Words Of The Year

Perhaps it's getting a little late for lists for 2003, but the American Dialect Society has an annual list of the words that most colored the nation's lexicon in that year. The overall winner in 2003 was metrosexual, with notable others being SARS, gropenführer, and weapons of mass deception.

And Pica and I certainly qualify as flexitarians.

The Muck Off the Pond

Maria at Alembic and Lorianne at Hoarded Ordinaries have both within the last week prompted some thinking about the nature of writing. Lorianne's under a fearsome deadline to get a dissertation finished on time; Maria wondered whether there were enough words to go around what with being paid to write and scrambling to find pieces of paper with words written on them; she suggests writing for oneself first.

Julia Cameron's Artist's Way is relegated in my mind to the 1990s and a slew of get-rich-quick schemes, none of which really worked in the end. Her point was that if you wrote three pages--the dreaded "morning pages"--every day, you'd be clearing the scum off the pond of your mind, and you'd be able to compose an opera, write a dissertation, paint a masterpiece, or knit a tea cosy before dinner. (Or all of the above, really, honest.)

I used to believe in this model of writing, and I have books of drivel to show for it. I'm grateful to the blog, I suppose, for providing an audience (even theoretical) to keep the drivel somewhat under control. Being on an every-other-day schedule as we are provides a structure for the writing that suits me, at least, quite well. But unlike Julia Cameron, I think there are probably as many models of writing as there are writers.

Northern California Surfing

I went for a little bike ride Saturday south and east through the farmlands of Solano County. I scarcely had gone a mile when, on the opposite side of the road, astride a muddy irrigation ditch, I saw a large silver Toyota pickup, with one person outside of the vehicle. When I passed the truck, I looked behind at it and was rather startled to see the truck towing something resembling a bodyboard, the college-aged guy in shorts perched on top of it, moving at a steady modest speed though the mud of the irrigation ditch.

I guess if you can't get to the ocean, you have to improvise.

Cheese, Gromit!

We went today to an event put on by the Slow Food Society: a tasting of homestead, artisanal cheeses, all from California, all raw cow's milk. It was held at the R.H. Phillips (warning: unnecessary Flash introduction) winery in north Yolo County.

Favorites of mine included Serena, which was billed as evoking a fine Parmesan or aged Gruyere (which have nothing at all in common in my opinion, but I thought it a lot closer to the Gruyere); Black Butte Reserve, a full tasting hard cheese made in the manner of Gouda, where most of the whey is washed out; and St. John Natural Rind, a sharp, grainy cheese in the Portuguese style. They gave us bread from the Village Bakery in Davis, Viognier white and Syrah red wine to taste, almonds, walnuts, and apricots. It was a beautiful afternoon; bright sun. The almond blossoms are about to burst all over northern California.

This was definitely an elite foodie crowd... I'm all for slowing down over dinner but hope a BMW isn't a requirement!

Everybody's Favorite Planet

At least to look at in the telescope. Wednesday evening we had clear skies and I did some imaging with our digicam through my 7" reflector, looking at the Orion Nebula and Saturn. The 7" Dob has no tracking so I'm limited to very short exposures, a maximum of 1" second before star trails are evident. With those exposure times, the Orion images were too noisy to be usable for anything, but my imaging of Saturn was more successful. Here is a composite image of Saturn made from 13 stacked exposures (1/60th and 1/125th second), at the original resolution. I'm looking forward to trying my hand at Jupiter as it nears opposition early in March.

Haircut in Davis

I just accepted a new job at the Wildlife Health Center which is part of the Vet Med department here at UC Davis, and located about five minutes' walk from where we live. Just hate those tough commutes. I start on February 23 and my lunchtimes are filling up fast; all my lunch buddies are starting to panic as if I were abandoning them. I'm not. I never miss lunch and I plan on biking in often. Memorial Union food is too good to give up on.

Still and all, it doesn't leave much time for chores over the next two weeks, so I dashed over to Angie's Beauty Salon, haircuts $12, before lunch today.

Ana María usually trims my hair (it takes about five minutes). However, today she was having a "weave" done. This involves foil, dye, incantations, and lots of minutes under the hairdryer. I told her she looked like a "reina," a queen; she said it was more like "un hombre del espacio." Angie started on my trim instead.

A Japanese student with moderate piercings wandered in. He wanted not only a weave, but a weave like THIS (he produced two magazine photos) and a haircut like THIS (another photo). While Sonia started preparing foils and potions he animatedly explained to Ana María, who half emerged from the hairdryer so she could hear, how he had tried but failed to dye his hair yesterday; it hadn't worked, and where could he get toner? (I had to whisper to Angie to ask what toner was and what it did.) And he was going home tonight to San Jose and wanted his hair to be done. I was fascinated. And pleased that the connection he seemed to have with all of them was similar to mine. It's a great place to get a fix of--of what? Girliness? Hardly, after today. Fix of focus on hair, I guess.

An Anglo with long gray hair, three Mexican American hairdressers with weaves, one Japanese man, ten minutes.

The Literate Insect

This bug was on our kitchen countertop last night. I think he's working on his undergraduate application to UC Davis.

American Prophet

All my education was in the British, rather than American, system, so we read Milton, Shakespeare, Thackeray, and Hardy rather than Emerson, Melville, or Thoreau. For my Religion and Non-Violence class we recently read Civil Disobedience by Thoreau, which I had never read before. His name is pronounced by many Americans almost in a whisper; he is prophet to several generations.

A lot of what is said in this essay is about resisting government, taxes, and slavery; since there's something in here for everyone, everyone uses Thoreau's classic text to bolster their ideas, whether violent or non-violent resistance during the Vietnam war, to hatred of taxes, to blowing up the federal building in Oklahoma City. Much like the accounts of far earlier prophets, this one can be used to argue just about anything. Even by presidents.

While Thoreau may have been arguing for an informed resistance against the bits of government one finds unpalatable, he didn't bargain, perhaps, with the wholesale abandonment of "informed" anything. A uniform press that is a lackey to the status quo (the current bleating about Janet Jackson's nipplegate fracas should silence doubters that this culture is still truly puritanical) is not likely to lead to an informed public. Yet those of us who wish to become informed and act on this information would do well to read Thoreau: his challenge to follow the lead of our conscience resounds loudly today, as we contemplate tax season and the announcement of the increase in the U.S. "defense" budget...

Democratic Astrology

The New York Times today has a column giving the astrological profiles of the seven remaining Democratic candidates for President. An example: "John Edwards, born on June 10, 1953, is a Gemini with the Moon in Gemini. There is much in his horoscope that makes him the puer aeternus, the eternal boy. His mind is playful and rich with ideas. However, his chart shows him to be a true son of the messenger and trickster god, and so capable of exceptional dualism." It's probably as good a guide to political character as anything else one can find.

(From Calpundit).

The Name "Pica"

During a very interesting conversation this morning that revolved around blogging and mountain lions, a third meaning for the name "Pica" was drawn to my attention. I chose this as a screen name because Pica is short for Pica nutelli, the yellow-billed magpie that lives around this part of California (and nowhere else). A pica is also a measurement in type: twelve points to a pica, twelve picas to an inch, and as a typophile it seemed to fit well.

What I learned this morning is that it is also the name for a particular eating disorder... eating dirt (and other non-food items). I assure all you faithful readers that I don't indulge in this particular culinary extravaganza. Really, honest. I know some pregnant women sometimes have odd tastes but I'm not pregnant and hope to get through life without ever having this particular craving.

Apparently the term does derive from the Latin for magpie, whose eating habits are said to be indiscriminate. Our magpies choose only the tastiest morsels out here on the field, I should add, so they must have been thinking about black-billed magpies...