The Crap

The Canvas

The Ominous Van

Reluctantly, they pause in the unloading process to document the occasion.  (This was taken on October 1...already I am backdating incorrectly...).  Also, Dad sees the apartment for the first time!  Hurrah!

Blah!

The ol' bedroom.  A bit depressing, really...

Announcement

Hello all (...anyone?):

I'm going on something of a hiatus for a couple of days, I think...there's just too much else to do before the big move.  (I might backdate some photos of the process once it is all said and done...we shall see how it goes.)  October I'll be back on board though - I've tentatively planned that month to be slightly more autobiographical (although with any luck not overly navel-gazing).  It should be a big month, what with a new job, a new city, and just generally new newness.  Eek!

Wordy

Sorry...today's another link.  (It's been pretty hectic lately - on the one hand, deconstructing my entire life into suitcase-sized pieces, while on the other, rapidly constructing an entire dining room set.  Moving van comes on Tuesday...)

This one is pretty interesting though, to me at least.  This guy has compiled a gigantic list of words commonly found in historical fiction that shouldn't be there.  If you're feeling less negative, at the top there's a link to a list of words that have been around for longer than one would expect.  Not completely sure where he gets his information - although the OED seems to be frequently cited - but it's an interesting skim.

Anyway, some interesting excerpts: 

beige: 1858 as a fine soft woolen cloth, used for dresses. This was originally made from raw wool, hence the color name (first attested in 1879), but it was occasionally dyed, so it was theoretically possible for a lady to wear a bright blue beige dress. Cf. ecru (1869), another color word from French, which is literally “crude” or “raw”, used to describe unbleached linen. 

bit of muslin: I’ve seen this in fifty Regency novels as a disparaging euphemism for “woman” and particularly, “loose woman”, but it isn’t recorded until 1823, and then simply to mean “woman”. Georgian or Regency use is due to Heyer. Cf. “barque of frailty”, “muslin trade”, etc. 

corgi: No problem if the person is speaking Cymric (it’s Welsh for “small dog”), but the word is not recorded in English until 1926. 

grandfather clock: This term for a floor-length pendulum clock is from a popular song written in 1876 by Henry Clay Work. Prior to that time, the style was called a case clock or a long clock. (Accurate floor length clocks are easier to build, since in Earth’s gravity a 40-inch pendulum has a one-second “tick”.) 

marzipan: It was marchpane (French marcepain) from 1394, but English didn’t adopt the German version of the word until 1901. (The original meaning was a candy box, not the candy itself.) 

pervert: This did not have the current sexual usage until the 1890’s. Before then, a pervert was a religious apostate, a convert seen from the rear. For example, in 1860 Thackeray called Henry of Navarre “a notorious pervert” for his “Paris is worth a mass” conversion. In 1879 a religious tract mentioned that Paul was regarded as a pervert by Jews for becoming a Christian. An extreme pervert was the semi-legendary Vicar of Bray, who was twice a Catholic and twice a Protestant in maintaining his position during the reigns of Henry VIII, Mary, and Elizabeth. When accused of having no principles, he said he had one principle, to live and die as the vicar of Bray. The song about him, however, updates his career to the “glorious revolution” reigns of Charles II, James II, William of Orange, and George I a hundred and fifty years later.  

Viking: 1840 as a Scandinavian marauder. The correct “vikingr” was recorded in 1807. In Old Norse and Icelandic, “viking” meant marauding or piracy, while a “vikingr” was an individual. (In other words, a vikingr would get in his boat and go viking.)

TinEye

Here's a nifty little tool that ought to help me give credit where it is due when uploading photos I've stored on my desktop to the ol' blog.  (It's a reverse image search engine.)

For Really Long Hair

Hint: I won't be doing this anytime soon. 

I think I know about one person who has hair long enough.  Maybe.

Speaking of long hair, has anyone noticed that there's this weird long hair cult on the internet?  They use youtube to share ways of managing and styling their long hair?  Weird...

The Nice One Speaks

Hey look - I can do .gifs!

Anyway...from the man himself... 

GREETINGS and thanks from the bottom of my heart and the heart of my bottom to all those of you who have taken trouble to leave messages and kind words on my 65th birthday. I was very touched. However, the time has come for me to toss aside this thin veil of politeness and reveal myself as the miserable bastard I really am. I suffer, as you know, from being referred to in some circles as the nice Python. I am extremely fed up with this handle. There are many Pythons nicer than me. Mother Teresa, for instance. I know she's not a real Python but she was always sending us jokes and it was Mother Teresa who stood bail for Graham Chapman when he was bitten in the back by a mad dwarf in a London night-club. You didn't know that, did you? Of course not, because it isn't true. It's a lie. And lying isn't nice, is it? But that's the sort of person I am. I lie all the time. I also harbour strange and disturbing thoughts such as - if Mother Teresa had been in the Fish Slapping Dance instead of me would John Cleese have knocked her in the canal with a halibut? Of course not. John, being a nicer Python than me, would have found some excuse to avoid whacking Mother Teresa with a halibut.

"Hallo, Mother Teresa. I'm John Cleese. I'm playing the one who is supposed to knock you into the canal with an halibut..."
"Oh yez, you are my favourite. Your silly wanks skit is very good. You should one day write a series about a man who keeps a hotel and hits people who are Spanish."
"Well, that's frightfully kind of you, I may do that, Mother Teresa."
"I think hitting Spanish people is very funny..."
"Yes, well, super. Which actually brings me on to..."
"You are going to hit me today, I think..."
"Well, I've been thinking about it a bit and er... I don't think it's very funny after all. I think it would be better if I gave you an Award For Services To Humanity."
"No, hit me..."
"I'm afraid I have too much admiration for you, Mother...may I call you 'Mother?'"
"Hit me, you stupid sod. What are people going to think if I put on a pith helmet and do a silly little dance and flick you lightly round the ears with a pair of pilchards and then you give me an Award For Services To Humanity? Where's the joke in that, dickhead?"
"It's just that hitting an old lady is not a nice thing to do..."
"Oh, bollocks! If it were Terry Jones dressed as an old lady you'd knock him off the Eiffel Tower!"
"Look, I'm sorry you feel that way, Mother, but..."
"You are a great disappointment to me, Mr. Cleese."
"Well, you're a wonderful person and I'm not worthy.."
"Piss off, you old tart. Get me that Michael Palin. He'd hit me with a halibut."
"I don't think he would, Mother. He's the nice Python."
"Nice? Him?! He's a right little bastard. I sent him a letter once asking to be President of Poppadums for Christ and he told me to go and jump in the Bay of Bengal."

Well, after reading gross and profane slanders like that who could possibly believe that I am the nice Python? In fact I'm thinking of invading Poland next week. And having myself tattooed. Oh, and I'm a Satanist. And I once lent Hillary Clinton money for a house...

NICE PYTHON UPDATE:

John Cleese - exceptionally nice
Eric Idle - voted "Nicest Man In His Part Of The World, 1957"
Terry Gilliam - Absolute sweetie
Graham Chapman - Heavenly
Terry Jones - Terminally nice
Michael Palin - Abominably rude, lying, untrustworthy, decadent, hypocritical, cheese-eating delinquent from hell.

[From here...although I'm sure I've read it elsewhere.]

Kismet

More definitions today...

This time the word is kismet, which (I believe) is borrowed directly from Turkish and Urdu both; its roots go back (with little variation in phonetic form) to Persian and Arabic.  It has also been loaned into other languages, including Croatian dialects.  As to meaning...fate, destiny; providence.

Convoluted Relations

This graphic isn't the easiest to read - there are certainly prettier ones out there - but if you can figure the thing out, it is fairly informative.  Generations, clearly, are the rows, while columns more or less illustrate degree of relatedness.  For some reason, female relatives in the direct line are circles.  What's most interesting - aside from clarifying that whole "first-cousin-twice-removed" issue - is that the percentage of genetic relatedness is included in red.  Interesting that those things match up.

Carciofi alla Giudia

6 small Artichokes
1 Lemon, juiced
Cold Water
Sea Salt
Fresh ground Pepper
Vegetable oil for frying


Add lemon juice to bowl of cold water. Cut and clean artichokes (halve, scoop out choke, remove tough outer leaves, trim stem). Place artichokes immediately into water. When all artichokes have been prepared, sprinkle with salt and pepper. In a large saucepan, heat 1-2 inches of oil over medium heat. Add artichokes cut side down to oil and fry for 10 minutes, then turn and brown tops 5-10 minutes more. Drain on paper towels. Re-season as necessary. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Yummm...

Read!

Bildungsroman: the coming-of-age novel. Examines the progagonist's emotional, psychological, mental, etc. growth as he or she obtains adulthood.

If you're interested, try: Anne of Green Gables, The Great Gatsby, A Clockwork Orange, Kidnapped, A Room with a View, Lord of the Rings, To Kill a Mockingbird, or even Harry Potter.  Or any of an infinite list of other titles, really.

Le Sport

Parkour.  A non-competitive, death-defying, 21st century sport of French origin.

Horrorshow

By some strange coincidence, I have found on the St Andrew's website this terrifying "Face Transformer"...be prepared to scream like a girl.

Here's the original photo of me (several years ago...it was a dark, navel-gazing, emo phase).

 Ick.  That's all behind me now.  Thank goodness.

And now...morphed into a BABYHEAD:

...It's like a vicious reversal of 'Mommy What Will I Look Like?'  Or (nerd) that scene in Harry Potter with the guy with the babyhead.  Remember that..?

And furthermore, me as a MAN:

The sexiest man you'll never meet.  Right?  Riiight?  ...Bahaha.  This dude will give you nightmares, I guarantee it. 

And lastly, I'm ASIAN.

Sort of, not really at all.  But those people at St Andrews are really disturbed.  I could - but chose not to - transform myself into an old person, a Botticelli, a Manga character, and 'Drunk.'

Go on, give it a whirl.

Why

...is this not the topic of my life's research?

For MacBess

Li'l sister Bess is heading off to a year in Scotland (I am incredibly jealous!) and so, in honor of that occasion, I thought I would put together a 'brief' history of Scottish costume.  I was thinking of doing a piece on Scots as a language, but in the end, clothing was more pretty to look at than words.  And what could be more iconic than a laird in his kilt and sporran...or perhaps not?!?!

Because you see, as with so many things, the romantic ideal is a hideous lie.  Right now that lone Scotsman standing on a hill (or marching in a valley, or rowing on a loch), head-to-toe tartan and wrestling a set of pipes that you're envisioning is probably not what most of history has to say.  R. R. McIan's iconic Clans of the Scottish Highlands (published in 1845) is a beautifully-illustrated travesty.  And Braveheart is wrong.  I'm so sorry.

The facts are, though, that proper tartan skirts didn't really crop up as a fashion trend until the 17th century (that's 1600 onward)...and then they were outlawed in 1746 after Culloden...and, to add insult to injury, it has even been suggested that the kilt mayyy have been invented by an Englishman!  Although I don't believe it.   But even if it was, the northern regions of Britannia surely weren't inhabited by ginger nudes until 1599, right?  ...riiight?

Right.  As I am sure Bess will soon be able to testify, Scotland is too chilly for running around starkers.  History major that she is, she'll also doubtless be able to inform us all that the
Highlands were essentially the West Virginia of ancient days (how fitting, knowing the history of Appalachia, eh?)...record keepers really didn't have much inclination to jaunt out to the backwoods and document the trendsetting abilities of the locals.  Which is a real shame.  Despite our not having much contemporary detail about traditional dress from 1000AD onwards, those brainy historians have managed to scrape together a basic rule of thumb for the reenactors to abide by (or, more likely, promptly ignore).  And that is...for most of history, 'Scottish dress' has either been Irish or Northern European. 

Boo.  What fun is that?  Let's just pull out the Braveheart wardrobe!  Freedom!

But wait, you rabble.  I've got more to say on the subject.  Sadly, it's probably going to be a vast oversimplification because I haven't got the energy to thoroughly take into account century, subculture, and social class...but do you even know what Irish and Northern European dress is?  Indeed.

So, back when it wasn't so much Highlands-and-Lowlands but more I-can-name-all-hundred-clans-how-about-you, the Scots (as it were) generally dressed in a Celtic manner.  This included a linen shift or tunic called a léine - sometimes embroidered and/or hooded - which was either either knee- or floor-length, depending on if you were a man or a lady.  This garment eventually became Ireland's (possibly) iconic Saffron Shirt, which was banned by Henry VIII.  Because the point of clothing in these days was protection from the elements, the tunic would be topped by a cloak (a brat, to be precise), and was sometimes accompanied by some sort of leg covering of either leather or wool.  And the style stayed like this pretty much up through the end of the 1500s.

At which point...enter the belted plaid!  This ancestor of the kilt and descendant of the cloak was worn as an outer garment in the Highlands and was, as the name suggests, a long strip of plaid cloth belted onto the body.  Now pay attention, because here is where they trip you up: plaid refers to the cloth - 4 to 6 yards of woolen blanket or rug - and not to any sort of checkered pattern; the belted plaid could be solid, striped, or checked, and in any color you can think of.  Apparently, to don the plaid, one had to place the fabric on the ground, pleat it up, lie on top, and roll (seriously.) like a hooligan.  Rad.

Clan tartans don't really come into being until 1800 and beyond, after the law banning traditional dress was repealed, and well after Jacobites, Bonny Prince Charlie, and the Battle of Culloden.  Only at this point did checkered fabrics corner the market (literally), and only then did Georgian and Victorian romanticism spur Lowlanders and Highlanders of all classes to take to the kilt.   Really, before this point, although Scottish districts may possibly have had local weavers with specific signature patterns and weaves, on the whole, easily-identifiable clan tartans would have been a potentially life-threatening handicap in the lawless landscape of earlier periods.

Hmm...I'm slightly sorry that I haven't mentioned the women's costume...but there's just too much else to cover, and historical authors don't seem to want to dwell on feminine clothing for some reason, so all of the descriptions are vague afterthoughts.  I suppose women would have worn modifications of male garb?

Anyway, I haven't even mentioned accessories!  My first thoughts were mostly erroneous - dirk (a blade), kirk (a church), berk (gasp!) - only one out of three, and if I had really known what I was talking about I would have said sgian dubh instead.  So.  I've already mentioned shirts (long, loose ones, I believe); in addition, depending on era and inclination, one might encounter waistcoats, jackets, coats, and lace-on-sleeves; tanned skins and hides for added warmth; hose, trews (a sort of shorts of varying length), tartan trousers, or occasionally breeches; rawhide leather sandals called ghillies or leather moccasins called cuarans; any sort of hat that eventually becomes the more modern Tam o' Shanter or Glengarry Bonnet; and a sporran, although even this leather-and-fur pouch is arguably a more recent addition.

Now, as to the outfit in action...there's a sort of kilt mystique out there that deserves at least a nod of recognition.  Documentation exists to suggest the Celts fought in battle covered only in woad...I'm not sure about that, but the idea has certainly carried over to more recent Scottish engagements.  Please do keep in mind that the belted plaid at least was a modified cloak and not a modified skirt, and so when warriors throw off their plaids and fight only in their shirts, this probably doesn't mean their 'noble parts' are vulnerable to a frontal attack.  Shirts, for one, were a bit longer than they tend to be these days.  Anddd as to what's under the kilt?  Historically, of course, undergarments as we know them simply didn't exist...but beyond that, I can't seem to get a straight answer.  I'll just leave it with one Scotsman's two cents, namely that "rough wool and cold winds on tender parts build character!"...and we'll have to ask Bess upon her return.

And - I'm sorry - but one last item before I wrap this up - my darling sister most likely won't encounter traditional Scottish garb (romanticised or otherwise) on a daily basis (I think?), but she very well may gain some experience with traditional academic garb.  And so, to keep everyone in the loop, I'll just quote from an instructional guide:

The St Andrews gown is knee length made of a rough scarlet fabric with purple velvet facings. There was a large inside pocket which would conveniently hold a bottle or can of a suitable libation. It was capable of being fastened at the neck with clasps but it was considered unlucky to do so. Similarly, gowns were not washed or laundered...There was a distinct heirarchy to the way in which the gown was worn which again may have unwittingly reflected the braiding and trimmings found on the robes of the aristocracy which designated the rank of the wearer (3). At Queen's College, bejants were mandated to wear the gown firmly on both shoulders. Second years were alluded to as “Semis” which may have been short for semi-bejant. Their increased stature was reflected by the wearing of the gown off the left shoulder. Tertians (third years) left the right shoulder free whilst Magistrands (fourth years and above) had the gown trailing off both shoulders.

Incidentally, if you're interested in another set of Roo family perspectives, she's promised to keep up a blog of her adventures here (although give her a couple days to get settled and 'find her voice'...no pressure, Bess...but it's gonna be totally awesome!).

Help Help I'm Being Impressed

Spent last night watching Horatio Hornblower (mmmmm Ioan Gruffudd)...if you haven't seen it, I'll recommend...

But today I thought I'd briefly discuss impressment!  That's right, the 18th century British Navy's "drafting" process.  The sun doesn't not set on the Empire all on its own, after all.

Actually, this was fairly terrible...apparently press gangs would hang around docks and kidnap any young and able-bodied men they could, and then sell (?) them to the navy.  Life was brutal in pretty much all parts in the 1700s, but in my opinion it doesn't get much worse than being stuck on a moldy boat with a bunch of scurvy men on the eve of a battle at sea.  But maybe that's just me. 

Anywho, check Wikipedia if you're interested in reading a slightly more scholarly look at the subject.

West Country

With discretion, my friends...



This may or may not have something to say about British humour (as we Americans perceive it).

The Most Interesting Blogger In The World

I don't always drink soda...

but when I do, I prefer San Pellegrino Limonata.

Childe Harold

Click here for the full-text version of Lord Byron's scandalous breakthrough work.  Ooer!

Classique

Something different for this Thursday, I think...

Today: Saint-Saëns - Carnival of the Animals...continued here and here (my favorite bits are probably Aquarium and Fossils, but it's all good).

Friday: Ravel - Pavane Pour Une Infante Défunte

Saturday: Rachmaninov - Piano Concerto no.2 (this is just the first movement, but it's played by the man himself).

Sunday: Debussy - Rêverie...well, it was either that or Clair de Lune.

Monday: Liszt - Un Sospiro

Tuesday: Philip Glass - The Hours...I know, I know, it's modern and it's from a soundtrack...but I think it is also very beautiful and calming.

Wednesday: Mozart - German Dance no.3 Have to end it on Mozart...but oh, the memories...I believe we have somewhere on home video the footage of my 5-year-old self throwing a massive tantrum to this song.  In a tutu.

Meh

meh.

Googlogo

Haha the title was aiming for a pun (?) but ended up going sort of John Lennon on me. Oh well.

Anyway, Mom pointed out this morning the new Google icon, which I enjoy but perhaps you do not. Or perhaps you were not aware, in which case:



As long as we're discussing logos, here's a listing of all the themed icons Google has had over the years.  I know.  Apparently they are known as doodles.  So is this latest "ballsy" offering transient like the rest?  Time will tell...

Daily Meme

I enjoy memes.

This one is pretty basic.


Wikipedia has some pretty weird pages on Keyboard Cat and memes in general...weird, I suppose, because it is all so formalized and official?  Who knows.

Here's Looking at Whoclid?

An excerpt from a book I'm interested in reading by Alex Bellos.  About math.  But don't let that turn you off.

Cake du Jour

Everyone enjoys cake - although some prefer pie - but I don't know anyone who particularly likes the expression, "to have one's cake and eat it too."  This is probably because it is so darned confusing (and also because it seems to insinuate that we aren't allowed to eat cake).  I shall try to clarify.

Firstly, what does it mean, precisely?  It's almost always used in the negative, or if it isn't, the feeling is that someone is getting away with something they shouldn't have.  There's a vague idea, generally, that having one's cake and eating it is tantamount to "having it both ways"...which, as everyone knows, you can't.  More specifically, having one's cake and eating it too means that a person has benefitted from two scenarios, one of which should naturally preclude the other; a person has both preserved and eaten a cake.  An entire cake.  The pig!

We were actually talking about this idiom at the dinner table the other night, and someone suggested that taking cake out of the picture would make it more palatable (go figure)...although the offered alternative - have your tree and chop it down and burn it as firewood too - doesn't exactly roll off the tongue.

Outside of getting bogged down in confectionary imagery, the uncertainty this phrase promotes seems to come from two areas.  Firstly, the word 'have'...an innocuous enough word, but with enough ambiguity to throw a monkey wrench (and that's another idiom I'll have to address) into the semantics of the sentence.  'Have,' in this case, simply means 'keep,' but even though we are aware of this, there's probably been enough exposure to "Will you have some of the Triple Chocolate Torte or the Red Velvet?"  "Oh I think I'll have the Angelfood with Strawberry Preserves" to send me, at least, into a state of confusion.  Keep the cake and eat it too or Eat the cake and eat it too?

The second area of uncertainty probably results from a question of sequence.  The earliest recorded usage of the idiom was in 1546, and is, "wolde you bothe eate your cake, and have your cake?"  The reversal of order found in the original phase seems to make more sense, chronologically.  I'm not sure why it was corrupted...the phrase appears flipped around 1812.  I feel that expressing it as "eat one's cake and have it too" even reduces the ambiguity of the word 'have'...maybe because, in the confusing (non-keep) sense of the word, it doesn't exactly mean 'eat', but more 'acquire to eat later'.

Anyway, there you have it.  Hope I've cleared things up, or at least made it so that you aren't sick of the sight of this less-than-delicious phrase.

Boston (Round 2)

Here's a photo of the site of the Boston Massacre, just prior to the landing of ex-hurricane Earl.  Foggy!

The End Is Nigh

Have I posted about the giant volcano that is the entire Western US that is due to blow and when it blows will cover the Earth in apocalyptic doom?  No?  Well I first heard about it in Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything, but it crops up every now and again in National Geographic and so on...and one day, it shall crop up and destroy life as we know it.  Enjoy!

PS: my computer has gone to that big warehouse in the sky (sadness) so I might be a bit erratic - yet again - in my posting for the next few days.  Don't be too distraught!

Striking Out

Something new for me to be freaked out about...

How far (and how high) can a snake jump?  Taking out the semantic question of whether creatures without legs are able to jump.

On less-than-credible web forums, I am getting anywhere from a third to twice the snake's length.  Depending on species.  This is not precise enough for me.

On the other hand, I don't intend to be anywhere remotely near to a snake, so I suppose this is a moot point?  If worse comes to worse, however...I'm now reading on a governmental site that one shouldn't try to cut/suck poison from a bite wound.  Now I don't know what to do...