Sunday, February 28, 2010

But whales are our friends...

Been aimlessly crafting while studying (or watching the Olympics) a lot lately...I've knit a hat, an earwarmer, and some fingerless gloves, and just yesterday I crocheted an amigurumi.

It is a narwhal.  Not to be insensitive...I guess whales are a bit of a sensitive subject these days.

Anyway, here he is.  I think I will call him Odysseus.
 
Yeah that fits in with the other assorted animalia I've got lurking around here...Winston (a spider), CK Dexter Haven and Christopher Eccles (more crocheted beasties), Bing (a fashionable penguin), Napoleon (a rabbit), Harrods Bear (an aptly-named bear), Steinbeck (owl), and of course, Date and Toglie (respectively a rabbit and cat from my childhood).

Okay.  Enough.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Caning of Sumner

This is pretty much the only thing I remember from AP US History.

It is a stunning example of the absurdity of American history, and might also stand in as a metaphor for that craptastic class.

So, Charles Sumner was the leader of the antislavery movement in Massachusetts in the middle of the 19th century, and was also a member of the Senate, where as a radical Republican he spoke out loudly and persistently against Southern slave-owners gaining control of the government.  Sumner called for the repeal of the Fugitive Slave Act, and seemed to have been instrumental in convincing Lincoln to bring about emancipation.  I'm not sure whether Sumner's strong antislavery stance was morally or politically motivated, but whichever way he held and presented his views, they seem to have been difficult for some to stomach.  His biographer says of Sumner, "[d]istrusted by friends and allies, and reciprocating their distrust, a man of 'ostentatious culture,' 'unvarnished egotism,' and 'a specimen of prolonged and morbid juvenility,' Sumner...[carved] out a reputation as the South's most hated foe and the Negro's bravest friend, he inflamed sectional differences, advanced his personal fortunes, and helped bring about national tragedy."  So his biographer hates him.  Anyway, it is clearly documented that Sumner made a habit of avoiding conflict, instead insulting his rivals in prepared speeches.

During one such speech, Sumner verbally attacked Stephen A Douglas and Andrew Butler, co-authors of a controversial Act which allowed for the expansion of slavery into the West, by calling the former a "noisome, squat, and nameless animal," and mocking the speech and mannerisms of the latter (both of which were the aftereffects of a stroke).

Two days later, on May 22nd, 1856, Preston Brooks, Senator from South Carolina and relative of Butler, confronted Sumner in the nearly-empty Senate chamber, informed him that he had reviewed the speech, and began violently laying into the Senator from Massachusetts with a gold-tipped cane.  Brooks continued to beat Sumner under the a bolted-down writing table, at which point he ripped the desk from the floor and bludgeoned Sumner until the cane was in splinters and the man lay bleeding and unconscious on the floor.

Apparently several people tried to intervene, but were stopped by another man, Laurence Keitt, who had pulled out a pistol.

Somewhat miraculously, Sumner recovered from the attack, although he did not rejoin the Senate for three years.  Regardless, he was re-elected, and his chair stood empty as a symbol of free speech.  The North had its martyr.

And the South?  The South bought and mailed Sumner a load of new canes.  Thus began the Civil War - and the rest is history.

Friday, February 26, 2010

A Thing

I am running out of ideas...and it is only February...

But does anyone have that thing where they wake up and it's impossible to make a fist?  Try it out...it is hard to remember to do first thing in the morning, but I wonder if it is just me.  And why it happens.

Also boding ill for my survival against attackers is that whenever I start to run, my ankles seize up and the tendons all freak out (?) and I almost fall over.  Anyone else...?

When the world comes to an end and we're live in a state of anarchy, I am not going to be one of the survivors.  I can't punch the bad guys when startled from sleep, and I can't run away from cannibals (etc.) without falling down. 

D:

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Obscure 80s Weekly

Another Thursday, another veritable cornucopia of Eighties goodness.

You know the drill...and let me know if any of these are too obvious.  I badly want to put "Whip It" up, but I shall refrain.  Everyone knows those flower pots, right?

Thursday we start out with something creepy but good nonetheless: Elvis Costello - Veronica

Friday (this song is so fantastic): Big Country - In A Big Country

On Saturday it's trapped in the closet (20 years earlier): The Cure - Close To Me

Sunday, as if the title wasn't enough: Ultravox - Dancing With Tears In My Eyes

Monday (aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh): Visage - Fade To Grey

Another Depeche Mode Tuesday: Depeche Mode - Enjoy The Silence

Lastly, for Wednesday: The Polecats - Make A Circuit With Me

Have fun!  And please view responsibly.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Just in case...

Something good to print out and have on hand...

 

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Another Poem

This one appeared in my inbox the other day.  It's by Walt Whitman.

O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless - of cities fill'd with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light - of the objects mean - of the struggle ever renew'd;
Of the poor results of all - of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest - with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring - What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here - that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Bartleby

Not my story, but a good one nonetheless.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Three Salad Dressings

Clothe your lettuces in something snazzy.

For the somewhat frumpy iceberg at your local salad bar, something structured and embellished.  Combine it with some cheese, olives, or deli meats for the perfect antipasto.

Garlic Dressing: In a bowl, whisk
½ cup Olive Oil
¼ cup Lemon Juice
¼ cup Rosé or White Wine
2 cloves Garlic, finely chopped
½ tsp dried Basil
½ tsp dried Oregano
Pinch of Salt
Pepper to taste

A summer salad of crisp leaves is complemented nicely with creamy feta, tomatoes, cucumbers, and this recipe to top it all off.

Greek Dressing: combine
½ cup Olive Oil
¼ cup Lemon Juice
¼ cup White Wine Vinegar
½ tsp Salt
¼ tsp Pepper
1 tsp Sugar
Pinch of Mint

Simple and elegant baby greens of any variety don't need quite as much effort to get them up to scratch.

French Dressing: mix together
¼ cup Dijon Mustard
¼ cup White Wine Vinegar
½ cup Olive Oil

Happy lettuce (and probably healthier than that radioactive thousand island nonsense as well).

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Friday, February 19, 2010

Bird

Lovely lovely music:

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Redemption

I have been hearing a lot about redemption of late...on TV, in the news, etc.

In the words of Inigo Montoya, "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

Top three definitions from the OED:
1. Deliverance from sin and damnation, esp. by the atonement of Christ; salvation.
2. The action of freeing a prisoner, captive, or slave by payment; the fact of being freed in this way. Also occas.: the payment itself.
3. Expiation or atonement for a crime, sin, or offence; release from punishment.

So please redeem yourselves and quit overusing it?

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Rawr

Minor quarter-life crisis...what on earth am I going to do with myself over the next year (and beyond)???

Perhaps I am going about this the wrong way. Instead of focusing on doing, I ought to be more concerned with simply being.

New goal: I am going to be rich and famous.

And to that end...hm enough living vicariously, how about I just find a wealthy whatsit to hitch my wagon to (only, of course, I won't be using that sort of phrase).

Here's a quick guide to the peerage of the various realms. It would figure that the Brits are the best at this, so we will start with them.

Right. In the UK, the hierarchy is as follows: Prince > Duke > Marquess > Earl > Viscount > Baron...and then, hilariously, Wikipedia demarcates the gentry: Baronet >Knight > Scottish Baron > Laird > Untitled Classes.

Poor Scottish Barons. And Lairds.

And then I tried looking into some more interesting, foreign-sounding titles...but it seems that most other nations have discarded their nobility, usually after the World Wars. How depressing. And even worse, the names of the titles are just the same as those damned imperial ones listed above. Croatia bought into the anglicised versions it seems, as did China and Japan, not to mention Brazil, Norway, Russia, and the Dutch.

The Mongols used to have a titled class way back when, which is mildly exciting. It went thusly: Khagan > Guo Wang > Jinong > Taiji.

Prussia used to have a Junker. I can't tell you much more.

And I suppose I ought to make mention of France's historical nobility, as all the English words for the ranks stem from this: Duc > Marquis > Comte > Vicomte > Baron > Prince > Seigneur. Of course, all that got chopped up into tiny bits circa 1790.

Oh hey! Ok Finland has nobility. Score. It appears to be: Ruhtinas > Kreivi > Vapaaherra > Ritari > Herra/Asemiesluokka.

And there you go.

Monday, February 15, 2010

A Genuine Question

Not to be facetious...but paper or plastic?

No, seriously.

Those paper bags cut down loads of trees.

The plastic ones never biodegrade and kill baby seals and stuff.

So, I suppose the ones made out of cloth with catchy slogans are my best bet (if I can remember to bring them along), but aren't those made by kids in sweatshops? Or even if not, is the cost of manufacture thingy? Ohh who knows. All the reefs are getting bleached and no one will tell me what way of carrying my groceries will stop it.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

We'll meet againnn...

In years gone by I would have made some off-color VD jokes while glowering at couples under heavy eyeliner, but this Valentine's Day, I am merely going to dream of black hair and blue eyes...and leave you with this terribly romantic letter from the Civil War.

Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me - perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar - that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.

Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have oftentimes been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.

But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night - amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours - always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Lumberjack Sports

What? Lumberjacks can have sports, too. And not the normal kind of sports, like soccer or baseball or slalom...I'm talking about sports involving Lumber! and Plaid!

[By the way, I began investigating this when I came across the little factoid that Olympian Bode Miller's (ex?)-girlfriend was a log rolling champion. If you were wondering.]

Here is a list of some timber-related sporting activities (don't try these at home):
1) Log Rolling (of course): Two people stand on a log in a river and try to roll the other person off.
2) Speed Climb: Climb up a tree. Fast.
3) Double Buck: Cut a log with your friend.
4) Hot Saw: Cut a log into bits with a chainsaw. I have no idea.
5) Boom Run: Run across logs in a pool.
6) Underhand Chop (sounds nasty!): Stand on a log and chop it up with an axe. Try not to hit your foot.
7) Obstacle Pole Race: Pretty self-explanatory, except chain saws are somehow involved.
8) Springboard Chop: This looks pretty complex. Some combination of sawing and climbing, though.
9) Jack and Jill Chop: Like the Double Buck, but with your significant other.
10) Variants Thereupon.

I didn't see that one where you try to catch the falling tree, but maybe that one is only sanctioned by the Eastern European Lumberjack Association.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Illustrators

I was talking to Cecily (my suitemate) who is applying for an intership at a museum for picture-books. Which got me thinking about some of my favorite illustrators from when I was a child...

There's P J Lynch, whom I still love...
[sketch from The Gift of the Magi]

and Lizbeth Zwerger:
[from Thumbeline]

Or how about Coles Phillips?
[from Life, 1921]

Kinuko Y Craft probably made The Twelve Dancing Princesses my favorite book for several years when I was little...

And, of course Arthur Rackham is amazing:
[from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland]

And I suppose I can't close without mentioning Alan Lee:
[detail from The Fellowship of the Ring]

Undervalued art form no longer!

Thursday, February 11, 2010

...and other Frozen Wonders

I was talking with my lab partner the other day and she mentioned how she had just found a great little place with her boyfriend that was perfect for date icecream. It shows just how long it has been since I've been in a relationship (or even just on the social scene) that I thought she was talking about a rare type of fruity gelato.

Which puts me in mind...of delicious places to get icecream. I tend to steer away from sherbets and sorbets, instead gravitating toward chocolate, coffee, and things with nuts, but a good pamplemousse glace is perfect on a hot summer day. Being a food snob, I am well aware that 99% of the American shops proudly proclaiming GELATO have anything but, although I can comfortably recommend Marcella's Cafe & Gelateria in Wildwood. Otherwise, Europe's the place. For whatever reason, when I think of good Italian icecream, I think Florence. The most famous place to go would probably be Vivoli or any of a number of shops with miles of cold, gleaming counters around the Palazzo Vecchio; however, I have a special fondness for the gelateria just across the Arno, on the Ponte a Santa Trinita, perhaps because of the views of the Ponte Vecchio have combined nicely with some creamy goodness in my mind.

Anyway, outside of Italy, there are a host of lovely French glaceries...several in Collioure that make me taste blackberry and hazelnut just thinking about them...and I would be remiss if I didn't mention Berthillon in Paris (now thattt is date icecream), but I suppose I should stop all this pretentious reminiscing, and get down to some solid (stone-cold?) facts.

So, icecream is an art (as I believe the above establishes), and one I have not been initiated into, which means I have no particular tips about percentages of milkfat or optimum temperatures or hardness and thickness and creaminess and so on. Bad news indeed. I did, however, find a pretty recipe for another unique (and trendy) flavor that I'm itching to try out, and since I haven't got sufficient freezer space, I will reblog it so that someone can act as my virtual sous-chef, whip this up, and tell me how it went. And I shall live vicariously.

So without further ado...

Green Tea Icecream (for 4)

2 tablespoons green tea powder (matcha)...[yes, so do we actually have to go to an Asian grocery, or can we finely grind tea leaves here?]
2/3 cup granulated sugar
3 egg yolks
3/4 cup milk
3/4 cup heavy cream

1. In a small bow, mix the green tea powder with 2 tablespoons granulated sugar.

2. In a separate bowl, mix together the egg yolks and remaining sugar.

3. Pour the milk into a small pan and gently heat taking care not to let it boil (ideally the temperature of the milk should be 176 degrees F). [...wow...are you sure? Not 179.65?] Remove the from the heat and mix a few spoonfuls of the warm milk with the green tea powder and sugar in a small bowl. When you have a smooth paste, add it to the remaining milk in the pan, then gradually combine with the egg yolk mixture.

4. Return mixture to the stove and heat slowly over low heat (taking care to not let the mixture boil), until the mixture coats the back of a spoon. Remove from the heat, strain through a fine sieve, and allow to cool completely.

5. Lightly whip the cream and then add it to the cold green tea-milk mixture.

6. Transfer the mixture to a large container, chill for an hour or two in the refrigerator, and then put it in the freezer. As ice crystals start to form, remove, and mix well with a spoon (use a wooden spoon and stir very vigorously) to break them up and return the mixture to the freezer. Repeat this a few times as it freezes to ensure that the ice cream is smooth. [There are other ways to make icecream, too...double-lined plastic bags filled with ice, several coffee cans, hamster balls...those would probably work too?]

And there you have it. Happy eating!

PS: RIP Alexander McQueen...I shall miss your elevated tartan.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Grammar (Part 2)

It's been pointed out to me that at least one of the words in yesterday's post could be termed a shibboleth. Which I though was some sort of apocalyptic term, but ends up being a linguistic one. However, its origins are somewhat end-of-days, and interesting to boot, and so I shall share them with you...now.

As you might have guessed, the word 'shibboleth' comes from a Hebrew word, 'shibbólet', referring to either (depending on context) a stream or torrent, or the part of a plant where the grain is located. Original definitions, however, become irrelevant, as the word takes on a whole new meaning in the Book of Judges. In chapter 12, or around 1300BC, the tribe of Gilead conquers the Ephraimites, and as the surviving losers of the battle attempt to flee back across the Jordan, a linguistic difference proves to be their ultimate downfall. The Gileadites, securing the river's fords and points of crossing, ask all travellers to say 'shibboleth', and if they mispronounce the starting phoneme, saying /s/ rather than /sh/, they are put to death on the spot.

Today, the word has come to contain a broader meaning: any telling in-crowd phrase, any cultural touchstone, any marker of class or creed, for intellectual or more visceral discriminatory use, is a modern-day shibboleth.

For instance, I believe the word used in my earlier post that might be considered a shibboleth was ain't. More historically, Wikipedia tells me that, during the Battle of the Bulge in WWII, American soldiers quizzed others on knowledge of baseball, a sport German infiltrators would allegedly knew nothing about. And I most recently came across mention of a shibboleth when trying to determine how to phrase a letter I was composing - was it in regard to or in regards to? Apparently you are to only give one regard...a Mr K G Wilson writes that, "[w]ith regards to is Nonstandard and frequently functions as a shibboleth, although it can be Standard and idiomatic in complimentary closes to letters: With [my] regards to your family…. In regards to, however, is both Substandard and Vulgar, although it appears unfortunately often in the spoken language of some people who otherwise use Standard. It never appears in Edited English."

Yikes. The power of words. So there you go!

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Grammar and Register

It's is not, it isn't ain't, and it's it's, not its, if you mean it is. If you don't, it's its. Then too, it's hers. It isn't her's. It isn't our's either. It's ours, and likewise yours and theirs.
- The Oxford University Press

For more insights, head to your local library for Grammar Can Be Fun, reviewed here.

Monday, February 8, 2010

How to...

Breaststroke.



Oxford interview (take three) tomorrow...hopefully I can stay afloat!

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Robin Hood

In addition to Doritos and Budweiser, the Superbowl seemed to want to push several films, one of which was Russell Crowe's Robin Hood.

So now...here is the real Robin Hood. (As best as I can recall.)

Robin Hood first appears in written poetry and folktales a hundred or so years after he is claimed to have lived, and, as such, the actual man - if there ever was one - is rather shrouded in mystery. However, if he did exist, Robin Hood/Robert Hodd/etc. was probably nothing much more than a petty thief, a medieval yeoman-turned-highwayman. Several legal documents such as local court summons and censuses mention a Robbehod (or 'Hobehode' - that damned Hode) who fails to turn up for his trial and therefore becomes an outlaw. Inglorious beginnings.

Of course, the best place to be an outlaw would probably be in one of the uninhabited bits of the country, and if it's in one of the private hunting forests of the king, so much the better...so there's Sherwood for you. It is, however, unlikely that the original Hood was poaching John's game and robbing his supporters as an act of defiance in the name of the 'true' king; Richard Lionheart was essentially a foreigner in England, not speaking the language of its people (and not even stepping foot on its soil for above 6 months of his life). And it's even more unlikely that he was involved in any kind of communist or fundamental Christian wealth redistribution program; these elements of the story were added well after any historical figure ever existed.

Anyway, the mythical Robin Hood's politico-religious campaign, as well as his core band of accomplices - minus the Friar and, of course, the Maid - are established early on in the timeline of the myth for comic relief and further excitement. It is not until nearly 400 years later that Robin becomes elevated to a disenfranchised nobleman. Also at this point, the chivalrous and romantic addition of Marion enters in.

Interestingly, the name Robin Hood does crop up relatively often in the British history records, apparently as an alias for a host of petty thieves. And of course, the myth around the man lives on, continually being embroidered upon, as a tale of bravery, selflessness, and romance; a story of defiance in the face of the law; or simply a spirited, plucky adventure.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Time for another...

QUOTE!
/ SNOW-RELATED POST!

From Anne of Green Gables to you:

The night was clear and frosty, all ebony of shadow and silver of snowy slope; big stars were shining over the silent fields; here and there the dark pointed firs stood up with snow powdering their branches and the wind whistling through them.

I thought, what with the massive blizzard raging all along the East Coast, I couldn't let the last snow-related item on RecAnth be about how it's never too cold to snow and how (despite this fact) brave British men are willing to walk out into it on frostbitten, not to mention gangrenous, feet and nobly die in vain for their Arctic expedition. Anne has a more serene outlook on even the most bitter of snowy nights.

Tonight is Ring Dance (the traditionally romantic if vaguely creepy debutantesque ball traditionally held at the Jefferson Hotel by the junior Westhampton women of the University of Richmond). I missed last year's due to Oxford, but if the weather lets up, I suppose I'll be heading out this time around...so it's good to know that evening snow isn't always sinister, especially as I'll likely be bare-legged.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Happytown

...and they all lived happily ever after.

......^ ^
.....(O∨o)
......(/ \)
..=="="==


......(i)(i).........(p) (q)
......(~.~)........(>.<)
....o(uOu).......~(u u)
""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Under the Hood

This is how a car starts:

...whoa. I will never be an engineer.

Okay so far as I can tell, turning the key (or whatever) starts a series of computer-run steps that eventually leads to an ignition coil amplifying battery power into a spark that is then used to light vaporized fuel in a chamber. And the engine "turns over."

Also spark plugs.

[For more pretty pictures, go here.]

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Deranged Penguins

Yep. Classic Werner Herzog.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Ancient GPS

Sometimes I think that maps are pretty much the coolest thing ever. Even nowadays, when everything is 'accurate', satellite-photographed, machine-recorded and printed off by the bundle, it's fun to go onto Google Earth or Google Maps and find an aerial (or street-view!) shot of your house.

Anyway, back in the day (whenever that was), maps were highly politicized and highly priced works of art. There's a tiny map store in London run by this fascinating man who could tell you all about it...I don't know nearly so much, but I do know that I'm as intrigued by the scripted and illustrated names of roads and towns and taverns as I am by the changing coastlines, monsters, and mythical islands.

Here's a copy of a map from 1675 showing the road from London to Lands End. As you can see, it's set up like our modern-day navigation devices, with the road always in front of you, and the landmarks off to the side.

Right. Lots more of that here.

So yes I could go on about maps for ages, about how they reflect not so much what is, but rather what might be, or what ought to be. But I don't want to bore you. If I haven't convinced you yet, or if maps just aren't your thing...check out Vesalius' De Humani Corporis Fabrica - same idea, but the body instead of the globe. Beautiful and a little bit repulsive, I think.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Cheat

Well well well...quite the exhausting day...I thought I was going to have a Very Important Skype Interview with Oxford (is the official name...) and then, after getting no sleep, running around like a nervous duck and bouncing my elbows off of very hard objects, and sitting - on tenterhooks no less - in a frigid room for well over an hour, it turns out that there were some technical difficulties, and so launch has been postponed for tomorrow. :Dies:

So armed with this somewhat flimsy excuse, I am not exerting myself at all today, but instead Apple+C-ing from the sidebar. A list of a few of my favorite (Brit) things from oh, ages ago. No. 4 doesn't apply so much any more, and I seem to have had some serious preoccupation with emo-ness...but it's still all fantastic.

Although I won't be reading them this on my interview. It's not "intellectual/scientific" enough. Whatever. T minus 12 hours! (Again!)
  1. Chocolate Biscuits (!!!)
  2. The Phrase "As You Do" (hilarious. maybe.)
  3. Walking in the Rain (no, seriously)
  4. Reduced Drinking Age (because I can...)
  5. The Accents (duh.)
  6. Cycling in the Rain (still serious)
  7. Scarves (both wearing myself and also seeing boys in scarves)
  8. Minimal Daylight (yes, I'm a vampire)
  9. Old Buildings (remember that one summer I went to Architecture School...?)
  10. Indian Food (curry!)