Monday, April 11, 2011
Update 2 on Box Elder Syrup
Monday, April 4, 2011
Success of Friends and Schadenfreude
One of my classmates from graduate school was invited to give a seminar at the university where I am partially employed. He was part of the social circle that I moved in for several years when I first moved to Wisconsin. His eventual wife was also a classmate and friend of mine. I remember commiserating after written prelims and other exams, being friendly rivals in classes, and even attending their wedding during those years of grad school, which were happy times for me.
My career has been somewhat of a disappointment to me, although I think by objective standards that I have done some good and important work. However, by many standards of success, especially those in academia, I would not be considered a shining star. I decided (or perhaps more accurately, realized) that a career as a professor was probably not something I wanted, and pursued a career in industry. In recent years, I have straddled the line between academia and industry, with much of my physical time being spent in the same university department where I did my graduate work. I'm reasonably sure no other than a very select few know what I do there.
I saw the seminar announcement a few weeks ago, and couldn't decide whether I should go or not. Sadly, I had not kept in touch with Andy or his wife since we went our separate ways, and hadn't seen them in almost 20 years. His seminar topic was not one that I was particularly interested in, and I wasn't sure I would even be able to follow it since my scientific expertise is not in that area.
Most of all I worried that I would feel like a failure in comparison with his success, and why should I subject myself to that? Perhaps I should go, and I would see he had aged badly, or wasn't able to give a coherent seminar. A little schadenfreude for me, maybe?
I kicked myself back into reality. While I may not be a tenured professor at a big university, like my old colleague was, how could I let my pride keep me from seeing an old friend and being happy for his success?
Andy gave a very good talk, well-organized, and understandable in both details and in the big picture. As I sat there in the lecture hall, I realized I was actually proud of him, and his accomplishments, and that I was very happy for him and for me as some one that knew him.
Afterward I went and said hello to him, and told him I enjoyed his talk. I was afraid he wouldn't remember me, but he did. I think he seemed happy to see me!
I'm glad I went. I'm pleased I was able to feel happiness in his success. And I'm happy to have had fond memories of my grad school days brought back for a short time.
My career has been somewhat of a disappointment to me, although I think by objective standards that I have done some good and important work. However, by many standards of success, especially those in academia, I would not be considered a shining star. I decided (or perhaps more accurately, realized) that a career as a professor was probably not something I wanted, and pursued a career in industry. In recent years, I have straddled the line between academia and industry, with much of my physical time being spent in the same university department where I did my graduate work. I'm reasonably sure no other than a very select few know what I do there.
I saw the seminar announcement a few weeks ago, and couldn't decide whether I should go or not. Sadly, I had not kept in touch with Andy or his wife since we went our separate ways, and hadn't seen them in almost 20 years. His seminar topic was not one that I was particularly interested in, and I wasn't sure I would even be able to follow it since my scientific expertise is not in that area.
Most of all I worried that I would feel like a failure in comparison with his success, and why should I subject myself to that? Perhaps I should go, and I would see he had aged badly, or wasn't able to give a coherent seminar. A little schadenfreude for me, maybe?
I kicked myself back into reality. While I may not be a tenured professor at a big university, like my old colleague was, how could I let my pride keep me from seeing an old friend and being happy for his success?
Andy gave a very good talk, well-organized, and understandable in both details and in the big picture. As I sat there in the lecture hall, I realized I was actually proud of him, and his accomplishments, and that I was very happy for him and for me as some one that knew him.
Afterward I went and said hello to him, and told him I enjoyed his talk. I was afraid he wouldn't remember me, but he did. I think he seemed happy to see me!
I'm glad I went. I'm pleased I was able to feel happiness in his success. And I'm happy to have had fond memories of my grad school days brought back for a short time.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Signs of Spring
Observed already in 2011:
Not yet seen:
- Daffodils popping through the snow (first thing I noticed, I think)
- "Ski Clearance Sale" at local ski/patio furniture store (odd seasonal combination)
- Calves
- Red-winged black birds back (males, anyway)
- A bluebird!
- Spring peepers croaking in the valley
- Pheasant (male) strutting his stuff
- Chives up!
- Hollyhocks up
- Irises popping up
- Crocus blooming (in town)
- Scylla blooming (in town)
- Rhubarb starting to come up
- Forsythia heavily budded
- "Bare root room open!" sign at local garden center
- Snowmobile for sale in someone's front yard
- Not so pleasant things appearing when the snow melts
- Undergraduates wearing shorts (no intended juxtaposition between this item and the previous one)
- Motorcycles
- Robins
Not yet seen:
- Anything blooming on our land, including dandelions
- Orioles or hummingbirds
- Tornado warnings
- Removal of the yellow ropes at work (used to keep people off of the stairs to the building that they don't shovel. Why they built the grand staircases up to the building, I don't know, as they are unusable due to the yellow ropes for about half of the year).
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Update on Box Elder Syrup
Friday Night Fish Fry
In Wisconsin, there is a long tradition of going out with family and friends for a Friday night fish fry. It seems to have started with the German Catholic immigrants during Lent, but the fish fry, in its many variations, is now embraced by nearly all Wisconsinites. It's so engrained in our society that it has even been a topic of academic discourse. For those of you who have not experienced a Friday-night fish fry in Wisconsin, I will attempt to describe the one I attended last night, a somewhat classic example of such an event.
Although virtually all restaurants in Wisconsin serve up fried fish on Friday nights during the season of Lent, the most typical fish fry venue is a supper club, another upper midwestern U.S. institution. Supper clubs are restaurants that all seem to date from the 1950s. They are often located near a lake or outside of town (at least originally... they are now often the only 1950's era building in a suburban jungle outside of town, a testament to their enduring popularity). The venue is never too swanky, but still somehow has an atmosphere that is somehow special. They are usually quite dark, and they all seem to serve prime rib on Saturday night and baked chicken on Wednesday nights.
A large bar area is de rigueur. A true fish fry always involves a long wait for a table, and patrons enjoy their wait with a beer (preferably one brewed in Wisconsin) or, more classically, a brandy old-fashioned.
Last night we met friends at a place called Toby's, near Madison, Wisconsin. It was a classic place for a classic Wisconsin experience.
The atmosphere upon entry was festive, happy, communal. Every possible age of person is represented at a fish fry, with the almost Gaussian age distribution slanted to higher numbers, at least at 5:30 pm when we arrived. The dress is casual for the younger crowd; the over-60 crowd tended to be better dressed.
Even at this early hour, every seat in the restaurant was taken and the bar area was SRO. We sent Linda to the bar for drinks, and she returned with beers for the guys and Key lime martinis (a house secret recipe) for the ladies. (At a supper club, every female over the age of 21 is somehow "one of the ladies"). The rest of our group arrived a little later, and at this time we put our name in for a table and simultaneously ordered our dinners (somewhat non-standard practice, but it worked). We had another round of beverages, as we were warned it would be about an hour, at least, before our table was ready.
My husband went to get the drinks this time. It took at bit longer for him, as he is not an attractive youthful blonde female. The atmosphere continued to be friendly, happy, loud, and very warm, with lots of laughter and camaraderie.
The fish fry menu at this establishment was extensive. There was deep fried (or baked) cod, lake perch, catfish, bluegill, and something called "baby pike" which I somehow found slightly disturbing. Some places also serve a fish boil, particularly in Door County, but that is whole topic in itself. The batter on the fish generally contains beer and is somewhere between crispy and crunchy. With the fish fry, you get a choice of coleslaw or tossed salad (which is always made with iceberg lettuce) and a choice of potato (hash browns or french fries).
About 2 and 1/2 hours after we first arrived, we were finally seated at our table. The salads were already waiting for us, as were bowls of crudites (carrots, celery, radishes, and green onions) and a basket of rolls and bread sticks. The main courses soon arrived, hot and fresh and tasting wonderful (although a cynic in our group noted that our long wait may have piqued our appetites). The hash browns were served family style, and tasted especially good, with the typical faux butter flavor that one expects at a Wisconsin fish fry (although the bread basket proudly contained foil-wrapped packets of real Wisconsin butter).
The service at a Friday night fish fry is always fantastic, as restaurants can pick and choose the best servers due to the high income potential from tips.
We left Toby's at about 9:30 pm, very full, very happy, and feeling somehow almost proud that we were doing our part to keep this very special tradition going.
Although virtually all restaurants in Wisconsin serve up fried fish on Friday nights during the season of Lent, the most typical fish fry venue is a supper club, another upper midwestern U.S. institution. Supper clubs are restaurants that all seem to date from the 1950s. They are often located near a lake or outside of town (at least originally... they are now often the only 1950's era building in a suburban jungle outside of town, a testament to their enduring popularity). The venue is never too swanky, but still somehow has an atmosphere that is somehow special. They are usually quite dark, and they all seem to serve prime rib on Saturday night and baked chicken on Wednesday nights.
A large bar area is de rigueur. A true fish fry always involves a long wait for a table, and patrons enjoy their wait with a beer (preferably one brewed in Wisconsin) or, more classically, a brandy old-fashioned.
Last night we met friends at a place called Toby's, near Madison, Wisconsin. It was a classic place for a classic Wisconsin experience.
The atmosphere upon entry was festive, happy, communal. Every possible age of person is represented at a fish fry, with the almost Gaussian age distribution slanted to higher numbers, at least at 5:30 pm when we arrived. The dress is casual for the younger crowd; the over-60 crowd tended to be better dressed.
Even at this early hour, every seat in the restaurant was taken and the bar area was SRO. We sent Linda to the bar for drinks, and she returned with beers for the guys and Key lime martinis (a house secret recipe) for the ladies. (At a supper club, every female over the age of 21 is somehow "one of the ladies"). The rest of our group arrived a little later, and at this time we put our name in for a table and simultaneously ordered our dinners (somewhat non-standard practice, but it worked). We had another round of beverages, as we were warned it would be about an hour, at least, before our table was ready.
My husband went to get the drinks this time. It took at bit longer for him, as he is not an attractive youthful blonde female. The atmosphere continued to be friendly, happy, loud, and very warm, with lots of laughter and camaraderie.
The fish fry menu at this establishment was extensive. There was deep fried (or baked) cod, lake perch, catfish, bluegill, and something called "baby pike" which I somehow found slightly disturbing. Some places also serve a fish boil, particularly in Door County, but that is whole topic in itself. The batter on the fish generally contains beer and is somewhere between crispy and crunchy. With the fish fry, you get a choice of coleslaw or tossed salad (which is always made with iceberg lettuce) and a choice of potato (hash browns or french fries).
About 2 and 1/2 hours after we first arrived, we were finally seated at our table. The salads were already waiting for us, as were bowls of crudites (carrots, celery, radishes, and green onions) and a basket of rolls and bread sticks. The main courses soon arrived, hot and fresh and tasting wonderful (although a cynic in our group noted that our long wait may have piqued our appetites). The hash browns were served family style, and tasted especially good, with the typical faux butter flavor that one expects at a Wisconsin fish fry (although the bread basket proudly contained foil-wrapped packets of real Wisconsin butter).
The service at a Friday night fish fry is always fantastic, as restaurants can pick and choose the best servers due to the high income potential from tips.
We left Toby's at about 9:30 pm, very full, very happy, and feeling somehow almost proud that we were doing our part to keep this very special tradition going.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Beautiful Smells in the Mail
As a child, I was fascinated with perfume. I loved when my Mom would give me a squirt of perfume whenever she was putting it on before going out. My creative side lead me to concoct my own scented creations, usually involving various household products such as Comet, which I particularly loved as it made my "perfume" a lovely aqua color!
As a young adult I started having trouble wearing perfume. It seemed they would often give me headaches or even mild temporary breathing issues. So I didn't wear perfume for probably close to 20 years. Even things such as scented candles or lotions seemed problematic. This made me very sad.
However, in recent years, I've re-discovered the joy of perfume and all things scented. I have to be a little careful, but I have learned that spray perfumes give me the most problem, and concentrated perfume oils that lack much alcohol content seem to be tolerated pretty well by my head and lungs.
I have realized during the last two years that a huge world of perfume exists out there, far beyond the cosmetics counters of department stores. A number of companies decant small amounts (1 mL, for example) of many different perfumes, and you can sample (and wear many times from the sample vial) rare and unusual perfumes for a fraction of the cost of a bottle. Some of the perfumes that I love most are niche perfumes sold by tiny companies or individuals. Their perfumes are many and varied, and can often convey impressions of the most amazing specificity. Some of the perfumes I love mostdon't even smell particularly "good" but evoke a certain mood or environment incredibly well. There can be true artistry in perfume.
Over the last few years I have amassed an amazing collection of these perfumes, mostly in the form of decants or samples. And still I want more! I am constantly discovering new ones I feel absolutely compelled to try. I love the whole process of reading about the perfumes, imagining how they would smell, then ordering them. Even the waiting for them to arrive by mail is pleasurable. Even when they don't work for me, I know I have something that someone else will likely want.
I have also learned that I am not alone, and that many people (not just women) are similarly addicted to perfume and related products such as bath products or candles. There are large internet communities that discuss, share, sell, and swap their perfumes by mail. I have met very kind and generous souls in these groups who have sent me free samples of rare and valuable perfumes just because they knew I was interested in trying them. I have really enjoyed participating in these communities. It is not just about the perfume, I realize, but also about connecting, and sharing, and giving, and learning about people in other states, other countries, other continents, as a result of a common interest. I'm sure there are other common interests that have similarly brought people together from around the world (for example, as my husband can attest: antique tractors).
All of this makes me very glad that I decided to give perfume another chance. And not just because of the considerable pleasure I derive from the product! I'm not ready to say that perfume can change the world, but I think it can make it a little bit better place for some of us.
As a young adult I started having trouble wearing perfume. It seemed they would often give me headaches or even mild temporary breathing issues. So I didn't wear perfume for probably close to 20 years. Even things such as scented candles or lotions seemed problematic. This made me very sad.
However, in recent years, I've re-discovered the joy of perfume and all things scented. I have to be a little careful, but I have learned that spray perfumes give me the most problem, and concentrated perfume oils that lack much alcohol content seem to be tolerated pretty well by my head and lungs.
I have realized during the last two years that a huge world of perfume exists out there, far beyond the cosmetics counters of department stores. A number of companies decant small amounts (1 mL, for example) of many different perfumes, and you can sample (and wear many times from the sample vial) rare and unusual perfumes for a fraction of the cost of a bottle. Some of the perfumes that I love most are niche perfumes sold by tiny companies or individuals. Their perfumes are many and varied, and can often convey impressions of the most amazing specificity. Some of the perfumes I love mostdon't even smell particularly "good" but evoke a certain mood or environment incredibly well. There can be true artistry in perfume.
Over the last few years I have amassed an amazing collection of these perfumes, mostly in the form of decants or samples. And still I want more! I am constantly discovering new ones I feel absolutely compelled to try. I love the whole process of reading about the perfumes, imagining how they would smell, then ordering them. Even the waiting for them to arrive by mail is pleasurable. Even when they don't work for me, I know I have something that someone else will likely want.
I have also learned that I am not alone, and that many people (not just women) are similarly addicted to perfume and related products such as bath products or candles. There are large internet communities that discuss, share, sell, and swap their perfumes by mail. I have met very kind and generous souls in these groups who have sent me free samples of rare and valuable perfumes just because they knew I was interested in trying them. I have really enjoyed participating in these communities. It is not just about the perfume, I realize, but also about connecting, and sharing, and giving, and learning about people in other states, other countries, other continents, as a result of a common interest. I'm sure there are other common interests that have similarly brought people together from around the world (for example, as my husband can attest: antique tractors).
All of this makes me very glad that I decided to give perfume another chance. And not just because of the considerable pleasure I derive from the product! I'm not ready to say that perfume can change the world, but I think it can make it a little bit better place for some of us.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Haircut Psychology
I've always hated getting my hair cut. I do some misguided trimming periodically, and about twice a year steel myself for a professional cut.
As I sat in the salon today, I tried to think about my personal feelings about getting my hair cut in an attempt to combat my neuroses with logic. And I have a lot of neuroses that seem to flare in the beauty parlor chair.
The woman who cuts my hair is wonderful. She is sweet, kind, thoughtful, patient, and does a really good job. Is it her fault that I just want to get in and out of there as fast as possible, no body gets hurt? I am even too shy to tell her I don't want the scalp massage she patiently gives me. I appreciate it, but I don't particularly enjoy it, but don't want to hurt her feelings by telling her not to do it!
Another problem is (and always has been) I don't like seeing myself in the mirror while my hair is being cut, and I don't like the way my hair looks (or for that matter, how I look) when I leave the salon. I can never get home fast enough! And I never plan any social event (or even shopping) after a haircut where I might be seen by anyone other than my husband, who never seems to notice any changes in my hair for some strange reason.
Tonight I wore my glasses, hoping that taking them off while I was being shorn would make the whole process less traumatic since I would be essentially blind. I observed that I am much more talkative when I cannot see! This must be somehow related to the phenomena I notice at the beach or swimming pool: when I cannot see anyone else, I have this irrational impression that no one can see me or the various lumps and rolls pudging out from my swimsuit. Getting back to the haircut, being blind during the process made the final donning of the glasses even more traumatic, as I had some expectation, some naive hope, that this would be the miracle haircut that I immediately loved. Alas, no.
Tomorrow morning I'll wash my hair, style it, and it will look a little better than it did this morning, I think. As long as I don't analyze it too much!
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