tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85067471837971220182024-03-13T22:09:02.621-05:00Seymour Chasefield notes from the archaeologist's wifeSeymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-52731891032725658612013-07-03T00:15:00.000-05:002013-07-04T10:55:38.947-05:00The Solipsist Rides Again: Sports Edition<br />
(For The Solipsist's previous works, see <a href="http://seymourchase.blogspot.com/2010/10/psa-for-aspiring-nobel-laureates-im.html" target="_blank">A PSA for aspiring Nobel Laureates</a>)<br />
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So as you may or may not know, the Chicago Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup. <br />
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Hooray!!! </div>
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You may or may not also know that they previously won the cup in 2010 (and at the time we also said hooray!). What you may or may not know, however, is that prior to that, they had not won the cup since 1961. Perhaps you may or may not recall that about a decade ago ESPN dubbed them the "worst franchise in professional sports".<br />
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(At this point, as you begin sketching out a rough timeline, it may be useful to note that we moved to Chicago in the fall of 2002.)<br />
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I'm going to assume that you are aware that the Chicago White Sox won the World Series in 2005 (it was a super awesome 4 game sweep that I hope you watched). I am going to also assume that through your culture of choice - sports, cinema, literature, or gambling - you are aware of the whole Black Sox Scandal of 1919, the subsequent curse, and thus a very very long losing streak.<br />
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(Again, if you have yet to, please note we were residing in Chicago at that time - and to be more precise, on the South Side.)<br />
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Now the Bears didn't win the Super Bowl, but they did actually play in the Super Bowl in 2006 - a thing they had not done since 1985 - and considering they were essentially playing sans quarterback, I think it's fair to put it in our "win" column as well.<br />
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(Fun Fact: Future Hall of Famer Brian Urlacher retired a couple months ago. He told the Chicago Tribune, "I don't have a desire to play" ...we are leaving Chicago and moving to DC before the 2013 season will begin.)<br />
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How 'bout them Cubs? Well, as with the Bears, I think we should get some credit for their 2003 postseason series win - it was their first since 1908. But man, that NLCS was a sad debacle.<br />
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(And before you naysayers start furiously scribbling your rebuttal hinging on the Cubs continued poor performance, I'd like to refer you to your notes - we live on the South Side, and if push comes to shove, we are Sox fans.)<br />
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Finally, having come of age in the age of Michael Jordan, it is hard to put the Bulls in the same beleaguered category that the rest of Chicago's professional sports teams languished in prior to our arrival. Nevertheless, they had some disappointing years post Jordan, and it wasn't until 2004 that they starting making the playoffs with some regularity, and they got close in 2011.<br />
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(Thinking about it now, I realize it is possible that I have had an unconscious grudge against the Bulls, particularly John Paxson - Bull's GM 2003-09 and a current VP, for that last second three pointer and consequent victory over the Phoenix Suns in 1993 ...so, my apologies Derrick Rose.)<br />
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I guess that covers our residency from 2002-present. Pretty impressive, huh? No need to thank me Chicagoans; it was a pleasure.<br />
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(Chicago also has a professional soccer team, but they're not really on my radar - and if you're not on a solipsist's radar, well...)<br />
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Tune in next time to see The Solipsist dabble in politics. Sneak Peek: In 2008 the Presidential candidates were a) a man who lived a couple blocks away and b) a man from my home state; In 2012 the candidates were a) again a man whose home is a couple blocks away and b) a Mormon.Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-59876772914484667112013-04-15T14:16:00.000-05:002013-05-08T22:20:11.635-05:00Don't Call it a Comeback...cause seriously, this is not one. It's just that the other day I remembered a conversation on naming children that my sister and I had a few years ago in which I brought up the formerly popular trend where you simply take the whole name of an historically significant/renowned/honored person and then just add your surname - e.g. George Washington Ferris (inventor of the Ferris Wheel), George Washington Carver (agricultural innovator) ...and yes, you're clever - since those men became significant in their own right, someone in the subsequent generations would theoretically name their kid George Washington Carver Affleck. However, by "formerly popular" I meant well over a century ago, so unfortunately that ship sailed before they (and we) could enjoy such a poetic eponymous opportunity. Oh, and to clarify, it wasn't just George Washington's name - but that's all that's currently coming to mind. Anyway, as is our wont, my sister and I directed the dialogue into the ridiculous, and I eventually composed:<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">George Washington Irving Berlin Wall Street Lights ...People Oh Oh Ahhhh</span></div>
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Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-34001779540665283882012-01-13T12:22:00.008-06:002013-01-24T12:26:26.206-06:00One Poor Correspondent<span style="font-size:78%;">(I actually won a bet with The Archaeologist regarding that line in that song – which, I only mention because I am routinely mocked for not knowing the actual lyrics to songs …and perhaps why The Archaeologist felt it safe to bet against me – it’s plagued me my whole life – as a child my family thought it was so hilarious that I sang that song from Mary Poppins as “sisters who forget” rather than “sister suffragette” – yeah, I was like 7 – and maybe that’s why I studied a lot of Women’s History in college)</span><br /><br />So as 2011 came to an end, I realized there was much I meant to tell you that I just didn’t – but my response after my sister related her recent pat-down experience at the airport due to a piece of paper she left in her pocket was to scoff: "I never empty my pockets cause I never have anything in them". So, you know, we're not at fighting weight here, and clearly I should be hesitant to commit anything to print.<br /><br />Nevertheless, there are a few things that I’ll venture to mention despite my addledness:<br /><br />First, that upon my return to the States, I quickly (though systematically) concluded that In-N-Out is better than Five Guys (possibly swayed by the fact that never once did Five Guys give me the bacon and mushrooms I ordered each visit – but really, I think if you’re honest with yourself you’ll agree). But then I had a Whataburger not even considering it would be in the same league as the above burgers, and it was super delicious. However, I figure that most of that is nostalgia since The Archaeologist pretty definitively dislikes them, so we’ll stick with the In-N-Out verdict (I was pregnant for a good part of the year).<br /><br />Ok – so there’s the hamburger decision. In other news, we have a new baby boy. He was dubbed Chip-O in utero, so we’ll continue that moniker in blogosphere. He’s almost 3 months now – at 2 mo he was 2 ft long, almost 13 lbs. Here’s my favorite picture to date:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fwkDwJi9c0o/TxB28pbHNnI/AAAAAAAAASE/067UGahGXKQ/s1600/100_5291.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697184312907478642" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fwkDwJi9c0o/TxB28pbHNnI/AAAAAAAAASE/067UGahGXKQ/s320/100_5291.JPG" /></a><br /><br />As you may have deduced from the above pic, Half-O did not responded to the new family dynamic with, as they say, great aplomb – fits and bits of fury seem more apt. She loves him, mind you – she’s just taking the whole not-center-of-the-universe realization a little hard. Fingers crossed, I think we may be through the worst of it – we’ve slogged our way back from megalomania to simply willful.<br /><br />In addition to encountering a significant stage in early childhood development, Half-O spent the year pretending she and we were various fictional characters, various people we knew, and/or each other. She began this back in 2010, but in 2011 she went whole hog. The Archaeologist was a bit concerned that she was predominantly living different personas, but I responded that I remember pretending like that – didn’t he? He looked doubtful, so I said that perhaps he should just pretend that he did.<br /><br />Here’s a collection of some of Half-O’s alter egos (yes, a good part of my day is spent fashioning costumes – it’s not a bad gig):<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Dp4oyjWjN80/TxB3ooQF7hI/AAAAAAAAASc/B4zoFrhSTNA/s1600/dress%2Bup.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 262px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697185068507065874" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Dp4oyjWjN80/TxB3ooQF7hI/AAAAAAAAASc/B4zoFrhSTNA/s400/dress%2Bup.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">(can you find a nun, an owl, mater, the kung fu panda guys - as well as debbie reynolds as tigress, daisy duck, a number of cowgirls, the statue of liberty, princess leia, a hipster, a princess, grandma, and a one-eyed nautical cat?)</span><br /><br />Back in July we took some family pics:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oI9GIq5AwCQ/TxCAAadBVaI/AAAAAAAAATM/VAeqEcsTaVA/s1600/DSC_0095.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oI9GIq5AwCQ/TxCAAadBVaI/AAAAAAAAATM/VAeqEcsTaVA/s320/DSC_0095.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697194273213076898" /></a><br /><br />Then there were the holidays:<br /><br />Halloween<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xGft9c4x1e0/TxB8RSOVkLI/AAAAAAAAASo/tGIxc_iFfzw/s1600/oct%2B2011%2B022.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 240px; height: 320px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697190165015269554" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xGft9c4x1e0/TxB8RSOVkLI/AAAAAAAAASo/tGIxc_iFfzw/s320/oct%2B2011%2B022.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f5938VPG9Wc/TxB8RtpBHbI/AAAAAAAAAS0/M6guxaqpyWk/s1600/oct%2B2011%2B023.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 240px; height: 320px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697190172374932914" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f5938VPG9Wc/TxB8RtpBHbI/AAAAAAAAAS0/M6guxaqpyWk/s320/oct%2B2011%2B023.JPG" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">(I made those chaps - and am inordinately proud that I managed to make them while mothering a 2 week old and an adjusting almost 3 yr old, and that I figured out how to make them without having to sew a thing - just cut them out that way ...I didn't make anything for Chip-O)</span><br /><br />and Christmas:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U7I9st_Wc_I/TxB8SEiGkoI/AAAAAAAAAS8/KYYUbjXNf2M/s1600/IMG_0254.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 240px; height: 320px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697190178519945858" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U7I9st_Wc_I/TxB8SEiGkoI/AAAAAAAAAS8/KYYUbjXNf2M/s320/IMG_0254.JPG" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">(That's not what yours looked like?)</span><br /><br />So, Happy New Year from the Chases. If I were a New Year's Resolution type of gal, I suppose I'd resolve to post on this blog more than 3 times a year.Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-74488041098904166462011-06-09T22:10:00.003-05:002011-06-09T22:14:45.240-05:00Things I've Neglected to Tell You: the German Expressionist version (you know, something with a circus, disfigurement, and disconcerting lurking)<div><div><div>As our time in Peru draws to a close, I realize how remiss I've been in my reporting. Thus, I am introducing a new series of posts entitled "Things I've Neglected to Tell You." Here is the first installment: the German Expressionist version (The working titles for future installments are Things I've Neglected to Tell You: things related to the radio, Things I've Neglected to Tell You: Half-O update, and Things I've Neglected to Tell You: I'm five months pregnant).<br /><br />Act I<br /><br />We went to a dog circus some months back. It was there in the parking lot of a frequented supermercado, and Half-O was intrigued. I'm not sure what I expected, but it wasn't:<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxtmFAAgOCJBeHZEkEiwMXMhTZXeJc9-aychO13yYGHRs0lQyIphYvU4K2D8_witWxiQ6MQ519itLH8WjpjZQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Act II<br /><br />The Archaeologist broke his pinky. He broke it hiking down from his site in the dark while carrying lots of equipment. He thought he had just dislocated it so had someone from his crew pull it out to set it. He had him try again. He then asked another crew member to give his askew pinky a pull and try to set it straight. Are you queasy yet?<br /><br />A few days later he came home from the mountains with a swollen black and blue hand …and crooked pinky. It wasn’t just dislocated:<br /><p align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E-ZVvVlf3Yg/Td3inyDhEMI/AAAAAAAAARw/OeBVukRsq8I/s1600/aug%2B10%2B001.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 300px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610889883852804290" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E-ZVvVlf3Yg/Td3inyDhEMI/AAAAAAAAARw/OeBVukRsq8I/s400/aug%2B10%2B001.JPG" /></a><font size="2">(and Half-O casts her solidarity)</font><p align="left">Act III<br /><br />Back in the beginning of 2010, The Archaeologist came down to Peru a month before we did to get going on a bunch of bureaucratic bunk and also find us a place to live. He found us a little house with a little yard for little rent.<br /><br />A month later when we all arrived in the wee hours of the morning, we went straight to sleep, but the next day I got the tour and saw this:<br /></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Te34Ml0Gms4/Td3ioGPBlOI/AAAAAAAAAR4/pcIoZWyR4U8/s1600/winter%2Bspring%2B2011%2B021.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610889889269781730" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Te34Ml0Gms4/Td3ioGPBlOI/AAAAAAAAAR4/pcIoZWyR4U8/s400/winter%2Bspring%2B2011%2B021.JPG" /></a><br />It hangs in the room where Half-O sleeps (the other day I was asking where one of her toys had gone, and she said it was by Tom – it took me a while to realize she meant Tom Cruise). I figured I should finally mention/document it on the chance that, years from now, she moves to California and decides to try out a new religion where she needs to identify the traumas of her past … in, say, a dianetic audit, or something. The fact that she slept below this poster for over a year may come up. At the very least she can use it as an ice-breaker at the parties.<br /><br />As for my Tom Cruise trauma: once, as a freshman in college, a guy came up to me in the cafeteria and asked if anyone had ever told me that I looked like Tom Cruise. It was unclear if he meant to insult or flatter me – or if he had had like a doppelganger eureka moment and was looking for confirmation. There was some Lost in Translation to it all too. I don’t recall any conversation following my “uh-uh” – I believe he left and my roommate and I returned our attention to Simpsons and our dinner. Oh – but later, I was relating the encounter to my aunt, and her response was “Well, he should have at least said Tom Cruise’s sister.”</div></div></div>Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-80444499663899986872011-03-19T00:27:00.011-05:002011-03-19T03:08:13.481-05:00We interrupt the regularly scheduled not posting anything on this blog for an overdue apologySo I don't recall why, but while The Archaeologist and I were talking tonight, I was reminded that in like 7th or 8th grade I rewrote the words to "Sounds of Silence" for a book report/project on <em>1984 </em>. The Archaeologist, thinking I was just relating a random childhood story, complimented my bright idea. I proceeded to tell him that I then asked my dad to sing the new song into a tape recorder for me so I could then turn the tape in to my English teacher. The Archaeologist, thinking as the father of a daughter with a lot of my genes, looked at me with disbelief and a bit of horror in his eyes.<br /><br />As all who are not 7/8th grade me can imagine, my dad was reluctant to do it. But as a kid I saw my parents do all sorts of unpleasant things all the time - plus, a lot of evidence seemed to indicate that they weren't prone to embarrassment. And he sang in the church choir ...and he kinda had a Garfunkel-fro back in the day - so no big deal, right?<br /><br />Man, am I worried about the karmic comeuppance.<br /><br />Especially because he did it. He actually sang a 13-yr-old's lyrics into a little tape recorder while the original played in the background knowing I was going to give it to another adult to listen to.<br /><br />Since I haven't thought of this since Jr High, I've yet to apologize. The Archaeologist said I should make that apology a priority (and at some point in the story said that my dad better have a special place in heaven). So, dad: I am very very sorry! I now realize how much you really, truly, definitely did not want to do it. It is astounding that you did - knightly and selfless and frankly making me rethink trying to be like you as a parent because I so don't want to sing into whatever recording device is available 10 years from now to help Half-O with her school project.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">(and no, I do not remember any of the <em>1984</em> lyrics - sorry. If, by chance, my Jr. High English teachers have found this blog and continue to read it despite my poor grammar, do one of you still have that cassette? and if so, could you please send me a transcription, and then destroy the tape for my dad? Thank you.) </span>Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-87009898342528389512011-01-22T21:40:00.014-06:002011-01-25T00:19:57.849-06:00The Seymour Chase Blog: Posting like it's Nov. 2010I neglected to post about interesting or "interesting" events back in November and December. I plan to rectify that now - not as part of some New Year's Resolution to stop procrastinating or to be more organized. I'm not actually a fan of New Year's resolutions, except my sister Natalie's - but we can talk resolutions in March when I post about January. On to November:<br /><br />My sister Natalie (of the good resolutions) came to visit for a couple weeks around Thanksgiving (which we didn't really celebrate - not because we're ungrateful or dislike the New World - I'm a Mayflower descendant - I love America - but The Archaeologist was up in the mountains and Nat had to catch a plane, so we ate at a gourmet sandwich shop - neither of us got a turkey sandwich). The visit was wonderful. We like when people visit us - you should visit us - especially those of you who live in Chicago and are currently concerning yourself with the very real possibility of frostbite if you leave your house without hat/gloves. Remember, it's summer here.<br /><br />Likely the most post-worthy activity was our boat ride to some islands off the Callao port - one of which was teeming with sea lions - like thousands. As you can imagine (and I hope you are), it smelled awful. Then I donned a wetsuit and jumped in the Pacific Ocean to have a quick swim with them.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TT5eAlRVcZI/AAAAAAAAARU/KQc5beD7Zo8/s1600/nats%2Bcamera%2Bnov%2B2010%2B047.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565989553574343058" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TT5eAlRVcZI/AAAAAAAAARU/KQc5beD7Zo8/s400/nats%2Bcamera%2Bnov%2B2010%2B047.JPG" /></a><br />I believe the one furthest from the sea lions is me - though I thought better of that at some point - worrying that if I hung back too far, they might try to pick off the stray. In my defense, the sea lions were bigger then me and making all sorts of barking noises and defensive maneuvers to keep us from getting any closer to the island. They didn't want to swim with us, so I respected their space. It was pretty cool at any rate - less cool when I felt one swim below me.<br /><br />And here's Half-O doing her best Kennedy-off-Hyannis-Port:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TT5lOGuxEPI/AAAAAAAAARk/BDl4VwT7QmQ/s1600/nats%2Bcamera%2Bnov%2B2010%2B050.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565997482475852018" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TT5lOGuxEPI/AAAAAAAAARk/BDl4VwT7QmQ/s400/nats%2Bcamera%2Bnov%2B2010%2B050.JPG" /></a><br /><br />We did other stuff and there are other pics, but blogger or my connection is slow on the uptake tonight.<br /><br />Next up: "Yule See"Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-84539464080888023042010-12-21T00:30:00.022-06:002011-01-25T00:39:49.776-06:00Half-O turned two ...allegedlyAs mentioned in the previous post, Half-O turned two (back in the beginning of November).<br /><br />She had a good day: read in the backyard tent with The Archaeologist, channeled Cinderella til lunch, got to ride in a tow truck, ate dinner one-handed so she wouldn't have to let go of her new calculator, rode the merry-go-round, and blew out her two candles all by herself.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TRFirqX5ceI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/UIY5r86lC8s/s1600/ZJC_Cam%2B047.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553328317772952034" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TRFirqX5ceI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/UIY5r86lC8s/s400/ZJC_Cam%2B047.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TRFh4hbhm5I/AAAAAAAAAQw/g7oHbwptOTA/s1600/ZJC_Cam%2B057.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553327439198919570" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TRFh4hbhm5I/AAAAAAAAAQw/g7oHbwptOTA/s400/ZJC_Cam%2B057.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TRFhK4vfozI/AAAAAAAAAQo/U645WXpTQ4Y/s1600/ZJC_Cam%2B065.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553326655182709554" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TRFhK4vfozI/AAAAAAAAAQo/U645WXpTQ4Y/s400/ZJC_Cam%2B065.JPG" /></a><br />{Yes, her two gifts were an elaborate Cinderella gown (+ crown) and a calculator. No, not because we are ham-fisted parents forcing some sort of toy balance, but because that's what she wanted. She has very decided ideas regarding her gifts. Today she walked up to the Santa at the grocery store and repeatedly told him that she wanted a pink book and a Kermit for Christmas - just repeated it over and over as he stared down at her. Then he finally gave her a candy cane, looked at me and asked, "de que pais son?"}<br /><br />Throughout these two years of her life, I have been increasingly suspicious that Half-O is not just the infant/toddler she ostensibly ought to be. On more than one occasion, she seems to have forgotten the ruse and almost blown her cover, like last month:<br />We were singing that song from The Sword and the Stone - the to and fro one - while playing with her animal dominoes. There's the line with "thin and stout" and I stopped and asked her if she knew what stout meant, entirely intending to define it for her in the next breath - but, she absently answered "fat". Now this isn't a song we sing often - she doesn't really know it. I don't remember previously defining stout for her, and if I had, I don't know that I would've said fat - but even if at some point I did, it would have been quite a while ago. She may have deduced that the song was explaining the existence of opposition in all things - but is that less fishy? So I incredulously asked how she knew that and she suddenly became very interested in her dominoes, and then when I asked again, "so, what does stout mean?," she did some non-committal mumbling.<br /><br />Or the other day:<br />We were doing some coloring and I asked what color the horse should be and she said, "gray - like a winter day."<br /><br />Then there are these cleverly couched comments, like back in the spring:<br />We were standing in line at the store, and I was holding her on my hip when she proceeded to knock on my head and ask "anybody home?".<br /><br />Or last week:<br />She said something was very funny, but I didn't catch what that something was so asked, "What's very funny?" and she responded "Look in a mirror."<br /><br />Seriously she said that. </div><div></div><div>She doesn't have older siblings, she doesn't play with kids who speak English, and we don't have a TV. So how is she throwing out insults at a 3rd-grade level?<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TRFn5l25zKI/AAAAAAAAARA/xeOe8M3djvU/s1600/nov%2B2010%2B008.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553334054637128866" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TRFn5l25zKI/AAAAAAAAARA/xeOe8M3djvU/s400/nov%2B2010%2B008.JPG" /></a>changeling? G-Man? a result of all that protein I ate in the last trimester?<br /><br />Looking forward to year 3.</div>Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-84851293283297014292010-12-03T21:54:00.006-06:002010-12-11T11:44:28.273-06:00for gma in germanyso i'm quite behind on my posts. half-o turned two, my sister came to visit - during which there was a swim with smelly and seemingly not amused sea lions, and there's always all the other things i mean to post about - like half-o's distaste for the pomp and circumstance of polite society: "i don't want to say um, excuse me; i just want to yell."<br /><br />but instead i'm going to post a video for half-o's grandma chase who is currently serving the good volk in deutschland:<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx-tNc6_UwZkBh2sIpYC6E7w5wJFJQ6ikD6lzUrYw_1Q7P-3yjB6VzoPH-yTVt0sijjBGtgYzBynJ1LdE8V8w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">(i know the sound of music is set in austria not germany, but it's a video wherein half-o says auf wiedersehen.)</span>Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-41689262316159079522010-11-01T14:45:00.015-05:002010-11-03T14:30:23.745-05:00DIY: land war in asiafirst of all, half-o is awesome - but secondly, she will be the end of me.<br /><br />this halloween nicely illustrates my protracted demise - plus an easy-peasy how-to for homemade fairy wings.<br /><br />{yes, peruanos celebrate halloween - though not to the extent that we do in the states. the day coincides with el dia de la cancion criolla, or creole song day, so there are a lot of festivities - just not all are the spooky kind. also, instead of trick-or-treat, you say: halloween, halloween}<br /><br />so early in october we introduced half-o to the main halloween concepts - mainly the dressing up part. she dresses up all the time anyway, so she was on board. when i asked her what she wanted to be for halloween, she replied: "a pumpkin". we serendipitously happened to have an orange pillowcase in our possession, so though not unique or clever, i was totally on board with her choice. so on board, in fact, that i went and got the pillow case and a green hand towel right then.<br /><br />here's exhibit a: why half-o is awesome<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDVqYOvZ8I/AAAAAAAAAOo/7u_8fF05fgU/s1600/oct+10+025+b.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535158866073839554" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDVqYOvZ8I/AAAAAAAAAOo/7u_8fF05fgU/s400/oct+10+025+b.jpg" /></a><br />she was totally down with this modern dance version of a pumpkin costume. she wore it for hours.<br /><br />{it's been way cool watching her imagination develop. it's also very convenient. i can buy cheap band-aids, and we pretend they're the princess band-aids. we also eat pretend candy. she's even more obedient when in character. if i ask half-o to pick up her toys, she's a bit dismissive. but if i ask pumpkin or snow white or jane/michael banks, they're all over it.}<br /><br />as the month went along, i'd periodically check in regarding her choice of halloween costume. for the most part, she continued to respond "a pumpkin" but occasionally and increasingly she'd say "a fairy". so in an attempt to avoid a halloween day meltdown - i make a pumpkin, she cries for a fairy; i supply fairy wings, she looks longingly at our orange couch while a silent tear slides down her cheek - i suggested she be a pumpkin fairy, and she excitedly agreed. i am so clever; i am so smart with strategery.<br /><br />now i can't find any craft or fabric stores here. i believe most people buy wholesale, and i would gladly do that too - and i inquired on an expat site and went on a bit of a wild goose chase, and then decided that i'd rather take the challenge of making a pumpkin fairy out of supplies i could find at home and/or the grocery store over the challenge of traversing this large city in search of standard supplies and then still have to make the costume. i don't mind traversing adventures; i just prefer them without a deadline attached. additionally, i think i do better with macgyver, apollo 13 type challenges anyway (though, not actually those challenges - i just want to make a pumpkin fairy costume in a foreign country).<br /><br />so thanks to some ingenuity and a little help from the internet, i made awesome fairy wings. they were surprisingly easy and turned out super cool. i fused together 12 sheets of cellophane by placing them between two big pieces of paper and ironing them. the resultant cellophane mass was thick enough to hold its shape, so i just traced/cut out wings. i don't know if you can tell in the pic below, but they're translucent and have a really neat texture. mission accomplished!<br /><br />halloween arrives. pumpkin? check! fairy? check! half-o? nothing doing.<br /><br />it totally doesn't matter that i have both a pumpkin and a fairy. she won't put on one piece of it. she won't let me put her hair in a ponytail (meant to be the pumpkin stem). she won't even come too close to me for fear i'll just muscle the costume right on her (she wouldn't be wrong).<br /><br />no problem - she doesn't realize candy is on the line (and not pretend candy). time for a new tactic ...tactics.<br /><ol><li>bribery (promises of candy galore): not interested</li><li>an appeal to tradition (today is halloween - this is what one does): she quickly deduces the logical fallacy</li><li>social pressure (other kids will be in costume): doesn't care</li><li>diplomacy (rational recap of why she should put on her cute costume): no dice</li><li>retreat</li><li>stew a bit</li><li>misdirection (sure, i'd love to help you with your puzzle. while you fit that piece in, i'm just going to put your hair in a ponytail. and while we celebrate our puzzle completion, how 'bout we try on our cool pumpkin costume?): perhaps it was the misdirection; perhaps she felt sorry for me, but my maneuver was met with little resistance.</li></ol><p>i quickly secured the wings (large safety pins) while i asked the archaeologist to quickly grab the camera - this truce may not last long.<br /><br />...but it did. she posed; she danced; she had some imaginative scenario going that entertained her til dark.<br /></p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDSxGar9fI/AAAAAAAAAOA/FVM8HcEB4XA/s1600/Sloany+Halloween+009.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535155683016308210" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDSxGar9fI/AAAAAAAAAOA/FVM8HcEB4XA/s400/Sloany+Halloween+009.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDSxv_YGNI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/8-UceLX_o4E/s1600/halloween+012+-+Copy.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535155694176049362" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDSxv_YGNI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/8-UceLX_o4E/s400/halloween+012+-+Copy.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDSyMl39JI/AAAAAAAAAOY/D-3Gb25NgS0/s1600/halloween+050.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535155701853713554" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDSyMl39JI/AAAAAAAAAOY/D-3Gb25NgS0/s400/halloween+050.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDVrU69DnI/AAAAAAAAAPA/IEIAY-VQ2E4/s1600/halloween+060.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535158882365410930" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDVrU69DnI/AAAAAAAAAPA/IEIAY-VQ2E4/s400/halloween+060.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDSxUZXiPI/AAAAAAAAAOI/qRFmcM83pxE/s1600/halloween+053.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535155686768871666" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDSxUZXiPI/AAAAAAAAAOI/qRFmcM83pxE/s400/halloween+053.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDSyxX6foI/AAAAAAAAAOg/937o5uehKas/s1600/halloween+061.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535155711727271554" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDSyxX6foI/AAAAAAAAAOg/937o5uehKas/s400/halloween+061.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDVqwGdosI/AAAAAAAAAO4/9T84xRc8Tok/s1600/halloween+049.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535158872481571522" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TNDVqwGdosI/AAAAAAAAAO4/9T84xRc8Tok/s400/halloween+049.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><em>she</em> is clever. <em>she</em> is so smart with her strategy of indefatigable caprice. i'm just tired.<br /><br />later that night she and the archaeologist were on our bed reading when i came in to announce that dinner was ready. half-o responded that no, she didn't want to eat, just read her book. she invited me to join them on the bed, patting an empty spot next to her. i replied, in a sing-songy voice: "but we're having <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tortilla_de_patatas">potato pie</a>." without looking up from her book, she replied with the exact same sing-song: "but i don't want it." the archaeologist and i looked at each other with nervous smiles. it was pretty funny - it would've been funnier if she were someone elses kid -she's not yet 2. as we contemplated the potential strong-willed sass the future held, she finished her thought: "i want cake."Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-50625178979951641532010-10-16T13:45:00.013-05:002010-10-17T12:34:26.253-05:00A PSA for aspiring Nobel Laureates (I'm looking at you, Cormac McCarthy)About a week ago the Nobel Foundation announced the 2010 recipients, and the Nobel Prize in Literature happened to be awarded to Mario Vargas Llosa. He happens to be the first Peruvian to be awarded this award. I happen to have been reading his book <em>Conversation in the Cathedral</em>.<br /><br />"That's very nice. He's a great author. But what are you getting at - that this has something to do with you? A Latin American author hasn't won the award since 1990 (Octavio Paz); it was time," you say. But a Peruvian? in the one year I happen to be living in Peru? and reading his book?<br /><br />Let's continue.<br /><br />About 7 years ago we were closing in on our first year in Chicago when the Nobel Prize in Literature happened to be awarded to John M. Coetzee. He just happened to be a professor at the University of Chicago at the time - the university just blocks from our apartment and the one to whom we had recently bequeathed our souls.<br /><br />"Yes, but the University of Chicago can claim more Nobel Laureates than any other university." I know. It's awesome.<br /><br />Now obviously I'm not the only factor considered by the committees in Stockholm. Nevertheless, we will likely be living somewhere new in the next year or so, and that seems to be a trigger of sorts. So, amass some frequent flyer miles and keep an eye on our profile - I'll try to keep it up-to-date.<br /><br />And if you're still dubious: about a month ago I happened upon a short story entitled "The Solipsist" by Fredric Brown.Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-49343881766276394302010-10-08T21:13:00.018-05:002010-12-03T23:15:34.289-06:00Final CountdownPeru had elections this week. I admit that I hadn't really been following the various races - we don't have a TV and my Spanish is still quite lacking. Nevertheless, I knew elections were approaching, having witnessed a number of political rallies and parades and picked hundreds if not thousands of flyers off our lawn (I briefly contemplated constructing a sign for our front gate explaining that I would vote for whichever candidate's flyers I had the least of come election day, but it was a little too Andy Rooney and kind of a convoluted sentence to try to translate anyway).<br /><br />Lima will have its first female mayor - we're just not sure which one yet. Here are the options:<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TK_hzqOk2gI/AAAAAAAAANo/RJO8N8nAIVY/s1600/49360019_flores_villa.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 304px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 171px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525883545431890434" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TK_hzqOk2gI/AAAAAAAAANo/RJO8N8nAIVY/s400/49360019_flores_villa.jpg" /></a> Lourdes Flores is on the left and Susana Villaran is on the right, though that is the opposite of their political positions (come on AP). Susana "won" by less than 1% so nothing has been officially declared. There have been a number of challenges - lots of ballot irregularities. It's all very hanging chad. Fortunately the State of Florida should be entirely unable to muck up the democratic process this time.<br /><br />But at least one noteworthy race is decided. Here's the Mayor of the district of Magdelena del Mar:<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TK_pirjmq2I/AAAAAAAAANw/LoCbBSDAvzg/s1600/sept+oct+10+014.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525892049823771490" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TK_pirjmq2I/AAAAAAAAANw/LoCbBSDAvzg/s400/sept+oct+10+014.JPG" /></a> Guess GOB finally decided to live it up down old South America way.<br /><br />I believe this was his acceptance speech:<br /><br /><object style="BACKGROUND-IMAGE: url(http://i3.ytimg.com/vi/zhnYPecc1YE/hqdefault.jpg)" width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/zhnYPecc1YE?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zhnYPecc1YE?fs=1&hl=en_US" width="480" height="295" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object><br /><br />Oh - and voting here is mandatory - or at least you have to pay a hefty fine if you don't. What do you think about that? Everyone is involved in their democracy ...albeit in a para-fascist sort of way. Of course, I don't envision Mussolini every time I put on my seat-belt (only on occasion). Though I wonder if the social cost figures for voting are actually the inverse of those for seat-belts.Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-1584687849792765632010-09-28T23:44:00.012-05:002010-09-29T13:27:50.133-05:00We'll always have awkward laughterSo on the phone the other day, The Archaeologist suggested that my near solitude may be affecting my sense of humor. He's been up in the mountains for 1-2 weeks at a time, coming home for 2-3 days and then heading back up. I watch The Daily Show now and then to keep informed on U.S. current events, and had hoped that as a by-product, my gauge for what's funny would also be up-to-date. Apparently not (though I in no way blame Jon Stewart). After finishing what I had thought was a funny story, The Archaeologist kind of laughed, but I'm pretty sure it was solely meant as a leavening lead-in for the above comment. Upon quick reflection, I consented that yeah, the story wasn't actually that funny and laughed at what was now funny - me. But I figured the situation couldn't be that dire if I could so quickly realize that I strayed. I wasn't in denial - no intervention necessary - just a simple outside observation to set me straight.<br /><br />Then today Half-O was watching some YouTube videos of classic sesame street and animated songs meant to teach her the letter sounds while I read an e-book on the other side of the screen. When her video ended, I saw a link to a video entitled "Flashcards for Kids...", and thought Half-O might find it both interesting and informative, so I clicked on it. After about 30 seconds I was dying laughing.<br /><br />Have I lost it? Is this funny? It's been viewed a ton, so I thought maybe it had been one of those viral videos that lots of people found funny, but all the comments talked about how much their kid liked it - and to be honest, Half-O did like it (though not for the whole 7 min). But seriously, tell me if this is funny:<br /><object style="BACKGROUND-IMAGE: url(http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/uXip5wNE9P0/hqdefault.jpg)" width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uXip5wNE9P0?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uXip5wNE9P0?fs=1&hl=en_US" width="425" height="344" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">If you can make it to 2:29, you get George Michael. </span><br /><br />Now, I don't find it the most hilarious thing ever, but if you just clicked on it looking for another educational distraction for your child, you'd laugh too, wouldn't you? The background music is awesome (Striesand's Woman in Love??), and a lot of the words unintentionally (I assume) come out sounding sarcastic/mocking/chiding.<br /><br />But please - what do you think?Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-2770405472738556682010-09-17T21:54:00.009-05:002010-09-21T15:34:57.804-05:006 in one hand, bad dates in the otherAs of today, we have been in Peru for 6 months. 6 months more and it'll be time to go home. So, I had planned on doing a post about all that, but it just wasn't coming together. Instead, I give you:<br /><br /><div align="center">Indiana Half-Jones<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TJQ7WB3ZzJI/AAAAAAAAANg/L7koBNlpN0g/s1600/sept+10+006.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518100693079674002" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TJQ7WB3ZzJI/AAAAAAAAANg/L7koBNlpN0g/s400/sept+10+006.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TJQ7Vh14KqI/AAAAAAAAANY/n9IX4L-KRQ4/s1600/sept+10+007.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518100684483340962" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TJQ7Vh14KqI/AAAAAAAAANY/n9IX4L-KRQ4/s400/sept+10+007.JPG" /></a>Fortune and Glory <div></div></div>Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-39210961358267496872010-09-01T23:59:00.012-05:002010-09-11T15:05:55.724-05:00I blame you, MontesquieuI applaud the checks and balances of the United States' governing bodies. I do not, however, feel the same measures are necessary for my household chores. Apparently, others feel differently.<br /><br />In order for me to do the laundry, I first have to do the dishes since the washer empties into the kitchen sink (there's no dish washer, so no need to wonder where it empties). In order for me to use the dryer, no other electricity can be used simultaneously save a few lights (so no vacuuming, no microwaving, no next load in the washer, no toasting, etc). In order for us to shower/bathe with hot water (it's winter here) we have to turn on the water heater (electricity) a couple hours ahead of time and it lasts about a shower and a half. I don't even try for hot water when washing dishes or clothes. So I guess there's no check on my doing the dishes ...aside from my visceral dislike for it.<br /><br />So, most days this is how a bill becomes a law:<br /><br />Half-O wakes me up and convinces me through compelling repetitive sound bites that we should leave the rooms with beds and go out into the kitchen and/or living room. On the way I flip the switch that turns on the water heater so either The Archaeologist or I can shower sometime in the morning/noon/nap time.<br /><br />After breakfast and some computer time, Half-O plays while I do the dishes from the day before.<br /><br />Per my constituent's request, I then participate in some game playing, puzzle making, book reading, coloring and/or dancing (these were campaign promises, after all).<br /><br />Then I start a load of laundry. We head out for some fresh bread and diplomacy. I make us lunch. We eat. She naps (objection overruled).<br /><br />Recess: There's no need for extra lights mid-day; we've eaten lunch, and dinner is hours away, so no need for the microwave or toaster or rice cooker. Water is hot, so the switch is flipped off. Laptops are charged, so switched to battery. And I can now load the wet clothes into the dryer.<br /><br />By the time Half-O awakes and we reconvene, the laundry is done, and I can safely warm up the mandated post-nap milk in the microwave, and turn the water heater back on for her bath in the evening.<br /><br />We're a sparkling clean republic.<br /><br />The other day, however, we were a total Failed State.<br /><br />I did the dishes in the morning, as is unfortunately my executive privilege. But by lunch time the schedule was askew. The missionaries were coming over for lunch so I decided to do more than melt cheese on bread and cut up a cucumber and an apple. Consequently, I didn't start a load of laundry.<br /><br />The missionaries came late, so Half-O had already gone to sleep (her No-Nap Resolution vetoed), and she woke up not long after they left.<br /><br />I needed to do a load of laundry that day and figured that since we also needed to go to the grocery store, I could quickly put the clothes in the washer, turn on the water heater while the clothes washed, and then turn it off (along with all other appliances), throw the clothes into the dryer and head off to the store while they dried in darkness.<br /><br />Oh, the negligence; Oh, the natural law.<br /><br />While Half-O and I played in the other room, I heard some extra loud water sloshing, and it dawned on me: "It's the dishes, stupid!"<br /><br />I ran into the flooded kitchen and grabbed all the dirty special-missionary-lunch-dishes and dumped them in the dish rack (at least I had managed to put the clean ones away), and fished out the strainer and food pieces so the water would drain. My shirt was soaked, and my pants had begun the long process of sopping up the water on the floor.<br /><br />I've been a registered democrat since the age of 18, but now I really felt like a jackass.<br /><br />Though I am super grateful for the dryer since presently Lima is the land the sun plumb forgot - and, in that vein, I am grateful for the washer too - and to be clear, I'm grateful for the hot water heater so we don't have to use one of those contraptions that hooks onto the shower head and electrocutes you - but seriously, for someone who <a href="http://seymourchase.blogspot.com/2010/06/all-its-cracked-up-to-be-or-longest.html">hates housework</a>, is it a good strategy to put me in the house with all the amendments and addenda?<br /><br />Blast that vast shoestring conspiracy!<br /><br />Sorry - it's late, and apparently I can only recall political quotes from the 1990s.<br /><br />Good night and good luck!Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-42864993741566992892010-08-13T23:02:00.016-05:002010-08-14T09:21:57.822-05:00Apologies all around<div align="left"><strong>Apologies to July</strong> – you didn’t even get one post.<br /><br /><strong>Apologies to </strong><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pachacamac"><strong>Pachacamac</strong></a><strong>, the zoo, and Ecuador</strong> – it seems so long ago that all I can manage by way of report are photo captions:<br /><br /><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYvQ_j5SsI/AAAAAAAAANI/B_JjUQD-1-s/s1600/may+10c+004.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505139563493411522" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYvQ_j5SsI/AAAAAAAAANI/B_JjUQD-1-s/s320/may+10c+004.JPG" /> </span><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Pachacamac is a large archaeological site with a bunch of buildings, pyramids, a nunnery, a temple - but if you ask Half-O, it's the place with the little rocks.<br /><br /></span></p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYpPzMWSuI/AAAAAAAAAM4/yoN19c5caQk/s1600/may+10c+018.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505132945923787490" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYpPzMWSuI/AAAAAAAAAM4/yoN19c5caQk/s320/may+10c+018.JPG" /> </span><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Half-O and Uncle Benny on the Temple of the Sun<br /><br /></span></p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYpPoAAW2I/AAAAAAAAAMw/iOPNpiOYgoE/s1600/may+10c+019.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505132942919228258" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYpPoAAW2I/AAAAAAAAAMw/iOPNpiOYgoE/s320/may+10c+019.JPG" /> </span><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">with a shot of the ocean<br /><br /></span></p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYpPEUOaAI/AAAAAAAAAMo/LO_oW2oQJPM/s1600/may+10c+031.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505132933340358658" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYpPEUOaAI/AAAAAAAAAMo/LO_oW2oQJPM/s320/may+10c+031.JPG" /> </span><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">the side of the Temple of the Sun<br /><br /></span></p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYpO7bYyLI/AAAAAAAAAMg/ms9ssMkiihE/s1600/may+10c+037.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505132930954479794" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYpO7bYyLI/AAAAAAAAAMg/ms9ssMkiihE/s320/may+10c+037.JPG" /> </span><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Pachacamac<br /><br /></span></p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYpOTAigGI/AAAAAAAAAMY/QbXp7MzpL3U/s1600/may+10c+003.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505132920104452194" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYpOTAigGI/AAAAAAAAAMY/QbXp7MzpL3U/s320/may+10c+003.JPG" /> </span><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">action shot<br /><br /></span></p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYgjOuak4I/AAAAAAAAAMQ/su1eadYiH4E/s1600/june+2010b+008.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505123384127296386" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYgjOuak4I/AAAAAAAAAMQ/su1eadYiH4E/s320/june+2010b+008.JPG" /> </span><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Yeah, these aren't animal habitats a fair distance from spectators. Half-O may seem nonchalant about a huge giraffe just above her head, but this was a quick shot, pre anxious pleas of "ready go; no like it; all done".<br /><br /></span></p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYgihtsdyI/AAAAAAAAAMI/Ugyjj-lrsvo/s1600/june+2010b+002.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505123372044678946" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYgihtsdyI/AAAAAAAAAMI/Ugyjj-lrsvo/s320/june+2010b+002.JPG" /> </span><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">A perk of Peru and of only one child, is that we can do all the extra-curricular activities. They don't gouge you on those things here. So first we went on a little motor boat ride. How effective do you think that life-jacket is going to be?<br /><br /></span></p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYgiUqbKaI/AAAAAAAAAMA/9Dk4WpLoRLw/s1600/june+2010b+012.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505123368541301154" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYgiUqbKaI/AAAAAAAAAMA/9Dk4WpLoRLw/s320/june+2010b+012.JPG" /> </span><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Then we went on a hansom cab ride. On our right are the water buffalo. Perhaps you, like The Archaeologist, will be disturbed to learn that mozzarella comes from their milk.<br /><br /></span></p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYgh6CpjjI/AAAAAAAAAL4/AvmQHr4vfRg/s1600/june+2010b+020.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505123361395150386" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYgh6CpjjI/AAAAAAAAAL4/AvmQHr4vfRg/s320/june+2010b+020.JPG" /> </span><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Finally we went on the train ...or motorized vehicle in the shape of a train.<br /><br /><br /></span></p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYfE4SECVI/AAAAAAAAALw/5P8vrhjCXCs/s1600/july+10+013.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505121763195095378" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYfE4SECVI/AAAAAAAAALw/5P8vrhjCXCs/s320/july+10+013.JPG" /> </span><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Ecuador, we hardly knew ye. This is Guayaquil - at least the view of it from our hostel. We chose Guayaquil because it was the cheapest flight out of Lima, and we stayed 2.5 days. But though it began for bureaucratic reasons, we quickly fell in love with the warm days and cool, windy nights.<br /><br /></span></p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYfEZGu8QI/AAAAAAAAALo/DPoiZSMjvk0/s1600/july+10+044.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505121754826076418" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYfEZGu8QI/AAAAAAAAALo/DPoiZSMjvk0/s320/july+10+044.JPG" /> </span><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Here's the hostel - </span><a href="http://www.iguanazuhostel.com/">Iguanazu</a><span style="font-size:78%;">. I highly recommend it if you find yourself in Guayaquil for a day or two.<br /><br /></span></p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYfEPdb9qI/AAAAAAAAALg/ltZGlms0aAM/s1600/july+10+043.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505121752236947106" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYfEPdb9qI/AAAAAAAAALg/ltZGlms0aAM/s320/july+10+043.JPG" /> </span><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Half-O really hit it off with the hostel cat. She's got an ad for a river front cafe in her hand - figure they were making lunch plans.<br /><br /></span></p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYfDlZX8LI/AAAAAAAAALY/gsPQ6oCM_do/s1600/july+10+054.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505121740945617074" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYfDlZX8LI/AAAAAAAAALY/gsPQ6oCM_do/s320/july+10+054.JPG" /> </span><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">I laughed when I saw this (then made a mental note to try to correct my poor posture). We hadn't planned on imitating the sculpture. Nevertheless, I'm Bolivar and Half-O is San Martin.<br /><br /></span></p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYfC4TxMII/AAAAAAAAALQ/GHmQCCks0Ik/s1600/july+10+071.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505121728842510466" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TGYfC4TxMII/AAAAAAAAALQ/GHmQCCks0Ik/s320/july+10+071.JPG" /> </span><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">The Archaeologist was excited by the port city's probable smuggling history as we walked along the banks of its muddy Guayas River. The city still has a fair amount of crime/corruption (like any port city worth its salt). They're trying to clean it up. This was taken along a newish boardwalk with museums and restaurants and shops and large iguanas. </span></p><p align="left"><br /><br /><strong>And finally, apologies to those of you who come here for Half-O</strong> – she’s super cute and smart and awesome, and I haven’t been documenting it for you. I hope this is sufficient restitution:<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dybCOpdvThOCUp0a2GzBOTKZc4iVSoXxmhZj-UJzUj7_et_N3R_gvqTnbWJZsV0GAAsu-PGiKlpg19O-S-j5w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p>Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-21018800220709916012010-06-30T22:58:00.006-05:002010-07-01T12:04:04.543-05:00Hello Old Friend, no. 2I was thinking that I could turn my previous posts <a href="http://seymourchase.blogspot.com/2010/03/hello-old-friend.html">Hello old friend</a> and <a href="http://seymourchase.blogspot.com/2010/05/high-class-blog.html">A High-Class Blog</a> into <strong>Recurring Blog Features</strong> …<strong>Columns</strong>? Is that what they’re called? That seems excessive/inaccurate. We’ll go with the more vague <strong>Feature</strong> (I am The <em>Archaeologist’s</em> Wife afterall, and these are, ostensibly, field notes).<br /><br />So, here is the second installment of <strong>Hello Old Friend, a new Seymour Chase Blog Feature</strong>:<br /><br />The Archaeologist’s brother came down and stayed with us for much of May and a bit of June. It was great to have him around (please come visit us!!!). A couple days before he was scheduled to leave, we decided to get serious about site-seeing/Peru-experiencing/etc. So we crammed a bunch of museums, cathedrals, catacombs, historic districts, humungous fountains, and archaeological ruins into those last few days. I also arranged for us to eat this:<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TCwUC9568aI/AAAAAAAAALI/QlvZgDxrJJU/s1600/IMG_5115.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488784087067586978" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TCwUC9568aI/AAAAAAAAALI/QlvZgDxrJJU/s320/IMG_5115.JPG" /></a><br /><br />That’s a guinea pig – well, half a guinea pig; we weren’t that hungry.<br /><br />It’s been 28ish years since I last saw the guinea pig at Mesa Montessori. I don’t remember its name (nor the gender). I don’t recall any tearful good-byes. Actually, I don’t think we ever really hit it off – no ill will or anything …I mean, I didn’t make plans to eat it someday. But that being my succeeding guinea pig experience, I could see how Mesa Montessori guinea pig might take it personally. I’m sure it envisions me saying “Hello old friend” like Hannibal Lecter said “Hello, Clarice”. But I swear it wasn’t like that. It’s just bad timing. There was a lot on my plate. It’s not you; it’s meat. (that last one was for you, Chris)<br /><br />Now guinea pig (cuy) isn’t typical Limeña food. Lima is a great big modern city and Limeños are citified. It’s apparently one of the new gastronomical “it” places (that’s a thing, right?). But many Limeños were not always Limeños, and occasionally they long for the food from their previous highland home. So thus our opportunity to eat it.<br /><br />Basically it tasted like chicken - like a chicken wing with the high bone to meat ratio, just a tad gamier.<br /><br />I also gave a few pieces to Half-O. I figure it’ll be a good story to tell her when she gets older …and goes to preschool.</p>Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-40435202975624740682010-06-20T20:46:00.014-05:002010-06-21T00:07:47.066-05:00Her Father's Daughter<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TB7HXOEfzgI/AAAAAAAAAKA/PuQPGfehAPc/s1600/june+2010+004.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485040597911719426" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TB7HXOEfzgI/AAAAAAAAAKA/PuQPGfehAPc/s320/june+2010+004.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TB7HWXJhLnI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/pd4D2rXozWE/s1600/june+2010+003.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 235px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485040583168831090" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TB7HWXJhLnI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/pd4D2rXozWE/s320/june+2010+003.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TB7HVkQ4G0I/AAAAAAAAAJw/sQmc8XkYmS4/s1600/june+2010+002.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485040569509485378" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TB7HVkQ4G0I/AAAAAAAAAJw/sQmc8XkYmS4/s320/june+2010+002.JPG" /></a><br /><br />A story:<br />When The Archaeologist first left for the mountains, Half-O and I decided to entertain ourselves with a trip to the zoo (it's a pretty cool zoo, but we'll save that for another post). While at the zoo, I misjudged the wetness of the dirt/mud in front of the tiger cage (eager to get us a good view of the huge pacing cat) and subsequently ended up with stroller wheels and red mules encased in sticky mud. Upon realizing the extent of the caking, I let out an "oh, shoot". Half-O saw the mud-covered wheels, heard my "oh, shoot" and thought it all hilarious. She mimicked the "oh, shoot" and laughed and laughed. When she noticed me trying to scrape my shoes off on a step, she said "oh, shoot" and laughed again. As I'd periodically try to dislodge the chunks of mud from the stroller wheels, she'd repeat "oh, shoot" and laugh some more. This continued for much of our zoo day with an encore performance when I hosed off the wheels at home. But while we were still at the zoo, and my annoyance at the mud began to extend to my daughter, I found it was an all too familiar feeling. Had he been there, The Archaeologist would have found it equally hilarious. He too would have recommenced with the laughter at each recollection. Though "oh, shoot" may not have caught his fancy, previous exclamations have, and he too appeared to enjoy repeating them at the launch of each laughfest. So, somewhere not too far from the tiger, I told Half-O that she was her father's daughter. She liked that, and she repeated it almost as much as "oh, shoot".<br /><br />But that, of course, she gets from me: in addition to our zoo trip, we ate tuna patties and listened to Neil Diamond that weekend.<br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Happy Father's Day to The Magnificent Archaeologist and to my Fabulous Father as well! Half-O and I are two of the luckiest ladies around.<br /></span><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TB7oq9sebeI/AAAAAAAAALA/rD9LapIbrsk/s1600/April+10b+029.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485077220997098978" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/TB7oq9sebeI/AAAAAAAAALA/rD9LapIbrsk/s320/April+10b+029.JPG" /></a></div>Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-27626977939330295302010-06-06T00:18:00.011-05:002010-12-03T23:43:09.817-06:00All it's cracked up to be (or the longest post in Eternia, but there's a cute clip at the end)I’ve never been down with chiropractics. I don’t mean to disparage the profession, the practitioners nor belittle the help so many swear by – it’s just not for me. I assume my bones, joints, soft tissues, etc. have worked out some sort of homeostasis, and if we start mucking with one part, the whole system is going to break down. It’s kind of like Mr. Burns:<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Burns: Well, doc, I think I did pretty well on my tests. You may shake my hand if you like.<br />Doctor: Well, under the circumstances, I'd rather not.<br />Burns: Eh?<br />Doctor: Mr. Burns, I'm afraid you are the sickest man in the United States. You have everything.<br />Burns: You mean I have pneumonia?<br />Doctor: Yes.<br />Burns: Juvenile diabetes?<br />Doctor: Yes.<br />Burns: Hysterical pregnancy?<br />Doctor: Uh, a little bit, yes. You also have several diseases that have just been discovered -- in you.<br />Burns: I see. You sure you haven't just made thousands of mistakes?<br />Doctor: Uh, no, no, I'm afraid not.<br />Burns: This sounds like bad news.<br />Doctor: Well, you'd think so, but all of your diseases are in perfect balance. Uh, if you have a moment, I can explain.<br />Burns: Well ... <em>[looks at his watch]</em><br /><em>[the Doctor puts a tiny model house door on his desk]</em><br />Doctor: Here's the door to your body, see? <em>[bring up some small fuzz balls with goofy faces and limbs from under the desk]</em> And these are oversized novelty germs. <em>[points to a different one up as he names each disease]</em> That's influenza, that's bronchitis, <em>[holds up one]</em> and this cute little cuddle-bug is pancreatic cancer. Here's what happens when they all try to get through the door at once. <em>[tries to cram a bunch through the model door. The "germs" get stuck]</em><br /><em>[Stooge-like]</em> Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo! Move it, chowderhead!<br /><em>[normal voice]</em> We call it, "Three Stooges Syndrome."<br />Burns: So what you're saying is, I'm indestructible!<br />Doctor: Oh, no, no, in fact, even slight breeze could --<br />Burns: Indestructible.<br /></span><br />Or if you’re not a Simpson’s fan, it’s like John Daly’s golf swing. He goes way beyond parallel on his back swing, but there are all these other compensations and techniques that work in tandem with the back swing to make it turn out quite awesome. If a golf chiropractor tried to adjust his back swing, the whole thing would be ruined.<br /><br />So perhaps my spine, et al are not optimally arranged, but the take home point is this: yes, it’s possible that it would be better, but it’s also possible that it would be worse …much, much worse. It’s what I wrestled with before finally getting my eyebrows waxed. Oh and that reminds me – a take home point addendum: even though my brows looked way better and I should have done it years ago – treatments necessitate future treatments – I’m roped in … I mean, I’m not 7 ft tall like Brooke Shields –the average human encounters my brows at or below eye level – you experience the whole brow from that view.<br /><br />But this post was never meant to be a discussion on chiropractics (or my eyebrows).<br /><br />I don’t really have any aches or pains at this time.<br /><br />I only intended it as a lead in to soliloquize on adjustments. Guess I veered off a bit (scoliosis or slice?).<br /><br />For the past week or so I’ve been mulling over the idea that adjusting to life in a foreign country is not the only thing I’m adjusting to – perhaps a degree or two of the awkward learning curve is adjusting to being a stay-at-home mom. Of course, I’ve been home since the end of November, so it’s a bit more nuanced.<br /><br />But basically, the adjustment I’ve been adjusting to is no longer having a viable reason to shirk my home duties.<br /><br />Since moving, I have no responsibilities outside the home and my only contributions are from within the home.<br /><br />Consequently I am no longer nearly as busy as my husband. He is super duper busy. I am totally not.<br /><br />I mean it wasn’t super fun when I was working – when every hour was either work or Half-O or sleep. But – it very conveniently eliminated hours for cleaning, cooking, and laundry. I still did those things – but cleaning was more like tidying unless someone was visiting, cooking was minimalist and often something ready-made or take-out except for Sunday, and laundry was done in the wee hours when absolutely necessary.<br /><br />But how do I justify a dirty house now? Before it was priorities – now it’s a vice – it’s sloth – that’s one of the main ones.<br /><br />Plus I lost my passive-aggressive option of leaving the garbage or the dishes untouched for a couple days knowing The Archaeologist would soon do them. Whereas once we both had full plates, mine is now pretty sparse – so how can I not wash them? It’s ludicrous to expect him to do all his work and the dishes just because I don’t particularly like to …but I don’t like to.<br /><br />And I can’t figure how to get out of it without it reflecting poorly on me. <span style="font-size:78%;">(that can’t be the grammatically correct way to say that – what is?)<br /></span><br />So, bummer.<br /><br />Can a personality chiropractor rearrange my brain so that regularly scheduled mundanity no longer makes me want to claw out my eyeballs? First, however, we’ll have to tackle my issue with paying someone a lot of money to do something that I could theoretically take care of myself …I suppose they could offer that part pro bono – a high-yield investment.<br /><br />But in an attempt to do it myself:<br /><br />You know the sand paintings (mandalas) that Tibetan Monks make? They’re huge and gorgeous and elaborate – and made by arranging individual grains of sand. And when they’re finished, they are promptly destroyed. It’s the impermanence of the material world.<br /><br />So cooking, cleaning, and laundry are the daily Sisyphean slogs necessary to keep entropy/e.coli at bay – OR they’re not – they're mandalas - they’re daily rituals reminding me of religious/spiritual/universal principles like the impermanence of the material world, or that I love my family and they would like to eat and not wear smelly clothes (well, Half-O doesn’t care), and avoid scabies.<br /><br />Frankly I’d rather make sand paintings during Half-O’s nap and then let her destroy them in post-nap elation.<br /><br />Weekly readjustments will likely be necessary, as well as daily mantras. I fear it’s like waking up early. It seriously never gets consistently easier. Is it Communism where someone who enjoys cleaning would come clean my house and I could go to their home and do something I’m good at and enjoy but they don’t …like read a book? Don’t lots of people feel like they should read more – well, I could read for them, someone can clean my house and do my laundry, and someone else will come by and separate your recyclables.<br /><br />Of course, whether it’s torture or enlightenment, I’ll do the laundry, cleaning, and cooking because it means I’m home with Half-O. This week I introduced her to funnels and Elvis – both were well received.<br /><br />Enjoy:<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx6DD0pEjC73C8PvtPVZGxRV2pbSeTcFjvA49xcAuGUmKiJ2BYiykXxib_M-DO1WsjP7VKJhWBbydjbfpwQlA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-32438554372659010262010-05-14T23:14:00.013-05:002010-05-26T15:18:10.097-05:00año y medioI hope you appreciate the ñ - that was no little feat - I had to call for back-up. But(t) had I not put it there and gone with a standard n, a much different post would be in order.<br /><br />So, Half-O is 18 months old!<br />I've been trying to decide on a theme for her 1.5 birthday post - so many awesome tidbits - she cracks us up. I figure I'll just give you a sampling instead ...a pu pu platter:<br /><br />She seems to particularly enjoy colloquialisms. For example:<br />"What's up foo foo?"<br />"yins"<br />"folks"<br />"okay dokey smokey"<br />She gets a kick out of saying them - like it's so quaint - isn't it a hoot to talk like the masses?<br />She also enjoys taking a hat (or bowl) off her head, bowing slightly and saying "madam" or "sir". Apparently she's already bored with standard speak and more common social mores like hand shaking - or she thinks she's bourgeois ...poor girl.<br /><br />She's a budding botanist. They're not just flowers - they're roses, daisies, hibiscus, dandelions, tulips, or daffodils (which is the default flower when she doesn't know the name ...because I don't know the name to tell her) - oh and may I interject a back story on the flowers (it'll be like Lost - just do the zchwooomp sound in your head) - she learned about daffodils from a book (winter) while we were still in Chicago. Then we got here and it being summer, there were a lot more flowers - so first I pointed out roses since we had some in our front yard - and she started singing "ring around the rosies" - she likes making connections like that. Next were daisies - when I told her the flower was called a daisy, she looked at me with a clever gleam and said "whoops-a-daisy?" (she's been saying that since Thanksgiving - her version of uh-oh) - and now that's what she mostly calls them. And after I pointed out a hibiscus, I said, "can you say hibiscus," and she said "Hi, biscus!". She can also identify palm trees, ficus trees, pine trees, and cacti - she even knows to say cacti when there are more than one. I'm sure she could identify more if I could. It's no good that I'm already short on knowledge - I was hoping I could make it to chemistry or calculus.<br /><br />Finally, I bought The Archaeologist a travel alarm clock (not an awesome tidbit, but we'll get there). It's a bust - it doesn't wake him. It does wake me up and I nudge him, but that's not going to work in the field. Anyway, Half-O likes it. It has a little cover that flips back and works as a stand. She flips it down like it's a cell phone and in a manner akin to the newspaper editor in Spiderman she says "Hello? Cheese Sandwich!".<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S-9_UpKAijI/AAAAAAAAAJo/rW5WUVoABeE/s1600/may+10+012.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471732064900385330" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S-9_UpKAijI/AAAAAAAAAJo/rW5WUVoABeE/s320/may+10+012.JPG" /></a>Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-49334903914463028982010-05-03T22:45:00.003-05:002010-05-03T22:53:24.315-05:00A High-Class Blog<div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9-ZRZejypI/AAAAAAAAAJg/d_J-BlGAQrE/s1600/april+10c+014.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467256996826958482" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9-ZRZejypI/AAAAAAAAAJg/d_J-BlGAQrE/s320/april+10c+014.JPG" /></a> appetizing, no?<br /><br /></div>Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-12933161445312736722010-04-29T20:59:00.016-05:002010-04-30T10:05:46.355-05:00PCH Sudamerica Style (a substandard photo essay)This photographic journey travels the length of Lima Bay - from the southern tip (<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Barranco</span>) to Callao (Lima's northern neighbor with the airport and main seaport ...and that's why it's still Callao the city, not Callao a neighborhood in Lima). All but the first two pictures were taken from the backseat of a taxi.<br /><br />The anatomy of Lima's coast (west-east) is this: ocean, beach, road, cliffs - and on top of the cliffs is the city.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9o8V-K6VEI/AAAAAAAAAHg/huj4_jjwvoM/s1600/April+10b+033.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465747445931201602" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9o8V-K6VEI/AAAAAAAAAHg/huj4_jjwvoM/s320/April+10b+033.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9o8VVaAUrI/AAAAAAAAAHY/M6p-YStR9OE/s1600/April+10b+031.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465747434988655282" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9o8VVaAUrI/AAAAAAAAAHY/M6p-YStR9OE/s320/April+10b+031.JPG" /></a><br />Heading north from <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Barranco</span> you hit the nice areas - nice homes, nice/huge ocean view condos, nice beaches, good surf spots.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9o8WM_yeFI/AAAAAAAAAHo/d-fLzEeHlcg/s1600/April+10b+052.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465747449911081042" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9o8WM_yeFI/AAAAAAAAAHo/d-fLzEeHlcg/s320/April+10b+052.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pACfdDk-I/AAAAAAAAAII/8zkUt4mh8A4/s1600/April+10b+054.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465751509314802658" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pACfdDk-I/AAAAAAAAAII/8zkUt4mh8A4/s320/April+10b+054.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pADP5MahI/AAAAAAAAAIY/tvZUFDiwCcs/s1600/April+10b+064.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465751522317724178" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pADP5MahI/AAAAAAAAAIY/tvZUFDiwCcs/s320/April+10b+064.JPG" /></a><br />You also hit traffic.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pACnTzJMI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/H78qL3nXTPE/s1600/April+10b+061.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465751511423460546" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pACnTzJMI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/H78qL3nXTPE/s320/April+10b+061.JPG" /></a><br />As you head north past <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Magdelena</span>, the landscape changes. The cliffs are no longer green - they're sand - they've been <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">indunated</span>. And the "beaches" are not really for sunbathing. <span style="font-size:78%;">(I have been quite taken with the word <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">indunated</span> since I first heard The Archaeologist say it back in 2004. Not only is it fun to say, but it evokes awesome imagery.)</span><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pADjtngwI/AAAAAAAAAIg/Qp0ErPEoFP0/s1600/April+10b+063.JPG"><span style="font-size:100%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465751527637877506" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pADjtngwI/AAAAAAAAAIg/Qp0ErPEoFP0/s320/April+10b+063.JPG" /></a></span><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pB3fmDLyI/AAAAAAAAAIo/cjTAZobspcM/s1600/April+10b+071.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465753519397220130" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pB3fmDLyI/AAAAAAAAAIo/cjTAZobspcM/s320/April+10b+071.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pB3t76UdI/AAAAAAAAAIw/zTAas0L9IuU/s1600/April+10b+074.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465753523247010258" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pB3t76UdI/AAAAAAAAAIw/zTAas0L9IuU/s320/April+10b+074.JPG" /></a><br />But, Peru boasts an amazing rarity - an economy that actually improved between 2009 and 2010. They have a rapidly growing middle class <span style="font-size:78%;">(now I'm not an economist, nor do I really speak Spanish, but from what I think I've gleaned, I might postulate that Peru has got it's own credit bubble thing going and right now it's the Clinton years. I'm not saying that within a decade their housing market will plummet, there will be high unemployment, and the sol will have been awfully devalued - we're so beyond my purview here - I assume there are many x factors like the global economy, culture, who gets elected next, etc. - I'm just saying that from what I think I've heard and from what I think I've seen, credit is rampant in a way that it was not 8 or so years ago)</span>. So the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">indunated</span> oceanfront is getting a makeover - a big reclamation/development makeover. They're planting grasses along the cliffs to help stop erosion. They're smoothing out the beach area to make it accessible, and putting in bike/jogging paths, soccer (<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">futbol</span>) courts, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">ramada</span> thingies, plus more grass to combat the ...<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">indunation</span>.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pB4QbA2uI/AAAAAAAAAJA/3-dDWhkN25k/s1600/April+10b+069.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465753532504267490" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pB4QbA2uI/AAAAAAAAAJA/3-dDWhkN25k/s320/April+10b+069.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pB4N_fxkI/AAAAAAAAAI4/kg6FKZj7Qmk/s1600/April+10b+081.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465753531851982402" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pB4N_fxkI/AAAAAAAAAI4/kg6FKZj7Qmk/s320/April+10b+081.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pB4heij_I/AAAAAAAAAJI/O-NUzOqeydw/s1600/April+10b+073.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465753537082462194" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pB4heij_I/AAAAAAAAAJI/O-NUzOqeydw/s320/April+10b+073.JPG" /></a><br />So that's what we saw from <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Barranco</span> to Callao, in the order that we saw it. Here's the final shot:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pCYUlj7GI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/cFMxs-Xhn9Q/s1600/April+10b+086.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465754083378064482" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9pCYUlj7GI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/cFMxs-Xhn9Q/s320/April+10b+086.JPG" /></a> <p></p><br /><br />Oh - and here's a picture of Half-O and The Archaeologist at the beach.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9ppkGrUeSI/AAAAAAAAAJY/7Pi8LOxNpQ4/s1600/April+10b+030.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465797166756034850" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S9ppkGrUeSI/AAAAAAAAAJY/7Pi8LOxNpQ4/s320/April+10b+030.JPG" /></a><br />Half-O gets very serious near large bodies of water. I don't know if it prompts pondering the imponderables, or if she's wary of our intentions.Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-81911883241647628242010-04-23T22:45:00.010-05:002010-04-25T12:58:00.100-05:00yeah, we get it universe - try being a little less clicheIt was but three days after I posted that none of us had been sick that Half-O awoke (both herself and myself) at 2ish am coughing/gagging/vomiting in her bed. I quickly picked her up and headed for the toilet (why didn't I grab a bowl rather than have a toddler try to vomit into a toilet? It was 2 am - plus Half-O had never been sick like that before). The poor girl was seriously shaken by this new experience. Luckily there's that adrenaline rush afterwards, so I was able to strip her down, wipe her off and give her a book to read while I stripped down her bed (Foo Foo had been graciously spared), wiped it down, put on new sheets, cleaned the vomit off me, and put all the soiled linen in soapy water. It was triage. I was truly thinking/hoping the offending food was out of her system now, and I could just put her in new PJ's, read her a book or two, give her a couple sips of water, and we could all go back to bed within the hour. Real clean-up could be done in the morning.<br /><br />But as I filled the basin with soapy water, I heard her gag again (<a href="http://seymourchase.blogspot.com/2010/04/pre-nap-storytime.html">One Fish, Two Fish</a> was also graciously spared). I ran and grabbed her again - and again returned to the toilet. This time she was less shaken and more ticked. This time I was less asleep and more aware that she was sick and we weren't making that 3 am bedtime. This time the adrenaline period was spent gently wiping her down and comforting ...and getting a bowl.<br /><br />For the next 3 hours she vomited every 10-20 minutes. It was all bile and dry heaving from #3 on. Around #5 The Archaeologist woke up. I was grateful. He hadn't been asleep long and had a full day ahead, so I didn't want to wake him ...but of course, wanted him to be awake and with us. By this time she was screaming in pain/frustration with each go. Finally she was so exhausted, she fell asleep in our arms for 20 minute intervals waking to throw-up and cry and then fall back asleep.<br /><br />Since it wasn't subsiding, we left for a 24 hr clinic/hospital right before dawn. It was an awkward introduction to Peru's health system. The insurance doesn't kick in for two months, so the first thing said to us was their base price for a consultation - for walking in the door (it was steep). Then they checked her vitals. Then she threw-up. Then they gave her an anti-nausea suppository (so many new experiences). Then she threw-up again. They brought in some electrolyte solution and gave her what seemed like a lot for someone unable to keep the bile in her stomach and said to repeat that dose every ten minutes. The Dr. stopped by, saw that she had thrown-up again, and said to do half as much every 5 minutes. About 15 minutes later, it all came up and the Archaeologist called to cancel his morning appointment.<br /><br />So now the Dr. suggests admitting her to the hospital for an 8 hour IV drip and 2 day stay. I thought 2 days sounded extreme. I thought the amount of liquid they had expected to stay down so soon after the anti-nausea suppository was extreme. I realized she had expelled a lot of liquid - but also realized she wasn't dehydrated yet. So, I suggested that we try smaller/tiny doses every ten or fifteen minutes and wait a half-hour or so to see if they stayed down. The Archaeologist agreed with me and translated the idea back to the Doctor. Lost in translation was that the Dr. hadn't actually been suggesting the hospitalization but prescribing it. The Archaeologist explained this to me after he left - apparently I missed the face of a man unaccustomed to being questioned.<br /><br />To clairfy - we were not underestimating dehydration nor weighing our daughter's health and well-being against the $3000 bill for hospitalization. It was just that I've previously talked with nurses regarding hydration when The Archaeologist had been sick, and they said a tablespoon of rehydration solution every 20 minutes was equivalent to an IV drip (provided he could keep that down - but generally that small amount stays down). This method seemed way better suited to a toddler's temperament - even a weakened one - I mean Half-O hooked up to an IV for 8 hours??? So hoping the anti-nausea medicine had finally kicked in, I gave her about 15 ml every 10-15 minutes. We started at 7:45am and by 9:30 we got to go home (with instructions that if she threw-up again we had to bring her back and likely hospitalize her).<br /><br />Fortunately, she did alright with her "special water," graduating to broth and jello in the evening and is now back to solids. Her cheeks are rosy, and she is bouncing around just slightly less boisterously than usual.Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-12859148579457934472010-04-19T15:40:00.014-05:002010-04-21T22:30:10.066-05:00It's been 1 month: SlainteWe left Chicago on March 17<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span>, and somewhere between Chicago and Houston I realized that I wasn't wearing any green. Immediately following that realization was gratitude that no one had tried to pinch me. Yes, I know I'm a 30-something mother and was en route to South America, not a small child en route to recess. Please recall that I had yet to sleep after days of sorting/packing/tossing/cleaning out our apartment. I was hanging on by a very thin, and hopefully green, thread.<br /><br />In our own <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">teetotaling</span> way, I've made sure we celebrated St. Patty's Day each year. I don't have these freckles for nothing. In fact, we are all of Irish decent in our little family <span style="font-size:85%;">(though we also claim <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Scottish</span> - I believe I'm both, but let's just say we're of the Gaels - throughout history people were moving all over those isles anyway)</span>. Half-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">O's</span> name is Irish (Gaelic), plus she's got green eyes, a red tint to her hair, and thanks to the Lima sun, she's sporting a couple new freckles herself. But we didn't get a chance to do anything this year - not even wear green.<br /><br />Then a week or so later I found this in our backyard:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S80XzvIBogI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/CqmZrT7tFMc/s1600/april+10c+005.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462048100661174786" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S80XzvIBogI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/CqmZrT7tFMc/s320/april+10c+005.JPG" /></a><br />Awesome, huh?! It's an honest to goodness 4-leaf clover <span style="font-size:85%;">(I promise it is not the kind I manufactured as a child by pulling apart one of the 3 leaves of a standard clover)</span>.<br /><br />I was actually pretty nonchalant about my find. Half-O was the only one around, and she just discovered clovers in general, so is stoked on any leaf quantity. I assumed the good luck was meant for The Archaeologist's project and set it on a shelf in his office. Later that evening, though, I showed him and his Irish eyes were amazed. I guess I didn't realize how rare they are. I just looked down and saw it. I wonder if that's what it's like to be born into wealth - it's hard to appreciate the rarity - or perhaps it's an object lesson for grace vs. works. Anyway, thanks to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Wikipedia</span>, I now appreciate my 1 in 10,000 find.<br /><br />I'm not familiar with the luck rules for 4-leaf clovers <span style="font-size:85%;">(Is it only good for one venture? Is there a time limit? Does it need to be on my person to bestow the luck? Can it extend to The Archaeologist even though I found it? It seems like immediate family would be covered)</span>, but we've been here for a month now and we've got a great little house, we've yet to get any food/water-born illnesses, I've yet to get seriously lost or be too seriously encumbered by my Spanish deficiencies, the weather has been great, there was a special when we got high-speed <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">internet</span> so the router was free, there's a radio station that plays 80s music all day long (from the U.S./U.K. - but a disproportionate number of songs from The Police/Sting), Half-O is happy, The Archaeologist is getting accolades left and right, and I have yet to burn myself even though I've lit an entire box of matches for the stove. So we truly appreciate the luck of the Irish and hope it continues.<br /><br />Also, an update: I found <a href="http://seymourchase.blogspot.com/2010/03/does-anyone-remember-movie-starman.html">ginger</a>. It's called <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">jengibre</span>, and it was in the aisle with the baking stuff (e.g. cake mixes, yeast, vanilla extract). Additionally, I may have to devote an entire post to <a href="http://seymourchase.blogspot.com/2010/03/gimme-gimme-shock-treatment.html">me and electricity</a> - it's been like a non-montage version of discovering/developing a super power.Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-27742145200562685862010-04-14T15:47:00.020-05:002010-04-16T13:53:31.878-05:00Barranco, or On the Road with The Archaeologist and Half-OApparently I am drawn to ambiguous plagerisms for my post titles.<br /><br />Barranco is Lima's bohemian neighborbood. It's where the artists and musicians live ...and surfers <span style="font-size:78%;">(...and people who are ostensibly artists, musicians, and/or surfers, but really they just smoke lots of marijuana)</span>.<br /><br />The Architecture<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aIgmocFJI/AAAAAAAAAF4/9jUYulRrSOw/s1600/April+10b+050.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460201691940656274" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aIgmocFJI/AAAAAAAAAF4/9jUYulRrSOw/s320/April+10b+050.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aIg7_9uBI/AAAAAAAAAGA/KcG7kjsuLuA/s1600/April+10b+045.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460201697676474386" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aIg7_9uBI/AAAAAAAAAGA/KcG7kjsuLuA/s320/April+10b+045.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aYBl4GQeI/AAAAAAAAAG4/xnAStKv2QoY/s1600/April+10b+051.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460218751347999202" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aYBl4GQeI/AAAAAAAAAG4/xnAStKv2QoY/s320/April+10b+051.JPG" /></a><br />The architecture is very different from other Lima neighborhoods I've seen. You can see the residual gentrification of the late 19th and early 20th Centuries when it became a seaside resort for the wealthy. There are colonial and republican style facades all over, lots of parks, and a left-over street car track.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aIiNzOOaI/AAAAAAAAAGY/ZrGw6sM5tYE/s1600/April+10b+038.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460201719634737570" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aIiNzOOaI/AAAAAAAAAGY/ZrGw6sM5tYE/s320/April+10b+038.JPG" /></a><br />The bridge is called Puente de los Suspiros, or Bridge of Sighs. As the story goes, the daughter of one of the rich aristocrats that lived up by the bridge fell in love with a street sweeper she saw down below. Her father forbade the marriage, so she lived out her life looking out her window hoping to see her beloved. People crossing over the bridge could hear her sad sighs, and thus the name.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aIhbZaPkI/AAAAAAAAAGI/C_aObta9tYY/s1600/April+10b+040.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460201706104700482" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aIhbZaPkI/AAAAAAAAAGI/C_aObta9tYY/s320/April+10b+040.JPG" /></a><br />We thought this was a cool shot juxtaposing the post-renovation and currently-being-renovated parts of the cathedral. And thanks to The Archaeologist, I can tell you that the roof in back is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wattle_and_daub">wattle and daub</a>. He also informed me that the banner in the foreground is announcing a Carrot Plan at 3am.<br /><br />The Ocean<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aYAXrbiJI/AAAAAAAAAGg/VFkGt5q0k60/s1600/April+10b+025.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460218730356902034" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aYAXrbiJI/AAAAAAAAAGg/VFkGt5q0k60/s320/April+10b+025.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aYAr-sB0I/AAAAAAAAAGo/QcqVBJn2FHc/s1600/April+10b+028.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460218735806383938" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aYAr-sB0I/AAAAAAAAAGo/QcqVBJn2FHc/s320/April+10b+028.JPG" /></a><br />It was awesome to see the ocean again - salted air is refreshing.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aYBG4vMwI/AAAAAAAAAGw/zBYtHru0PFk/s1600/April+10b+042.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460218743029183234" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aYBG4vMwI/AAAAAAAAAGw/zBYtHru0PFk/s320/April+10b+042.JPG" /></a><br />Barranco has some good surf spots, but we didn't see anyone out. Later, though, we saw this guy heading down.<br /><br />Lunch<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aIhiKvPkI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/Wq3Vsc0tugg/s1600/April+10b+034.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460201707922210370" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8aIhiKvPkI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/Wq3Vsc0tugg/s320/April+10b+034.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8adMuzkIoI/AAAAAAAAAHA/k6q52f8Y13I/s1600/April+10b+036.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460224440281604738" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qSeWb9MJIS8/S8adMuzkIoI/AAAAAAAAAHA/k6q52f8Y13I/s320/April+10b+036.JPG" /></a><br />These are the steps we took down to the restaurant and the view from the restaurant.<br /><br />One of the downsides of Barranco is that it's a tourist stop, so there are more gringos around, and tours, and people catering to tourists. So, we got treated like tourists - but perhaps part of that was the totally tourista lunch I ordered. I decided to get some ceviche - a Peruvian specialty - and try chicha morada per <a href="http://bebeloo.blogspot.com/">Damaris' </a>suggestion. So yeah, it was all "Peruvian Experience" but really, I like seafood but never make it at home, and I was going to try chicha morada sooner or later, so why not sooner. Anyway, the cevivhe was very good, as were their fries - I'm loving aji on my fries. Chicha morada was ok. There was an unidentified undercurrent to it that I couldn't place - beets? blood? It was off-puttingly just beyond my grasp. Later that night we had soy sauce (or as Half-O calls it, salty sauce) with dinner and I sensed the undercurrent again. Aha - fermentation. Now that I know, perhaps I'll give it another try.<br /><br />We didn't have time to see the contemporary or colonial art museums, or stay for any music, so we'll be back.Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8506747183797122018.post-25808110591691429812010-04-12T14:59:00.003-05:002010-04-21T22:12:48.359-05:00Pre-nap Storytime<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwdpdzt6OCoNocrEGyBoKT1C8Yf38k1ivlbwoA-xR3AmTkyj_Jdcj5lJj_qRtG_USPtSaxuasSFCDDlNgED' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Seymour Chasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07924534268524899237noreply@blogger.com1