How the Internet occasionally saves my sanity

(Pumpkin spice peanut brittle image courtesy of Target.com)

I enjoyed a piece of pumpkin spice peanut brittle today (go get some at Target, it's really good!), and as I crunched on it a phrase from a book bubbled up to the top of my head -- something about someone buying peanut brittle for an older relative, who would "clatter and crunch" over it later. I knew that particular phrase, and I knew I'd read it many times in the past, but couldn't place it.

People born after 1990, I want you to get a little taste of what life was like in the 1970s and early '80s. Barring my finding that phrase in a book through happy accident, or my subconscious managing to dredge up where it came from, I would have no choice but to let the phrase "clatter and crunch" bounce around in my skull for weeks to months, with no easy way to look it up because there was no modern internet.

As it was, I had my answer within 90 seconds. It comes from an early passage in the book We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson, and it describes the narrator's Uncle Julian messily enjoying his treat.

Once again the internet has saved my tenuous sanity. Thanks, Al Gore!

Too Good to Go: Seattle

For the last several weeks I've been using the Too Good to Go app to reduce food waste around the greater Seattle area. Too Good to Go has been a popular app in Europe for some time and is making inroads in metropolitan areas of the United States, and I thought I'd see what all the fuss was about.

How it works: Too Good to Go partners with various restaurants and other businesses that have surplus food at the end of the day, and allows them to offer their extra food to customers at a discount through the app. So: you download and install the app, tell it where you want it to search for available food, look over the options, pick an offer you want to reserve, pay in advance (there are several options for payment), then come to the restaurant, bakery or grocery at the agreed-upon time to pick up the food. Take home, eat, enjoy, repeat as desired. Since you're saving food that might otherwise be thrown away, you get the chance to pick up a meal (or foodstuffs) at a deep discount. And since you don't usually know exactly what you'll get in advance, it feels a little bit like adult trick-or-treating.

After a few weeks, I've formulated some general observations about Too Good to Go Seattle:

You will mostly deal with small, local businesses: single-storefront restaurants, specialty grocery stores, local burger chains, etc. The big multinational chains have their own corporate protocols for getting rid of food they didn't sell, so you won't see Massive Supermarket Chain or International Burger Joint on the app.

It's probably best for singles or small families. Scoring meals from the same location for more than about 4 people at once is going to be a challenge. And as the app gets more popular and more people use it to find meals, the likelihood of picking up more than one meal from the same location will go way down.

It's easiest for people with flexible schedules and a car. Different businesses specify varying times for pickup; some have wide time windows (say 11 to 5) and some have extremely narrow ones (7:30 to 7:45), so if you're booked solid during the week, you might only be able to schedule pickups on your day off. And a car makes pickup much easier. (It's theoretically possible, but I don't want to think about the logistical headache of trying to pick up more than one surprise bag using Seattle's public transit system.) If you reserve surprise bags from several companies in one day, try to keep the locations close together and batch your pickups around the business with the shortest time window to save time and gas money. And if you're going to drive more than a few miles, PLEASE check the establishment's rating on the app first. Look for four stars or better; you shouldn't fight rush-hour traffic or drive long distances for mediocre food. (Learn from my fail.)

It's also a better fit for night owls than for early birds. Most businesses don't offer early-morning meal pickup; they tend to schedule pickups from 11 am to near closing time, so be comfortable with eating a late lunch and dinner.

It's easier for people who are OK with imperfect food. Items you get in your surprise bags may be seconds, near expiration, menu items that aren't as popular, or large amounts of the same thing. If that bothers you, Too Good to Go may not be a good fit.

And it's easier if you have few dietary restrictions. Some businesses advertise what they offer (vegetarian/vegan, gluten-free, dairy-free, kosher, halal, etc.), but most don't. You agree to take whatever they bag up, including stuff you may not like or eat. (This household doesn't do coffee, and on a recent day when we picked up multiple surprise bags, we got mocha cookies, sweetened condensed milk with coffee, cold brew coffee and a slice of tiramisu. All from different businesses. Hey, this is Seattle. We just found friends who like coffee and passed the caffeinated goodness on to them.) You could also get foodstuffs to which you're allergic, so if you have a severe food allergy, be proactive and contact the business with your concerns before pickup time.

Forrest Gump might say that Too Good to Go is like a box o' chok'lits. (Sometimes literally. Yay Theo Chocolate surprise bags!) You never know what you're gonna get, and being comfortable with that uncertainty is a big part of enjoying this app. That food is so cheap because it's either a form of viral advertising for the business, an item that's perilously close to or past its Best By date, or leftovers that were prepped but not purchased. Sometimes you'll get a great value (like the aforementioned bags at Theo Chocolate) and sometimes you won't (three slices of lukewarm pizza from The Unnamed Pizza Joint, supposedly an $18 value--ha). In all cases, you'll reduce food waste and save money, but not every offering is equally stellar.

Got questions? Let me know in the comments.

The Grammar Pedant: Nauseous vs. nauseated

Greetings, pedants! I didn't think I would do another Grammar Pedant post for a while, but I heard something today that made me twitch, so here we are.

Today we're going to talk about a useful, but widely misused word:

NAUSEOUS.

This misuse isn't limited to the Illiterati. I've heard far too many otherwise word-savvy people say things like, "I ate cold leftover pizza for breakfast and it's not sitting right; I'm super nauseous," or "I think I might be coming down with something; I've felt nauseous for the last hour." I always feel slightly embarrassed when I hear comments like this, because the primary definition for "nauseous" is "sickening, disgusting, or causing others to feel sickness." Barf on the sidewalk is nauseous. Dogs consuming their own poop are nauseous. People with furry green teeth and paint-peeling bad breath are nauseous. I sincerely hope that you are never nauseous to anyone.

So what's the word to use if you feel sick or disgusted by something? That word, my dear friends and fellow pedants, is

NAUSEATED.

The definition for this word is "feeling a sickness in the stomach associated with the urge to vomit," and it's the one you need if you are feeling ill. (Not if you're making other people retch and spew due to your funky oral hygiene and whatnot.)

So. "Nauseated" = "I feel sick." "Nauseous" = "I make other people feel sick."

One potential way to remember the difference between the two words is that "nauseated" contains the full root word "nausea" within it, while "nauseous" does not.

That's all for now, and remember -- the English language is a terrible thing to waste.

The Grammar Pedant: jealousy vs. envy

(Ye Olde Plague of 2020 is still going on, but I'm tired of writing about it -- especially since hearing an envoy from the WHO say that COVID-19 is likely to be a "constant threat" until such time as a vaccine is found, which is not likely to happen within a year. So to avoid gorily detailed thoughts of wrist slitting in the face of interminable social distancing measures, let's turn to lighter fare, shall we?)

REETINGS, PEDANTS. Let's talk for a minute about the important differences between two words that are often, but incorrectly, used as synonyms:

JEALOUSY and ENVY.

What do these two words really mean? How are they similar, and how are they different?

Well, first of all, both words have to do with an imbalance, real or perceived, in states of being between two or more people. Because of this, both words are sometimes (wrongly) used as synonymous with the rare-outside-Bible-study word "covetousness" (or the even older Latin word "cupidity"). Both these words indicate a strong desire for something, to the point of doing terrible things to achieve or possess it (which is probably why one of the Ten Commandments specifies covetousness as a thou-shalt-not activity). And both words have to do with enmity -- the act of declaring someone your enemy, or feeling a bitter hatred directed at another person or group.

But there are some subtle yet important differences between the two words. Jealousy (a word which began its life describing a kind of sexual possessiveness and the associated distrust that often comes with it) is fear that one will lose a treasured thing in one's possession -- youth, beauty, popularity, wealth, love. For instance, the wicked Queen in Snow White is jealous of the young princess's innocent beauty, fearing that she will soon lose the title of "fairest in the land." Envy, on the other hand, means hatred or malice toward another -- specifically because that other has something we intensely desire. You could say (and I will, because this is my blog) that some people look at "the 1%," the wealthiest people in the world, with a sharp sense of envy -- either they want the money and power that this group enjoys, or they simply want to destroy that money and power so no one has it.

While the two words are similar, there are also overtones of polar opposition in their definitions; one could say that jealousy is a feeling inspired by fear (of loss), while envy is a feeling inspired by desire (to possess or destroy).

Put simply: if someone else has something and you want it, you're envious. If you have something and you don't want anyone to take it away, you're jealous.

So the next time you're tempted to call someone jealous when that person is really envious, take a minute to reconsider your word choice. Words mean things!

That's all for now, and remember: the English language is a terrible thing to waste.

Dance like nobody's watching! (Freak.)

Ah, internet aphorisms. They're always fun, aren't they?

Within my lifetime, the phrase "Dance like nobody's watching" has passed into aphoristic immortality. (You can tell a particular affirmation has achieved this level of notoriety when it gets attributed to multiple wits, and this one has been pinned to both Satchel Paige and Mark Twain -- I guess it isn't quite smooth enough to be believable as an Oscar Wilde. For what it's worth, the phrase originates from the lyrics to "Come From the Heart," a country song written in the '80s by Susanna Clark and Richard Leigh.) Despite the wild popularity of this phrase, I suspect a lot of people don't understand it very well. Too many people seem to think that this phrase assumes your ability to channel your inner Michael Flatley -- that if you dance like a spaz in public, people will be impressed by your sweet moves, whoop and rise to their feet and cheer you on like that scene in Napoleon Dynamite.

Not even sorta.

Truth is, if you dance like a spaz in public, most people will raise their eyebrows but say nothing. Others, Nelson-like, will laugh and point at your mad gyrations. A few will be mean and call you a freak or worse. So why tell people to do it at all? Why encourage them to boogie down like a complete goofball and endure public humiliation for it?

Well, I'm going to make the argument that the public humiliation is not a bug, but a feature of this advice. Goofball dancing in public (or other forms of gotta-be-me silliness -- about which, see more below) isn't necessarily going to win you lots of new friends. But it does work pretty well at winnowing out the people in your life who don't "get" you, or who are too concerned about being cool to put up with your unique weirdness in public. And it helps you build up the mental toughness to handle that rejection (which is inevitably going to happen) and keep being who you're meant to be.

No, it doesn't have to be dance specifically. I don't usually dance in public or private, since dance is not my preferred form of creative expression. But if I'm in any public place and they play Billy Joel's "Tell Her About It," my life will temporarily turn into a musical as I break into song for the next 3 minutes and 52 seconds. If you have to make yourself scarce during that time, I'll try to be understanding -- but it's still gonna happen because nearly four decades on, that song (and pretty much everything else on the Innocent Man album) is still A BOP. #sorrynotsorry

The other day I picked up an oversized bubble wand for $1.10 at a craft store, because reasons. I was set to pick up a few groceries and go home, but it was a nice cool evening, I didn't need to be anywhere right away, and the bubble wand needed breaking in... so for about half an hour, people got to laugh at this crazy middle-aged lady randomly blowing bubbles in a grocery store parking lot. Some just sped past me not making eye contact, and I thought, "Welp, there lies the man with heart so dead." Some, such as the Francophone couple who didn't know or care that I could understand what they were saying, got into their car making arch comments about "the idiot blowing bubbles." A few teenagers laughed, pulled out their phones and filmed me from a safe distance. (No, I don't want to know if I ended up on social media.)

But most people got it. Their eyes lit up. They smiled. They sang "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles" at me. They giggled and chased floating bubbles on the wind like sugared-up kindergartners (and not just the kids, either; a couple of big, beefy, heavily-tatted guys who looked like they could have been in a gang were grinning and popping bubbles like it was going outta style). Or they just walked by to say, "That looks like fun!" At the least, I made their Monday night grocery run a little more interesting. And how many other fun things can you do in public for just $1.10?

Yeah, I live in my own little cosmos. So do you, probably. And doing silly stuff that makes you happy, in a place where other people can see, helps you decide who you can trust inside that cosmos and who gets denied entry. That's what I think "dance like nobody's watching" really means. Because people do watch... and the ones who like you anyway, even after seeing you flail about like a dork, are the ones who deserve to get in on the fun.

Nice shootin', Tex!

So a while back I went on an errand to the food playground known informally in this household as Asian Vegetable Disneyland, and found myself a great piece of ginger.

Seriously, what does this remind you of?

Well, I knew what it reminded me of.

"Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good ginger at your side, kid."

Yeah! *fwoot* Let's see a Stormtrooper pull THAT off. Fellas can't hit the broad side of a barn.

The Grammar Pedant: unique

Greetings, pedants!

About five years ago I posted a Grammar Pedant video on YouTube, and almost immediately regretted it -- mostly because I didn't like putting my goofy mug on YouTube. And frankly, even though I'm still putting my mug on YouTube these days (warning: these videos will not be at all interesting unless you're considering duodenal switch surgery), I'm still not comfortable doing it. So, rather than shooting another Grammar Pedant video, we're just going to cover it here. Right? Right.

Today we need to talk about the flagrant abuse of a marvelous word:

UNIQUE.

The Illiterati keep slapping needless modifiers on this adjective, because they don't understand what it means. "Unique" is not, and was never meant to be, a synonym for "unusual." NO, people. Let's look at the etymology:

Unique is a French loan word, derived from the Latin word unicus, from unus or "one." Other words with roots in unicus include unicycle (one wheel), unicorn (one horn), unify (to make one), etc. Notice all those "one" words? I imagine the more perspicacious among us can see where I'm going with this.

When a person, place, thing or concept is unique, there is only one of it in the known world. It is one of a kind. Thus "unique" is a binary adjective; either something is unique, or it is not. There's no "quite unique," no "very unique," no "somewhat unique" or "rather unique" or any other qualifiers to prop up the word. "Unique" prefers to stand on its own. Use it only to describe something that has no peer.

If you're looking for an adjective to describe a rare or unusual item, try "uncommon," "unexpected," "atypical," "different," "creative" or "surprising." All these words yearn to be dusted off and used correctly. SO DO IT!

That's all for now, and remember: the English language is a terrible thing to waste.

Nobody steals my shine

When I was a child, I had a pet dragon. He was a gentle, sweet creature, more Puff than Smaug, with big sleepy eyes, silver-green scales and enormous bat wings. My dragon tended to follow me around various places, invisibly waiting for me at the doctor's office, helping me pump higher and higher on the swings at the playground, joyously soaring through endless summer skies with me clinging to his back, curling his wings around me to help me feel warm and protected at night. I didn't think too much about it back then; I guess I just assumed everyone had a pet dragon.

In those days, I didn’t remember feeling dissatisfied with myself; on the contrary, I was quite happy with who I was -- geeky and curious, a miniature romantic, and thoroughly convinced that the world was full of hidden magic.

And then I started going to school.

I don’t know what the school experience is like in other parts of the world, but in California in the ‘70s, grade school was a step or two removed from The Lord of the Flies. Bullying was nearly omnipresent, and most adults did nothing to stop it, figuring along with Nietzsche that whatever didn’t destroy us would make us stronger. Individuality, far from being encouraged, tended to paint a virtual target on the weird kids’ backs. My pet dragon was one of the first precious things to be crushed after mean kids started mocking me about him; he was summarily banished to a mental cage for his own protection, crammed so deep into my skull that no one would ever find him and break his shimmering wings again. So many negative experiences conspired to beat the shine out of my spirit that, by high school, I half-hated myself. It would take the better part of a decade to restore what public school had taken away from me.

The important takeaway, though, is that I did find my shine again -- largely with the help of Battle Geeks, drama dorks, Astronomy Society members, Random Avengers and other people I met who had never lost their shine, or who somehow managed to get their geeky mojo back once they were safely away from the people who had tried to steal it. With their encouragement, I started to own the topics and hobbies that I'd once loved only in secret. I started to be comfortable with being geeky and curious. My little romantic self began to glow again. Best of all, I began to notice that the world really was full of hidden magic, even inside me. But it took a while for all these changes to happen, and even now the most joyous part of me is still fragile and can be easily shattered. So it has to be protected.

I'm the first person to admit to my many imperfections. Tell me that I'm an obnoxious know-it-all, and I'll nod in agreement. Point out that I'm either completely withdrawn or I never shut up, and I'll readily cop to it. Suggest that I might be the queen of procrastinators, and I'll straighten the invisible crown that comes with that dubious achievement. Claim that I'm super lazy and don't get enough exercise, and I'll just shrug. I need to work on all these issues. But if you try to steal my shine -- if you point out key aspects of my personality like they're flaws, and demand that I change them? Bye, Felicia!

Because it was hard to win back, my inner shine is particularly precious to me now. So when I occasionally come across people who don’t get me, who inexplicably find me off-putting, or who just need to hurt others in order to feel good about themselves, I don't put up with it. I've chosen to refuse entry to thieves -- people who want to take my joy, and who offer nothing in return. I've decided that nobody can stop me from being weird and geeky and joyous and romantic and magical, and if you don't like me that way? That's your loss. This is how I shine, and neither you nor anyone else gets to steal that shine from me ever again.

Plus, if you still insist on bugging me, I reserve the right to sic my pet dragon on you.

Falcon Heavy launch

I need some time to process this. BUT. THAT WAS AMAZING. I had delighted chills all over.

Also: putting a red Roadster into space is a feat of showmanship that would make P.T. Barnum proud.

ETA: The hugely (and justifiably) popular launch video released by SpaceX on March 10:

Among other things, I'm glad finally to be able to see what became of the center core. Yes, they lost it, but the information they gained from this experience will go far toward making sure that doesn't happen in future launches.

Are you asking for a CHALLENGE?!

No, not this kind of challenge.

I'm most likely to reconsider my conscious choice not to own a smartphone when I'm traveling. When I'm at home, my daily habits are set up so that I don't really notice not having a cell phone. Travel is another matter. If I'm sitting next to my gate and wondering how much time I have left before boarding, I have to go in search of a public clock or subtly peek at the iPhone of the stranger seated beside me. If I'm stuck in a strange city with a two-hour layover, I can't call Captain Midnight and tell him that I already miss him. (Pay phone? It is to laugh. If you can find a specimen of this endangered species, it will charge you an arm and a leg for a call.) If I intend to use public transportation, I have to plan ahead and print out a map and schedule before I leave home. I have a fairly good sense of direction, but if I'm in an unfamiliar city I tend to be very careful so as not to get lost. Should I become curious about something new I see or experience on my travels, I just have to put that curiosity on hold -- no looking it up on the spot. And if I ever feel a bit bored while on public transit or in flight, I'd better have remembered to pack a good book or a knitting project in my carry-on, because retreating into an electronic pacifier is not an option.

With that said, I think I notice many more details -- all the little finches flying around the Long Beach terminal gates, for instance, or the conversations the flight attendants were having in the back of the plane, or the unusual view of the Wasatch Front from the FrontRunner tracks (especially the slightly creepy up-close remnants of the Geneva Steel plant, since the rail line ran right past it) -- than I would if I were to spend the whole trip glued to a smartphone. And I know I would do just that, based on the way I'm consistently glued to my computer at home.

All this is coming up again, of course, because my sister Julie and I got into a playful sparring match on social media about my advanced case of Phonus Lackus, and her continued unwillingness to read any of the Harry Potter series. And I posed her a challenge I might later regret: that if she would read all seven Harry Potter books (no, I'm not insisting on Fantastic Beasts or Quidditch Through the Ages or The Tales of Beedle the Bard or even Cursed Child), I'd get a cell phone.

Well, she says she's downloaded book #1 onto her tablet. So I'm doing some initial research into phone plans. (If she'll go through with it, then so will I.) What I really want is a dumbphone that can handle talk and text equally well. I don't need a billion apps or Internet access or even a camera -- just talk and text. That's it.

So, my 3.5 readers, got any suggestions for a dumbphone with a good QWERTY keyboard?

Well, that's over.

Looks like the Republican Party has officially gone off the rails. So I'm voting straight-ticket Libertarian this year, and cordially invite those of you with a similar bent to do likewise.

That, or you could just write in Obi-wan Kenobi for president. After all, he is our only hope.

I've got a T-shirt with this on it. Best political shirt ever.

On being "girly"

While I was growing up, I had few close female friends. Most of my buddies were boys. Not that I was a tomboy; I liked to play with dolls, wear dresses, and so forth. But boys just seemed easier, friendlier, more straightforward, more trustworthy as friends. And other girls usually seemed so, well, catty to each other and to me -- and as I got into junior high they wanted to do things I thought of as tedious or stupid, like shopping for clothes, gossiping about boys, going to the bathroom in packs or discussing who would get her period first. (I was frankly befuddled over all this useless mystique surrounding a biological function; to me it seemed akin to obsessing over the need to urinate.) By high school I had puzzled out the vaguely proto-feminist idea that being "girly" meant being vapid and useless, and it held little charm for me.

I'm still not particularly girly by nature. (Big revelation, coming from a chick whose alternate nickname is "The Pirate King," ne?) Shopping for clothing is still a chore, and I can't see the point of owning more than four pairs of shoes. Most TV is banal; I'd rather spend time online or reading a book. Captain Midnight and I can pack a week's worth of clothes into a single shared suitcase. I've determined that aerobics are really a huge, ongoing sociological experiment based on the thesis that people will do practically anything if they think it will help them lose weight. I don't have a Pinterest account, I don't have a thousand pairs of earrings, I don't obsess over what to wear, and I don't have any concerns about my bust size. And I prefer to go to the bathroom all by myself, thank you.

Despite my lack of interest in being girly, there was a time when these traits used to worry me. I was afraid that my dearth of girly qualities would drive people away, even after I met CM and got married. But then I started to meet and make friends with women who were undeniably feminine, but who didn't fit into neat little pigeonholes of girliness. Yes, they did some traditionally feminine things, but they were just as comfortable geeking out in front of a computer, or getting into anime other than Sailor Moon, or discussing the kind of literature that will never make bestseller lists, or passing around good science fiction and fantasy. Watching my friends, I began -- finally -- to relax into the set of interests and behaviors that make me feel happy, excited, contented, creative -- in other words, fully myself. I've found that, happily, I don't have to be some kind of Überchick or squeeze myself into an ill-fitting stereotype to be considered "girly enough."

I guess it just took me a little while to figure out that I'm not a girl. I'm a woman.

The mighty Geocaching Block Party of 2014

Well, having had a few days to recover, I have to say this was an eventful Block Party... though some of it not the kind of "eventful" I'd care to repeat.

First, the good stuff: we met some spiffy new people and completed the lab cache challenge for this year (I especially liked the one with the box that had multiple combination locks, all of which had to be successfully opened to reveal the passcode.)

Also good stuff: in addition to the merry party of Fen, Mitch and Mike, our friends Linda and son came to the Block Party this year, and by all accounts they had a blast!

Shown here: our doughty adventurer, undaunted by the ick factor, scrabbles about in slimy goop in order to find the next passcode.

Additional good stuff: I gots me some pretties.

The large Celtic-themed coin I purchased; the rest were given away as swag or as rewards for finishing challenges. (Yay, steampunk-related geotags for the win!)

You may notice a dearth of pictures of me or of Captain Midnight this year. There's a reason for that. I was preoccupied to the point that I took very few pictures, because...

Not-so-good stuff: I got sick.
Those of you who know me may already be aware that I am a Tough Swede and I can handle it! Well, Tough Swedes can take on the cold all day long; heat is a different story. It was hot and slightly humid in Seattle, I hadn't eaten breakfast or taken the time to put plenty of water into me beforehand, and I'm already at high risk to become easily overheated (yes, diabetes and family history of dehydration, I'm lookin' at you). About two hours into the day's festivities, I began to develop a pounding headache of Zeus-gives-birth-to-Athena proportions. Then I got flushed and dizzy, and suddenly stopped sweating -- and didn't start up again, even after I began belatedly guzzling water. After that came the nausea and, um, related emesis. Yup, heat stroke. At least it was a relatively mild case, but I haven't been quite right all this weekend.

It was the kind of fun that isn't. I don't think I'll choose to do that part again. (Next year, remind me to drink lots of water in advance so as to stave off further forays into dehydration-related ick.)

Oh, yeah, one more thing. Just because it seemed like a good idea at the time, I picked up another geocoin, gave it a name and a purpose and released it into the wild this weekend. The Marty Fromage Memorial Coin is my small, goofy tribute, a way of focusing on the positive nature of one man's life rather than on the particulars of his death. I hope it will go on to have many happy adventures around the world.

Tra-la-la BOOM-de-ay, I'm wat-chin' A-ni-me...

It's been a long while since I followed any anime series; I think the last time was when Miss V was going through her anime/manga obsession in middle school. But just recently I've had a couple of shows recommended to me by friends, so I'm working my way through each one, an episode or two at a time. Maybe you'll like them too -- so here they are:

Nagi no Asukara

Four middle-school students from the undersea town of Shioshishio -- Hikari, Manaka, Chisaki and Kaname -- must attend school in a town on land after their middle school closes down. They are not welcomed by their fellow students, most of whom are prejudiced against sea-people, but one of the land-dwellers, a fisherman named Tsumugu, befriends them. It's hard enough just being a teenager without the added sturm und drang of having friends or sweethearts who can't breathe underwater. Part magical realism, part teen drama, with beautifully surreal visuals.

Space Battleship Yamato 2199

An alien race known as the Gamilans have been waging total war against Earth, making it all but uninhabitable. In desperation, the U.N. Cosmo Navy uses alien technology to transform the WWII-era Japanese battleship Yamato into a spaceship, sending its crew on a desperate mission to save Earth from complete destruction. A recent remake of the 1970s anime classic (aka Star Blazers in the U.S.) with some updates to the storyline, a few new characters, and (not to be disloyal to the original or anything) better animation. They're currently planning a feature film for release in Fall 2014, so now's a good time to prepare by watching this.

Fun!

Meh.

ATE this stupid holiday. Going back to bed.

OK, well, not really. There are things I gotta do today. But I have too many memories of mean grade-school pranks to be particularly fond of April Fool's Day. (cue chorus of "It's Hard Out Here for a Geek")

The forgotten social network

Know what I'm really missing these days?




(You're probably gonna laugh. Ready?)




I miss dialing up a local BBS.

Yep, an old-fashioned PCBoard-running, ANSI-image-spewing, door-game-hosting, BlueWave-compatible, scream-if-you're-on-at-300-baud BBS. And no, it's not because I'm trapped in a misty haze of '80s/'90s nostalgia. Nor do I hate the Internet or social media; I love both those things -- maybe a bit too much, based on the sheer amount of time I spend online. But current social networks have a small but significant service hole that used to be filled by BBSes, and no equivalent has sprung up to fill that niche.

Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. For those of you currently saying "buh-ba-wha?", I'm talking about a Bulletin Board System, one of the very first online social networks. Way before Facebook or MySpace or even Friendster had ever been thought of, people all over the world were running or logging into local or national BBSes to chat, play games and share files.

The splash screen for Random Lunacy, our old BBS. Image courtesy Fen Eatough.

Not that the average BBS looked or worked anything like current social media. Most BBSes were hosted on someone's home computer with a modem, running some kind of BBS software and attached to a phone line. (Some BBSes had dedicated phone numbers and were available 24/7, but others could only be dialed at night -- usually because the teen hacker who ran the BBS was using the family phone and could only get away with monopolizing the line when everyone else was asleep.) Interfaces were keyboard-only, graphics were charitably described as primitive, modem speeds were glacial, and since most sysops (system operators) were in their teens and twenties with volatile personal lives, local BBSes could spring up overnight like mushrooms and die off just as quickly. Since most hobby BBSes only allowed one user at a time to log in, if you wanted to call your favorite board and someone else were already on, you'd have to sit tight and wait for the line to free up. If your modem were attached to the only phone line in your house, you could be downloading a massive file only to get disconnected by someone in the other room trying to make a telephone call. It was a far from perfect setup.

So if the average BBS was so primitive and wonky, what's to miss about them? What was it about BBSes that made them special, and what niche did they fill that no other social media site has adequately replaced to date?

Two words: local community.

So. As you've probably noticed, the Internet is big. Really big. It's full of information from the sublime to the ridiculous, and is available nearly everywhere on earth; that is its primary advantage, and also its primary drawback. You can (and will) meet people from all over the world online. But if you're looking for substantive discussions with new people who share your interests and who live in your local area, you're pretty much outta luck. Specialty discussion boards pull in people from every corner of the planet; few of them are likely to be local to you. Likewise social media sites like Pinterest and Twitter. Networking sites like Facebook and Google+ will connect you to people you already know, but aren't very good at introducing you to new folks. And localized networks like Craigslist are routinely overrun by anonymous barking trolls with virtual air horns.

When I started calling BBSes in the early 1990s, I met all kinds of fantastic people -- including the very first sysop who took pity on me and gave me hours of extra time on his board so I could download a program to speed up my modem. I got to meet and talk to lots of local people, both online and in person, and the FidoNet echoes let me chat with people further afield. I learned about all sorts of interests and hobbies that I might never have discovered if not for discussion groups on local boards. Lots of message-writing turned me into a much better writer -- and a faster typist. Eventually I became a co-sysop for a local BBS, and it was through that forum that I met the handsome and talented Captain Midnight. (So, OK, yeah, maybe a little bit of nostalgia...)

What's missing from current social media is the online equivalent of someone's living room, the local pub, or the corner bookstore -- a friendly, convivial place where local people can get together and talk about all kinds of subjects in detail, where new people are always welcome to join the fray, and where the proprietor routinely bounces the trolls. And that's precisely what a good BBS used to provide -- a place to talk, to goof around, and to make new friends. The Internet provides international breadth; BBSes provided local depth. That's what I miss: a social forum that focuses on my specific region, is friendly to newcomers and effectively polices disruptive boors.

It shouldn't be that hard to create something like that in 2014, should it?

Impulsive introversion

In third grade, I was a little runt. Truly. You wouldn't believe it to look at me now, but back then I was young for my grade, short and thin. These qualities sometimes got me in trouble. One day in early fall, just after recess, our class was lined up outside the third grade room waiting for Mrs. Epperson to come back from lunch, and one of the girls standing beside me decided to show everyone else just how small I was.

"I bet I could pick you up," she said.

"Don't do that," I said. I wasn't comfortable with being picked up by acquaintances.

Unfazed, my classmate bent over, grabbed me around the waist and lifted me high in the air. And I still don't know why I did what I did next, because as she held me up I instinctively leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

"Eww!" she shrieked, and immediately put me down. The other kids laughed and a few taunted me for liking other girls. Me, I was busy being dismayed. Wait, what just happened? What was I thinking?

"Why'd you kiss her?" my friend behind me asked. "That was gross."

I had to think fast. "Well, it made her put me down, didn't it?" I reasoned. "I told her not to pick me up."

This was a good enough explanation for a class of third graders, and nobody in my class tried to pick me up again. But long after everyone else had forgotten the incident, I continued to relive the experience over and over in my head, continually mortified at the kiss that seemed to come out of nowhere and the way the other kids had mocked me for it.

That same year I was playing at a friend's house and spontaneously decided we should be wilderness explorers. I led her up to the end of her street and down a steep hill into the city's nature park. We wandered around for hours, running across bridges, exploring creeks, skinning our knees and generally having a great old time together until her parents showed up. They'd been frantically looking for us for a long while, since we hadn't bothered to tell anyone where we were going. Her dad was a large, curly-haired man with a bull-like head, and by the time they found us his face had gone a dark red, his nostrils flaring white and his eyes narrowed to slits. I honestly thought for a minute that he was going to lower his head and charge at me. For weeks afterward I was afraid of going anywhere near him at our church meetings, thinking again and again of that fierce, glowing face staring me down.

A few years and a new school later, I bought a school lunch and got some change back from the purchase. The sound of the coins jingling in my pocket annoyed me for some obscure reason, and to get rid of the noise and the bother of carrying money around I just started handing out coins to people at recess. I hadn't been popular that year, and one of the other girls started running around telling people I was trying to buy some friends. Angry at her comments, I kicked a hole in the dirt of the exercise field and buried the rest of my coins. What were you thinking? my brain continued to ask me, long after it was over. Why couldn't you just leave the coins where they were?

I could provide so many more illustrations, because the hits just kept on a-comin', all through junior high and high school and right into college. I did all sorts of stupid, capricious things without thinking them through, and then repeatedly relived the shame and embarrassment of having done them. Why did you say that? Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut? What made you think kissing him would be a good idea? Don't you ever think of the consequences?

Frankly, impulsivity and introversion are a match made in hell. If you're an impulsive extravert, you can probably blithely shrug off your less-than-ideal choices. If you're a sensible introvert, you probably weigh the potential consequences of your actions a long time before deciding to act. But if you're both impulsive and introverted, you tend to act without thinking and then compulsively mentally replay the consequences of your poor decision-making, like a one-tune iPod set on endless repeat.

It can get to a point where even if you make a fairly innocuous impulsive decision, you start second-guessing yourself. Last week I attended a stitch-&-bitch-style gathering for knitters and crocheters in the back room of a local craft store. One of the regular attendees had generously brought a batch of her homemade fudge to share with everyone. As I sat there knitting away, I saw one of the craft store employees working alone out front and it suddenly occurred to me that it might be friendly to offer him some fudge too, so I impulsively put several pieces of fudge into some brown paper and carried them out to the desk. Even before I sat back down, my introvert brain was already cranking into overdrive: Wouldn't it have made more sense to check and see if the guy was diabetic first? What if he doesn't like fudge? Did you even think to ask the lady who brought the fudge whether it would be OK to share it with someone? Do you even think at all? What is the matter with you? Fortunately I've learned the handy art of telling my brain to shut up and think of something else instead, but it did come back for a few honorable mentions. And yet I don't think anyone was harmed by that particular impulsive choice. It's just that I've gotten so used to having my snap decisions backfire on me that my brain automatically starts berating me for my stupidity, even if the decision wasn't really all that stupid.

Honestly, these days I do try to think things through. I try to imagine the potential real-world consequences for my actions. I try not to open my mouth before I've considered the possible ways that an offhand comment could be incorrectly parsed. But I still end up putting myself into trouble now and then, saying and doing things that make me want to kick myself later. I'm sure I'm not alone, though. There have got to be at least a few people out there who are also impulsive introverts, getting tired of the taste of their own shoe leather. I wonder if they've learned to cope with it, how they silence the verbally abusive parts of their brains, what tricks they've discovered that keep them from speaking without thinking. Because I could sure use some help in that department.

Guess Who

Pretty soon now I should have a post up about Thanksgiving...

...but first, a bit of fun.

See this dapper, William Hartnell-esque fellow?

Well, I made him into a tie tack.

If you're interested, he's for sale right here. There will probably be more to come, if the first one sells.

Geeking out over animation

Well, Miss V has gone to Utah for Thanksgiving with the fam, while Captain Midnight and I stay put. (In days of yore, a much younger V would ask us what we did with ourselves during the times she was gone, and we'd claim we sat around the house sobbing and crying out despondently, "Where's our V?" As she grew older and less credulous, we switched tactics and told her that the minute she left our sight, we'd put on our party hats and yell, "FUN!" So these days she doesn't believe anything we say about our extracurricular activities. Mission accomplished.)

What we actually did this evening was prep a few dishes for Thanksgiving dinner -- Not Just Ordinary Carrots, come to mama -- while CM put the Disney version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame on Netflix. It's been some time since I watched this movie, and I still maintain it's a weird choice of story for an animated film intended for families with young children. Granted, the Disneyfied version of the tale is a far cry from Victor Hugo's grim original, but it has darker, more adult themes, violence and occasional language than one would expect from a G-rated film.

That doesn't mean the movie is entirely without merit. I really listened to the musical numbers this time, and although you can practically tell an Alan Mencken score blindfolded and from 100 paces away -- he uses specific leitmotifs over and over again in his compositions -- he and Stephen Schwartz work well together; this film features better songwriting than I gave it credit for the first time around. At their best, they've produced some Broadway-quality songs.  It also doesn't hurt that the company cast some great voice talent; Tom Hulce (as Quasimodo) and Paul Kandel (as Clopin) are standouts, with fine, expressive, sensitive voices.

But here's the thing I love about Hunchback -- it was the first animated movie where I discovered it's possible to identify the work of a specific animator through his or her characters.

As I watched the film for the first time, I was weirdly mesmerized by Clopin. Even though I knew I'd never seen the character before, something about him seemed tantalizingly familiar -- his lanky character design, his body language, his facial expressions, his overall theatricality -- where else had I seen that recently? Who did he remind me of?

And then one day it occurred to me:

Oh yeah. Him.

I checked the IMDb, and as it turned out, Michael Surrey was the lead animator for both Clopin and Timon. You can see similarities of character design even in these stills, but it's even more obvious when you watch the characters in motion. You can see similar expressions, gestures, everything. I guess it shouldn't be that surprising, especially when you consider that animators are essentially actors who draw their performances -- and many of them will use their own facial expressions and body language as reference material to bring a character to life.

Since noticing the Clopin/Timon relationship, I've been able to pick out the distinctive work of a few other animators based on their characters. Brom Bones (of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow) and Peter Pan have similar roguish expressions in specific scenes, and Roger Radcliffe (of 101 Dalmatians) and Wart (of The Sword in the Stone) have similar gawky body language; all were animated by Milt Kahl. Little John, Baloo and Thomas O'Malley are essentially the same character in three different films; not only were all voiced by Phil Harris, they were all animated by Ollie Johnston. James Baxter's work is evident in the design and movement of Belle and Ariel as well as Jessica Rabbit. Bud Luckey's distinctive character designs are easy to recognize, whether they show up in his old hand-drawn animations for Sesame Street or in the Pixar film A Bug's Life. I could go on, but I won't try your patience; suffice to say that if you watch carefully, you can spot a specific animator's style just as surely as you can spot a specific character actor in a film.

Yeah, I know, I'm geeking out over cartoons. Still think it's pretty cool, though.

Geocaching Block Party 2013

Let me explain.

No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

On Saturday we went with Fen and Mitch and Mike to Groundspeak's annual Geocaching Block Party in Fremont. It was, as expected, lots of geo-geeky fun. Much wandering around, discovery of caches, eating of Mediterranean deliciousness for lunch, reveling in the joys of Theo chocolate, and talking to interesting people from all over the planet. Oh, and watching ships pass by on the canal.

At the end of the event I entered a drawing for a nifty-cool event-themed geocoin...

...which, much to my surprise, I actually won. Oh yeah, I gots swag bay-bee.

Also sunburn, but it was totally worth it.

Come talk to me and I'll show you my coin. (No, that is not a euphemism for anything naughty. Perv.)