Gypsies and Owls

Thanks to the NYT for alerting me to the existence of The Orwell Prize. A simple, but genius, premise, The Orwell Prize makes George Orwell's diary entries available to readers 70 years to the day that they were written.

While hardly as intense as 1984 or Animal Farm, I'm already hooked on Orwell's observation of slugs, weather, and the sloe gin making traditions of the Gypsy caravans that made their way through his area of England. It feels like it comes from a place much more remote than 70 years ago.

Perhaps this is the perfect solution to my inability to sit down and read anything for more than 45 seconds.

Governor Patterson's Migraines

WWW wrong here, summarizing the best of the NYT's headache coverage:
The Governor has a headache. Many people needed to comment on this story, and most of them are assholes.

Boy next door makes pants

I'm really excited to have a Staff Favorite on the Venus website today. Check it here.

What's fun about this piece is that I have known Matt, half of Swrve, since I was in first grade when we were about the only kids living in the same apt. complex. We used to get together and play with Matchbox cars.


I remember that he could always make me laugh. Somehow it doesn't surprise me at all that he went on to start his own DIY clothing company. They were even featured in the NYT last year.

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Now playing: The Breeders - Bang On

Client 9

I do not accept your apology, Gov. Spitzer. I voted for you.

If you haven't already heard, read what the NYT has to say here.

I will now resume my regular blog programming: I have a migraine, and I am searching the house for a three-dimensional rhombus and something that is "not a polygon" so that Henry can complete his homework.

Jeff Tweedy's Migraines

The New York Times continues its valiant effort to offer up comments from more famous and interesting migraine sufferers. So considering migraines and music are two of my favorite non-kid topics, I would be remiss if I didn't link to what Jeff Tweedy has to say.

After reading it myself I have two comments. No one has ever offered me Vicodin for my headaches - as he says it worked no better than Imitrex. It completely amazes me that most of his headaches are now treatable with Advil. One thing I have learned by reading these accounts is that we migraineurs are a heterogeneous bunch. Also, I have had headaches two out of the last three days.

Obligatory Henry update: Things seem to be going better. Nowhere to go but up, right? The school psychologist, who appears to be competent and helpful, and somewhat contrite, has gotten involved working with his teacher more directly. We shall see. I am not going to pat anyone on the back just yet.

My favorite Wilco song: Jesus, etc. from Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, which preceded Tweedy's detox.

Interesting side note - it is now easier for me to post songs than to link to what I am listening to because I can no longer open iTunes without crashing the computer after installing our router and linking to TiVo. Ironically, I can listen to all my music through my TV.

The Wrong Kind of Work

So I'm fresh out of writing assignments today. Plus Henry caught Lucy's cold and has been home for two days, so I have only left the house to deposit the Valentine's day party supplies at his classroom today. I have actually found myself cleaning out of boredom, and this frightens me.

There are a lot of other things I could be doing, like reading one of the three engrossing articles the NYT has printed recently on migraine, only I have discovered that the children do a better job of entertaining themselves if I appear to be busy and sitting at the computer quietly does not meet that definition. Maybe my neurologist is reading them. Hmm, prolly no. The comments alone are amazing. I highly recommend them to anyone else with chronic headaches.

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Now playing: Field Music - Working To Work

Ich Habe Genug

A while back the lovely Auntlyh tagged me for a book meme, which I'm finally getting around to doing.

I don't read as much as I used to (i.e. before I had kids) but I do have a couple of things going. Yesterday I read The Principles of Uncertainty, the wonderful book by illustrator and New York Times columnist Maira Kalman. I read it in one day because it's a picture book for grown ups! (Take heed parents of young ones, you need not read only sleep manuals any longer.) It was a Christmas gift from my mother. Originally the book had appeared in installments on the New York Times website, behind the (now defunct) Times Select firewall, so I was excited to have a chance to finally read it.

According to the meme I am supposed to quote the fifth sentence on page 161. Alas, I have but one sentence to quote, "The pinky pink paté that totally wipes out the last vestige of malaise."

This was a great book, like a trip through Kalman's lovely mind -- cluttered and concerned. My favorite quote is from page 197:

On the wall was a dress that I embroidered. It said "Ich Habe Genug." Which is a Bach Cantata. Which I once thought meant "I've had it, I can't take anymore, give me a break." But I was wrong. It means "I have enough." And that is utterly true.

I love how the simple misreading of "I've had enough" turns into "I have enough." Can I be allowed to feel both at once?

I'm not tagging anyone. I know some of you out there do like to read, so if this interests you, please feel free to carry on.


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Now playing: The Shins - Pressed In A Book

Front page procrastination

I was just going to check out my suspicion that the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir sounds a bit like the Housemartins when I found this on the NYT homepage. It was so enjoyable that I had to post it immediately, and I think everyone (but DQ in particular) should read it.
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Now playing: The Scotland Yard Gospel Choir - This World Has No Place For Me

Advice to my favorite anonymous commenter

who is not really anonymous, she just doesn't have an account.

Yay, more wedding-related stuff from me, the person whose own wedding kinda just passed her by. (I heard the food was good).

Anyway, here is my plea to Anne, when she does decide to tie the knot someday. Please, don't do this.

If you're too lazy to click on the link, it's just a bunch of references to people using an iPod as the sole source of musical entertainment at their wedding. I cannot believe I am advocating spending any more money when weddings are out of control, but please, please if you can't afford a band, at least shell out for a DJ, and preferably one that won't introduce you as "Mr. and Mrs. Blahbityblah" and have you both run through the entranceway while your guests applaud.

PS: I promise this will be my final wedding-related post. It'll be back to the standards for me: migraines, music, and my crazy kids.

Best use of the NYT Vows Section

Now I know why The Wire always seemed so real. Thanks to my Mom for the tip.

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/08/19/fashion/weddings/19VOWS.html?ex=13452624

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/08/09/us/09baltimore.html?ex=1345176000&en=454a2117c99007b2&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink

The Answer to a Question I had Always Pondered...

What happens to the Superbowl schwag for the losing team? We all know it doesn't end up on eBay. Well, Danny and Nina alerted me to a New York Times article a few days ago that answered this age old question for me, and it turns out that it is full of what went wrong content at well! The NFL donates the hats and shirts to World Vision, a non-profit that distributes them to African countries.

Apparently it is OK for men, women, and, children in Uganda or Sierra Leone to be running around in innacurate Superbowl paraphernalia because who cares what's written on the front if the people need clothes. And MLB actually destroys the clothing.

But, I ask you, is this clothing so important, dangerous and meaningful even, that it has to be shipped halfway across the world? Also, does the NFL have any charitable committment besides trying to recoup the money they are forced to shell out making two sets of clothing where there can only be one winner?

I don't think I have ever read a story that so aptly describe American excess in my life.

Webkinz Update

Thanks to Anne for alerting me to an article in today's NYT about Webkinz.

I will do my best to reevaluate that glass

The New York Times ran an article today that self-identified pessimists were more likely to die from heart disease than those who identified as optimists. According to the researchers subjects with the highest level of optimism were 45 percent less likely than those with the highest level of pessimism to die of all causes during the study. There are a few possible confounding factors, like they didn't screen the patients for mental illness, and all of the participants were elderly Dutch (sorry, LHM). Still, I can go to the gym and eat all the cruciferous vegetables in the world, but a sunny outlook? Not bloody likely.