Thems Fightin' Words!

Last night all grads were invited to Blue Tusk for a pre-semester drink. The restaurant and bar serves many drinks (Chris got a drink she calls "Sprite with two cherries"), beer is definitely their forte. I'm guessing they have around 5o beers on tap. I'm always tempted by Guinness, but I decided to try a War of 1812 Ale Sackets Harbor Brewing Company, since a truck bearing their logo had graciously waited for me to cross a street earlier in the day. I'm still to new to beers to review them seriously, but I liked it, and I liked the name. In some respects it reminded me of Bender, made by my hometown brewery Surly Brewing Co. I susptect there are a good number of beers out there that go by some fightin' words. Maybe I should try the locally brewed ImPaled Ale, made by Syracuse-based Middle Ages Brewing Company.

The Moose Are Safe In This Wood

Our attempt at a class trip to Ithaca may have been unsuccessful from the standpoint of attendance (only five of us went, and my own presence was due to some last-minute coaxing from Chris), but the food we found on the road kept our spirits high. We saved our appetites for Moosewood Restaurant, which seems to have achieved fame in its creation in 1973, especially among vegetarians and vegans. The quasi-vegetarian menu (a seafood dish seems to be offered most meals) is perfectly sized at five entrees and a handful of soups, salads, and sandwiches. I had Sante Fe chowder, a tomato and mushroom pasta dish, and a roasted plum teacake, and all the food very good casual fare. The chefs of the Moosewood seem discontent to keep their creations to themselves, and the restaurant has an impressive array of foods to go and cookbooks for at-home enjoyment, although the books are a little out of my price-range at present.

The drive home was supplimented with icecream from Doug's Fish Fry, which was enjoyable and reasonably priced. I regret to say that we passed by a place called "Googer's Cakes and Things" without stopping. It may very well have been closed, however, since word has it that Googer has moved on to bigger and better things...

A Pose By Any Other Name

After an afternoon at the beach we took a dinnertime siesta and then regrouped at Carousel Mall to see Little Miss Sunshine at the Regal Theater on the third floor. Chris, who's been my angel-of-transportation this week, drove me, and we arrived with enough time to head into Victoria's secret to find a pair of underwear that would satisfy the requirements of a coupon she'd had in her purse. I hung back for the first couple of minutes she was checking tags, figuring I'd be more in the way than anything. Eventually I did jump in, digging through the disorganized piles (in an ultimately fruitless search), but while I was waiting during those first two minutes I noted a rather prominently displayed add featuring model Heidi Klum. Black and white photos of Ms. Klum posing in a smooth black brazier were completed with the following quote, attributed to the model herself.

"Now I have a bra named after me."

Which got me to wondering: what's the bra called? The 'Klum'? The 'Heidi'? Sadly the 'Klumcupper' seemed out of the question. 'Heid' & Chic'? No. Then I joined in the search for panties (solid color; pink, white, or black; $5; and, of course, a size and cut to suit Chris's tastes), and bras had to be forgotten.

But not for long. Thumbing through the newest edition of The Week when I got home, I found a tidbit lifted from this bit in New York's Daily News:

Elle's shock over 'Body' double Klum

Is Heidi Klum a 'Body' snatcher?

Fellow supermodel Elle Macpherson, who's been known as "The Body" ever since Time magazine dubbed her that in a 1986 cover story, has every reason to think so.

This week, Klum has been claiming the title for herself in a saturation Victoria's Secret ad campaign for The Body bra. "They call me The Body—and now I have a bra named after me," the German hottie claims in TV commercials.

But not so fast, Fräulein Klum!

"We saw that and were like, Oh my god!" Elle Macpherson Intimates spokeswoman Melissa Edwards told Lowdown yesterday. "We were initially flabbergasted."

Now it's a battle of the supermodel moguls—Macpherson, the 42-year-old, 6-foot Aussie mother of two, against Klum, the 33-year-old, 5-foot-9 mother of two (with one on the way).

Elle's flack, Edwards, invoked the 1986 Time cover and added: "We have numerous press clippings in the office referring to her as 'The Body.' Everything from Harper's Bazaar to Vogue to the recent Sports Illustrated calls her that. In terms of public record, that name belongs to Elle."

Macpherson markets her own skin-care line, "Elle Macpherson The Body," along with a lingerie brand and a fitness video titled "The Body Workout." Klum—who was once called "The Body Two," in deference to Elle—is a relative Heidi-come-lately, and didn't hit the United States until the late 1990s. Both Klum and Macpherson have been favorites of the Sports Illustrated annual swimsuit issue, and both appeared in the mag's latest.

But what's up with "The Body" doubling? A spokeswoman for Klum and Victoria's Secret didn't respond by deadline to detailed messages.

This had me really confused, because I was absolutely certain that "The Body" referred to retired Navy SEAL, ex-professional wrestler, and former Minnesota governor Jesse Ventura! This led me to recall his expressed desire to be reincarnated as a 38-DD bra. I momentarily panicked, but Wikipedia says he's still alive. Whew. I need sleep. I never thought a trip to Victoria's Secret would have me in such a tizzy.

Good News Wasn't New By The Time I Realized It Was Good

I've had Modest Mouse's Good News for People Who Love Bad News on my computer for over a year now. I wasn't too sure about it at first, but that savagely delightful track "Satin in a Coffin" kept me coming back. Now the whole album is sounding good. I'm usually slow to warm to the albums I like the best and the longest, but this has been an unusually long thaw. Maybe my disdain for bad news stood in the way. Have you listened to this well crafted piece of music? Let me know. Maybe we can get a half dozen responses.

Indirect deposit

I'm trying to arrange a direct deposit of my TA stipend to my checking account. My initial attempt was foiled due to a shortage of forms at the TA Information Fair. Fortunately, I was told by the guy running the payroll table, I would be able to take care of the whole thing online at myslice.syr.edu. Unfortunately, I discovered today, I don't have access to employee on-line services for reasons unknown. Fortunately, I was able to find a printable PDF of the direct-deposit application which will serve the same purpose. Unfortunately, my printing account in the Warehouse has been deactivated until the school year begins, and there are no buses up to the main campus until that same time.

I've also been informed that the wireless network may be deactivated here in the Warehouse for the entire remaining week. I'm praying that doesn't happen, because I have no idea what I'll do if I'm without furniture, transportation, internet, and a grocery store for a whole week.

Spanish For 'Cacophony'

Working on the fifth-floor of the Warehouse I was listening to a new track from the Mars Volta when a raucous chorus of honking cars from outside overwhelmed the music in my headphones. I looked out to see the visible portion of Fayette Street filled with cars draped in Puerto Rican flags and dozens of go-carts weaving in and out down the line. A bit of Googling led me to the most probable source of the commotion. Let's hope that the noise I heard was not the end product of the one-hundred thousand dollar grant from the New York State Music Fund.

3,289 Pages Later...

I'm back in Syracuse after spending my summer as a lifeguard and bookworm. I'll be returning to Moby-Dick, which I left on the shelf for the months I had access to the the Hennepin County Libraries' collection. During that time I read:

The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova
The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood
On Writing by Stephen King
Hearts in Atlantis by Stephen King
Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez
For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway
Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susannah Clarke

Hemingway's book was the least recommendable. I found that the word-for-word translations of Spanish phrases and the awkwardly omitted obscenities stifled the simple and elegant story. I'm hesitant to declare Clarke's book my favorite, but I will say I had the most fun reading it. I didn't quite get around to reading the Domesday Book, despite its new availability online.

Guts

I found another mutilation on top of Chair 1. This time it was...chunkier.

Blood but no guts (thankfully)

I started my day at work at Chair 3, and upon climbing to the top I found myself surrounded by dried blood, tufts of fur, and piles of feces. I can only guess that an owl deemed the guard-stand to be an ideal place for its nocturnal nibblings, which as an abstract idea has a decided appeal to guy who did his fifth-grade animal report on great-horned owls. The reality, however, was quite a different thing, especially for a guy who passed on every science-class dissection except (ironically) the owl pellet. Shredded remains or not, I'm glad to be working in the middle of a nature reserve. Of course, getting to watch a mother duck leading her seven ducklings across the pond a few nights a week certainly helps to offset the occasional unpleasantness.

First Rush

Claire and I celebrated our one-year anniversary this evening with a trip to the new Guthrie, which had its grand opening last weekend. The first official production, The Great Gatsby doesn't open until 21 July, and previews don't even begin until the fifteenth, but a touring production by the Druid Theatre Company of Galway, Ireland, is breaking in the McGuire Proscenium Stage this week. The rather complicated run of DruidSynge involves the presentation of some combination of plays, varying nightly, by writer John Millington Synge. Claire and I saw one-act The Shadow of the Glen followed by the more famous The Playboy of the Western World. Claire and I both struggled to follow Shadow on account of the actors' thick brogue but enjoyed Playboy, which offered more meat to the plot, more time for adjustment to the accents, and more cushion for those lines that were lost upon us.

If the show itself lacked accessibility, the overall experience in the new Guthrie made up for it with a vengeance. The new building was both gorgeous and functional [I'd like to address the architecture in a separate post], and the enthusiasm among the other attendees was noticeable. Claire and I, being on a tight budget arrived without tickets and instead took our chances with the rush line, which sells all tickets at $15 a piece starting 30 minutes before the start of the show. I made certain we arrived early, and we claimed the first spot in line, making us the first Friday night rushers for the new theater. The manœuvre paid off: we snagged sixth-row center-section seats (valued at $55 a piece). After the show Claire and I enjoyed magnificent deserts at the Level 5 Café and enjoyed each others company at the end of the endless bridge, overlooking the Mississippi river.

I'm looking forward to returning to the new Guthrie. And, of course, I'm looking forward to spending another year with Claire.

A decade of May

I made my annual visit to Dr. James F. May this morning, knowing well that it may be the last with my soon-to-be-retired orthodontist. I was still a bit saddened to hear him tell me that future check-ups will no longer be necessary. Trips to the orthodontist, while never fun, have been a reassuring routine in my life for over a decade. The first appliance he installed was a trans-palatal arch, which he and his staff tweaked every month through 1996. On a cold January day of the following year he installed my braces, and from the start of 1997 to the summer of 1998 they cranked on the braces too. After the day of emancipation (in late July, I recall), my visits with Dr. May became ever-so-much more pleasant. Since then he's checked my retainers' fit annually, and has always found it to fit well, and our appointments have been brief, happy affairs. I may not see him again, but I suspect Claire (another patient of his) and I will reminisce on Dr. May (and the suffering through which he put us) for years to come.

New Jacks

My mother and I ate at the newest Original House of Pancakes in the world today, a mere 400 minutes after the doors opened. We both enjoyed the fare; she had pecan pancakes and I had coconut pancakes with a side of ham, and everything on the table—right down to the orange juice and freshly made tropical spread—was vastly superior to anything I've had at a Perkins, Shoney's, Denny's, or IHOP. The dining room was light and beautiful, the lofted ceilings accented with dark wood trim. I had a few quibbles with the use of stone, but I suspect there would be no apparent problem to a less architecturally-minded person.

Fine dining (bread and water)

At a recent auction my dad bought a 100-dollar gift certificate to Tiburón Caribbean Bistro for 115 dollars, the profits going towards ALS research, and this evening we dined at the downtown-Minneapolis restaurant. It was dead when we arrived, but that was to be expected at 5:30 on a Monday evening, and was certainly no indication of the quality of the experience. The atmosphere was pleasant (a large, snaking aquarium divided the bar from the dining room), and the food was excellent. There were a great number of appealing options, so I ordered all four courses from the chef's June specials, which may be a first for me in spite general feeling that specials should be ordered as often as possible. This month's spotlighted country is Cuba; although I can't attest to the authenticity of the food's nationality I can attest to the deliciousness of all four courses, which were: Fried Plantains with corn salsa, queso fresco and topped with lime sour cream; Lobster Stuffed Avocado Salad a light and refreshing salad, served on a bed of field greens drizzled with a light balsamic dressing; Mojo Chicken with a warm avocado mango salsa—sautéed chicken breast with a sweet citrus glaze served on a bed of coconut rice; and Fried Ice Cream topped with chocolate and mango sauces and fresh berries, and served in a fried cinnamon tortilla bowl. I'm hoping a return trip in a later month can be arranged.

Later this evening I went to Kinkos to print photos and to Cub Foods to pick up water for Laura's forthcoming graduation party, and I decided to grab some bread while I was out. Since my local Great Harvest bread store closed during the past semester, I've been having a great deal of difficulty finding a loaf a whole wheat bread that doesn't have that Wonder Bread consistency that afflicts all of the rectangular, presliced loafs in the bread isle. Byerly's the local upscale grocery store has "artesian" breads of excellent texture, but each one uses soccer-mom-safe white flour. Whole Foods has good bread, but its even more expensive than Great Harvest's Honey Whole Wheat. So this summer I've been turning to Cub Foods for my staple food. That's right. Plain ol', brown-bagging, florescent-lit Cub Foods. For some reason they've started carrying high-quality take-and-bake loafs from the New French Bakery in Minneapolis, and the price ain't bad either.

I was, however, slightly chagrined to find myself going through the check-out line with only bread and water, which seems only a step above the chips and soda the solitary young white male shopper behind me had in his basket.

Guns and love disastrous (five illuminations)

(I)
I'm sitting on Chair 1, guarding a moderately busy beach during an uneventful three o'clock safety brake when the boy approaches me. He's four years old.
Are you a lifeguard? he asks.
I am, I answer.
Do you have to be able to swim?
I have to be able to swim a whole mile!
Do you like being a lifeguard?
I do. Does he want to be a lifeguard when he's older?
He answers without the faintest hint of a smile. No. FBI agent. He reveals a squirt gun which has been tucked into the back of his swim trunks. Holding it in the air he turns and runs.

(II)
The water is cool and clear early in the day, but with the strong June sunshine and a frenzy of activity it becomes warm and cloudy by midafternoon. As the sun sinks, it becomes a calm place, even a private place if only up to a foot below the surface. But those deeper areas are enough, and occasionally we lifeguards must remind lusty young couples that the beach is a family-friendly facility—that is to say it is a place meant for the raising of existing children, not the making of new ones. What percentage of copulating couples do we catch? Who knows. We occasionally learn of some incidents only from patrons more observant or simply closer to the action than we are. Sometimes such reports come from children, but, thankfully, their own innocence protects them when we fail. We were displeased, if not exactly alarmed, this evening when a child told us of a couple in the water "kissing and fighting."

(III)
The boys were in the shallow end, pointing their fingers at each other in the manner that has allowed children to engage in bloodless gunbattles for generations. Perhaps these fellows of ten and twelve weren't armed with the plastic facsimiles that have supplanted the fingers and the imagination for this most recent generations, but the older of the two had certainly acquired a modern, gory idea of gunbattles. While "Bang! You're dead!" sufficed for Charlie Brown and the Peanuts gang, who were no doubt raised on nearly bloodless war movies like "Kelly's Heroes," which dispatches dozens (hundreds?) of Nazis without a single bullet wound. This boy spoke in a manner more fitting of young Marvin's demise in Pulp Fiction. His younger duelist was quieter, so I heard only one side of the imaginary showdown:
"I shot you!"
"I killed you!"
At this point the boy's mother cried, "John!"
"I shot your head off!"
"John!"
"I blew your face off!"
"John! Don't talk like that!"

(IV)
I'm riding along Weaver Lake Road, on my way to Claire's house (she's back from the jungle), and I'm gaining fast on young couple walking side-by-side down the center of the path. I shout my customary bicycle on your left, and the girl (who I see is no more than sixteen) casts look over her shoulder. She starts to move to the right, and realizing that her male companion has not heard she begins to pull him towards her. Feeling her tug, he turns to her for a kiss, but she pulls him past her, and he takes a stumbling step onto the grass, evidently perplexed until I fly past.

(V)
A hundred yards farther down the road I come to a stop at a red light. I cast a glance around the intersection and see a large black SUV with windows proclaiming in fingerpaint JUST MARRIED. Inside the groom is at the wheel talking animatedly. The bride is gazing out the passenger side window with a look of resignedness. The light turns green, the bride blows me a kiss, and we ride on.

The reel deal

After two or three years of gentle pestering, I finally convinced my dad to buy a reel mower for our lawn. He took the first crack at it over the weekend when I was busy working at the pond, but tonight I got a chance to try it out, and I was as pleased as I anticipated. It didn't cut quite as perfectly as the gas-powered Lawn Boy, but it didn't do too shabbily either. It was quiet, consumed no gas, and generated no exhaust (which I missed slightly, as the fumes tend to keep the skeeters away). Perhaps the best part was the increased work-out; after a school year of minimal activity every little bit of exercise is welcome this summer.

Oddly enough, I can't find even the slightest mention of their "Classic" mower on the Scotts website. Goodness knows I can find as many chemicals as I could possibly want to spread around my lawn. I'm glad to see Scotts has their priorities in order.

Corruption Of Cocoa

I've been wondering this for a few months now: Are Hershey's Kissables the worst use of chocolate ever? A coworker of mine brought in Kissable cookies—nothing impressive, but not too shabby—but even that level of attention and effort wasn't enough to overcome the nasty taste of those retched candy pieces. Having seen better candies disappear after just a few months, I can only hope this scourge is gone by the end of the summer.

Aspiring Sleuths

I've had a lot of fun with Google's Da Vinci Code Quest over the past 24 days, and I'm very much hoping that I made the final phase, if only because it will give me a couple more puzzles to play; I don't think I stand a chance of winning the speed competition for the grand prize. Both the daily puzzles and the official site play a bit like a Myst game, albeit without the ingenious subtlety of the Riven chapter. Maybe I can pick up Myst IV on the cheap this summer to keep from going through puzzle withdrawal.

Change Of Address

I signed the lease on an apartment with fellow architecture student Nate Chesley. We'll be living on the fifth and sixth floors of 317 Montgomery Street, just a nine-minute walk east of the Warehouse. We're quite excited.

Album with depth

UPS delivered Tool's new album, 10,000 Days, to me yesterday afternoon, and I'm quite impressed. The 11-track disc has—I'd argue—seven complete songs, and the sequencing seems perfect. The title track is actually the second half of the 17-minute "Wings for Marie," a song to vocalist Maynard James Keenan's departed mother, and not only does it feature the band in top form, it includes the most poignant use of a weather soundtrack that I've heard in any piece of music.

The packaging almost lives up the the contents. Unlike anything I've seen, the case folds open to form a stereoscope, which allows the enclosed booklet to be viewed in 3d. I think the lenses would have been better placed inside, so as not to dominate the closed cover, but this is a small detail, and I'm generally appreciative the exquisite—if tiny—artwork.

Power out

I poured my cereal and opened the refrigerator to find the power off. I didn't open it after grabbing a yogurt yesterday morning, but somehow the breaker built into the outlet was tripped since then. Everything in the freezer seems okay, but the refrigerated goods are only a few degrees cooler than room temperature. I'm looking forward to moving out of this place.

Slow Cooked

The class made plans to go to Dinosaur Bar-B-Que after the lecture yesterday, but most folks ditched out and went early. Elizabeth and I showed up at the end of the dinner and got our food to go, finding the wait-time to be exceptionally short. Most of the dishes they serve seem to involve one of three foods (shredded pork, beef brisket, or chicken-breast), so even the entrees are quickly assembled. I had Pork Carolina sandwich, and found that it was easily the best BBQ I've had. The sauce is kept to a minimum to allow the taste of the slow cook meat to shine on its own. The only downside is that it reawakened my desire to go down south and experience the whole spectrum of this cultural phenomenon.

Eye of the storm

A snow that is almost a rain is falling on Syracuse, quieting what might otherwise be a raucous Friday night. In fact I forwent the Devo dance party being thrown by my classmates and instead headed to the Inn Complete where I sat by the fire and imbibed two pints of Guinness, my favorite of beers, while reading Moby-Dick.

But what has happened in my long silence? Michael and I, partners from the start of the semester, had a successful midterm review. Our analysis of power dynamics in the Palazzo Barberini led to a number of interesting iterations and some snazzy graphical analysis. Alas, we had to part ways when we returned from spring break in order to better accommodate the class as a whole, as certain partnerships had to be avoided and other maintained. Spring break was quite pleasant. I met with members of the Minneapolis office of SmithGroup, and I am very much hoping that they will be able to offer a summer internship. I completed my taxes (and sent Uncle Sam a check for what I owed), did homework, and caught up on sleep. Claire started her break on the Friday of my own, and we enjoyed each other's company, both on our own and with my family. The first day back at school I, along with my teammates Kirby and Miep, led an hour long discussion of the film Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...and Spring, which seemed to go well.

Who knows what the rest of the semester will hold, but for now I can say that life—while hectic—is good.

Princess To Go Smoke-Free?

We can only hope. How ship holiday turned to hell: "A smoldering cigarette is thought to have started the blaze..."

No Flower

I suspect the Syracuse chamber of commerce would never adopt it, I've taken to thinking of this place as "Skunk City." I see (and smell) more of the li'l guys each month than I had in my whole life before arriving here. Part of me wonders if drunken students are responsible for triggering a number of the sprays that taint the campus area, but I've smelled skunk downtown too. Tonight I saw a particularly white and fluffy one under my bedroom window as Mary and I drove by, and thankfully I was careful as I approached my apartment because it was very near my door. I gave it time to wander down to the other end of the building before hurrying inside, my kitchen being wholly devoid of tomato soup.

Muster Stations

This article reports on a fire aboard the Star Princess, on which my family sailed during our 2002 Alaskan and 2005 European vacations.

One-two punch

I brushed with Colagate; then I switched to Tom's of Maine. I guess I'm back with Colgate now.

I computed with a Dell; then I switched to an Alienware. I guess I'm back with Dell now.

Since 1985

Happy twenty-first, Kyle!

Thinking(?) outside the box

The back of my Life cereal box asks me to unscramble the following emotions exhibited by Curious George: CORUIUS / HYPPA / SDA. I know cereal box games cater to a very young crowd, but this is just DEPRSSEING.

Sleepless But Successful

I've been busy and in need of sleep all week, but things actually went pretty well. The critics seemed to favorably view the work that Michael and I pinned-up on Wednesday, and my interview with SmithGroup was pleasant and left me hopeful. I interviewed with a vice president of the D.C. branch, so I still need to connect with the folks in Minneapolis before I know the status of the situation. I like the company's work (especially their terminal in Detroit), and their Minneapolis location is extremely close to a Maple Grove Transit downtown drop-off point, so I won't need to drive to work. I'll be a happy camper.

The Sud'

There's something both amusing and likable in the sight of three young black men dressed in expensive, baggy Sean John clothing, over-sized gold chains, and white-on-white Yankees caps sitting aboard the bus in silence, working the Sudoku.

Stowaway

Last night was the architecture school's Black & White Beaux Arts Ball, an event that brought in numerous undergraduates in evening gowns and fine suites, a smattering of faculty in pantsuites and sportcoats, and lump of graduate students in a rather casual array of black and white. I had no intention of attending owing to a lack of time and funds (admission was $18), but since I hadn't left the studio since getting lunch around noon I found myself on the inside of the warehouse without ever passing through proper admission. By chance I was wearing a white shirt, so my attire drew little attention. There was an open bar from 10 to 11, and since I didn't pay I didn't want to abuse it, but I also noted that the ball was impeding my passage to the bus, and I thought a complementary screwdriver would balance things out. I think my trespass was excusable, because not only was there very little Absolut in my drink, I can truthfully say that upon discovering my illicit presence the president of the Architectural Student Association pardoned me for it.

$1.012907 In Change

Class was starting, and Aaron (our professor) and I were still in line for food, so he gave me some cash to pay for his meal while he went upstairs to start the session. His total came to $5.01, and I didn't have a penny, so dished out what looked like 99 cents in change. Interestingly enough, among the pennies was not only a Canadian penny (which are not that uncommon this close to the border) but a two-cent Euro coin, which is the same size and color as an American penny. I didn't want to burden the professor with change, so I gave him two paper ones. Calculating my total when I got home, I discovered that I actually came out ahead, since the strong Euro more than made up for the weak Canadian dollar. Of course this assumes that I someday get to use the Euro cent.

E-Education

My Landscape in Film class is one of a handful of courses I've taken over the years that is dependent on online resources. At Madison I utilized web resources to read countless PDFs, flip through art history "flashcards," and even enjoy a semester of videotaped lectures on landscape architecture. This course, however, represents the first time that I've been required to submit my work online. The course website both provides course information and allows for discussion on message boards. You can check out my first post if you're just not getting enough new material here on the Life and Times (although I suspect you could find much more interesting material elsewhere).

Starting Line

Once again, the semester began with a jolt. Everyone is working flat-out to get a jump on the studio project. I'm as busy as (or busier than) last semester, but the greater emphasis on digital representation is putting me more at ease.

I've begun working with Randal Korman, and I've got some exciting projects ahead of me. My first task was a simple one: I had to find a copy of the photo of architect James Stirling shown below. Fortunately I'd seen it in professor t.l. brown's class last semester, and he was kind enough to share the file with me.

Wrong Way

I think most of us have seen the pretty annoying ads that use half-destructed fonts to tell us that piracy is a form of theft. I am among the many who ignore them, although my inattention comes from the fact that I buy all my movies and almost all the music I plan to listen to in the long term. I also like to buy my software, even the expensive stuff like Adobe Creative Suite, which I recognize represents a lot of hard work from talented people. It's also nice to know I can reinstall and update the software reliably should the need ever arise. So when I learned that I would need Autodesk's 3ds Max this semester, I came home to find the best price. Even the academic edition is pricey, but I was willing to pay. Then I looked at the agreement form I'd have to sign, and I discovered that the academic version (which is the only one I can afford) is altered to mark everything I print as "academic version," which sounds pretty tacky. I don't know how I'm supposed to take that, but I can't help but feel it's a big ol' slap in the face for trying to do the right thing. Sorry, Autodesk, but you're not getting a dime from me.

How perfect perfection can be or The whole "twenty-one" thing (part III)

I had my first tapped Guinness tonight, and it surpassed all my expectations. I've found that Guinness poured from the can is better than Guinness drunk from the can or Guinness that's been in a bottle (no matter how it's served), but the stuff on tap was a whole new experience. Anne told me this when I first had a Guinness back on St. Patrick's Day, but I didn't realize just how right she was. I think my home of the future will have Guinness on tap in the kitchen. Hopefully I'll never feel compelled to move to Ireland.

Foothold Gained

The Indian computer whizzes were able to fix my problems by manually installing some out-of-date updates, which allowed the newer updates to install correctly. I've been able to move on from there myself.
Indians: 1
Microsoft: 0

Clean Slate

I reformatted the Quidnunc (my old Dell notebook) today. This is the forth time I've done so (the last was documented during my first month of The Life and Times), but the process never gets easier. This time I'm having problems with the Windows Update, which can't seem to install the latest version of (get this) Windows Installer. Yes, it can't install the installer.

I'm currently in an SU lab, letting two Indian students delve into technical details that only irritate me. We'll just have to see what happens. I'm thankful that Plumtree (my new Alienware notebook) is doing well, and can see me through this rough patch.

Venitian hilarity

Claire and I ended our time together with a trip to the cinema to see Casanova. My previous prejudices against Heath Ledger were assuaged by his appearance in Brokeback Mountain, which I can respect even without having seen it, and I'm quite glad they were, for Casanova was one of the funniest movies I have ever seen and certainly the funniest I've seen since The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra. The film had the makings of a Shakespearean comedy: a tangled web of romance, an entertaining villain, sight gags, clever quips, and the right timing. Claire and I even got one laugh from the end credits. I also enjoyed the on-sight cinematography in Venice. Last weekend we watched Top Hat, a favorite film of mine, and we couldn't help but notice that the Hollywood mock-up of Venice looked more like the freshly painted sets of Munchkinland than the City of Canals. Casanova delivered the real thing and was better for it.

Employment

I have received the welcome news that I will be a research assistant to one of the faculty of the School of Architecture this spring. I'll be working about ten hours a week for Randall Korman, with whom I've had a few pleasant encounters during the fall semester. He is one of the few full professors in the school, and his biography is most impressive:

Randall Korman is a native of New York City where he received a bachelor of architecture degree from The Cooper Union. From 1972 to 1974 he worked as a graduate intern at the Institute for Architecture and Urban Studies in New York City. He received a graduate degree in design from Harvard University in 1977. His professional experiences include employment in the architectural offices of Peter Eisenman, Michael Graves and Kenneth Frampton.

His teaching experiences include two years as instructor in the Department of Architecture at Carnegie-Mellon University and as a visiting critic at the University of Texas and Kanto Gakuin University in Yokohama, Japan. He joined the faculty at Syracuse University in 1977. Since then, he has taught at all levels of the undergraduate and graduate programs and has organized foreign study programs in Austria, Italy, Great Britain, and Russia.

Between 1980 and 1982 he founded and taught in the Syracuse University School of Architecture Florence Program. Since then he has served as the head of both the undergraduate and graduate architecture programs, and in 1989 returned to Florence as the director of the Florence Center. From 1992 to 1997 he served as the founding director of the National High School Student Architecture Design Competition.

He is an imposing figure, but I'm optimistic about working with him.

Clear Water

I returned from my second of two trips to Eau Claire, Wisconsin this morning. The first was a quick two-nighter in December, coming home with Claire for break. For that visit we stayed in Claire and Melissa's dorm room on campus, but this time we were staying in an off-campus house with Claire's friends Robyn and Marissa, which provided the comfort of some extra legroom. Highlights of this second visit were our tour of the Leinenkugel bewery (where I sampled their Creamy Dark and their seasonal Apple Spice beers) and our meal at Flavor of India (possibly the best restuarant in any Days Inn anywhere).

The Whole "Twenty-One" Thing (Part II)

I managed to get carded at Cub Foods yesterday when I stopped to pick up AriZona iced green tea and Mike's Hard Lime for our New Years Eve Party. The cashier, a middle-aged woman, looked saddened when she saw my license, and she told me that she didn't want to believe that someone with my birth-date was already old enough to drink, but the computer had indeed approved me.

The party was a great deal of fun. Claire and I joined my parents and a four couples from church in playing Hand & Foot, a canasta-type card game. The party ended quite soon after midnight, which granted Claire and me some quality together time before she leaves tomorrow and allowed everyone else to get to bed.

The Whole "Twenty-One" Thing (Part I)

Christmas marked my twenty-first birthday, and apparently I magically became old enough to drink responsibly. So tonight Claire, her older sister Karla, and I went out to Houlihan's to break-in my new adult-status Minnesota Driver's License. I ordered Samuel Adams (2 for 1 during Happy Hour), but was, alas, not carded. The place was quite packed, so we ended up sharing a table with a group of seemingly random Minnesotans who happened to be friends. They all knew each other, but aside from one pair being sisters, they seemed to have no definite connection. They were all in high spirits, however, and before long started including the three of us in their rounds of drinks. The first was a shot of Rumple Minze; the latter - I was told - was a "Red Headed Slut" (1/2 oz Jagermeister, 1/2 oz peach schnapps, splash cranberry juice), but since it was served in an Old Fashioned glass (instead of a shot glass) I'm not entirely sure.

Missing person

Admittedly my posts have been infrequent this month, as they often are in December, but I've been wondering for quite some time what ever happened to Mr. or Ms. Jamessux (I have the feeling that 'Ms.' is correct, so I'll take a chance here). This mysterious character was my most frequent commenter back in 2004 around the election. I didn't agree with her (and didn't really like her abrasive style), but I can be rather nostalgic at times. Since we don't have any fresh material, let's revisit some of my favorite Jamessux moments:

"James, you are so lame. Why do you write stupid nonsense?"

Okay that's enough.

Jamessux, are you out there?

Christmas past

I had a full and enjoyable Christmas. Claire joined my family and my sister's friend Joanna for my official birthday meal at Joe's Crab Shack on Friday. She was ill that night (for reasons unrelated to the meal), so I stayed the night and took her to urgent care on the morning of Christmas eve. She was already doing better by the time she rejoined us for dinner, the candlelight church service, and, of course, opening of presents. The highlight of my collection was a Tom Bihn Brain Cell laptop case for my new Alienware notebook computer.

The next morning we opened stockings (Mom gave me three bars of dark chocolate!) and ate homemade lemon doughnuts. We were joined for a lunch of roast ham by my aunt and uncle and my cousin Karl and his girlfriend Natalie. Pictionary and chocolate chip birthday-cheese cake followed. Claire and I finished the day by creeping ourselves out with the unpleasantly dark movie Seven, and we were both glad to have each other near.

End Of Semester Summary

Since I've all but failed to post so far this month, I'd perhaps best summarize things, real quickalike: 5 December was the final review for studio. It was an amazingly stressful day, but I think my review didn't go terribly. I was told by my classmates afterward that I was "articulate" during my presentation, which is reassuring. Drawing class ended with much lower-key review one week later, although the preparation was actually much more time-consuming. Building systems concluded with an exam on Tuesday that turned out to be quite easy except for a couple odd questions. That afternoon and evening I got all my studio belongings to my apartment and then out of that jumble I picked out the things I needed to bring home. After a very short night's sleep I flew home on Wednesday. Thursday and the first four hours of Friday were consumed by the final paper for my Discourse class. Finishing at 4:45 EST, I wrapped up my semester in the true architecture school style. I'm by no means idle now, but the pressing deadlines are passed.

Intriguing Product

Claire brought these to my attention - the perfect gifts for your favorite geologist, rock hound, or birthstone enthusiast.

The tenth intriguing product is SoapRocks.

Wind And Rain, Respectively

We had powerful winds from yesterday evening until about ten this morning. The afternoon was calm and pleasant, but rain started while a number of us were having dinner at Cosmo's. I rode home from main campus about four hours later, and there was clearly at least ten centimeters of water flooding the roads. It's a good night to stay in and work; I'm glad I came home when I did, and I'm glad I've nowhere to be until noon tomorrow.

Turkey and ham with Netskis and Wellingtons

Thanksgiving was a delightful experience. I enjoyed both my time in the car with Chris and the time at the house with her immediate and extended family. The Netskis were the hosts for the day, but most of the guests had the Wellington last name that Chris's mother once used. I was the only non-relation except one childhood friend of an uncle who was back in town unexpectedly. Chris's cousin James is just a year older than myself, so I quickly came to be called "James H" to avoid confusion; I'm not sure anyone other than Chris herself knew my whole last name. She and I both had the impression that the more distant relations took us for a couple, but we went with the flow since there seemed to be a general feeling of approval and the closer family had the accurate picture anyhow. My cosmo cranberry sauce was a hit with all the aunts, and the fact that the recipe came from a Google search didn't seem to diminish my kitchen cred'. Mrs. Netski was very generous at departure time, and I've been eating delicious leftover ham at every meal today.

Ready for Santa's parade appearance

My Thanksgiving break began last night around 9:00, and it looks like Syracuse got a couple inches of snow since then to create the appropriate ambiance. I enjoyed my first full night of sleep in several weeks, and I'm actually looking forward to donning my new boots for a pre-Thanksgiving trip to the grocery store. Tomorrow I'm joining my classmate Chris for a visit to her parents lake house in the finger lakes. I'll miss being with my family, but I expect that this will be the next best thing.

Which kind of rubber?

I'm doing my homework for Building Systems, and in the process of searching for CSI three-part specs for a Ethylene Propylene Diene Monomer waterproof membrane, I came across product information for All Virgin Hot Applied Sealant, which includes in its ingredients "organic reinforcing fillers." Maybe I just need a break, but it seems funny to me.

Rocking On The High Seas

I decided in September that I would allow myself to buy one new album this semester, so I weighed the matter carefully, wanting to make sure I picked a good one. Ultimately I decided to take a chance and add to my collection not just a new band but a new genre - extreme metal. This past summer I made a habit of listening to the 93X-treme Metal Workshop every Friday night, so I became somewhat familiar with the world of heavy metal on the far side of Metallica. I used the show's website as a foothold and scoped out a number or bands and albums on AMG. After a few weeks of consideration, I ordered Leviathan from Overstock.com.

The 2004 album is the most recent release from Mastodon, an Atlanta based quartet, and it is an excellent piece of music. Like many a heavy metal album, Leviathan's lyrics are rather dark, but separating this work from the rest is the obvious thought that went into them. While not a full-fledged concept album, Levithian is undeniably engaged with Herman Melville's novel Moby-Dick. From the album title to song titles like "I am Ahab" to the lyrics the disc is poetry reacting to the prose. Musically the group is equally strong; the sound is rich, but not cluttered, leaving no room for mediocre performances. I'm looking forward to hearing more from Mastodon in the future.

Talk About Love

I've seen signs in the shelter at my bus stop for a series of lecture-type events hosted by a couple of SU sororities. I support the Greek organizations attempts to pursue education outside the classroom, but I haven't been entirely convinced of the merit of their events based upon the titles. The most current one was "Do Black Men Love?" Before that came "Are Men Dogs Or Do Women Make Them?" I'm not entirely sure what they were asking with that one, especially since I think it's pretty obvious that women make men (along with more women). I guess that using the language of formal logic we could truthfully say that "men are dogs or women make them," but I'm not sure where that gets us.

Honestly I think the sorority girls would do better to follow PBS's Religion & Ethics Newsweekly, which recently dealt with African-American families. The program also had a rather interesting poll about American family values. The most recent issue of The Week references the poll noting that "71% of Americans believe 'God's plan for marriage is one man, one woman for life,' but only 22% see divorce as a sin." So much for the sanctity of marriage.

Centro Confusion

It's homecoming weekend here at Syracuse University, which means that the campus is packed with hundreds of parents and alumni who don't know where they parked the car or which bus will take them to where they need to go. One woman in particular had no clue what she was doing. She boarded two buses clearly displaying "Not In Service" signs" before finally getting on my bus. She and her husband boarded though the rear door and sat down a seat away from me in the far back of the jam-packed bus before the woman told her husband that it'd be best if he went to the front to ask the driver if they were on the right bus. The general chaos and confusion both in and around the bus slowed my fifteen minute ride to a twenty-five minute ride. At one point I saw the bobbing head of a little boy on his dad's shoulders pass by my window moving faster than we were.

Since 1953

Happy fifty-second, Mom!

Of iron and carbon

Our Building Systems class went on its third and presumably final field trip of the semester. This time we went to the Nucor Steel plant in Auburn, NY, and saw some truly awesome things. Within five minutes of donning our safety gear, we walked on a metal-grate walkway over a production line of red-hot steel bars. The day was cold, but the heat coming off the steel kept the whole place warm. The buildings were so huge that I could not see from one end to the other, an effect no doubt enhanced by the soot in the air. The site is a "mini-mill," practically tiny to the major plants of Pittsburgh and Cleveland, utilizing only scrap steel instead of raw ore. The Auburn facility was cutting edge when it was built in the mid 70s, and today it remains for more efficient than its larger counterparts. The experience was amazing, and I would love to go back for a more thorough tour.

Of silicon and oxygen

The entirety of today was consumed by a studio field trip to the Corning Museum of Glass in Corning, NY. Chris drove, and Paul, Tim, and I rode along. We stopped at a busy little shop in Ithaca near campus of Cornell for sandwiches along the way. Professor Munly had arranged for a tour, so we got to hear about the glass-heavy architecture of the old Corning industrial campus before exploring the museum itself. We had a lunch break, and then a little bit of time for exploration. I saw a glassblowing presentation, and had fun gazing into a rather crazy lens. Unfortunately, I didn't actually get to spend much time looking at the actual museum collection, but perhaps there'll be another day for that. We concluded our visit with a tour of the new library, which utilizes some very interesting architecture to control the temperature, humidity, and light to which the books are exposed. It was very dark by the time we got back.

After we got back I took Chris out to eat at a local Indian restaurant as a small repayment for the ride.

A meat and potatoes day (sans the meat)

I was out the door early this morning for an 8:15 field trip to Steps Plus, Inc., a local operation specializing in architectural precast concrete and cast stone. It was pretty neat to see our last few weeks of lessons take form in front of us. Our tour guide was an co-owner and son of the founder. We saw a number of processes, including the coloration of the cement through both sand type and additional additives and the bending of reinforcing bars. Despite the apparent simplicity of the operation and the rudimentary buildings that housed it, the presence of computers and the latest chemical information was quite apparent. Our tour guide explained that chemical advances have played an important role in improving their product, but that the replacement human workers by computers has been the most significant change. Since the electronic systems do a much better job of creating precise ingredient mixtures the overall strength of the concrete the company produces has doubled.

After tromping around the muddy floors past the big metal equipment I came back briefly to start up my new crock pot. When I returned after drawing class I found a very welcome dinner of potatoes and carrots in an onion broth awaiting me. I think I will get much use out of this device in the coming winter months.

Treating

I came home briefly for dinner, and I just happened to still be in when three trick-or-treaters knocked on my door. All I had to give were the Mounds bars that my parents sent me, but remembering fondly my own Halloween treks through the neighborhood, I decided to share the wealth. Still, I was dismayed to be swarmed by at least half a dozen more kids who saw from a distance the light of my open door. I think there must have been pretty slim pickings here on South Campus. I was rather surprised that the family center, usually willing to send out a mass e-mail for any little thing, did not remind us that we should stock-up.

Resuscitation Recitation

The CPR class turned out to be a mildly unpleasant experience. This year it was quite obvious that I would have been better off with a simple challenge instead of the full-length class. Unfortunately, timing did not permit such an option, so I was stuck for the day. While I was able to get out an hour early due to the small class size, it was painfully obvious that we could have spared ourselves at least another hour if our instructor hadn't gone off topic for ten or fifteen minutes at a time. Jennifer is in her second marriage, and she should have married this guy the first time. He's a former Marine (not an ex-Marine; don't ever call a former Marine an ex-Marine because, as they say, once a Marine, always a Marine) because he blew out both knees in service. One of the students in our class is also a former Marine, currently in the Army Reserve, fresh back from Iraq. She turned to him to back up all her stories about how great Marines are, and while I think he was flattered at first, he quickly grew as impatient as I was. She didn't help her case by continually talking about her own heath problems to the other middle-aged women. These problems include a hysterectomy, the hormone therapy resulting from the hysterectomy, her upcoming gastric-bypass to help her deal with her obesity that resulted from the hormone therapy, her cesarean sections, and her fused wrist, which forced her retirement from teaching music.

On the plus side, I was passed the written exam with 100% correct, and no one else was more than half-done with their exam by the time I left. I also got to take some longer walks on what turned out to be a very nice day because the bus schedule was not at all aligned with my own schedule, and I'm glad for it.

Crosses

On Thursday our class toured the construction site of the new Church of the Holy Cross, which was designed by the firm of our building systems professor. It was chilly, but I enjoyed walking around the machinery and exploring the partially erected structure. Additionally, I got to break it my Wisconsin Badgers hard hat, which I recently ordered from TeamOnTop.com.

Tomorrow I go to the local American Red Cross chapter for another all day CPR training session to get renewed for another year.

One Upping

The food on campus is mediocre in quality and rather expensive, so I've made a habit of noting what looks good to me and then buying it (or its components) from the grocery store and preparing it myself.  I made my own version of the Studio Break cafeteria's "Mac & Cheese" this evening.  Interestingly enough, neither of us actually used macaroni.  They use small shells while I selected whole wheat penne rigate.  I don't know what went into their sauce, but I used butter, flour (half whole wheat, half unbleached all-purpose), salt, milk, cheese, and parsley.  I'm pleased with the way it turned out.  As a result of my do-it-myself approach to food, I've developed a reputation in the studio as being the most frugal as well as culinarily ambitious.  I think I like both reputations although I know I have a long ways to go to fulfill the latter.  Still, cooking has been a lot more enjoyable this year.  I think it serves as a nice change of pace from the architecture work, and its nice not having to please anyone but myself.  If I just had a dishwasher, it'd be a perfect pastime.

Live from the Centro

I'm riding bus 9921 home from campus, and tensions are running high. Apparently a campus TV station has been airing a show called "Over the Hill," which, no doubt inspired by shows like South Park and Family Guy, has been using offensive material for humorous purposes. Unfortunately it sounds like the kids running the show have stepped over the line - more than once. The Daily Orange, supposedly condemning the show, ran a huge article that actually glorified it with page after page of (hilariously) offensive material. Really I think the kids were going for a satire, but I can see how their all-white cast prevented them from succeeding where issues of race are concerned. Listening to both sides argue it out here on the bus I'm glad that the controversy hasn't found its way into my studio.

Distance has a way

Google Earth tells me that when Claire and I are in our bedrooms at school we are seperated by 733,900 smoots. What is a smoot? Wikipeida has the answer:

A smoot is a unit of distance used for measuring the Harvard Bridge. It is named after an MIT fraternity pledge at Lambda Chi Alpha fraternity, Oliver R. Smoot (class of 1962), who in October, 1958 was rolled head over heels by his fraternity brothers to measure the length of the bridge. The smoot is equal to his height (five feet and seven inches -- 1.70 m), and the bridge's length was measured to be "364.4 smoots plus one ear". Everyone walking across the bridge today sees painted markings indicating how many smoots they are from the Boston-side river bank. The marks are repainted each year by the incoming pledge class of Lambda Chi Alpha. Markings typically appear every 10 smoots, but additional marks appear at other numbers in between. For example, the 70-smoot mark is omitted in favor of a mark for 69. The 182.2-smoot mark is accompanied by the words "Halfway to Hell" and an arrow pointing towards MIT. The markings have become well-accepted by the public, to the point that they are sometimes used by police to indicate the location of accidents along the bridge.

This was only the beginning of Smoot's career in standards and measurement; he later became Chairman of the American National Standards Institute (ANSI) and President of the International Organization for Standardization (ISO).

For those of you who still aren't keen on the smoot, the distance converts to 1,249 kilometers.

Don't Drink The Water

I just received notification that the Onondaga County Health Department has lifted its boil water order for the southeastern portion of the City of Syracuse. Due to a discovery of E. coli in the public water system we've been primarily dependent on bottled water for the past two days. I've been frustrated by my inability to wash dishes, but generally unaffected since the last few days have been too packed to allow for cooking anyway.

Drawing Field Trip

Our drawing class trekked across the quad last night to the John Crauss Memorial College building to see the Syracuse University Symphony Orchestra give one of their three free Tuesday night classes of the semester. The three pieces played were:
Camille Saint Saëns (1835-1921): "Danse Bacchanale" from Samson and Delilah
Samuel Barber (1910-1981): Concerto for Piano and Orchestra, Op. 38
Johannes Brahms (1833-1897): Symphony No 1 in c minor
I enjoyed the trip, and managed one or two decent sketches. Most of my classmates have a far stronger drawing background, so there were some pretty impressive drawings in the books when we got back to the classroom.

Later in the evening Michael, another student in my class, decided he didn't like the snack he had purchased, so I got to finish his bag of Fritos® brand Flavor Twists® brand Honey BBQ flavored Corn Snacks. I thought they were tasty but was lukewarm to their overly functional name and the presence of MSG in the ingredients.

Badgers Badgers

It looks like the Hepokoski family is getting another Badger. My little sister Laura, who is currently in her final year at Maple Grove Senior High sent in her application to UW-Madison last week...and got accepted this week! Whether she will even bother finish her Duke and Univeristy of Minnesota applications remains to be seen. This turn of events sure makes me feel silly for always pushing the deadlines (and thus subjecting myself to stressful waiting periods), but I can still celebrate with a good ol' Badger dance.

Orange closer to yellow than Cardinal

Two years at the University of Wisconsin – Madison have spoiled me. The campus has not one, but two major student newspapers of reasonably high quality. I was always a fan of The Daily Cardinal, but my preference stemmed primarily from the presence of the fabulously funny comic "Everyone Drunk But Me" by Laura Beth Brandt and the slightly smaller size of the paper. Both it and its major competitor, The Badger Herald had a good selection of news, sports, and human interest stories. (Though not a constant reader I liked the Herald enough to apply for a position on its staff.)

Syracuse University isn't nearly so fortunate. Only one major student paper can be found here, and I suspect this lack of competition is a contributing factor to the overall trashiness of The Daily Orange. The articles are often little more than thinly veiled complaints, the comics are only funny if you are stuck by their randomness, and the sports section is monstrously overgrown (although I realize that this is probably not a bad thing given the readership). As for "human interest" stories - well let's say they take that a little too literally. You can see what I mean in this bit from yesterday's piece "Strap Tease" by Erin Hendricks and Katie Walsh:

Bra Unhooking 101:
- Check to make sure she's actually wearing a bra
- Ease her shirt off
- Feel her up to check on the clasp location

If it's on the back:
- Keep making out while moving your hand to the middle of the back of her bra
- Put your thumb on one side of the clasp, and your fingers on the other
- Pull together, and the bra will unhook easily

If it's on the front:
- Keep making out and move your hand to the front of her bra
- Squeeze the clasp together with your thumb and forefinger
- Twist clasp and lift up on the hook
- The bra will open and leave you with an eyeful of breasts

[...]

What the experts say...
"Whenever I'm drunk and can't speak, let alone get a bra off, I just push it up over the prize."
- Matt Smith, sophomore computer engineering major

"One time I was hanging out with a lady, kind of drunk, and I was looking around for a solid 30-40 seconds for a clasp before I realized it was a sports bra."
- Mike McQueeny, sophomore political science major

"If you're fooling around with a girl who's wearing a black bra and took her own shirt off, take the bra off one-handed. But if you're with a girl who's wearing a white bra and you have to do it all, go with two hands - it'll make you seem like you don't have as much sex."
- Ryan Donnelly, sophomore accounting major

I wish I could say this was anomalous.

Live from the Centro

It's thirteen past one in the morning, and I'm sitting on bus 9950, traveling route 344 from College Place to Slocum Heights via Euclid and Westcott. There are eighteen passengers in addition to myself, and two of them are unbelievably drunk. Both are girls, and I'd wager freshmen (or maybe lightweight sophomores), and they are two of the loudest people I've ever encountered. They've been "singing" (shouting) the whole ride; I recognized "Maria" from Santana's album Supernatural but none of the others. "Jake," who's also had a few drinks but is handling his liquor far better asked them to be quiet, and now they're quite upset with him. One of them is taking a rather aggressive approach, accusing him of being a square, being sexually frustrated, being a closet homosexual (in far less polite terms). The other is trying to get him involved in "the fun," trying to show him how his own evening activities should make him as easygoing as them. Jake's keeping his cool.

The girls got off four stops too early. They had intended to ride to my stop. I'm not complaining.

Bubblicious

Anne sent me some cool soaps, and waiting on my door step when I arrived home this this afternoon was the best smelling package I've ever received, bar none (if you'll excuse the pun). She included a cool print she made along with three bars, all of which I had named as top choices.

Two bars were NatureNate's herbal soaps: Orange Clove (which "has a very uplifting fragrance and lathers up great in the shower!") and Lavender, Rosemary, & Tea Tree with Oatmeal (which "is great after a stressful day, relaxing yet uplifting[...]with the mild exfoliating effects of ground oatmeal").

The third bar was made by Dahlem's Soapworks, and the scent is FarmGirl Clean (a "very fresh and tangy grapefruit scent"). I'm sure Anne took some small amount of pleasure from the fact that I selected a soap called "FarmGirl Clean;" she likes to make sure that her heterosexual white-boy friends (and I'm certainly one of them) remain devoted feminists.

Autumn

On a cool Saturday in September or October, there's nothing I'd rather do that go to Apple Jack Orchards in Delano, Minnesota, eat a few apple doughnuts, find the very best pumpkins for Halloween carving, and then go home to peel apples for my dad's apple pies and crisps.

Nature walk

I undertook a much needed trip to the P&C this evening, picking up the essentials: milk, bread, bananas, and cream of mushroom soup. It was dusk when I departed, and a fog was settling over south campus. My "neighborhood," Slocum Heights, is on the highest ground, and setting out from it was a descent into a wispy cloud. The afternoon drizzle had abated, and the rain that's currently falling hadn't yet begun. South campus is by no means an attractive place; there are no real sidewalks; buildings are built in an almost random arrangement; power-lines mar the little bit of wooded landscape (although less so that the cell phone tower that is masquerading as an amazingly fake looking pine). Despite these short comings, I enjoyed my environment this evening with the fog and the darkness smoothing out the rough edges. Dark had come by the time I made the return trip, and I was using the blue light of the emergency phone as a guide. With my attention so occupied, I was almost on top of the four deer lounging on the field I was crossing before I noticed them. I came onto them once before, but they were much calmer this evening. I must have come within ten meters, and they did no more than watch me carefully.

I've spent the remainder of the evening reading, writing, and snacking on a pumpkin doughnut while listing to the rain.

Meanwhile back in the Madtown

I saw that the Wisconsin State Journal has an update on my former professor Keith Cohen today. I wrote about Prof. Cohen back in March.

Cohen, 60, pleaded no contest on July 28 in Milwaukee County Circuit Court to one count of exposing a child to harmful materials. He was sentenced to two years' probation and 30 days in jail, with work-release privileges.

His jail sentence started Aug. 26 and ends Sunday. Starting Aug. 29, Cohen had been serving part of his work release on campus. He wasn't teaching classes, but he commuted to Madison to work at Van Hise Hall, where his office is located....

"Our goal throughout all of this was to find productive work for Cohen - since we are required by law to pay him - that would keep him away from students as well as staff and faculty," [UW- Madison Provost Peter] Spear said. "Now that our investigation is complete and we have determined that he should be terminated, we have decided to remove him from campus immediately."

The full article is here. I hope the thirty days knocked some sense into the man, but I also hope that he's okay and that his friends among the faculty can forgive him.

Since 1984

Happy twenty-first, Claire!

Centipedes

I've long had a significant fear of centipedes, a prevalent and speedy pest in my parents' home. Over the past five years, I've been working to overcome my fears slowly but surely. I still call for someone else to kill the bugs if the possibility exists, but I've gotten much better at dealing with them when I'm home alone. I started with a broom, worked my way up to a paper towel with rubber gloves on, and this summer was able to get a small one without the gloves.

As no one has come to live in the other bedroom in my apartment, I'm quite alone here. Alone aside from the centipedes, I should amend. So far they've all been in my kitchen, moving back and forth from under the fridge to a crack between the floor and the frame of the door to the outside. I've usually caught them in the mornings, and they've always managed to get back to the crack before I could react. Coming home late this evening (or early this morning, if you prefer), I found a couple when I flipped on the light. I think they were confused by an apparent early dawn, and they froze long enough for me to take them out with two slaps of my sandal.

I don't want to jinx myself, but I'm hoping that if I have to continue to deal with the creepy little buggers this year, I will be able to kick my fear once and for all.

Treading Lightly

I think whoever had this apartment last year must have had a stapler fight with someone. About every second or third day I step on something sharp, and then have to get down on my hands and knees and work a staple out of the carpet. I'm not getting any better at removing the staples - this morning's took be a while to work out - but I am getting better at easing up as soon as I feel something sharp digging into my foot.

A toaster pastry toaster

I'm still lacking a number of things around here, but - thanks to a midday shopping trip - a toaster is no longer one of them. The number of stores I can reach is essentially three: a P&C supermarket, a CVS drugstore, and the school bookstore. The P&C is the only one within walking distance, so if they sell what I want, they usually get my business. I was a little hesitant to buy the generic ten-dollar toaster that was displayed prominently on their shelves, but then I spotted a Toastmaster model selling for twelve, and I had at least heard of Toastmaster, so I went for it.

It looks like most of the shoddy toasters that fill American homes, but hopefully it will last me a year or two. One aspect of this toaster, which was not depicted or advertised on the box, is an odd one, however. Like most toasters it has a dial that controls the darkness of the toast by changing the duration of the heat time. Most say "light" and "dark," or perhaps "LO" and "HI" at opposite sides of the dial as a guide to the user. Mine says at the far end "dark" quite simply enough. But, turning counterclockwise, one finds not "light," but "pop-tarts" in the ridiculous red lettering that was their logo for a couple years in the early part of this decade. The instructions make it clear that this nifty device will handle bread as well as "non-frozen shelf pastry."

I will conclude by passing on to you these inspiring works found at the end of the English-language section of the instruction manual: EVERYBODY EATS. It's a fact of life. But sometimes preparing meals can become a chore. That's why TOASTMASTER has been invited into millions of kitchens just like yours so we can HELP YOU MASTER your mixing, baking, grilling, toasting, brewing, heating and serving tasks WITH EASE AND STYLE. The TOASTMASTER name stands for a CELEBRATION of INNOVATION designed to serve your life and keep you COOKIN' IN STYLE.

Salt City

I made the surprisingly short journey to Syracuse on Monday. Claire drove me to the Minneapolis/St. Paul International airport (far too few days after she picked me up there after the family vacation). I took a taxi from the Syracuse airport to the campus, which was only twenty-minutes away. Syracuse is not a pretty place, nor is the south campus where I live, but the main campus seems nice enough. It, like Madison, was blighted by the construction of the 1960s, 70s, and 80s, but less so, I think. I haven't been able to start my meal plan yet, and food has been my biggest trouble thus far. After some trouble I found a grocery store within walking range. I have to trudge through a hilly field, but until the snow falls I'll enjoy it. (I saw a doe and two fawns this evening on my way back.) I don't have nearly enough kitchenware, but at least I was able to get some pots and pans this evening. I'm hesitant to buy too much, because I still don't know if I'll be getting a roommate or not. The extra space and quiet is nice, but I'm sure having a roommate would be nice at times. One such instance would have been my first morning here. When the toilet turned into a geyser. Yup. Coulda used another pair of hands then.

Silence

I realize that it's been a long time since my last post, but I have a good excuse (two of them actually). I left with my family for a two-week vacation in Northern Europe at the beginning of the month. We've been back since Sunday, but I've been increasingly sick. I had a fever of 102 last night.

Hopefully more regular posting and my good health will be back shortly.

Passing

I very much enjoy the time I get to spend outdoors both on my way to and while I'm at Elm Creek Park Reserve. At the pond we can often hear pheasants in the surrounding grasses and biking home through the park, I often catch a glimse of young rabbits who are only a few inches long. Their youth is very apparent when I pass them, and they dart in three different directions before deciding to take cover in the tall grass, a refuge to which the older rabbits would take immediately.

Even out of the park, I've had some interesting interactions will animals (and people) on my path. Last week, I was biking next to Hemlock lane under I-94, and a morning dove was walking a very straight line right down the center of the bike path. When I neared it, the little bird "pulled over" to the wall on the left, giving me pleanty of room to pass by. When I looked over my shoulder a few seconds later, I saw that it had moved back to the center and was continuing its very linear journey. Later on that same ride, I approached two women who were walking shoulder-to-shoulder, taking up too much of the path for me to comfortably pass. I called out to them in my usual manner of bicycle on your left! The woman on the left attempted to step forward and right to give me room, but she was thwarted by the woman on the right who attempted to step forward and left, apparently mixing up left and right for a moment.

As a bicyclist in a city dominated by cars and clueless power-walkers, I've found the animals to be (generally) much easier to share the roads with. I add 'generally' because the Canada geese are just downright nasty.

Which opposite of quick?

Both the Elm Creek swim pond and the Maple Grove Community Center pool are frequented by a number of mentally disabled persons. Wading in the water is apparently an exciting and enjoyable activity for many of them. In some ways I think they get to have more fun than anyone, since they retain a child-like enthusiasm for such a simple pleasure even after they are large enough to take advantage of the deeper water. Sometimes they require some extra patience, but usually I find them to make enjoyable patrons since due to their obvious joy.

Today I was in the men's bathroom applying sunscreen before work started, and I had the place to myself. I looked up and saw a man approaching my very slowly. His age was difficult to guess, and his face was disfigured. His crooked mouth gaped open, and one brow was enlarged to the point where he seemed to be limited to sight from the eye on the opposite side. He walked with a limp, his arms stretched out in front of him. I wasn't sure if I should move out of his way or stay still to make navigation easier for him. I decided to stay still, but just as the man neared me, another man, similarly disfigured, entered the room, walking in an identical manner. I was suddenly struck by their similarity to zombies of films. Their lifeless gaze, clumsy gait, and outstretched arms made them dead ringers for the walking dead.

And for just a moment - no more than a single second - I was afraid. I told myself that I was being ridiculous, but my immediate follow-up thought was, maybe that's what all the people in the movies tell themselves. But, of course, my instant of fear was silly, and I was glad it did not prompt me to act. The first man only brushed my shoulder with his arm, and I realized as he passed me that he was merely sticking to the right wall in order to navigate the room. I watched to make sure both men made it to the toilets, and then I departed into the summer sun.

High praise

This evening there were a large number of bikes still locked to the rack when I left the pond for home. Several guys (a couple adults, a few kids, all male) were there with me, unlocking their bikes and packing their bags. A kid of about ten was parked next to me, and he watched me unlock my bike, stow my cable in its mount, turn on and attach my headlight and taillight, and clip in my water bottle and computer. His eyes widened and he said to me in an awed voice, Your bike has everything. I have a hunch that's about as high as praise comes from a ten-year old bicyclist.

All that flitters is not a goldfinch

In the late spring there was a beautiful pair of goldfinches that could often be seen around the yard together. The birdfeeder in our youngest ash tree only accepts small birds, and they tended to prefer that one. Since then one of the birds left and the other one has remained. It has a dull coat, but I don't know if that means if it is the female or if the male has lost his bright plumage since the end of mating season. Whichever one it is, it spends much time in the trees or at the feeder by itself, but occasionally comes to peck at our windows. It will flitter at the bottom of the window for minutes at a time, tapping its beak against the glass. At first I thought it was trying to get in, but earlier this morning I saw it doing the same thing to the sideview mirror of our neighbors' Jaguar. I suppose this whole time its been seeing not what's inside, but what's reflected from the outside—namely its own reflection. I think it's a very lonely bird.

Intriguing Product

We had a Forth of July party at work yesterday, potluck style. I brought in puppy chow (the well-known chocolate Chex cereal concoction), which competed with a large number of deserts. Perhaps the best thing I tried was an excellent jarred salsa. I was pleased to see that it was a local product to boot.

The ninth intriguing product is Salsa Lisa.

London, Illinois

Apparently my school selected suitemate Jared London will not be attending Syracuse after all. I talked to his mother this morning, and she informed me that he will be going to the University of Illinois. I don't know what he will be studying. I think I'll be calling the housing department soon to see if a new name is available.

Beginning

This evening marked the official end to my being "single," something that I've been since 23 January 2004. Who has set me free from this label? I suspect any regular reader could guess that it's Claire.

Botany refresher

Claire and I went to the Weisman Art Museum this morning. We went specifically to see Fresh Cuts, which was billed as "an international exhibition of the American Society of Botanical Artists." We both enjoyed it a great deal, and Claire helped me summon some botany terms from the dusty corners of my memory. I'd like very much to relearn what I knew in the fall of 2003, especially now that I'm so enthusiastic about someone who's enthusiastic about plant biology.

We both particularity appreciated a watercolor of rhubarb by Maine artist Hillary Parker. My favorite piece of the day, however, came from the West! Frank Gehry and the Artists of Venice Beach, 1962-1978 exhibit. Guy Dill's 1971 work Untitled (17 Wood Blocks), a fascinating sculpture held together by tension in the ropes and friction between the blocks.

Heat

It looks like we're in for a hot one today. The temperature is rising so fast that I can stand and watch the tenths-place on the (digital) thermometer change. The predicted high for the day is 95, and the heat index is expected to surpass 100 easily. I suspect the beach will be packed, numerous parents will loose their children, and I'll come home absolutely exhausted. I much preferred the cold and stormy conditions we had on Monday; lightning kept us closed for much of the day, and no one returned to the water afterwards. I figure I got paid a dollar a minute for the time I was actually working. I suppose the slow days and the insane days balance each other out.

Changes

Today marked my first full day of work as a lifeguard at the Elm Creek Park Reserve swim pond (which is generally far more pleasant than my job at the Maple Grove Community Center pool). I also learned that I will be living with a fellow named Jared London next year. I was given a phone number; I'm hoping I can call him sometime this week.

III

Claire and I just returned from Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. It seemed long and every scene with Natalie Portman was cringewothry, but I liked it on a whole. The actor playing Skywalker did a very good job (somewhat better than he did in Episode II and much better than the child actor did in Episode I).

Service

One of the unfortunate results of my decision to drop out of high school after my sophomore year (to attend college) was that I missed out on the National Honors Society activities. Since I had dropped out of my church even earlier, I really never did much community service. I've always prided myself on being involved in my educational communities: I was a greeter and pass-runner in junior high; I assisted my Spanish teacher in senior high; I was a resident assistant at Simon's Rock and involved myself in numerous aspects of campus life; I ran the Honors Student Organization film society for one semester at Madison. But other than working on Simon's Rock's adopted highway, I haven't done much of the kind of community service that most résumé-conscious students do.

Tonight, I made a first step to amend that. My family's church (and probably the only church with which I will ever feel any connection), Pilgrim's United Church of Christ, hosted a banquet for the school district's Special Education Parental Advisory Council. The over the course of the two-hour affair a number of community members were honored for their contribution to the lives of students with special needs. About ten members of the church served a dinner of homemade spaghetti with Olive Garden salad and breadsticks to the entire group of about seventy people. My family of four were actually the only servers (the rest cooked and washed dishes), and I think we did a pretty decent job. Our whole family wore black pants and white shirts, and I think it made up for our somewhat unprofessional technique. My mom had drilled us on proper serving technique in the car on the way over, but the tables were too cramped for us to actually follow etiquette. We were also hampered by the less-that-ideal planning, which meant that we had to wash and reuse utensils a number of times throughout the meal. Fortunately, the nature of the dinner/presentation gave us the time we needed. My feet are sore, but it was a rewarding experience.

Last Letters

All of my grades have been posted. I received an 'AB' in James Joyce; I'm quite pleased with that since the course was not recommended for anyone but advanced English majors. My GPA for the semester was 3.647, which raised my cumulative GPA to 3.569, which isn't up to my Simon's Rock level (stemming from the combination of harder math classes and the replacement of the 3.667 'A-' with the 3.500 'AB'), but it's not shabby either.

Caffeination

I worked a shift at the Osseo Junior High School pool this evening. It's not my favorite job since its a number of uninterrupted hours of sitting in the same chair watching swimming lessons, but tonight was at least made interesting by one of the assistant instructors. When I arrived she was conversing with her co-workers:

AMY: So, I had six Mountain Dews and two Caribou Coffees.
KYLE: All today?
AMY: Yeah. I'm so wired, but I think its wearing off. I'm just happy I'm not pregnant.

A few hours later, Amy walked by my stand.

JAMES: How's your caffeine fix holding up?
AMY: It's pretty much gone. I'm so tired.
JAMES: At least you'll sleep well tonight.
AMY: I won't though.
JAMES: Why not?
AMY: I'm afraid of the dark.
JAMES: That'll do it.

Wine Instead Of Bourbon

I'm home, and although I don't have all my grades yet I suspect I've graduated from college. In 16-18 weeks my parents should find in their mail a diploma that proclaims that I hold a Bachelor of Arts in mathematics.

I know that bourbon is the drink for a college graduate (when he's not being seduced by Mrs. Robinson or scuba diving in the backyard pool), wine is more to my liking. Breaking from our pleasant trip home, my dad and I took a tour of Wollersheim Winery, a vineyard not far outside of Madison which was founded by the same man who founded the first vineyard in the Sonoma Valley in California. The tour concluded with a wine tasting, and I tried five wines starting with a chardonnay and ending with a port. I helped my dad with the shopping, and he was kind enough to buy a bottle of the port at my request. I was rather tired from a very short night of sleep (90 minutes), so we kept the music going to stay awake during the drive back. We played Nine Inch Nails, Dave Matthew Band, The Smashing Pumpkins, and CAKE, so I was happy despite my drowsiness.

I'm not sure how often I'll be posting this summer, but I suspect it will be somewhat less frequent than I do during the school year.

[I didn't mention the tasting in the first draft of this post since I wasn't sure if I should have been carded, but it seems that Wisconsin state law allows minors to consume alcohol in the presence of their parents independent of location, a somewhat looser exception to the drinking age than that to which I'm accustomed here in Minnesota. Thanks to Claire with her unsettling extensive knowledge of drinking laws for the tip.]

A Needed Pick-Me-Up

Despite taking my preparatory studying seriously, the Cryptography exam was still like a sledgehammer to the face. I actually took a moment to calculate the exam's probable affect on my GPA. (I still expect to graduate.)

On my way back from the exam I popped into to Walgreens to buy a 16 oz. "double size" can of ROCKST★R Energy Drink, which I discovered during the finals period last December was a caffeine source much to my liking. As I continued back toward the Highlander, I ran into a stand with people handing out free 8.4 oz cans of the same stuff. I asked the guy who handed me a can, "Where were you when I was down the street buying a big can?" He looked surprised and asked me if I had the can on me, which, of course, I did. I showed him and he told me I could have either a t-shirt or a cap. I'm not a cap guy, so I took a t-shirt, which actually looks pretty cool. It was a pick-me-up without the caffeine.

(I note that the Oxford English Dictionary uses a quotation from Ulysses as an example for a very different definition of 'pick-me-up':

2. A woman who readily allows herself to be picked up; a prostitute. Cf. PICK-UP n. 3. 1922 JOYCE Ulysses 49 She lives in Leeson park, with a grief and kickshaws, a lady of letters. Talk that to some else, Stevie: a pickmeup.

which comes from lines 3.429-430 in the Gabler edition.)

Back From The Windy City

I'm back from my thirty-hour trip to Chicago. After the show I caught the Blue Line to Washington, then transferred to the Red Line, which I took to 47th, where I took the #15 Bus to Hyde Park. It was an interesting trip, taking me through a variety of socio-economic regions. The neighborhood where the Congress is located isn't great, and I was glad to be amid a stream of departing concert-goers. I'm pretty comfortable on the trains, but the bus was a pretty intimidating place. I was the only white face of twenty or so people, and I was essential unable to understand the other passengers because of their South Side dialect. Eric, fortunately, had given me very good instructions to his place, and I got there without incident or even having to pause to get my bearings.

It was good to see Eric again, and I took him to a diner for breakfast this morning to repay him for the use of his couch and the hours of sleep I cost him. We said our goodbyes, and I caught the #15 to the Green Line, which I took up to the Loop. I met my freshman-year roommate Kyle and his long-time girlfriend Megan in Millennium Park. We spent our time together wandering through the starting grounds of an impressively-sized Polish independence parade, visiting the Shedd Aquarium, and eating stuffed pizza at my usual Giordano's.

My bus ride on Friday had been late due to a combination of the time needed to load a wheelchair-bound passenger and serious congestion in the Chicago area, but the return trip was quiet and speedy. Amanda and Leah, the two RAs on my floor, greeted me as soon as I walked in the door, asking how the concert went, and it felt good to be back.

Broken/Fixed

I saw Nine Inch Nails at the Congress Theater in Chicago on this evening. The venue was quite nice; although it needed to be repainted, it was good enough shape that it seemed "historic" rather than just "old." The audience of about twenty-six hundred felt just right. This was my first concert with general admission seating, and I was apprehensive about ending up in the back corner, but it turned out to be just fine. Actually, there were definite advantages to the approach. The head-banging, fist-pumping fans settled to the main floor, and the less active, lets-watch-and-listen fans drifted to the balcony. I was quite pleased with my seat in the second row, which allowed me to watch the show and the fans below. I was close enough to distinguish band members, but not see facial expressions.

The Dresden Dolls opened, and I found them to be as enjoyable live as in their studio release. I knew that vocalist/pianist Amanda Palmer put on quite the dramatic act, but I was surprised by the showmanship of percussionist Brian Viglione. An entire ballet was performed between his shoulders and the tips of his drumsticks. It was a joy to watch him (whenever I wasn't being distracted by Amanda's gymnastic, striped-stockinged legs, that is). I was quite pleased to hear "Coin Operated Boy" and "Half Jack," and I enjoyed both covers they performed.

Good Day
Gravity
War Pigs (Black Sabbath)
Missed Me
Coin-Operated Boy
Port Of Amsterdam (Jacques Brel)
Half Jack
Girl Anachronism

The NIN set was marred by technical difficulties. Reznor's microphone was the only thing properly miked, so the "The Frail" was all but completely lost, and "The Wretched" was pretty much drumming and vocals. I was disappointed that the songs were not repeated properly. I wouldn't be surprised if Trent Reznor had been screaming at people backstage, but to the audience he was humble and apologetic regarding the technical difficulties. I was also disappointed that the set included so few tracks from With Teeth, especially since I so enjoyed what few songs did make it into the show. Highlights of the show included the performance of "Home," the vinyl-only b-side for "The Hand That Feeds," and "With Teeth," during which Reznor actually played tambourine. "Piggy" had an enjoyable extended outro, and "Closer" included an instrumental which I believe may have been borrowed from "The Only Time."

The Frail
The Wretched
[remedial sound check]
Wish
March Of The Pigs
The Line Begins To Blur
Piggy
Terrible Lie
Burn
With Teeth
Closer
Home
Reptile
The Big Come Down
Gave Up
The Day The World Went Away
Suck
Hurt
The Hand That Feeds
Head Like A Hole

The was no encore, but I understand this is normal for NIN.

Sinking De Mayo

I had my last James Joyce class today; I'm feeling more down about it than I expected. Ulysses buoyed up my spirits during my loneliest moments this semester, and I haven't gotten to know my classmates so well in any other course since I left Simon's Rock. I feel like a simple letter grade, even a good one, is an unsatisfying conclusion.

For Hitler...And Germany!

Sarah and I just returned from a highly enjoyable evening of singing, dancing, and swastikas, which is to say that we just returned from a production of Mel Brooks's Broadway hit The Producers. We were in row N of the third balcony, our backs to the wall and our eyes cast rather far downward. No, our seats weren't the best, but for the ten dollars I paid for each ticket, I can't complain. (The Honors Student Organization picked up the other 23.50 that comprised the group-rate price.) The musical isn't really my format, but this one was funny enough for me to forgive the long stretches of singing and dancing.

This week reminds me of the first week of May 2003, when I saw Ballet Hispanico on Friday 2 and Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds on Monday 5. Hopefully this week's second musical event, Nine Inch Nails and the Dresden Dolls, will be as enjoyable.

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