to have one eye on the sun (even if the other is on the bank balance) when all that you see outside is grey and icy
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Poor Velcro
With the temperatures hovering around -10c Velcro isn't getting the walks that she's used to and whilst she's taking it with a stoic resolve there's a spring in her step whenever we do venture out that leaves no doubt as to the fact that whilst it may be too cold for me out there it's walk in the park weather for her
Still she's as cute as a button (whatever the hell that means)
Still she's as cute as a button (whatever the hell that means)
Monday, February 05, 2007
To quote Hannibal
"I love it when a plan comes together"
Ok it's Hannibal Smith from the A Team rather than the great elephant marching general but the quote still holds. Finally have French recruiters and translators working for me and my Paris trip will be something other than disasterous. Hooray.
I guess that the mounting panic I felt was a control thing - I'd sent out the requests, had heard nothing back and was starting to get itchy - as I didn't know what my next move would be. All a little seat of the pants for me; but hey I'm here and pretty 8 days out; which can't be at all bad.
It's -11C outside and thus I am delaying my departure for work for as long as I can. The thought of being stuck on a station platform in this weather is too much to bear. As is the thought of the heating bill which will surely follow. During really cold snaps we spend about $15 a day heating this brick and glass heat sieve.
Still the journey outside cannot and will not be put off forever - and thus I shall end this brief but audible sigh and head for work - wrapped head to knee in goose down (if only we'd bought a bigger goose)
Ok it's Hannibal Smith from the A Team rather than the great elephant marching general but the quote still holds. Finally have French recruiters and translators working for me and my Paris trip will be something other than disasterous. Hooray.
I guess that the mounting panic I felt was a control thing - I'd sent out the requests, had heard nothing back and was starting to get itchy - as I didn't know what my next move would be. All a little seat of the pants for me; but hey I'm here and pretty 8 days out; which can't be at all bad.
It's -11C outside and thus I am delaying my departure for work for as long as I can. The thought of being stuck on a station platform in this weather is too much to bear. As is the thought of the heating bill which will surely follow. During really cold snaps we spend about $15 a day heating this brick and glass heat sieve.
Still the journey outside cannot and will not be put off forever - and thus I shall end this brief but audible sigh and head for work - wrapped head to knee in goose down (if only we'd bought a bigger goose)
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