I've mentioned before that i am on facebook and find it can be entertaining. And a timesuck. And some things i read make my blood boil or make me smile and say, "Awww."
Tonight, as i read something inane, i broke the rule i made for myself some time back, and i read the comments. Now, there are times where reading comments can be helpful because someone will provide an explanation, or as in one person i follow who's a US English grammarian, the comments explain how we are separated by a common language at times with other English speakers. Most of the banter is good-natured.
All too often, however, if someone shares on their wall something they find cute or funny, if i click to look at whatever it is and go on to read the comments, i nearly always wish i hadn't. The comments are chock-a-block full of trolls and people who must lead very small lives.
Anyhow, in a weak moment this evening, i responded to a comment. The comment did irk me, but at the same time i realised the person making the comment failed to understand the principal difference in what he knew as usual and ordinary and what was meant by the graphic shown.
It was an innocent enough graphic, one depicting a chart for (US) gallons, quarts, pints, tablespoons, teaspoons, and cups, and showing equivalent amounts. As i tend to be a bit more left brained about things like this, i work better with a list rather than a pie chart with arrows pointing this way and that. But, it was clever to show it all on something that could be easily printed off and used in the kitchen.
And here's where the problem lay. The top commenter (what does that mean? He has the most numerous on that particular site, or that he's the most popular at the moment because he has more likes and replies than others? but i digress...) as i was saying, the top commenter (TC) asked why wouldn't the US just grow up and go to metric.
I've had occasion to convert recipes, and Mr TC missed the point. It's not just a matter of using metric. Most US recipies don't measure things by weight, but by volume. Well, the meat or fish is usually measured by weight. But the flour, sugar, salt, pepper, and spices are aren't. They're measured by volume. So, if something calls for three cups of flour and one cup of sugar, it's not a matter of saying 1 cup=8 ounces, therefore 3 c=24 oz, or 908 g. Because the US measuring cups measure volume and disregard weight. A cup of cake flour weighs less than a cup of sugar, but you use the same measuring cup in a US recipe; whereas in a metric recipe, it might call for 900 g of flour and 75 g of sugar because it's making the assumption that you're weighing the ingredients.
And, i got sucked in and tried to explain. Volume vs. weighing. Another snarky commenter said, Oh, so you can't use a metric measuring cup then, is that so hard, Megan?
Completely missing the point. I replied the the second commenter that he misunderstood what i had written. Recipes in the US or in older UK and Canadian cookbooks for that matter, don't weigh every ingredient. They use volume instead, a cup of this to three cups of that, and as long as the ratios stay the same, the recipe works. Nothing is weighed, only measured by volume.
And then i could feel the centrifugal force starting to suck me in. It was at the critical moment. I could wait and see what the follow-up was, or say, "Enough!" and move on. I chose the latter and am rather rueing that i said anything at all. Because it seems that people are more interested in beating their chests and saying something inane than they are about learning anything.
I did hesitate for moment, though, and wondered if i ought to relate when i lived in France and had to think in metric. I was somewhat successful, but not really. I needed benchmarks to have things make sense. Height in metric made no sense to me whatever, but in French, someone would say something like, "He's one and a half metres tall." It took me awhile to realize why it was so hard for me to grasp that. After all, one meter is 39 inches, just a tad over 3 feet. Or a yard. And that's when the lightbulb dimmed. We never use yards for vertical measurement. Why, i don't know. We just don't. A man can be six feet tall, but we'd never say he's two yards tall. So saying he's nearly 2 metres tall just doesn't compute in my brain.
I had to cook for myself when i lived there, and would go to a butcher shop and convert the ounces of meat i wanted into grams. I'd ask for 250 grams, and the butcher would say, "oh, this is 248," or "It's 256," and it was always close enough for my needs. After a few months, the butcher asked me why i always asked for a specific amount and then when he'd tell me something that was close but not exact, i always said it was all right?
I explained that in the US, we didn't use metric, but the English system of pounds and ounces. He and a few other butchers who i guess were also curious and paused in their work nodded that they understood that. I said that in the States, i'd ask the butcher for a half pound of meat or quarter pound of meat, and he's weigh it out for me. It wasn't always exact but close enough.
"Ah!" the butcher said, and the other butchers looked at him as recognition came across his face. "So, you must order the weight you want, and they give that to you. More or less."
I nodded, and a few of the other butchers started to smile as if sharing an inside joke.
"So, you don't ask for a specific weight here?" And here i had been so proud of myself for using the metric system. sigh.
"No, you just tell me how many people you're cooking for, and we give you what you need."
"Really?" i asked. This was a new idea to me.
All of the other butchers nodded solemnly. "Okay, i'll do that next time," i said. And i noticed the next time i was in there, sure enough, the customers were ordering for two people, or four people. So, i ordered for one person. Most of the time. On occasion, i'd order "for two people." And here, the butcher would smile with a twinkle in his eye and say, "Oh, do we have a date? Are you cooking for a new beau?"
When i returned to the US, i was glad to get back to pounds and ounces. People were measured in feet, not yards/metres. I could ask for a quarter pound of meat and not have questions about my love life. But some of that eyeing portions stayed with me, and there are times where i ask for a specific piece of meat or fish, knowing it'll be enough for my needs. The deli person dutifully weighs it and tells me the weight. I say it's fine, because it is. I know by looking at it, it's the perfect size, regardless of weight.
In the end, i decided that reliving that pleasant moment in France where finding genunine interest in something mundane we do without thinking can be done in a completely different way someplace else with results every bit as fabulous was reward enough, and didn't need to be marred by silly commenters who only wanted to beat their chests and crow rather than learn anything.
Saturday, May 3, 2014
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
She's gone 'round the bend methinks
Okay, i know this is a bit silly, but it caught my fancy. A local weekly paper ran the ad that at a nearby museum, a car will be raffled a week before my birthday. The car looks like this:
I know it's insane. I'm mechanically retarded so i do not belong even *thinking* about having an MG, but i've always loved them, ever since my dad had a 1955 or was it a 1958 MG hardtop. A little red two seater with a miniscule back seat. How i cried when he sold that car. My brother and i were getting too big to squish ourselves in the back.
I was going to buy one ticket and opted instead for two.
Just one of those flight of fancy moments, but it looks like such FUN and who wouldn't want tool around in this 1951 MG TD roadster?
I know it's insane. I'm mechanically retarded so i do not belong even *thinking* about having an MG, but i've always loved them, ever since my dad had a 1955 or was it a 1958 MG hardtop. A little red two seater with a miniscule back seat. How i cried when he sold that car. My brother and i were getting too big to squish ourselves in the back.
I was going to buy one ticket and opted instead for two.
Just one of those flight of fancy moments, but it looks like such FUN and who wouldn't want tool around in this 1951 MG TD roadster?
Friday, April 18, 2014
Lost and found
A friend of mine works at a humane society about an hour from where I live. I visited with her last Friday, met some of the cats, and if it weren’t for Phoebe being such a curmudgeon, I’d have undoubtedly come home with some new furfriends.
My friend shared on facebook how two of the workers, sisters, stayed after hours because as they were getting ready to leave, an animal control officer arrived with a lost/stray dog. One of the sisters recognized the dog as one gone missing and its picture was posted on facebook. She got the contact information, phoned the owners, and the sisters will wait at the shelter until the family can arrive and collect their lost pooch.
That reminded me of a time nearly 20 years ago now, when Himself and I were on our way to church one Easter morning. Actually, the day before that, we had an older, black dog lumber into our yard. He looked friendly enough, tongue was hanging out a mile, so we gave him some water. We looked at his collar, and it had a New York dog tag, no name and number to call. I bristled at the thought of someone simply dumping him, which sadly happened all too often in that then remote part of Pennsylvania (we were then “discovered” and became part of exurbia, but that’s a separate tale).
I had given up red meat that Lent and wanted to find something to feed the dog. Zerbe, our black and white cat who had run away from next door when she was 12 to come live us, was very used to dogs, having lived with them for so long. She didn’t get her hackles up when she saw him, was perfectly all right when we gave him a drink, and didn’t mind, even, when he flopped down on the deck to nap. But, when she saw me getting out some cubed beef, she was more curious. I browned the meat, making a bit of gravy to go with. I saved some for her and gave the rest to the dog. We called the SPCA because Himself can’t breathe really at all around dogs (terribly allergic) and we hadn’t seen the dog before so didn’t know where he lived. The dog tags were of no use, either. The dog happily ate the beef, Zerbe was glad I gave some of it to her, and it didn’t take long for the animal control officer to show up.
We guessed the dog was at least 10 years old. He got up into the truck with only a little trouble, and wagged his tail. Clearly he had been someone’s pet and was a good natured fellow.
Zerbe was relieved to see the canine guest wasn’t staying, Himself and I said a few prayers that it would end happily, and we went about our business.
So, next day, early in the morning, we were on our way to church when we saw huge yellow signs with green lettering. LOST DOG, followed by a phone number. We turned around immediately and went home to call the number, as this was in the age before cell phones. They answered on the second ring. They had just called the SPCA to find out they had their dog. Older, black, long tail. We told them we had fed their dog some stewed beef cubes the day before and called the SPCA because the dog tags were from New York.
Yes, they admitted. They had moved recently and hadn’t gotten around to updating the tags. They had a fenced in yard the dog had never shown interest in leaving, but apparently, they got careless, left the gate open enough so the dog went wandering. They lived about ¼ mile away. The dog, as it turned out, was 13.
I spoke to the wife on the phone. The husband was already en route to the SPCA to collect the dog. He stopped by our house a few days later to give us a thank you gift. Zerbe greeted him and quickly saw he was not a cat person so left the room. The man’s voice broke as he told us about the dog, how frantic he’d been when he wandered off, how he’d never done anything like this before, how very grateful he was. He gave us a thank you gift. A calendar and something else I can’t remember now what it was, just that it was something we’d never use, but the thought was so sweet, it was easy to thank him most sincerely. He berated himself for not updating the dog tags right away. We shrugged. It all ended well, that’s what mattered.
And on this Good Friday, I can’t help thinking that those people on the way to the shelter to pick up their lost dog will think this the best of Good Fridays. Will be thankful for the staff who willingly stay after hours to ensure the dog is reunited promptly with his family. And celebrate that which was lost is found with a wagging tail.
My friend shared on facebook how two of the workers, sisters, stayed after hours because as they were getting ready to leave, an animal control officer arrived with a lost/stray dog. One of the sisters recognized the dog as one gone missing and its picture was posted on facebook. She got the contact information, phoned the owners, and the sisters will wait at the shelter until the family can arrive and collect their lost pooch.
That reminded me of a time nearly 20 years ago now, when Himself and I were on our way to church one Easter morning. Actually, the day before that, we had an older, black dog lumber into our yard. He looked friendly enough, tongue was hanging out a mile, so we gave him some water. We looked at his collar, and it had a New York dog tag, no name and number to call. I bristled at the thought of someone simply dumping him, which sadly happened all too often in that then remote part of Pennsylvania (we were then “discovered” and became part of exurbia, but that’s a separate tale).
I had given up red meat that Lent and wanted to find something to feed the dog. Zerbe, our black and white cat who had run away from next door when she was 12 to come live us, was very used to dogs, having lived with them for so long. She didn’t get her hackles up when she saw him, was perfectly all right when we gave him a drink, and didn’t mind, even, when he flopped down on the deck to nap. But, when she saw me getting out some cubed beef, she was more curious. I browned the meat, making a bit of gravy to go with. I saved some for her and gave the rest to the dog. We called the SPCA because Himself can’t breathe really at all around dogs (terribly allergic) and we hadn’t seen the dog before so didn’t know where he lived. The dog tags were of no use, either. The dog happily ate the beef, Zerbe was glad I gave some of it to her, and it didn’t take long for the animal control officer to show up.
We guessed the dog was at least 10 years old. He got up into the truck with only a little trouble, and wagged his tail. Clearly he had been someone’s pet and was a good natured fellow.
Zerbe was relieved to see the canine guest wasn’t staying, Himself and I said a few prayers that it would end happily, and we went about our business.
So, next day, early in the morning, we were on our way to church when we saw huge yellow signs with green lettering. LOST DOG, followed by a phone number. We turned around immediately and went home to call the number, as this was in the age before cell phones. They answered on the second ring. They had just called the SPCA to find out they had their dog. Older, black, long tail. We told them we had fed their dog some stewed beef cubes the day before and called the SPCA because the dog tags were from New York.
Yes, they admitted. They had moved recently and hadn’t gotten around to updating the tags. They had a fenced in yard the dog had never shown interest in leaving, but apparently, they got careless, left the gate open enough so the dog went wandering. They lived about ¼ mile away. The dog, as it turned out, was 13.
I spoke to the wife on the phone. The husband was already en route to the SPCA to collect the dog. He stopped by our house a few days later to give us a thank you gift. Zerbe greeted him and quickly saw he was not a cat person so left the room. The man’s voice broke as he told us about the dog, how frantic he’d been when he wandered off, how he’d never done anything like this before, how very grateful he was. He gave us a thank you gift. A calendar and something else I can’t remember now what it was, just that it was something we’d never use, but the thought was so sweet, it was easy to thank him most sincerely. He berated himself for not updating the dog tags right away. We shrugged. It all ended well, that’s what mattered.
And on this Good Friday, I can’t help thinking that those people on the way to the shelter to pick up their lost dog will think this the best of Good Fridays. Will be thankful for the staff who willingly stay after hours to ensure the dog is reunited promptly with his family. And celebrate that which was lost is found with a wagging tail.
Friday, March 28, 2014
Lovely winter we're having this spring
Yes, i saw that on a friend's facebook wall, and it sums up what's been going on here for March. We've had three days so far that are above normal temperatures, one day that's normal temperature for this time of year, and all the rest have been colder than usual.
The ground is still about 75% covered with snow, and we've had snow twice this week. No accumulation, unlike east of me where they got pounded earlier in the week and vicious winds to boot. We got the winds but just missed getting the load of snow. And by just missed, i mean a half hour further east had ploughable snow.
I've had several flocks of turkeys come to the bird feeder, as i strew bird seed on the ground for the ground feeders. Several squirrels nosh there, too, and a each season for the past few years, there seems to be one enterprising one who flings himself from the top of the fence to the bird feeder, lands, and it swings wildly while he reaches down to help himself to the bird seed. The ground feeders like the arrangement very much, giving them easy pickings.
Even the animals seem winter weary as i refill the feeder. I have to think spring is really and truly coming, as i smelled a skunk last night, which is a sure sign. And, at the second to last big snowstorm, i paid to have a man come with a backhoe or skidsteer and move the snowbank back from the driveway to allow for extra snow. That's a sure sign of no more snow, right? Right?
In the meantime, my stablelicers are still on my shoes, we've one more weekend of playing hockey, and i have to hope that when March goes, it takes winter with it. I'm ready for mud season.
The ground is still about 75% covered with snow, and we've had snow twice this week. No accumulation, unlike east of me where they got pounded earlier in the week and vicious winds to boot. We got the winds but just missed getting the load of snow. And by just missed, i mean a half hour further east had ploughable snow.
I've had several flocks of turkeys come to the bird feeder, as i strew bird seed on the ground for the ground feeders. Several squirrels nosh there, too, and a each season for the past few years, there seems to be one enterprising one who flings himself from the top of the fence to the bird feeder, lands, and it swings wildly while he reaches down to help himself to the bird seed. The ground feeders like the arrangement very much, giving them easy pickings.
Even the animals seem winter weary as i refill the feeder. I have to think spring is really and truly coming, as i smelled a skunk last night, which is a sure sign. And, at the second to last big snowstorm, i paid to have a man come with a backhoe or skidsteer and move the snowbank back from the driveway to allow for extra snow. That's a sure sign of no more snow, right? Right?
In the meantime, my stablelicers are still on my shoes, we've one more weekend of playing hockey, and i have to hope that when March goes, it takes winter with it. I'm ready for mud season.
 |
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Monday, March 17, 2014
For John Gray
For those readers who may not recognise the name, John Gray has a lovely blog, Going Gently. He lives with a cat, Albert, his partner, Chris, loads of chickens, some geese and ducks, a turkey named Bingley, and several dogs, Meg, William, George, and Winnifred.
John, maybe Winnie would like to do this next time to go over to the Gop?
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Spring cleaning
After a tortuous several weeks at work, i decided to take a few days off. I wanted to spring clean and knew i had to strike while the iron was hot.
Instead of taking a whole week off, which i wanted, i settled for three days. Client ran late with some stuff i needed to do my part. sigh.
I totally forgot Wednesday was Ash Wednesday, and woke up Wednesday morning with a headache and felt grumpy. I looked outside, and it was snowing. It is NOT supposed to snow when i'm spring cleaning.
I moped most of the day. I felt listless and did a few things. I attended my strength training class and found i was just really tired so i did what i could and felt better afterwards.
I woke up this morning a bit sore from my class but brillant sunshine streamed through. It was so nice to see it, even though it was very cold again this morning (3°F/-16°C). And i puttered hither and yon around the house. I could do with an entire week off to do a proper spring cleaning, but there's not much point to washing the walls in my office where the coal stove is, as i still need the coal stove to be fired up.
The kitchen, guest room, and bathrooms are all much cleaner. Sunroom is decluttered. A noisome pile in my bedroom has been properly sorted. I have started on the taxes.
I hope tomorrow i can clean my bedroom, the other upstairs bedroom, the living room and make an inroad in my office. I also want to go through my clothes and shoes. I have too many of both and need to give away what i'm not wearing or shall never wear. I also found out my two favorite pairs of jeans are now too big for me. I'm glad and sad, as i really liked them. Oh well, they can go on to make someone else happy who's a bit larger than i am.
In other news, i won a drawing! It's for a restaurant gift certificate, i get to pick from a list of which restaurant(s) i want. There's one on the list i've enjoyed going to, and one i may want to try, so getting a certficate for each would be nice.
I haven't given anything up for Lent, although i've had no sugar so far, and i don't think i swore all day. So, sugar and swearing can be contenders. I think i ought to stick for the cleaning thing, too; heck, if i did something every day for all of Lent, the house may get a proper spring cleaning after all.
Instead of taking a whole week off, which i wanted, i settled for three days. Client ran late with some stuff i needed to do my part. sigh.
I totally forgot Wednesday was Ash Wednesday, and woke up Wednesday morning with a headache and felt grumpy. I looked outside, and it was snowing. It is NOT supposed to snow when i'm spring cleaning.
I moped most of the day. I felt listless and did a few things. I attended my strength training class and found i was just really tired so i did what i could and felt better afterwards.
I woke up this morning a bit sore from my class but brillant sunshine streamed through. It was so nice to see it, even though it was very cold again this morning (3°F/-16°C). And i puttered hither and yon around the house. I could do with an entire week off to do a proper spring cleaning, but there's not much point to washing the walls in my office where the coal stove is, as i still need the coal stove to be fired up.
The kitchen, guest room, and bathrooms are all much cleaner. Sunroom is decluttered. A noisome pile in my bedroom has been properly sorted. I have started on the taxes.
I hope tomorrow i can clean my bedroom, the other upstairs bedroom, the living room and make an inroad in my office. I also want to go through my clothes and shoes. I have too many of both and need to give away what i'm not wearing or shall never wear. I also found out my two favorite pairs of jeans are now too big for me. I'm glad and sad, as i really liked them. Oh well, they can go on to make someone else happy who's a bit larger than i am.
In other news, i won a drawing! It's for a restaurant gift certificate, i get to pick from a list of which restaurant(s) i want. There's one on the list i've enjoyed going to, and one i may want to try, so getting a certficate for each would be nice.
I haven't given anything up for Lent, although i've had no sugar so far, and i don't think i swore all day. So, sugar and swearing can be contenders. I think i ought to stick for the cleaning thing, too; heck, if i did something every day for all of Lent, the house may get a proper spring cleaning after all.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Coriolanus
Fortunately, the weather didn't play havoc with my plans to see Coriolanus, a National Theatre Live presentation. This is the third one i've seen. I was disappointed to miss the Scottish Play (Macbeth for the nonsuperstitious) last month, because it was rescheduled eight days before Christmas, and on a day where we got quite a bit of snow. I had bought my ticket early, as the local venue where they show National Theatre Live productions offered a discounted price if you bought tickets for Othello, the Scottish Play, and Coriolanus. Because of technical difficulty, the October showing of Macbeth needed to be moved to a later date. I debated with myself about driving to see it, as the snow was just starting before it was time to go. I wondered how bad it would be driving home three hours later, and the answer was "Snowing hard enough that i probably chose wisely to give it a miss," although i was still unhappy about it.
That strengthened my resolve to see Coriolanus all the more, and, i'm happy to report, the weather co-operated. The sets were sparsely furnished, the make-up made Coriolanus's wounds look utterly believable, and it was an engaging watch. I was annoyed by the intermission as i wanted to keep watching the play. I know modern audiences expect an intermission, but Shakespeare didn't write with intermissions in mind, he meant for his plays to run nonstop.
With both Othello and Coriolanus, i found that the actors embraced the lines and made them their own, so they didn't come out sounding stilted. It's a shame Coriolanus doesn't get more press, and once again, i see that over the last four hundred years or so little about human nature has changed. People in a position of power often abuse their position and yield to their baser natures or insecurities. Coriolanus's tendency to speak his mind bluntly and his unwillingness to say something he doesn't feel simply to appease the masses or those who may be regarded as lesser reminded me very much of me.
I know people who drone on and on about Shakespeare, thinking that we should be duly impressed that they watch the Bard's plays, but really, the reason his plays have stood up so well is because they're damn fine plays. He understands the psychology of his characters has them stay true to themselves, and gives them great lines to utter, and THAT's what's so appealing.
We have some live theatre here, and i support my local thespians as i can. I must say, though, seeing these NT Live shows are a real treat, as i'd never see Tom Hiddleston appear in anything nearby. Yes, it's a bit more than the price of a regular film ticket, but worth every penny, and much less than the cost of a ticket were one to see it on Broadway.
That strengthened my resolve to see Coriolanus all the more, and, i'm happy to report, the weather co-operated. The sets were sparsely furnished, the make-up made Coriolanus's wounds look utterly believable, and it was an engaging watch. I was annoyed by the intermission as i wanted to keep watching the play. I know modern audiences expect an intermission, but Shakespeare didn't write with intermissions in mind, he meant for his plays to run nonstop.
With both Othello and Coriolanus, i found that the actors embraced the lines and made them their own, so they didn't come out sounding stilted. It's a shame Coriolanus doesn't get more press, and once again, i see that over the last four hundred years or so little about human nature has changed. People in a position of power often abuse their position and yield to their baser natures or insecurities. Coriolanus's tendency to speak his mind bluntly and his unwillingness to say something he doesn't feel simply to appease the masses or those who may be regarded as lesser reminded me very much of me.
I know people who drone on and on about Shakespeare, thinking that we should be duly impressed that they watch the Bard's plays, but really, the reason his plays have stood up so well is because they're damn fine plays. He understands the psychology of his characters has them stay true to themselves, and gives them great lines to utter, and THAT's what's so appealing.
We have some live theatre here, and i support my local thespians as i can. I must say, though, seeing these NT Live shows are a real treat, as i'd never see Tom Hiddleston appear in anything nearby. Yes, it's a bit more than the price of a regular film ticket, but worth every penny, and much less than the cost of a ticket were one to see it on Broadway.
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