tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-97611682024-03-07T16:57:49.153-08:00Dys-FUN-ctionalIt's dys-fun-freakin'-tastic!Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.comBlogger174125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-65576279863785696772009-08-16T01:57:00.000-07:002009-08-16T02:01:38.565-07:00Ubud, Bali<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgTp8h3JLrHOSmcbVKL5dmstPjxh6NlkLu4qBP_34hXihPNVhh-deuSXFk4jAZIhICSeCIQHlD8yjDxnqpVTBMvuxdXewpXlNb8Sr_LhmUheH3jowJBdwtWCov7n4T_I9FPviV/s1600-h/DSCN5378.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgTp8h3JLrHOSmcbVKL5dmstPjxh6NlkLu4qBP_34hXihPNVhh-deuSXFk4jAZIhICSeCIQHlD8yjDxnqpVTBMvuxdXewpXlNb8Sr_LhmUheH3jowJBdwtWCov7n4T_I9FPviV/s320/DSCN5378.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> <br />Roar!</div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ_LDEWMp4YNZm5vVLePCGioHyV78qyXNGqN9V-dPcfPRV4go4oINVjcR2LC8kL7nQPtjtCFaGFAXZnciokjaT4b5U7iz2KeZW2t2Ca1uHQqZhmTKjLsSUMoW1HN9y_sVfjW1s/s1600-h/DSCN5384.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ_LDEWMp4YNZm5vVLePCGioHyV78qyXNGqN9V-dPcfPRV4go4oINVjcR2LC8kL7nQPtjtCFaGFAXZnciokjaT4b5U7iz2KeZW2t2Ca1uHQqZhmTKjLsSUMoW1HN9y_sVfjW1s/s320/DSCN5384.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> <br />Selling flowers at the market</div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVA_TZB_6MLkwPwG2eglDwDlYSWx86d0xyThyphenhyphen-QHe8ddJJnTakOhvkFqudJr8um40N_ADESrWGGwGohpcpLJMeIXxlNDF2VTMxtmmAuz9VlwiYbneCOqaK7VlXAvCwPa9GHevA/s1600-h/DSCN5395.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVA_TZB_6MLkwPwG2eglDwDlYSWx86d0xyThyphenhyphen-QHe8ddJJnTakOhvkFqudJr8um40N_ADESrWGGwGohpcpLJMeIXxlNDF2VTMxtmmAuz9VlwiYbneCOqaK7VlXAvCwPa9GHevA/s320/DSCN5395.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> <br />I have a monkey on my lap!</div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH34HyCGdGq3b4b9bw9ddoizcZKuTtdQc76VYoFyHNwcWiz9eMb-OX2VZdeV65wJgaV9t6JDpgHAThEE7eTbs_5x_Esjr3zetTLfnZVAWd5UjABjae_i20Wm1BAmtjmKoNG5U1/s1600-h/DSCN5410.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH34HyCGdGq3b4b9bw9ddoizcZKuTtdQc76VYoFyHNwcWiz9eMb-OX2VZdeV65wJgaV9t6JDpgHAThEE7eTbs_5x_Esjr3zetTLfnZVAWd5UjABjae_i20Wm1BAmtjmKoNG5U1/s320/DSCN5410.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> <br />Monkey Forest, Ubud</div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-12619478759604433632009-08-16T01:43:00.001-07:002009-08-16T01:48:01.788-07:00Sanur, Bali<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBkxGfAa_Ip6FDrUcu_r5EzrBu9YLkwRD12qLhd7rL4b0hyphenhyphenSV3gh4Y8BH6ym14bTKchmLCtb7qBiqcLdFbgUUIkUU90GqVbvdJ23OzK8CSoZun1J4_Vrpfd9Jnl2kdgw9K7ud/s1600-h/DSCN5293.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBkxGfAa_Ip6FDrUcu_r5EzrBu9YLkwRD12qLhd7rL4b0hyphenhyphenSV3gh4Y8BH6ym14bTKchmLCtb7qBiqcLdFbgUUIkUU90GqVbvdJ23OzK8CSoZun1J4_Vrpfd9Jnl2kdgw9K7ud/s320/DSCN5293.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm56vJQZZ50WXsTK1GQqygCAGwJXPSKnZ3puc_gn1FKQcdWs9-0-O3OvdDyXVjxKdOXQSToWTLs6NiXpzFr9veRZfIocb-cYoIU0tq9enWqrHpQSTa6uJAbvRvUwOraYGCUu7f/s1600-h/DSCN5317.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm56vJQZZ50WXsTK1GQqygCAGwJXPSKnZ3puc_gn1FKQcdWs9-0-O3OvdDyXVjxKdOXQSToWTLs6NiXpzFr9veRZfIocb-cYoIU0tq9enWqrHpQSTa6uJAbvRvUwOraYGCUu7f/s320/DSCN5317.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2NkpHacH-4Owll9mxBOQNw_7QHS-3jsHK27TUXsItx47aw4iiw7zfjhqrl1JB3IEkvjuFSP1cvWS5r-nqTtUJyRx33pGnhpmAlF-Ue6nQzIksix6EJxxTLi3zFuUY8-fVBBt_/s1600-h/DSCN5340.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2NkpHacH-4Owll9mxBOQNw_7QHS-3jsHK27TUXsItx47aw4iiw7zfjhqrl1JB3IEkvjuFSP1cvWS5r-nqTtUJyRx33pGnhpmAlF-Ue6nQzIksix6EJxxTLi3zFuUY8-fVBBt_/s320/DSCN5340.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpg0cktVmMkLrRRB1VkCkUpIpp73_DNsDUGbpheyXsSOa-2u8CsJTq629EaRzXBspQI4hL40isD7xxAfCCoiW3-8y73GYtr89nndBTycXlz9IhhecL3OqQA0XQOlvPGdsiEuIt/s1600-h/DSCN5345.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpg0cktVmMkLrRRB1VkCkUpIpp73_DNsDUGbpheyXsSOa-2u8CsJTq629EaRzXBspQI4hL40isD7xxAfCCoiW3-8y73GYtr89nndBTycXlz9IhhecL3OqQA0XQOlvPGdsiEuIt/s320/DSCN5345.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-3515898951698037472009-08-16T01:32:00.000-07:002009-08-16T01:33:26.226-07:00Denpasar is full... Business OK?<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2b_ihRrMWIIe0JY8juKF2NCmUyFDL9QgaZk2u3WKw6jjsVvHZ5kmrX52XicjUAkjp0u4rtieG1jbA7Qcr60qrMl7nTMa4ZmKNqkoVMQ5R46IcSO-_Tvw_qM4mvfjhUS0yZNub/s1600-h/DSCN5285.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2b_ihRrMWIIe0JY8juKF2NCmUyFDL9QgaZk2u3WKw6jjsVvHZ5kmrX52XicjUAkjp0u4rtieG1jbA7Qcr60qrMl7nTMa4ZmKNqkoVMQ5R46IcSO-_Tvw_qM4mvfjhUS0yZNub/s320/DSCN5285.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdoIc2xJRnnxoaSM0XZu9MiiIcRfNapy12PdX-xNesxls80-6CqFzXLCINf88C-yzZD6q70kWnH1P9TPYKGXP4wQ-3TTqMmf-0EDgDSX-2rbMs4Jkaj4Nn1_YkBz-R-NLP9yoR/s1600-h/DSCN5288.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdoIc2xJRnnxoaSM0XZu9MiiIcRfNapy12PdX-xNesxls80-6CqFzXLCINf88C-yzZD6q70kWnH1P9TPYKGXP4wQ-3TTqMmf-0EDgDSX-2rbMs4Jkaj4Nn1_YkBz-R-NLP9yoR/s320/DSCN5288.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> <br />Even the view is better in business... <br />(a chain of volcanoes)</div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-81423760681782324962009-08-16T01:20:00.000-07:002009-08-16T01:22:24.663-07:00A kite in a tree in Jakarta...<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnELTH-glm3TlBP1n_GueSiuMPn7gABMWXxjO-odh7L8bvmGZSM-zeYSLKjTn4giUZWMYc4wLPu0FgEVAI6gMxEC5NdqwVyTEK7SdOJJ3m_bVk37_LoMmn967MRhVwcjCEXLGF/s1600-h/DSCN5259.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnELTH-glm3TlBP1n_GueSiuMPn7gABMWXxjO-odh7L8bvmGZSM-zeYSLKjTn4giUZWMYc4wLPu0FgEVAI6gMxEC5NdqwVyTEK7SdOJJ3m_bVk37_LoMmn967MRhVwcjCEXLGF/s320/DSCN5259.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-55292778992086096502009-08-15T02:14:00.000-07:002009-08-15T02:27:54.334-07:00SanurOn day three, Matt and I woke up early to catch a flight to Bali. Our flight was at 7am. The professor's son, who manages the guest house, assured us we could leave at 5:30 -- no traffic, plenty of time at the airport. Matt asked that the driver arrive at 5:15 just to make sure. It didn't matter -- the driver was late, and we left at 5:30. <br /><br />We arrived at the airport nearly an hour later, close to 6:30am. There were lines everywhere. We showed a Garuda Air representative our ticket to make sure we were in the right place, and she waived at the line. We waited. And waited. We showed our ticket to someone else walking by, and they pulled us out of that line and told us to stand in another (short) line. Finally we got up to the counter. <br /><br />The woman looked at our printout tickets and clicked at the keys of her computer. "Ohhh," she said, "Denpasar, is closed." "But they told us to wait," Matt protested quietly, voice breaking slightly with mild panic. "Ok, one moment --" the woman runs off with our passports and tickets. <br /><br />We wait for her return, expecting the worst. Breathless she returns, and sits back down. She looks at us and says, "Denpasar flight is full. Only business." Matt and I exchange a look, not believing our ears. "Business OK?" <br /><br />A few moments later we are racing -- RACING -- through the airport to try and make our flight, which was already in final boarding, also halfway in disbelief that our $60 tickets to Bali are about to buy us white tablecloths and real silverware in business class on a 747 -- better run before they realize their mistake!! <br /><br />Oh heaven. By the time we got to the plane I was thirsty and a man brought me orange juice in a real glass. He look so happy when I asked for a second one. We had eggs and ham and two -- two! croissants, the best coffee we'd had yet, refills, oh, and the seats... so comfy... <br /><br />Oh yeah, and Bali is nice, too -- but that's for the next post. :) (In a rush, have to get to a cultural dance...)Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-78837450938776037062009-08-12T16:55:00.000-07:002009-08-13T01:04:54.012-07:00Total TrafficDay Two <br /><br />Jakarta's facades are cracked and stained<br />Jakarta's facades are glistening glass... <br /><br />As we speed north in our taxi toward the Cafe Batavia for brunch, lines to the rhythm of "Jellicle Cats" run through my head. We pass through jumbles of buildings squashed together like townhouses, 3-4 stories high, crumbling, rusted, and dirty with car exhaust. Bootleg CDs, car parts, lamps. We also pass huge mall complexes with grand names like "Plaza Senayan" -- these are gleaming behemoths that house Western designer stores like Prada, Tod's, Hugo Boss, and Coach, connected by glass walkways to luxury apartments and condos stretching dozens of stories high. Security guards check the undercarriage of each car that pulls up with oversized dentist mirrors. We pass the Chinese quarter, where many buildings stand scorched and empty from a fire many years ago, with grey facades and neon signs. We pass skyscrapers entirely devoted to a single bank, a single company, Mercedes. There is one major road that runs north-south through the center of Jakarta, and this is it. <br /><br />We get out of the taxi and begin to walk to the Cafe Batavia, the second-oldest building in Jakarta. It faces the first oldest, which is the old Stadthuis Governor's Building, and is now a museum. Cafe Batavia is the ultimate 30s bar -- upstairs the walls are lined with photographs, the walls are teak paneled, heavy teak shutters keep out the sun and lazy ceiling fans swirl overhead (though there is also air conditioning). A teak bar is faced with cowhide. Muted brocade curtains hang down over corner clusters of cushioned wicker chairs. The food isn't that great (the guidebook described it as "form over function"), but the ambiance...<br /><br />After walking around, going to the museum (a great deal at 20 cents), and returning to the Cafe for a much needed drink -- it was getting hot! -- we caught a taxi to go to one of these fancy malls. Air conditioning seemed to be just the thing, and there would be restaurants for lunch. The car turned south. And the journey that took us 45 minutes that morning took an hour to go half as far. Oh misery, sitting in that cab. Matt told me that officials in Jakarta believe by 2011 the city will experience <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/13/world/asia/13indo.html?_r=1">"total traffic"</a> -- complete paralysis. The only thing moving are the express buses, which have a dedicated lane. If only we'd taken that... <br /><br />That evening though, a real gem of a restaurant find redeemed the day: <a href="http://www.planetmole.org/indonesian-news/dining-on-the-flavours-of-java-at-payon-jakarta-indonesia.html">Payon</a>. Walking through the small gate, there is an open air traditional pavilion under which tables and chairs look out into a small courtyard. Additional detached buildings, some with gift shops, some with private seating, and one with, of all things, a children's play area, all face the courtyard's central fountain. The servers wear collarless white cotton tunics and black pants. Traditional Indonesian flute music plays. The sound of water almost drowns out the whine of scooters. And they serve BEER, which is not common (Indonesia is predominantly Muslim). Full, sleepy, and slightly tipsy, with our mouths tingling from the spicy fried chicken and grilled fish, we make it back to the professor's house to pack for that next morning's trip -- to Bali!Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-4163832577262801072009-08-10T16:47:00.000-07:002009-08-10T17:27:04.034-07:00The Tree that Eats KitesI am in Jakarta, Indonesia. <br /><br />I arrived at 1:00pm local time, which is 14 hours ahead of California. The airport is built to resemble a series of low, connected wooden pavilions, decorated with wooden panels covered in intricate carvings in dull colored sheens. I remembered that Matt said, when he arrived the first time, that between the terminal and the main building, in the hallway enclosed with wood and glass looking over the tropical palms of a courtyard, you could smell the distinct tang of clove cigarettes tinged with jet fuel. I made sure to breathe deep. He was right.<br /><br />Within, armed with a small collection of brightly colored landing documents, I gave and got in turn: arrival visa coupon, arrival visa, departure card, passport stamp, stern warning about drug trafficking (this on a sign -- Welcome to Indonesia! Drug Trafficking is Punished by Death!), a yellow health card so they could find me if someone on the plane comes down with swine flu, or bird flu, or SARS, or god knows. Finally, a passport stamp. The luggage. A final x-ray screen. And then -- Matt! <br /><br />Matt arranged for a driver, who was kind enough to turn on the air conditioning in the car, as I was still dressed for Berkeley. (i.e. wearing socks.) The toll road out of the airport is lined with unevenly manicured hedges and cassava trees. The traffic is medium heavy, with little regard for signals, but the cars and trucks communicate with gently tapped horns and weave securely between lanes. We passed clutches of shanty housing, lean-tos topped with corrugated metal, some had walls woven with bamboo (?). Those looked nicer. Each cluster was broken up by faded but brightly colored awnings denoting a food stand or market, displaying indistinguishable golden fried food in the window, colored juices made of mysterious fruits, newspapers, cigarettes. The outskirts of Jakarta.<br /><br />The road rose to an overpass and Matt told me this would be my first "look" at Jakarta. We got to the summit and I saw it: in every direction through every window of our SUV, the haze of the city stretched to all points of the horizon. It was dotted with skyscrapers in every direction, one, two, a dozen, twenty, forty, a hundred? Some apartment buildings with concrete balconies, some in the far distance those glamorous glass and steel structures housing the Jakarta branches of global firms of commerce and law -- those that couldn't afford to be in Singapore, at least. It reminded me of climbing to the top of -- was it in Paris, or St. Petersburg? There was a bell, and at the top you could see a panorama of the city broken by the steeples of churches in all directions. Only this -- this was much bigger. <br /><br />We arrived at the professor's house, who runs a bed and breakfast out of the top rooms now that his children have moved out. I showered and changed and we walked outside. A small warren of streets lined with high walls protecting the large houses within gave way to a main drag, lined with sidewalks rife with large holes revealing the drainage ditches below. Watch your step. Scooters danced between the cars, always gently speaking to each other with beeps, as we walked toward the McDonalds to get our fried chicken and fries topped with seasoning salt. My first meal in Indonesia! There we saw school children in uniforms practicing off flashcards, couples cooing over laptops taking advantage of the wi-fi, a large brood of bright blonde children belonging to the Dutch expat couple running amok in the large, clean, spacious dining room. The cashiers answered Matt in uninflected English, and wore smart black McDonalds polos that looked new. We imagined this was a good job. <br /><br />After a nap we ventured out again, after dark, which falls at 6pm. 6am-6pm is the day; we are just south of the Equator. (Did I mention it is quite warm here?) In the warren of streets, barefoot children flew small square kites, constructed of a tiny bent cross of twigs and stretched with tissue. These rose quite high on the nonexistant tropical breeze -- above the walls, above the large houses, above the heavy telephone wires -- so high! They run and laugh as the men sit in front of their houses, smoking clove cigarettes and playing checkers. White cats with smudgy brown faces and half-size tails stalk the roads, looking for small handouts. <br /><br />We walk to a pan-Asian restaurant that has a covered terrace (covered because of the rainy season) dotted with red chinese lanterns amidst white christmas lights. Fans are blowing from the rafters near the large TV sets that are playing Dave Brubeck at the Java Jazz Festival. We sit and receive menus for two different restaurants -- our choice. We order "lime squashes" which at Jayakarta is called a Jeruk nipis peras: lime juice, sugar syrup, and sparkling water. Over ice. Lovely. We settle on sushi because it's cool, and small, and I am not very hungry. <br /><br />We walk back and I sleep all night, disturbed once only by the blaring call to prayer at 4am. <br /><br />I wake up early and Matt wants to keep sleeping. Outside our room is the dining room, set with toast and jam, bananas, and instant coffee makings. I make my instant coffee and pull the wood and wicker rocking chair out on the balcony to watch the sun grow higher in the sky. The houses around are all awake with the chatter of women sweeping, men delivering things on motorbikes, and birds chirping -- one of the houses has a dozen bird cages alive with the cooing of doves and pigeons and the chirping of parakeets. I can see the neighbors' laundry hanging and hear the washing of pavements. The cats are roaming silently, and sit to meditate on the day. A particular type of tree with long leaves grows to about two stories high, there is one in front of me with a kite stuck in its branches. Matt pointed out the one down the road earlier -- about six brightly colored kites that had flown so high, so you could barely see it against the hazy clouds, had fallen prey to its branches.Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-11547762980273448812008-10-22T16:28:00.000-07:002008-10-22T18:48:56.857-07:00An Open Letter to the RNCDear Republican National Committee: <br /><br />I read with interest today the many <a href="http://thecaucus.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/10/22/gop-consultant-reimbursed-for-palin-shopping-spree/?hp">headlines</a> announcing that your constituency had paid for more than $130,000 worth of clothes for Sarah Palin and her family from high end stores such as Neiman Marcus, Saks Fifth Avenue, and Barney's New York. Many of the articles focused on the issue that, should Sarah Palin keep the clothes, or should she use them for personal outings and appearances, they would count as income and be taxable by the IRS. In response to the news, you announced that the clothing would eventually be given to charity. <br /><br />I would like to offer my services to you as a charity that would willingly accept such donations. Should you agree to donate Sarah Palin's clothes to me, which will otherwise be scrutinized for illegality, I will gladly, immediately, and with my best efforts <a href="http://articles.moneycentral.msn.com/RetirementandWills/RetireInStyle/YouCanBeYourOwnCharitableFoundation.aspx">make myself a charitable organization</a> ready to receive your donation. <br /><br />1) I would be able to appreciate the quality of Sarah Palin's outfits better than other charitable recipients. Who else noticed subtle sheen of the black silk shantung suit she wore at the Vice Presidential debates? (set off with the Swarovski crystal flag pin - a nice touch!) What about the the round-collar suits, the three-quarter sleeves, the bold but conservative colors? You strove to dress her in a way that would confer experience, legitimacy, and also femininity. You avoided <a href="http://www.latimes.com/features/lifestyle/la-ig-pantsuits21-2008sep21,0,62255.story">Hillary's tangerine pantsuits</a> and <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A51640-2005Feb24.html">Condi's dominatrix boots</a>, and found a "look" that, I'll admit, rivals Jackie O. and <a href="http://www.mirror.co.uk/celebs/latest/2008/03/27/carla-bruni-sarkozy-chose-perfect-outfit-to-meet-the-queen-89520-20363915/">Carla Bruni meeting the Queen</a>. This was not just a shopping spree; it was a transformation. You want to give away these clothes to someone who understands this; these clothes are a part of history. <br /><br />2) I am a poor/I will put them to good use. I am currently a law student, which means that I am living off of loans, but I am also expected (as soon as I get a my first job) to have a wardrobe with a polished, professional look. I can't get away with <a href="http://budgetstyle.about.com/b/2008/10/01/michelle-obamas-hm-style.htm">Michelle Obama's H&M dresses</a>; I need suits, pencil skirts, and double-breasted mini-trenches. Moreover, in the current economic downturn, it is unlikely that I will get a large signing bonus in order to properly prepare me and my closet for embarking on my career.<br /><br />3) Sarah Palin's clothes can be tailored to fit me. I do not know what size Ms. Palin wears, but <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/14/fashion/14hair.html?partner=rssuserland&emc=rss&pagewanted=all">a recent NY Times article</a> said that she wore a beehive hairdo because she is "short." I too am short. Everything else can be taken in. I will cover all costs of tailoring personally. <br /><br />4) Your donation would be a sign of the Republican Party's willingness to support struggling young women entering the workforce. Moreover, you could point to the fact that I am a lifelong Democrat to show that the Republican Party never plays favorites, and is committed to fairness, equality, and rewarding merit rather than <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/12/washington/13justice.html">blind party loyalty and backhanded political tactics.</a><br /><br />I am happy to name this charity as would best suit your needs. I would like to point out that my maiden name is Hispanic, and thus incorporating this into the charity name would also have the benefit of looking like your party supports minorities, <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/12/opinion/12rich.html">whether you do or not.</a><br /><br />I look forward to your prompt response. <br /><br />Most Sincerely, <br /><br /><br />MEELSMeelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-55903557264321339062008-09-18T17:54:00.000-07:002008-09-18T18:18:52.306-07:00Fabu-LAW-sity, Part IIn my Civil Procedure class (which only a few days ago I realized was distinguished from "Criminal" Procedure ... ohhhhhh...) we are discussing personal jurisdiction. When can a state gain jurisdiction over a person or a corporation? The early, famous case <i>Pennoyer v. Neff</i> creates a strict rule for establishing general jurisdiction over a person (called, funny enough, the Pennoyer Power Theory of Jurisdiction) which holds that states have exclusive jurisdiction to the persons and property within its territory and no jurisdiction over persons and property outside of its territory.<br /><br />In later years, the courts had to determine how to address corporations under this rule. Not having a body, but being a metaphorical body, the courts established two "legal fictions" - metaphors - for allowing jurisdiction over corporations who were technically outside of the state: 1) "presence" (i.e. if a corporation has a "presence" in the state, it does a lot of business there) and 2) "implied consent" (i.e. if a corporation was "doing business" in the state, it was implied that it had agreed to jurisdiction there). <br /><br />These metaphors were deemed illogical by a group of folks called Legal Realists (again with the creativity here) and were swapped out with a standard in a case affectionately called <i>International Shoe</i>. "Presence" becomes "certain minimum contacts" and "implied consent" becomes a fairness test, "such that the maintenance of the suit does not offend “traditional notions of fair play and substantial justice."<br /><br />But, says problem #6 in the notes on page 97 of my casebook, what about in the case of an individual person, who is NOT a resident or citizen or physically present at the time in a particular state, but who "does business" there to such an extent that it might be analogical to an out-of-state corporation? For there is one (and only one!) such a case, <i>Abko v. Lennon </i>, in which a certain Mr. Richard Starkey was deemed eligible to be sued in the State of New York because, the plaintiff alleged, he went about "doing business" there with minimum contacts and fairness and all the rest. <br /><br />And to this I said, Well, those minimum contacts and fairness standards stem from (and override) the metaphors of "presence" and "consent," which were only created because of the need to analogize a <i>corporation</i> to a <i>person</i>. Analogizing back the other way, then, would seem to undermine the whole process, because we <i>do</i> have sufficient standards for determining whether a <i>person</i> is under a state's jurisdiction or not. So we obviously need a standard here regulating the types of individuals that this special case can apply to, so as not to offend the entire system of due process. And I would suggest the proper standard here would be that the defendant can be subject to general jurisdiction if it can be shown that he or she is "bigger than Jesus."<br /><br />...<br /><br />OK, I didn't say that last part aloud. It's a hundred person class. But I sort of wish I did. ;)Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-43140666062305737622008-08-25T17:36:00.000-07:002008-08-25T18:03:39.857-07:00law school accessory edition: lunchI hate sandwiches. <br /><br />Well, that's a slight exaggeration. I like, for example, buffalo mozzarella, fresh basil, and tomato on focaccia. I like that with prociutto too. I like most paninis. I like grilled vegetable sandwiches. And I like baguettes with brie. <br /><br />OK, I like <i>some</i> sandwiches. But they have to be fatty, vinegar-y, or hot. And they can't, can't, CAN'T be on crappy bread. I am no PBJ girl anymore.*<br /><br />So what's a commuting girl to do when lunch is on the line and proverbial moths are still fluttering out of proverbial pocketbooks? Answer: buy a really expensive lunchbox. <br /><br />No, really; look at this: <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/4192%2By0cB2L._SL500_AA280_.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/4192%2By0cB2L._SL500_AA280_.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />This, my friends, is the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Zojirushi-Bento-Stainless-Steel-lined-Silver/dp/B000246GSE/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=home-garden&qid=1219711066&sr=8-1">Zojirushi Mr. Bento Lunch Jar</a>, and it will be my new best friend in 5-9 shipping days. <br /><br />An "American" sandwich won't even FIT in here - instead, I will have a four-course extravaganza, kept hot by Japanese Bento-technology. It is awesome looking, practical, and even has a <a href="http://www.flickr.com/groups/mrbento/">CULT FOLLOWING!</a> Seriously, if five thousand "Mr. Bento Porn" pictures can't stimulate some rockin' lunch ideas, I am worse off than I ever imagined... <br /><br />YUM!<br /><br />*One exception. I will still eat a tuna fish sandwich with Doritos wedged inside - a favorite of mine from high school.Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-31620620775503512202008-08-17T15:15:00.000-07:002008-08-17T15:16:39.927-07:00I can haz broccoli??<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfFmf9QIwE9cF_jczwJRBK8TXduIei2lLJrZlwD367Gm7-IgALvGnJPXz9UY-FOqM4qlemfAWMa_a2BMtalhWjHIsU3l15KEY27dnJOnEkwYM_4pyLCfjobBszt-kfLQXAoSF8/s1600-h/DSCN4990.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfFmf9QIwE9cF_jczwJRBK8TXduIei2lLJrZlwD367Gm7-IgALvGnJPXz9UY-FOqM4qlemfAWMa_a2BMtalhWjHIsU3l15KEY27dnJOnEkwYM_4pyLCfjobBszt-kfLQXAoSF8/s320/DSCN4990.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235613988981472962" /></a><br /><br />What is this, a B Vitamin deficiency??Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-76048592880738379112008-08-03T15:35:00.000-07:002008-08-03T16:01:33.921-07:00Hey there, cats don't eat pie!Matt and I welcome the very cute, <i>very</i> intelligent, super adorable, worth at least sixpence (twice as much as your cat, Dave!) NEW KITTEH!<br /><br />Already our dissertations are in peril!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMtNCMWGjfc-sdvLQDy6qus1jF3RutaUT9VXEs7ZfnW-i4Y9OT_ezbjUsQr1o6R7Bv6K5N3lMTNvQxfW3bugxsyyskU4OJ96MLRWn8N1QwQ-_ONeK_x6-fbVx3UJXSN7YEMSHE/s1600-h/DSCN4968.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMtNCMWGjfc-sdvLQDy6qus1jF3RutaUT9VXEs7ZfnW-i4Y9OT_ezbjUsQr1o6R7Bv6K5N3lMTNvQxfW3bugxsyyskU4OJ96MLRWn8N1QwQ-_ONeK_x6-fbVx3UJXSN7YEMSHE/s320/DSCN4968.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230425440305761906" border="0" /></a><br /><center><span style="font-size:78%;">Um, and not just metaphorically.</span><br /></center><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgavFpc1KrI6HeQUQF1A6xdQJY8Gj2OPAKxlW4ulZOWc3xquLFEnzFJfF_b2O489lrH7PESS6LknzHlvV7NH60PL2Qr0bV2imsEgkpmGnP_NxUsNl3Ffo6YJGQVmTb6I2ixFxC8/s1600-h/DSCN4969.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgavFpc1KrI6HeQUQF1A6xdQJY8Gj2OPAKxlW4ulZOWc3xquLFEnzFJfF_b2O489lrH7PESS6LknzHlvV7NH60PL2Qr0bV2imsEgkpmGnP_NxUsNl3Ffo6YJGQVmTb6I2ixFxC8/s320/DSCN4969.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230425441630760034" border="0" /></a><br /><center><span style="font-size:78%;">Kitteh finds the sunny spots!</span></center><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBZIN1_dorNDNEzNLZq1Ycof27eMoXP9fTbfZ7y36Zffr6KMjnVKzVHylcUoJPagqpl9IMBi9197fr1FyX7p9gpykEq9JE_bihSrRbqzP6yR-wGBdHNFLW540B7vU0VVfyUntv/s1600-h/DSCN4970.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBZIN1_dorNDNEzNLZq1Ycof27eMoXP9fTbfZ7y36Zffr6KMjnVKzVHylcUoJPagqpl9IMBi9197fr1FyX7p9gpykEq9JE_bihSrRbqzP6yR-wGBdHNFLW540B7vU0VVfyUntv/s320/DSCN4970.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230425448608485938" border="0" /></a><br /><center><span style="font-size:78%;">Kitteh learns about glass table tops!</span></center><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSV9lRhTp3WNfKZcorfkAxbq8de4g-4qXVn0F5SIicoaOsKOcz0oE1guGXroDjRegYryV0PILx7xl9YQsYRgg5nl8Gj93_snF7d1NISIDbmqOWTP9G3fw7n8AwUM-GJURHTzIR/s1600-h/DSCN4972.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSV9lRhTp3WNfKZcorfkAxbq8de4g-4qXVn0F5SIicoaOsKOcz0oE1guGXroDjRegYryV0PILx7xl9YQsYRgg5nl8Gj93_snF7d1NISIDbmqOWTP9G3fw7n8AwUM-GJURHTzIR/s320/DSCN4972.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230425460817761314" border="0" /></a><br /><center><span style="font-size:78%;">Vicious Aloysius makes a friend!</span></center><br /><br />More pictures - and his name - once he loses the ridiculous vet cone.Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-27332177767379605632008-07-29T21:40:00.000-07:002008-07-29T22:27:49.653-07:00law school preparations: accessory editionWell and now it comes to it! We are back from our travels and ensconced back in our lovely apartment, which we had left mostly clean with only a few straggling dishes from our hurried breakfast before catching our early flight. And now I have a whole month to focus on the one thing that really matters before the fall: what to wear on the first day of law school. (Did you think I would say "dissertation"? Really?? Ha, I laugh...)<br /><br />Since the last time I opened my metaphorical pocketbook I only got those little moths you see in the cartoons, the first step for my wardrobe was Repair and Rehem -- I had the soles of my favorite fall shoes replaced, my too-long jeans hemmed (yes Beth, the ones you made fun of me for not hemming, I've finally hemmed), and some holes patched in a knit sweater. I will also probably get the lining of my leather jacket replaced... hmm... maybe I'll do it in something besides black... like purple! I will have to ask my special alterations lady, whom I LOVE... maybe I'll do a post just on her next...<br /><br />But there is one item from grad school which will NOT be making the transition to the law school wardrobe: my backpack. I will graduate from law school and turn 30 at about the same time. Wearing a backpack at 30 is a sign of failure (or back problems. Uhh... or camping...) - but ANYWAY, my inherent fabulousness (fabu-LAW-sity! ha! still cracks me up!) and the fact that I've been using one since FOREVER that I've been in school precludes it utterly. So to the question: what miraculous shoulder bag contraption can fit a laptop, my books, my snacks, my electronics, the most recent issue of Vogue, uh, I mean The Economist, and everything else a girl needs?<br /><br />I was stumped. What *are* all the cool kids carrying these days? So I consulted the professionals at <a href="http://corporette.com/">Corporette</a> - they usually do work wardrobes, but I hoped they would take pity on me, on the cusp of entering the world of "professional" school, and respond to my query. <a href="http://corporette.com/2008/07/21/reader-mailbag-bags-for-law-school/">And they did!</a> <a href="http://corporette.com/2008/07/22/the-hunt-laptop-sleeves/">Twice!</a> (I didn't even have to tell them that I'm a recovering medievalist!) <br /><br />And their main bag reply was:<br /><br /><blockquote>- a large nylon bag — you want something durable as well as lightweight, because your law school books will definitely be heavy enough by themselves. We’ve suggested a few for you below, but in general we’d suggest looking at diaper bags and beach bags as your main campus bag. If you have back problems, you may want to look into a rolling backpack, as most of the ergonomic bags are a bit too small for law school textbooks.</blockquote><br /><br />I was highly gratified to see them recommend a diaper bag, actually, because I'd been shopping around myself on Zappos and seen <a href="http://www.zappos.com/n/p/p/7332969/c/108045.html">this</a>:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.zappos.com/images/733/7332969/10591-449591-p.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.zappos.com/images/733/7332969/10591-449591-p.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Pinstripe! Teal! Looks pretty much perfect, no? But one of the gazillion reviews said it "looked kinda like a diaper bag" which I was mildly concerned about. Until Corporette sanctioned the nylon! Yay!!<br /><br />Zappos will have it here tomorrow! For a test drive I plan to fill it with my laptop, Lewis and Short, and LaRousse Gastronomique and prance around the house. <br /><br />Now I ask myself, can little pocketbook moths buy themselves a new MacBook???Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-39154314298363104372008-07-04T10:19:00.000-07:002008-07-04T10:25:03.907-07:00travels never cease...... but sometimes, I wish they would! <br /><br />Next up, Philadelphia, Cleveland, and DC. Unfortunately, Dissertation Station is the very last stop on this ride, and I was really hoping to spend more time there this summer. You know, before I hit Fabu-LAW-sity. OMG I should totally start that blog... Dys-FUN-ctional can be grad school, Fabu-LAW-sity can be law school!!!!Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-19605744053852170682008-06-10T10:02:00.001-07:002008-06-10T10:02:47.186-07:00pictures<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/amelia.borrego/EdinburghLindisfarneHadrian1">up.</a>Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-66744003357347546522008-05-30T13:44:00.001-07:002008-05-30T14:25:56.572-07:00and then there were links...When I was in the tenth grade, my French teacher arranged a trip to France through one of those mid-grade educational tours -- the one where she gets to go for free if so many people sign up, and then 10 more for her husband, etc. I obviously HAD to go, and I did -- I was the French "prodigy," we'll say, of my central Oklahoma high school, managing to skip ahead through independent study and yada yah. I have very vivid, blurry memories of this trip - my first out of the country, ever. They're like snapshots from an old camera (and probably, if I go back though my photos of the trip, that's exactly what they are - the photos, not the real memory...). <br /><br />I remember a half-dark plane crossing the atlantic. I remember Paris, it was overcast and cold, and the sand-colored gravel around the Louvre was not the lush palace garden I'd expected. The Mona Lisa was behind glass that glared, and was hard to see. I had a crush on a boy who was also on the trip, who wore a long black trench coat and looked like the Highlander -- I remember that very well. He was sort of a loner, and spent his time wandering around with the science teacher/chaperone Mr. Nole, who was also the detention teacher, and so knew him well. I tagged along - both of them were happy to be willingly followed by someone who could order cheeseburgers for them and didn't really want to go shopping at Le Printemps. I remember they ordered a Heineken together at a bar, and I didn't know whether I should get alcohol (isn't it <i>illegal</i> for a 16 year old to have alcohol??) or a coke. I remember some ice cream, and a crepe, and a car museum. I remember having a charcoal drawing done in Montmartre. I remember a prostitute was arrested in the lobby of our hotel at night, and it was the first time I'd seen one. I remember the painful decision - Mrs. Tippen wanted to see the Eiffel Tower at night, but Mr. Tippen had agreed to accompany some students to the Latin Quarter. Everyone grouped up with Mr. Tippen and it was down to me... I'm sorry Mrs. Tippen, I would've been branded a dork for life. The bartender could toss the bottles in the air and twist them as he poured. At least I got everyone back on the metro all right.<br /><br />Then I remember a train, and we went south to a lot of towns that start with N... Nimes, Nice, a bus. Sun, and we were quite tired. Things are hazy, I remember a fountain and we went to a candy factory and a perfume factory - Fragonard, because I still have the bottle of "Rendez-Vous" that I bought there. I bought some chocolate "seagulls eggs" but ... I thought I had more francs than that... I could only get one bag. More time on the bus, an hour in Monaco, a jostle of people, what? a prince? I can't see, too short. More bus, into Italy, to Milan, it was overcast and the city smelled like piss. We only had four hours until our flight home, and I stayed on the bus. <br /><br />Back in Oklahoma, about a month later, I flipped open one of my French books and found 300 francs. They said not to keep your money all in one place. They said it was safest, for our own good (nevermind that Mr. Tippen was the only one of us to get pickpocketed! from an exterior pocket of a fanny pack on a crowded subway!). And I had, like an idiot, and it was too late, the chocolate was gone, and what had been the name of it anyway...? <br /><br />Over the years the memories grow dimmer and I remember these chocolate eggs, the enjoyment, crunchy sugared shell and chocolate inside, but something else too, another flavor. The disappointment that I couldn't afford more at the time. The regret of "playing it safe" with my francs. Ahh... the evanescence of youth, travel, experience.<br /><br />Except now. In the internet age, what is ever lost? For a recent random internet search has yielded fruit - I, the traveler, passed through and went on, but the candy factory is still there, and doing quite well -- it's called <a href="http://www.confiserieflorian.com/">Confiserie Florian</a> and it's right next to <a href="http://www.fragonard.com/">Fragonard</a> in Grasse, along the Cote d'Azur. <a href="http://www.frommers.com/trip_ideas/road_trip/article.cfm?ideaID=ROADTRIP&articleid=4652&t=Where's%20Johnny%20Jet%3F%20Smelling%20Swell%20in%20Provence">Another traveler</a> will tell you all about them on Frommers. "Rendez-Vous" has been discontinued, but Confiserie Florian still has its <a href="http://www.confiserieflorian.com/product_info.php?cPath=5&products_id=226">Oeufs de Mouettes</a> and I can order them at any time; for the right price, they deliver all over the world. Cliquez-ici.<br /><br />I meant to order them earlier, so we could have them delivered in the EU, but I put it off. I loved this candy, I search for its equivalent every year - I eventually turned to Cadbury mini-eggs every Easter as a pale, shadowy substitute (interestingly, another candy whose appeal partially comes from its limited availability). But... do I <i>want</i> to order them? ... What if they ... <i>taste different than I remember??</i> I am not the same, perhaps my tastebuds more so. Am I prepared to revisit the flavor that I have dreamed of, idolized, searched for, and resigned myself to keeping and holding only in my memory, a memory tied up in youth, travel, searching, escaping, longing... And now I can just order that off the internet??? <br /><br />I will try them, one day. But... perhaps I will hold on to my memory a little longer.Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-52729157307606752592008-05-18T13:55:00.000-07:002008-05-18T13:55:58.445-07:00oh noes! a grai hair!<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><A HREF='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2jnJNrCfGZcdxWB-QcPw4YbpXRufRmz9kGuyjK601uwPuoA5fcexRud9oI4MJGATOAWw6aG76HzkDQmug2C3zCfklHevpvMoKqH4OdwcM-PB_pZBrkh35Q1ZOmZQfaYTsrrQb/s1600-h/DSCN4014.JPG'><IMG SRC='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2jnJNrCfGZcdxWB-QcPw4YbpXRufRmz9kGuyjK601uwPuoA5fcexRud9oI4MJGATOAWw6aG76HzkDQmug2C3zCfklHevpvMoKqH4OdwcM-PB_pZBrkh35Q1ZOmZQfaYTsrrQb/s320/DSCN4014.JPG' border=0 alt='' id='BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_' ></A> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-46238115459008105502008-05-14T06:17:00.000-07:002008-08-01T09:01:17.856-07:00All Venerate the Altar of the Lam GodsOur recent trip to Bruges and Ghent had both Matt and I worshipping at the altar of "Het Lam Gods." For Matt, it involved listening to all 40 minutes of the audiotour of Jan van Eyck's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghent_Altarpiece">famous altarpiece</a>. For me, it meant eating a humongous rack of lamb in red wine sauce.<br /><br />No, I kid. (kid! har har.) Matt had the lamb and I had fish. Really, it was Matt who worshipped the Lamb Gods all weekend, and I stuck to the Chocolate Gods. Well, to be honest, most of our time was spent prostrated to the Beer Gods, under the spiritual guidance of the lovely <a href="http://www.halvemaan.be/">Brugse Zot</a>.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBOo8RUQdKC3TWLsx9zfjuy1r2kgUyhsLek9H8qEJ_P0la3Ek-GUbIUvdlAOLzMx2GOQRX8Wxy3dRvhEnpOCPyii-P79PRiMsvUlU7f_MYb2dDsv04AzPTa-j-NoAAYi07QBK/s1600-h/DSCN3977.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBOo8RUQdKC3TWLsx9zfjuy1r2kgUyhsLek9H8qEJ_P0la3Ek-GUbIUvdlAOLzMx2GOQRX8Wxy3dRvhEnpOCPyii-P79PRiMsvUlU7f_MYb2dDsv04AzPTa-j-NoAAYi07QBK/s320/DSCN3977.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229579571990246402" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Well, we had to try a few different kinds</span>.<br /></div><br /><br />Pictures <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/amelia.borrego/BrugesAndGhent">up</a> in the usual spot.Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-54802808583101383212008-05-06T09:27:00.000-07:002008-05-06T09:36:53.379-07:00procrastination...well the weather has suddenly become summery, I've spent a couple hours on the beach this week, watched several dozen episodes of gilmore girls and law and order, and read over 1000 pages of Harry Potter (vols. 1, 6, and 4). It can only mean one thing. <br /><br />dissertation chapter. <br /><br />Hmmm, I think I have to go do some dishes...Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-82377531952743605002008-04-21T13:50:00.000-07:002008-04-21T14:41:10.205-07:00whirlwind tourThe latest intallment of "where's that hottie?!" took me from Geneva, back to the Hague, and out to the San Francisco Bay Area, and back (to the Hague again). (Go frequent flier miles!) I had 5 surprisingly jam-packed days -- two in Berkeley, three in Palo Alto -- to determine the location of my impending continuing education plans. Homesickness made the decision harder than you might think, particularly after a <a href="http://www.yaliscafe.com/">tasty lunch</a>, multiple rounds of <a href="http://www.barcesar.com/shattuck/wine.html">house-made lemon-mint soda</a>, and a run-in with my favorite crook-tailed orange cat, Pony Boy. (OK, I didn't actually see Pony Boy on this trip... I saw my dissertation adviser. She's less furry.) Anyway, addled by the scent of Berkeley in full spring bloom (and probably by jet lag) I was highly biased against my other option by the time I got back down to Palo Alto. And yet... and yet. With the cards on the table Berkeley just couldn't beat Stanford where it counts. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-c.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sf2p/v231/42/73/1246344/n1246344_39251962_6087.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://photos-c.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sf2p/v231/42/73/1246344/n1246344_39251962_6087.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />(Uh, that would be the financial aid package. and the generous joint-degree offerings that will give me credit for finishing my dissertation. and the incredibly with-it staff. and the high ranking. and ... you get the idea.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-b.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sf2p/v231/42/73/1246344/n1246344_39251961_5771.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://photos-b.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sf2p/v231/42/73/1246344/n1246344_39251961_5771.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Oh, and the classrooms have <a href="http://www.aeronchair.com/">these chairs</a>. Oh, yes. :)Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-3310767046421494032008-04-07T14:34:00.001-07:002008-04-07T15:11:40.232-07:00my new friend Alice, aka the Doomsday MachineI went to visit <a href="http://aliceinfo.cern.ch/Public/index.html"> Alice</a> on Sunday. There was a big <a href="http://lhc2008.web.cern.ch/LHC2008/index-E.html"> special open house day</a> that apparently 50,000 other people took part in too. See, there's this 27 km tunnel -- you might have heard of it recently because some people think its going to <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/29/science/29collider.html?em&ex=1207713600&en=a1c684281fc97078&ei=5087%0A"> destroy the earth, or at least Hawaii </a> -- because the LHC particle accelerator in the tunnel is used to speed particles up to just below the speed of light, and crash them into each other. Then there are these big "detectors" at the crash sites, which measure for different things. Alice is one of them, and hopes to measure the smashing of large ions (hence the name... A Large Ion Collision Experiment) i.e. lead nuclei and to be able to recreate quark-gluon plasma. Quark-gluon plasma (not to be confused with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quark_%28cheese%29">quark</a>-gluon plasma, which is probably much tastier) is what existed in the tiny fractions-of-a-second before matter was created after the big bang. So, according to the German CERN intern who was ahead of us in line to get tickets, if anything is going to create a black hole (or a dragon, see article) it's going to be the Alice experiment.<br /><br />Neat, huh?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.google.com/amelia.borrego/R_qYZSfho7I/AAAAAAAABqM/cvNhih3adGg/DSCN3912.JPG.jpg?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh5.google.com/amelia.borrego/R_qYZSfho7I/AAAAAAAABqM/cvNhih3adGg/DSCN3912.JPG.jpg?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://aliceinfo.cern.ch/">A Large Ion Collider Experiment</a></span><br /></div><br /><br />(Why would it create a black hole? Well, you see, when a star dies, its matter cools and condenses, becoming smaller. It has such a huge amount of gravity that all the atoms get squished closer together than normal and occasionally the atoms collapse into each other and the protons and the electrons start to touch and cancel each other out and then you get a neutrons-only playground but then those keep collapsing and you get ... "nothing" -- mostly because the gravitational pull is so strong, that you can't figure out what's in there and come back out and tell NASA. So... some people think <i>maybe</i> if you crash two nuclei together at just below the speed of light then conditions would be right to create a black hole, though ... it's only two nuclei, not an entire star's worth and, you know, we're still on earth and not in space and it would be subject to earth's conditions, so see, it's all very unlikely.)<br /><br />SCIENCE!Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-21631917810738581712008-04-01T09:56:00.000-07:002008-04-01T10:05:31.461-07:00new year, new look, new localeOne of these years I will start blogging again and be in the exact same place I was when I left off. No such luck this time. :) Where did we leave off, Milwaukee? Well, we made it to California and stayed there all fall, enjoying our favorite enclaves and walks, sunny days, the vegetable market, and even braving the fish monger's and a new pizza place. But, as is in our nature, as soon as the weather turns cold, we go and fly off somewhere colder. To the Netherlands, this time. Oh sure, you might think of tulips and wooden shoes, but let me remind you about a little something called... <br /><br />THE NORTH SEA.<br /><br />That's right, frosty, frothy waves slapping against giant metal fishing trawlers, the wind wailing through the rigging of the ships at harbor, kicking sand up into your face and hair as you walk along the dead empty sand-grassy dunes where rusted green German bunkers squat -- oh yeah, THAT North Sea. <br /><br />Of course, now it's April, so it's more like the North Sea with the row of summer-only beach clubs, bungee jumping, casinos, ice cream stands, windsurfing and para-sailing. But everyone is still wearing coats.Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-12408517220035570272007-11-20T18:48:00.000-08:002008-04-02T02:57:13.473-07:00roar!<object width="450" height="400"><param name="movie" value="http://goldencompassmovie.com/goldenCompass_blog.swf?id=416023"></param><embed src="http://goldencompassmovie.com/goldenCompass_blog.swf?id=416023" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" menu="false" width="450" height="400"></embed></object>Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-47992744649037452322007-07-15T07:30:00.000-07:002007-07-15T07:43:41.714-07:00Friday Night Fish-Fry and Brewery TourIn Milwaukee now, home of the famous tradition: Friday Night Fish-Fry! The lovely Anna took us to the Lake Shore Brewery for Fish-Fry and a Brewery Tour!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzshBbZUkq7MH00crmunH6T7iLvyavuEhwk5-7HpgbvyXP_5tnWc2CJyHl5YSOuSqzVOpKA_qby1NFit3iD2QqjRkbg8AsYXpE2PkoJe-Nd85Ieo-6ZBiZ0W8defUcrbr2KjZe/s1600-h/DSC03210-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087432457902359298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzshBbZUkq7MH00crmunH6T7iLvyavuEhwk5-7HpgbvyXP_5tnWc2CJyHl5YSOuSqzVOpKA_qby1NFit3iD2QqjRkbg8AsYXpE2PkoJe-Nd85Ieo-6ZBiZ0W8defUcrbr2KjZe/s320/DSC03210-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />The Happy Crew awaits the delivery of deep-fried goodness!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu6gDMMF2ieGJD9s52w91uAaAiMapE0_h2kzLaIvsDcVo_jNsWkePAOTKkiOFl-O84QMtCUri7p8hF3YeyBmyPdlyaOdWlYSWU4QkOKFcoTB1ugEhQQXpvk0o1Fq7qDfjG4ixJ/s1600-h/DSC03212-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087432470787261202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu6gDMMF2ieGJD9s52w91uAaAiMapE0_h2kzLaIvsDcVo_jNsWkePAOTKkiOFl-O84QMtCUri7p8hF3YeyBmyPdlyaOdWlYSWU4QkOKFcoTB1ugEhQQXpvk0o1Fq7qDfjG4ixJ/s320/DSC03212-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />The Fish!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcFZoYl_TkJlS3pBzbbYkYxtzao_kP1UYoV75f7wAKQmcSH1Ja0KIdy8H8HewSJJuSyZ9mB2a53egSAmW2VxzX0jKOkZ-AFKD4vyE4TyoEygfimyO5QRlpmuK7eMI7dHfYPdQw/s1600-h/DSCN3261-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087432423542620882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcFZoYl_TkJlS3pBzbbYkYxtzao_kP1UYoV75f7wAKQmcSH1Ja0KIdy8H8HewSJJuSyZ9mB2a53egSAmW2VxzX0jKOkZ-AFKD4vyE4TyoEygfimyO5QRlpmuK7eMI7dHfYPdQw/s320/DSCN3261-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Yay plates of deep-fried goodness!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhewsRNOX9N3p9FOwDhSg-1VEiO0GrIN91r-LFKk4MP7Qwn5-0s-Aq0Y1uGj0H8eWqTSeRo9A4xBV6e0iHoty_MGCpGLQbBSrPy-5fWJfbVaK4Pz23rHhQxaMEzJCBGoGk0S8jy/s1600-h/DSCN3263-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087432436427522786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhewsRNOX9N3p9FOwDhSg-1VEiO0GrIN91r-LFKk4MP7Qwn5-0s-Aq0Y1uGj0H8eWqTSeRo9A4xBV6e0iHoty_MGCpGLQbBSrPy-5fWJfbVaK4Pz23rHhQxaMEzJCBGoGk0S8jy/s320/DSCN3263-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Uhh... there was a polka band, and uhhh... Anna made me do it! <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2txlFSuHVaH5X2wDzOl0aNbJKJEyoWHrtz0gioqh9ObgeNXmlcV149En7SQ3YcShb9K9HlyZ7iR4gm-_5zMGhOEB8xKy75_0Kzcythu193G8jfDAa_W4o5d17gxNZGwXaH6SO/s1600-h/DSCN3264-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087432445017457394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2txlFSuHVaH5X2wDzOl0aNbJKJEyoWHrtz0gioqh9ObgeNXmlcV149En7SQ3YcShb9K9HlyZ7iR4gm-_5zMGhOEB8xKy75_0Kzcythu193G8jfDAa_W4o5d17gxNZGwXaH6SO/s320/DSCN3264-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Yet another picture of me and Anna dancing together. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRItBNx0wnIrtLnl00vnPBOYQKs2jIHvC6vjRIczelN-yDG3TYEt-6TMgfSd9ze_nWjmv74Fl-uMtgGyUbWgovAtZvkG6ebhES8N-RYq1-3CrA9x1d5wTH28HIr5aTZc7JU-_m/s1600-h/DSC03222-1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRItBNx0wnIrtLnl00vnPBOYQKs2jIHvC6vjRIczelN-yDG3TYEt-6TMgfSd9ze_nWjmv74Fl-uMtgGyUbWgovAtZvkG6ebhES8N-RYq1-3CrA9x1d5wTH28HIr5aTZc7JU-_m/s320/DSC03222-1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087433604658627378" /></a><br /><br />Afterwards we went to Leon's for frozen custard, which is like ice cream, but with egg.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBK02CXcSnwgTSToMkqHtrEZwch9ByWtUCIt3M10OTKXkkaWfaNDT8AKvHeYevb6xaD1zeprMs9pqCvbVxQ6z8nfDdeaIbSCDKxhvdZXYP-smE7vn6NKrE1BkYGGD9laOwGzg/s1600-h/DSC03224-1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBK02CXcSnwgTSToMkqHtrEZwch9ByWtUCIt3M10OTKXkkaWfaNDT8AKvHeYevb6xaD1zeprMs9pqCvbVxQ6z8nfDdeaIbSCDKxhvdZXYP-smE7vn6NKrE1BkYGGD9laOwGzg/s320/DSC03224-1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087433621838496578" /></a><br /><br />Ahh, butter pecan...Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9761168.post-46506680560014734542007-07-14T07:50:00.000-07:002007-07-14T08:31:24.471-07:00NY-OhioAfter leaving Beth's on Tuesday, we started the long, long, loooong drive through the length of New York State. It looked a lot like this for much of the time:<br /><br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2e0V3h6G6ERkIx9CgyVz6rrajpMBRAakMtM2hV8UJVuVhbACHEJ6A7HeMR9lVXp7jbaMKSncpGD2EIHBln6q7c06pecoY_XDlrN9-9qzxviFNPqB13Y1YE_feoFVl6uhb5JaH/s1600-h/DSCN3245.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2e0V3h6G6ERkIx9CgyVz6rrajpMBRAakMtM2hV8UJVuVhbACHEJ6A7HeMR9lVXp7jbaMKSncpGD2EIHBln6q7c06pecoY_XDlrN9-9qzxviFNPqB13Y1YE_feoFVl6uhb5JaH/s320/DSCN3245.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><br />We were surrounded on all sides by corn. And occasionally there were dilapidated barns:<br /><br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibr5n1W1lQtaYIXgSx25F85k9ktADcvUffSYBy7b_dNH0SQJU4lX_tmvwBBFilLKxz7KdK0xfdOGXyFtTaRB-aQ5UnHTzkQa5A25POGTTpk6EVIQU6v_Xz6UtBk8H2Cont5_0e/s1600-h/DSCN3246.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibr5n1W1lQtaYIXgSx25F85k9ktADcvUffSYBy7b_dNH0SQJU4lX_tmvwBBFilLKxz7KdK0xfdOGXyFtTaRB-aQ5UnHTzkQa5A25POGTTpk6EVIQU6v_Xz6UtBk8H2Cont5_0e/s320/DSCN3246.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><br />Once we were in Ohio, the skies cleared, and we decided to stop for some Roadfood for dinner. In good midwestern style, it was 5pm. The White Turkey Drive-In is an institution in Conneaut, Ohio. The on-the-ground directions in the book are non-existant, and of course our Rand-McNally atlas doesn't exactly have a city map of Conneaut, so our first step was to find the place. After driving from the highway to Lake Erie and back by the historic train depot, we gave up and called. A chipper, high-school cheerleader answered, and gave us one-step-at-a-time directions, promising to "stay with us" until we made it. ("OK, are you headed toward the lake?" "Um, yes" [we weren't]. "OK, so, you'll have to turn around." "oh, ok... [believable pause] Done." "Have you passed a Big K?" "Sure." [we hadn't] "OK, well, we're on the other street, so you'll have to make a left until you see a mobil station." "...Great. Fine, we're there..." and so on.)<br /><br />It was kind of miraculous that we made it at all, actually.<br /><br /><div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEWpmicTfIkW9GkyxNqTwjrSY9pV2NF483lC5WXjQonqI33TzVcdRdIAS0Z_sTz03S91qYmOOiFQccLC-jWTHGrzvKBkRMFJLz27sWBccX7OYqfqmD1fVdkLg4fGQ00cLikK4o/s1600-h/DSCN3248.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEWpmicTfIkW9GkyxNqTwjrSY9pV2NF483lC5WXjQonqI33TzVcdRdIAS0Z_sTz03S91qYmOOiFQccLC-jWTHGrzvKBkRMFJLz27sWBccX7OYqfqmD1fVdkLg4fGQ00cLikK4o/s320/DSCN3248.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><br />The White Turkey Drive-In is a summer-only ... drive-in ... with stools at the counter and picnic tables around the back. They're schtick is a "secret-recipe" turkey, sort of like a juicy pulled-turkey sandwich, as well as root beer and tons of types of ice cream fountain drinks.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBjFwwPycaDBR8PxtK3SlyzfyxRCs8xMWthbTBBxa8MUCa-NEN2aUAp9O0Ovpk1nFZJC5M-B28HmrVcUM-RS8dEXrvibHz4E2wvmSbBr3fKsG_Nx68TNkuV58nxdqYENMjQwlq/s1600-h/DSCN3249-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087066810156581506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBjFwwPycaDBR8PxtK3SlyzfyxRCs8xMWthbTBBxa8MUCa-NEN2aUAp9O0Ovpk1nFZJC5M-B28HmrVcUM-RS8dEXrvibHz4E2wvmSbBr3fKsG_Nx68TNkuV58nxdqYENMjQwlq/s320/DSCN3249-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And cheerleaders.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijBSYS2tOv2xZjxBIi2bPPJ2E5XPHI242QvVHxvDwEVD5Bm5eZEldwtqvgbkFfdhAHYNCZp9fakDvZqdBCfrh4S-5xmwEYbgU1nkr4WNOtp5c10sYI8frwkFJs_CXHSDS4pg1-/s1600-h/DSCN3250-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087066818746516114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijBSYS2tOv2xZjxBIi2bPPJ2E5XPHI242QvVHxvDwEVD5Bm5eZEldwtqvgbkFfdhAHYNCZp9fakDvZqdBCfrh4S-5xmwEYbgU1nkr4WNOtp5c10sYI8frwkFJs_CXHSDS4pg1-/s320/DSCN3250-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Matt got a Turkey Sandwich and I got the "Large Marge," which is a turkey sandwich plus cheese and bacon. Because really, what can't be improved by the addition of cheese and bacon? And I got a root beer float, which was made with a huge swirl of soft-serv vanilla, and bubbled over the frosted mug when I stirred. It is unclear what the process of turkey preparation is, but according to the menu, the owners and 8 workers spent all of January preparing 8,000 pounds of turkey for consumption during the 2007 season.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1AGnIKq8Ch3vi48qM0RohrutkaMj6o8UDegrHZNOvcvADfvi7Bo7Gip-nS3hSAQ6J7hJMUz_raMue-DDq6qhNlIR8JMWdTDo1-mSxVO21DdAP4oaZolFTZ6yQQR3_otynploR/s1600-h/DSCN3252-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087066827336450722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1AGnIKq8Ch3vi48qM0RohrutkaMj6o8UDegrHZNOvcvADfvi7Bo7Gip-nS3hSAQ6J7hJMUz_raMue-DDq6qhNlIR8JMWdTDo1-mSxVO21DdAP4oaZolFTZ6yQQR3_otynploR/s320/DSCN3252-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We spent more time finding the place than scarfing down our turkey sandwiches, but we were satisfied that we'd experienced a bit of Americana by the time we'd left. The main street, decorated at intervals with flags, lead us back to I-90.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8Tj_DjOiHKjAs-FkHtPFDmplKIoFF5YyUO9Pt1-LjT3VVu8fWPXY2YcJ6YQ81JCMSRIhcWi7YyFsx_fQuTF_1emIYB0jaKX4DbqDvy1GInwyC3jHpfQu7-yRsOiq4Er-0KKB/s1600-h/DSCN3253-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087066840221352626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8Tj_DjOiHKjAs-FkHtPFDmplKIoFF5YyUO9Pt1-LjT3VVu8fWPXY2YcJ6YQ81JCMSRIhcWi7YyFsx_fQuTF_1emIYB0jaKX4DbqDvy1GInwyC3jHpfQu7-yRsOiq4Er-0KKB/s320/DSCN3253-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And as the sun set, the tops of the corn were illuminated by the horizontal light, and the white farmhouses glowed orange, a bald eagle kept pace with the car for a split second, and then veered left, out of sight.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj81tezO4Hbo6QE8iWVHLK5TRCbT0DWv1YPzbUcyei78CnPHmZnqjOYTPvKQ9ohdLGsdwT6BfXy8Svd_bMvD6M-ANNODDG_7qs4C9Isofy9d6JcmNpNv35vJHo9nymk9NXdPUhp/s1600-h/DSCN3255-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087066844516319938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj81tezO4Hbo6QE8iWVHLK5TRCbT0DWv1YPzbUcyei78CnPHmZnqjOYTPvKQ9ohdLGsdwT6BfXy8Svd_bMvD6M-ANNODDG_7qs4C9Isofy9d6JcmNpNv35vJHo9nymk9NXdPUhp/s320/DSCN3255-1.JPG" border="0" /></a> <br /><br />No shit.Meelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07254404485350726081noreply@blogger.com0