Random Thoughts

9:16AM - Surefire labor induction method

Last night, I put the frozen blackberries (for Thanksgiving pie) into the fridge to defrost. That ought to do it, right?

12:31PM - I shouldn't be surprised, but I am

LaTeX supports historical fonts.

For whatever reason, my schooling did not include any LaTeX. It seems to be more of a science thing and less of a mech/aero engg thing. I find it very ironic that it might be my medievalist hobby that actually gets me to install and learn how to code in the darn thing.

12:14PM - Calligraphy update

I wrote out my "Wulf and Eadwacer" translation until I ran out of room, using real ink on Bristol paper. I took the time to line it with pencil, although since I still haven't gotten a lettering guide and was counting on the edge of the tablet to help square the ruler, the lines weren't 100%.

I learned that:

1) I still need lettering practice.

2) I have no idea how dark the ink is supposed to be. (I can get one letter per dip in a deep black, or most of a line in a lighter grey.)

3) It's very tempting to stick with markers since I'm not doing scrollwork or anything.

Also, on a separate note:

1) Good markers make a difference. (I bought several different ones at the art store and I swear my lettering improved immediately.)

I haven't yet dug out my sandpaper to try 'fixing' the Speedball nibs, so maybe Take 2 with them will go better. But, as I was told, using the nib is really a separate skill from making the letters, so I shouldn't be too surprised that it looks like two steps forward, one step backward.

I've also been looking at the history in the Drogin and Harris more carefully, and looking for MS examples in some of the Anglo-Saxon history books I have. I'm coming around to the idea that the hand I should really focus my time on is Insular Minuscule. It's appropriate to the 7th century, especially for non-Bible stuff like I'm writing. Insular Majuscule looks neat for highlights, but also looks really complex for a beginner. The other big showboat hand appears to have been not Uncial so much as Artificial Uncial. The more I see of it, the more I like it, too... but again, complex. Lots of pen-strokes and serifs and all. I'll save it for later.

Something like Roman capitals or one of the insular caps-lock header fonts should do just fine for titling poems and songs. Since I don't have a handy ductus for the insular capitals, I'll probably stick to the Roman ones for now.

My mother-in-law also suggests downloading appropriate fonts, printing things out, and using a light-box to ink it up. :) She is an awesome fine artist in her own right, but prefers to save her creative energy for the ornamental capitals and illumination. It's an idea, and I wouldn't object to having the right fonts handy for last-minute A&S applications, but I think I'd rather learn to DIY.

9:15AM - T+4 days and counting

Yeah, I'm very, very glad this "soooo pregnant" thing only hit a week or so ago.

Ben, I know it's cold out here and the whole "eating and breathing on your own" thing sounds mighty inconvenient, but son, it is time. You can't stay in there forever, so you might as well get it over with.

8:24PM - The obligatory Weird Thing during pregnancy

I did not get many unsolicited belly pats. There was my hairdresser, who does the "girly girl" thing (complete with vaguely Valley Girl accent and squeals of delight) and from whom it seemed weirdly appropriate. There were a few folks at the last Storvik business meeting, who all but radiated hesitation and unasked "Can we pat it?" before, upon seeing that I was not bristling, indeed patted. I was okay with that because, if I were not okay, I would have said something. The nonverbal communication was sufficient (for me).

Then there was Target the other day. The entire encounter brought to mind an Internet discussion I read about the proper response to unwanted attention on the bus, and what if the person being obnoxious was "not neurotypical," and exactly how the sensitive-but-put-upon recipient of this obnoxiousness was supposed to be able to tell garden-variety asshole from legitimate Asperger's Syndrome.

"Congratulations! When are you due?" asked the gentleman.

"Thursday," I said.

He consulted his watch. "The nineteenth!" he proclaimed.

This was my first indication that this was not, perhaps, a "neurotypical" individual. Most people, in my experience, respond with something like "That soon?" or "Wow!" or "So you're about to pop!" or just "Good luck!" The calendar date corresponding to Thursday was unexpected.

He followed me as I continued to look for night lights, asking if it was a boy or a girl, if it was my first, and if my first was a boy or a girl. I continued to answer amicably, although I thought this was getting rather intrusive, because I was in a busy store and he hadn't asked for any really personal data like my name or the kids' names.

And then he reached for the belly. I just dropped my elbow to block his hand. To his credit, he stopped and started apologizing profusely.

I told him, repeatedly, that it was "okay," which really it wasn't, but I also wasn't particularly angry. I guess I was trying to say that "I am not angry with you but please don't do that," and it got summarized as "It's okay." My impression that he wasn't trying to be a jerk seemed to have been correct - rather than get angry or shouty at me, he just kept apologizing, offered blessings on my family, wished me Merry Christmas and Happy Thanksgiving and retreated.

I was still a bit sweaty and shaky afterwards, I guess because he could have gotten all angry and shouty. Still, in the middle of a Target with three sales associates nearby?

Anyway. That's got to be the weirdest pregnancy experience to date.

11:45AM - Ten months pregnant!

Today is my due date. His Imperial Majesty, Benjamin the First, has not yet deigned to give us a sign of his impending arrival.

In the last three days, I think I've gotten to the traditional "ZOMG so! pregnant!" place. There is pressure in places where there usually isn't, odd strains and tensions in other places, and general discomfort if I'm doing much besides sitting still. I sway like an old-time lumbering movie zombie when I walk. Getting off the sofa is a procedure in and of itself.

So, on my Thanksgiving list, is "Thankful that this didn't happen to me four weeks ago." I know some women say their entire ninth month is terribly uncomfortable, and I apparently lucked out.

8:55PM - Quote of the Day

"Stage directions will include: 'SARAH fires gun. MOOSE dies.'"

- Eugene Robinson ponders a Sarah Palin musical at the Washington Post.

9:38AM - He's the really useful engine we adore

There is a Thomas the Tank Engine Wiki. The amount of world-building done by Rev. Awdry appears to rival Tolkien. The Island of Sodor even has its own language.

There is a heavy emphasis in "Thomas" on being useful. That's not an unreasonable thing for a train to want to be, I suppose. Heck, there are worse things for a person to want to be. But it's been subtly bothering me for the past few days (as we have watched "Thomas and the Magic Railroad over and over and...). I think I finally figured out why.

In Econ 101, you do your work in units called "utils" that measure utility. It's made clear that there is no one right, unfixed standard of utility, and that the thing which you scarcely value now may be very valuable later. (Standard undergrad example: the first slice of pizza, when you are starving, is worth more utils than the sixth slice of pizza.)

If you aspire to be useful... according to whose standards?

9:29AM - Initial Confusion

On an impulse, I bought two monogrammed Christmas stockings at Target. One had an "M," the other, a "B." I showed them to the Dear Spouse.

"Who's the 'B' for?" he asked.

"Ben!" I replied indignantly. (Ben being the actual to-be-bestowed name for Mr. Due On Thursday.)

The Dear Spouse apologized profusely. He assumed the "M" stocking was for him and couldn't figure out how I was a "B".



...okay, I have to admit that I was looking for the "S" stockings when I saw the "M" and remembered that my first child's name is not really Spud.

9:25AM - Flan Cake

Out in the Internet wilds, I found a recipe for Flan Cake. I love flan, I like cake. This sounded awesome.

It's pretty dang good. I'll admit, I was expecting a sort of cake-made-with-pudding effect, a dense, very moist and sticky caramel cake: a cake sort of infused with the nature of flan.

No, it's yellow cake. With flan on top. Which is still pretty cool, but not what I was hoping for.

It is definitely better after a night in the fridge. Mine came out with the cake a bit dry - I may have overbaked. Also, I am not convinced that Hersey's Caramel Topping should really be used for flan caramel. Another recipe called for a "can of cajeta" which is allegedly available a las bodegas latinas; I'd like to try that, or else boil up a can of evaporated condensed milk until it caramelizes.

9:12PM - Rice Recap

He played with the rice for two hours straight, and returned to it throughout the afternoon and evening.

While the table was never upended, there is only maybe a 1/4 cup of rice left in it, the rest having been scattered gleefully during play. Mostly it swept up easily in periodic clean-ups, but I have no doubt we will be finding rice grains for weeks or months to come. Some, clinging to socks and pants, have migrated to the living room and perhaps elsewhere.

So. Totally. Worth it.

I'm not going to make it a regular play station in the house, but boy that's a good thing to have in one's bag of tricks to occupy an active, cranky, bored kid on a rainy afternoon.

12:48PM - Petard loaded and ready to fire

Spud has been fascinated with water recently. In particular, he likes to go into the bathroom and play with his trucks in the sink. This requires constant supervision, since it's a very short trip from the sink to the toilet. (The trucks in question are often dump trucks, too, and he'll drink the cargo of water...) That's not too bad, but now he wants to stand on the toilet to reach the faucet, or else hoist himself up onto the sink, and that's just a concussion waiting to happen.

So we started with an improvised water table in the kitchen. He's got a square play table with a dished bottom and a lift-out top (fiddly bits on one side, Duplo-esque base on the other). We put some cups with water in them in that, and he was good for a while with pouring water from cup to cup. But then you get into the splashing and the drinking the dirty water and it wasn't looking like such a good idea.

So I had an idea for Improvement. I poured two pounds of dry rice into the thing and put in his toy construction trucks and some cups and spoons.

"ooOOOOooo..." said Spud.

He's been playing with it for twenty minutes straight so far. I am going to think this is the best idea ever, right up until the point when he dumps it all over the kitchen floor.

At least dry rice is pretty easy to sweep up.

10:24PM - Calligraphy supplies!

I went out and bought a pile of calligraphy supplies, using several of the "Beginning Scribal" websites out there to make my list. I should have gone to Office Depot first and then to the pricier arts store, but oh well. I think I've gotten everything except the Ames Lettering Guide, which I see is available on Amazon.com.

All I could find for nibs were Speedballs. At least one website recommended against them, and I've seen at least one displaying a scroll done with Speedball C nibs, the very ones I bought. Oh well... cross fingers and hope for the best. I'll just know to try to find another nib if I find the Speedballs hopelessly difficult to work with.

Now I just have to find some time to play with them!

2:28PM - Still pregnant; now with rhinovirus

Nana caught a cold when she came down earlier in the month, and it's passed to all of us. Not a real big deal, honestly - typical runny nose and ache sort of thing, not one of the species of the hideous Creeping Crud that's going around. My two guys are both snoozing in the living room at the moment. Poor Spud has been avoiding his naps and just conked out on the floor. I'm afraid if I try to move him to his bed, he'll wake up.

I appreciate Ben's efforts to contribute to his Mama's well-being with internal deep tissue massage, but it's honestly getting kind of weird-feeling.

My standard self-treatment for most colds is regular Sudafed (the good old stuff, approved by my midwives) and lots of water. Lots of water overnight + 8 lbish baby on bladder = not much sleep. I should see about getting a nap in myself...

7:21PM - Still pregnant

I'll be 38 weeks on Thursday. Tireder, crankier, more forgetful. Starting to feel awkward and lumbering. I might take off work early after all.

Very cranky today. After a minor "I see spots" moment (all of 30 seconds), like a good patient I call my midwives. I am hoping to get a nurse to confirm that, without swelling or headache, this is no big deal. Well, the nurses are "in a meeting" (later amended to "at lunch") but an OB thought I should come in for a BP check. Well, that's an hour ride and I'm in the middle of mandatory training at work. How about I get it checked at the on-base clinic? Should be fine, says the receptionist. Call back with the numbers.

So our on-base clinic was closed; Bolling's would only take me if I was enrolled there; but there was a screening machine in the gym. First reading: 127/82, and that's when I'm so frustrated after 45 minutes of driving around Navy installations and standing in lines that I'm fit to cry or scream. Some deep breaths and relaxation, and it's down to a perfectly respectable 118/78.

I call back the office. The BP numbers are fine, but now a nurse is telling the receptionist I need to come in anyway. Frustrated, I go.

I get there. I am expecting... something. More than the usual regular check-up. Because they asked me to come in for something more than the BP reading I already got, right?

No. The midwife has no idea why I am there. My BP is fine (and now down to 112/74). There are no additional tests. Which nurse said I had to come in? I don't know.

So. On the plus side, still healthy! On the minus side, this was a colossal waste of everyone's time.

12:47PM - Full term!

I'm at 37 weeks pregnant and officially full term. Yay!

11:00AM - Quote of the Day

"Why is the toilet paper angry?"

- CakeWrecks.com

10:27AM - Speaking of portraits...

A woman in Russia, from today's Washington Post:



She seems to be trying to decide if she should make the photog eat his or her camera or just dismiss this intrusion entirely. "Feh. Not worth my time."

8:46AM - It wasn't ALL animated gifs, you know

Farhad Manjoo writes: "Put yourself back in 1996. Imagine you've just pitched your tent online, and you've been given a blank page and 15 megabytes to tell the world about yourself. Think about how intoxicating it must have been to be able to do that for the first time. Wouldn't you, too, have gone a little heavy on the blinky text?"

Um, no?

My first website was not Geocities. It was something like www.rutgers.edu/eden/telerib, part of my computer account as an undergrad, probably tossed up circa 1995. It was, predictably, a list of links and a I think a resume, eventually. I don't recall if I ever figured out how to turn the background from grey to white.

But before I left Rutgers, I did have a Geocities site. I think it went up in 1999, not 1996. It looked a lot like this, except that there was a left-margin graphic of ivy leaves. There was less on it, but it was the same white page with black Arial text.

If you explore "Teleri's Songs for the Ladies" (some of the earliest content) you can still see some of the wonky spacing that was the result of Geocities drag-n-drop text blocks.

That site was well-maintained up through 2008. I wasn't running a game (a lot of my content is gaming-related) and my SCA stuff had migrated to Mi Contra Fa. I averaged around 10 hits a day.

Maybe it has to do less with when the website was put up and how old the webpage designer was. Had I been 14 in 1999, there might have been blinky text and rainbow unicorn backgrounds. Instead, I could legally buy beer, and rainbow colors were no longer quite so compelling.

2:37PM - Quote of the Day

"Is this news to you that this guy's one fry short of a Happy Meal?"

- Rep. Anthony Weiner, commenting on previous QOTD contributor Alan Grayson's latest bon motte, in which he called an aide a "K Street whore."