Too batshit crazy (in a good way) for words.
I'm experimenting with a combination of Twitterfeed and the Twitter app on Facebook. Feedalicious.
Somebody brought in a bag of these the other day and I'd never seen them before so I had somebody write down the name. If I'm summarizing correctly, this may be a kind of olive, or related to olives. What I know is that it was really bitter and sour, the taste of bitter fruits that make your mouth pucker or what the Japanese call shibui (astringent). That explains the bag of chili-laced sugar the ma-kok are sold with (although this also accompanies sweet fruits as well; pineapples, sour mango, various indigenous "apples," etc.)
I have to be careful to record all of the rare stuff I encounter here because I may never see some of them again.
I found some snaps I took with my phone pretty soon after they arrived. Here's one:
At least, that's what the guy who sent it to me claims.
Check it out:
(thx hui)
I'm grading writing exams and listening to Houses of the Holy. Definitely my favorite Zepp. I tried grading earlier in the evening but Max would come and take my pen away every time. Eventually I grew tired of getting nothing done and crashed out on the couch. when I woke up it was dark throughout the house and the fan that Nam had thoughtfully pointed at me hadn't kept the mosquitoes from biting the hell out of my legs. Once I got up for water I remembered the grading I'd been doing and now I sit here, scratching my legs and appreciating a quiet house (save for The Rain Song).
Damn, even the songs I don't really like on this album are pretty goddamn good.
Luring them in.
Brush! Brush! Brush!
They got away!
A few weeks ago, Max's grandmother brought over these little guys from the night market in a neighboring town, Nong Vang. I wasn't really keen on the idea of keeping them at first because I was afraid Max might kill them... He's still too young to understand his strength or about hurting things. Sure enough, the couple weeks was filled with episodes of Max almost strangling the yellow one, Max stomping on the yellow one and hurting its leg, and as shown above, Max coercing them into various forms of Godzilla role play. As it turned out, however, the chickies were not doomed by Max (they eventually learned to run away from him), they were doomed by their own actions and nature.
Brownie (why the hell would you dye a chick brown? or yellow for that matter?) was the first to go. He fell in a planter filled with rain water and drowned (actually, Yellow almost went this way first, but the nanny found him in the act of drowning and pulled him out. He spat up a load of water and we wrapped him in a towel for the night. Amazingly, he was fully recovered the next day. We were sure he was a goner, but he still had a couple weeks to live).
Yellow, Red, and Greenie were last seen on Sunday, when they squeezed through our fence or flew over it (they were just learning to fly) and went into our neighbor's yard - the neighbor with a doberman and another mutt. He called me to let me know he'd seen the chicks in his yard and told us they needed to be kept in a cage. The thing is, I hate keeping birds in cages and I naively thought that the chicks would be happy in their safe little yard where they could run around all day pecking at this and that and chirping our ears off without a worry in the world. They eventually became pets, coming up to the front door at the end of each day so I would put them in their box for the night. But apparently, this idyllic lifestyle just wasn't enough for these chicks, and they set off into the neighborhood with big ideas and the worst camouflage patterns, ever. I'm pretty sure they got eaten by the dogs running around here, but I sometimes wonder if they'll show up with new plumage somewhere down the line, driving shiny new Cadillacs and yelling at us that, see, they'd followed their dreams and made something of themselves.
Shit.
So if I ever want to keep chickens again, I need to keep them in an enclosure, or live on a farm or something. I just don't see it happening. Oh well, at least we still have Pinkie. He's the sole survivor, and he's a bit depressed about losing his sibs. We'll see if he's a survivor or not. I caught him running on top of the brick wall separating our yard from the neighbor's (again, the dobe-keeper) and I smacked him down onto our side - but I can't be there all the time. I guess we'll just see what happens.
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P.S. This is the second set of improbably colored animals we've kept in Thailand. I guess the next step is dying a tribe of monkeys and convincing them to stay in our yard. At least we have bananas in the back!
We're very happy to have built this house facing sunsets over the pond.
This is the second time I've featured this guy. Here's the first.
Mommy's gone to Bangkok for a lexicographical conference at the Queen's Park Hotel; the last time we were there she opened for Yoshimoto!
Daddy! and Maxie!! Alone!!!
Actually, he's over at his grandparents' house with his aunt tonight and his nanny is here every day from 8 to 5, so it shouldn't be so bad.
Yes, it works*.
And yes, those are red boxers with white hearts on them.
No, that's not why I took the color out.
I did that because my complexion turns to "mottled tomato" on really hot days (lots of those in Thailand).
The screens we're going through are goza-like rolls we've hung from a curtain rod in front of the front door to block the sun at the end of the day, because our house faces the sunset.
*It doesn't quite feel right, though, maybe a bit like putting a t-shirt on backwards.
I just went through my bookmarks, which have been transferred from browser to newer browser to internet bookmarking service to different browser to FTP site via FF plugin to even shinier browser over the past eight years and not really cleaned for the past three.
Its amazing how many sites are gone, mostly replaced by domain sitters now. I figure about 80% of the blogs I've ever bookmarked are either deserted (in the case of a free hosting service like blogspot) or just gone.
Blogging feels so old school... I remember the moblogging and videoblogging fads very well. Hell, kid, when I was your age we walked to our blogs ten miles and back - through the snow!
This article about lightning strikes on animals is interesting but the comments about people's experiences with lightning strikes and electrofishing are even more so: Death by lightning for giraffes, elephants, sheep and cows
Last night marked a new record in baby pigginess: Max downed 18 ounces of formula in one extended feeding, over the course of around one hour. 18 ounces! 18 OUNCES! 18 OUNCES TO FREEDOM!!
In the interest of getting everything on the record, we decided to confront the crazy bitch, at her request, at the police station last Thursday, dependant on a couple of things. We first called in a favor and asked about the officer in charge and got back the answer that he had a reputation for being straight, and a good cop. That was a good sign, because a chance you take when going to the cops here in an unclear case like this one is that the cops are either sided with your opponents for whatever reason, or the cops themselves want something. So I wired myself with a cellphone transmitting to my PC at home.
That accomplished, we brought along Nam's little sister to help watch Max and went to the station. The entire meeting lasted 30 minutes, because everybody except the crazy bitch wanted it to end quickly. She brought along a female teacher from Nam's university for whatever reason and even she seemingly wanted it to end quickly. Why? Because in those thirty minutes, the crazy bitch never indicated what she wanted until the very end but did manage to tell everyone how she nearly caused an accident in the middle of an intersection when she pulled alongside me, in the lane for oncoming traffic, and expected me to sideswipe some kids on motorbikes to make room for her... And then got so angry because I didn't accommodate her that she followed me for a kilometer, pulled in front of my car, and slammed on her brakes to cause an accident - WITH KIDS IN THE CAR!!! (and from what I saw, they weren't even wearing seatbelts, because both of them were thrown forward, hard.)
By the time the cop heard this, he'd pretty much had enough of her so he kept repeating the same question, namely asking just what it was that she wanted. Because she wouldn't say what she wanted, I got the strange feeling she was waiting for an apology from me but was somehow too embarrassed to ask for it. You'd never guess it, but... Just for the hell of it, I apologized. And guess what? That was that. Rather, that was it. The whole time, she wanted an apology from me for somehow causing her to almost (intentionally) cause two accidents in two minutes. When everybody realized that, it was like light bulbs went on above their heads. Nam, me, the cop, the crazy bitch's friend. I mean road rage is one thing, but trying to cause accidents and then admitting it to a cop in a police station because you think it'll get someone else in trouble, all because you want an apology is... fucking crazy, or as the Chinese exchange students at the good ol' U of T used to say, C-R-A-Z-I-O-U-S.
So, the situation is resolved. I actually felt good about making the crazy bitch feel good, too (by apologizing). I could've really pissed her off by letting it get to the "demanding an apology" stage and then refusing to do so - I had every right to - but even though I intensely disliked her, I felt sorry for her at the same time. Someday, when I get to Buddhist anti-purgatory, I expect some fucking deity to remember the time I was nice to a crazy person, and perhaps just temporarily put out the fire burning my ass off.
That is all.
Almost a month ago, a big storm came and blew my ceramic boo-chan (pig-shaped mosquito coil holder) over. As you can see, he did a Humpy-dumpty which made me really sad because I bought him for half off at Jusco in Sumoto a few years back and will probably never buy a 7,000 yen ceramic pig ever again.
Luckily, it was nothing two and a half tubes of super glue (the most popular brand in Thailand is called Power Glue) couldn't fix:
Actually, if you look closely, you can see that mommy pig's been put together again, too.
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Previous colors of Max:
purple max
green max
monokuro max
red red max
orange max
sepia max
coppermine max
blue max
The first time I wrote a post about Birdy Nam Nam it was because they dropped a track that just stuck in my head for weeks. This time, it's mostly the video that's entrancing me:
I couldn't possibly bring myself to do this sober, so it just isn't going to happen anytime soon. Besides, I'm pretty sure it will be hard to top this one:
A sodden karaoke snack is all that remains.
Thx to T for the pic.
I wanted to get some midterm grading done the past five hours, but I ended up entertaining Max instead. He wouldn't go to sleep and Nam was busy putting together slides for a presentation in Bangkok at some lexicographical conference in ten days - it takes precedence over my work so I had to watch the baby (of course, pretty soon he will be the toddler and there will be a new baby).
I really need to get as much grading done as I can in chunks because with 11 classes (7 different courses; 3 which I've done before but am improving and 4 new ones), a few hundred students, and 35 hours in the classroom a week, it's impossible to finish all at once or very quickly.
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Something else also popped up this evening: A couple cops came by the house and asked us to call another cop about a traffic accident or something. It turns out that some crazy bitch who tried to make me rear-end her because I wouldn't let her cut me off while making a dangerous turn into a signal-less intersection (whew!) reported my license number to the police... I remember it very well because it happened on my birthday last week and I was really pissed off, but refrained from cussing her out because I felt bad for the kids in the car... I couldn't believe that she cut in front of me, waited for my car to get close, and then stomped on the brakes to try and cause an accident with kids in the car. Of course, there's really nothing she can do unless she makes a bullshit claim, so we'll see what happens. Basically the cop who Nam called asked us to work it out because this woman came and complained about me "teasing" her... That would be the part where I told her she was a horrible driver and should be more careful with kids in the car...
I feel the cops really have no business asking us about anything or to do anything since nothing happened (apparently by her account as well as mine), but maybe she has a brother on the force or something. If it comes to a "who has bigger friends" contest, though, I will be prepared and show no mercy...
...because watching this every so often is like watching the Blues Brothers every year: So good it hurts, and made more precious because it's gone forever.
Now that's a sendoff: Sincerely, John Hughes
I'm pretty sure everyone my age is a huge fan; I have a cousin who at times totally looks like Ferris Bueller.
A few weeks ago we decided to go out for a drive. It was time to take Max for his first visit to the monkey park in the nearby town of Kosum Phisai, so we put his car seat in the trusty old Kujira and were on our way. We took the Kujira instead of the Cefiro because:
- Monkeys are little bastards that scratch up cars for fun
- Max sleeps really well in the Crown with its worn suspension and lulling vibration
- It's a proper cruising car!!
Max spots some fellow monkeys!
To a normal person, this might just look like a bunch of monkeys sitting in a row, but this sight reminded me of cruising by a red light district in Osaka at night where house after house had an old women standing in the doorway, beckoning passers by to come in (I suppose old women just remind me of monkeys).
Check out the ghost reflection of the key in the ignition!
In the rearview
A discerning mommy wondering whether tt\his sun-dried banana is organic or not (it is).
This is why we took the old car.
The Kosamphi Monkey Center (AKA Kosamphi Forest Park, also spelled "Kosumphi") is a great place to visit if you are tired of seeing giant catfish, and indeed, I think they should just call it a "monkey sanctuary."
Over at Wired: Brewing Beer From 45-Million-Year-Old Yeast
Unspeakably cool.
In most of Asia, they'd probably still drink it with ice, tho.
This has got to be one of the greatest webcomic series, ever: vulcan & vishnu
I don't really mind the ads in Gmail*. I'd actually feel kinda guilty/uneasy if Gmail were totally free, because I depend on it so much. This is interesting, though: How to avoid Gmail's Sponsored Links
Forget Big Brother - we need top worry about those who we willingly trust with our privacy every day.
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*If they bother you that much, you can always use a dedicated email client with Gmail.
I forgot to post my instructional photo on how to harvest bananas, caveman style:
Unable to hold the clump with one hand while chopping with the other (the clump was hanging over into the neighbor's yard in an awkward position - don't worry they got their cut!), I instead used E. Honda power to rip it off.
This was taken a couple months ago in our backyard. We pretty much have the best tasting bananas in the world, and they are the perfect food for babies. We even sun-dried some and made chips. Yum!
P.S. That's an empty bird's nest constructed in between the fruit. We'd spotted it before but never saw what kind of birds made it - I made sure it was vacant before starting the harvest.
P.P.S. After harvesting bananas you cut down the tree (actually a "pseudostem") because it only bears fruit once. Ours get quite thick by the time the fruit is ripe, around the diameter of a basketball, or larger at the base.
P.P.P.S. I bought this bad ass thick brush knife, about 18" long, maybe carved from a leaf spring. It's fun as hell to concentrate and try cutting down banana trees with one stroke, although it's kinda cramped in our backyard so I have to be really careful not to cut my own leg or get crushed by a vengeful felled pseudostem.
