Dziadek had never eaten shrimp in his life, and so K and I had to correct that situation.
Ribeye steak, marinated chicken, grilled shrimp with garlic, baked potato, and corn with lemon and cayenne pepper (learned from Chhavi).
Dziadek
K's father came for a visit. He brought mushrooms that he picked and dried this year; he brought plum vodka that is to die for; he brought oscypek; most importantly, he brought himself.
Dziadek has a personality that is difficult to describe, but easy to discern from his facial expressions.
Everybody Looks East
Right now there is a labor shortage in Poland for the simple reason that thousands upon thousands have gone West, primarily to Ireland and the UK, seeking work. Off the top of my head I can think of five people I know who are now in the UK: two former students and three friends.
But this leaves Poland itself short. So it’s doing what the UK did: look to the East.
Warsaw, Poland 9 October, 2007 With the failure of the Polish Government’s efforts to attract Polish workers back to Poland, Chinese and Indian workers will be brought to Poland in order to make up for the severe labor shortage that exists in the country. (Poland Looks To China And India For Help)
Weekend
We were going to fix an outside spigot
Then we decided it was too much work with too little time, so we had a cookout instead.
Sputnik
A fascinating article on the political impact of Sputnik
Sputnik Stunned the World, and Its Rocket Scared the Pentagon
Another Sunday in the Park
We went back to Cleveland Park this weekend, with the intention of going to the G’ville zoo. We arrived at 4:00 to find it closes at 4:30 — an odd time to close a zoo.
Instead, we walked through the park and made our way over to Falls Park.
On the way back, we stopped to swing and play in the sand:
More pictures you-know-where.
In the Basement
Part of the super deal we got on this house was a free pool table. The previous owner didn't think it was worth his time to move it, I suppose.
Not only does it provide endless entertainment for L, sitting on the table and watching the balls as I roll them to and fro, but it also provides a bit of entertainment for K and me.
Not to mention a new subject for photography.
36 Hours in Asheville, N.C. in NYT
The New York Times has an article about Asheville:
There are lazy cafes and buzzing bistros, Art Deco skyscrapers and arcades reminiscent of Paris, kayaking and biodiesel cooperatives and one of the world's largest private homes -- the Biltmore Estate, a French Renaissance-style mansion with 250 rooms. No wonder so many locals first started out as tourists. (36 Hours in Asheville, N.C. - New York Times)
And coverage like that is probably one reason why it got so expensive that we left...
What I like most about the article is the mention of the farmers' market: "a bright and cavernous space where you can chew the fat (literally) with the drawling farm folk." The Southern Drawl -- the ultimate tourist attraction.
Faces and Acrobatics
The Girl makes some of the funniest faces sometimes. This was last week at Reedy River Park.
Shortly after this, she took a tumble.
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Honey Do…
I recently reclaimed our backyard from a group of yellow jackets. In reality, they really had only taken over a small portion -- they were in the corner of the yard, and we have a big backyard:
We have big plans for the backyard, but there's so much work to do in the house that I seldom get outside to do it -- and "it" is truly overwhelming.
The backyard has been terribly neglected: the leaves probably haven't been raked in years. Trying to remedy that is how I initially discovered the yellow jackets' nest.
But I can't get outside because of all the problems inside. This week, the guest bathroom sink decided to develop a leak. Rather, three leaks. I fixed two of them, but in the process of fixing them, created the third.
The whole problem (taking all three as one larger Problem) is that whoever did the plumbing the first time had never heard of Teflon tape, hence everything was simply screwed in place and waiting for a leak.
It's indicative of this house -- most things seem to be done backwards. For instance, the insulation throughout the house is put in backwards, with the vapor barrier facing the crawl space instead of the floorboards. I can't figure out how they did that one, since the vapor barrier has "This side to living area" printed in bold every six inches or so.
But it gives me plenty of little projects...
For Those With Any Doubts
Ahmadinejad is indeed a nut:
Not since the prime minister of the tiny Caribbean island of Grenada presented an address claiming that UFOs posed a mortal threat to the future of mankind has the United Nations been treated to such a bizarre spectacle.
Many people believe the greatest threat to world peace concerns Iran's nuclear programme, so there was understandably great interest at this week's general assembly in New York when the country's president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, took the platform.
But instead of seeking to reassure delegates that Iran's nuclear intentions were purely benign, Mr Ahmadinejad took advantage of his official visit to a country deemed – in the lexicon of the Iranian Revolution – "the Great Satan" to embark on a discourse about the wonders of the 12th Imam. (Will the 12th Imam cause war with Iran? - Telegraph)
It appears that he may be wanting war as much as any warmonger Christians -- those hoping to hasten Jesus' return -- here in the States.
V-BY Day
On May 7 and 8, 1945, the Allies celebrated their victory over the Third Reich. In London, millions gathered in a near-carnival atmosphere to mark the end of a long nightmare.
While our celebrations were nearly so huge, K and I did exchange a laugh over the end of the Yellow Jacket War this weekend, after the last pockets of resistance were flushed out and destroyed.
I went down Saturday morning about nine, just before mowing, to see if I could root around with a shovel and find the nest. I'd been making daily observations at dusk the whole week and had not seen a single infantryman (infantry-wasp?) in that period. Just to be sure, I'd doused the area liberally with more wasp killer.
In short order, the tip of my shovel turned up the yellow jackets' lair...
And it was absolutely covered with yellow jackets.
The shovel fell with a thud as I sprinted for my life. Not literally, for I'm not allergic to them, but their stings do indeed burn. I soon realized that none were following. "Perhaps these are specialized workers who aren't as aggressive as those who hunt and gather -- and defend," I thought. Deciding to take a chance, I crept back down the hill in the early evening and found the nest still covered. I gave them a shot of bad medicine (you had to know that was coming at some point), ready to run. Yet none attacked.
Their mistake.
There's something perversely satisfying about holding a significant portion of your enemy's entire base in your hand...
("That looks burned," some might think. Indeed. When I brought the nest in, I noticed that there were a couple of larvae still wriggling about. "Immolation is the only sure method," I muttered -- rather, "I guess I'll have to burn these suckers" -- so I took the nest out, put it on several layers of aluminum foil in the driveway, sprinkled a few drops of gas on them...)
On the Naming of Yet-Unnamed
T. S. Eliot was spot on:
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
It wasn’t much help considering the next part of the stanza:
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have three different names.
We had a difficult time coming up with one name for the cat we rescued from the shelter. A white and gray three-year-old, he’s playful but maturing.
I consulted Eliot:
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, or George or Bill Bailey –
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter –
But all of them sensible everyday names.
None of those names pleased us, though “Bill Bailey” would have been appropriate, I though. I went to a site that’s supposedly specifically for the Naming of Cats. I randomly chose “M” and here’s what I got:
- M & M
- Mabel
- Mac, Mack
- Macaroni
- Macaulay
- Macbeth
- MacGyver
I closed my browser with a sigh, realizing we’d be going it alone.
While we could just throw any old name on a dog and it would stick, we knew we couldn’t just go with any old name for a cat:
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum –
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
And being a household with Polish roots, we wanted something that worked in both cultures.
If only we could have asked the cat:
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover –
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
We finally decided on “Basza,” pronounced “Basha.” But there’s a twist. A caveat, so to speak. The sh sound is not what we normally use in English, which is more like “Basia” in Polish, a diminutive of “Barbara.”
The average American ear probably can’t hear the not-so-subtle difference between the Polish sz and si. Both of them in English would be most closely approximated by sh, but that is only how the si sounds. The sz is much harder than our sh, deeper in the throat, with the tongue farther back in the mouth than si (e.g., our sh). I know it took me a long time to get the difference, and longer to get to where I could pronounce the difference. And still, I generally get lazy and pronounce all my sz‘s and si‘s like sh, even though I know better.
Still, Basza won’t be going to school, so we don’t have to worry about teachers and other kids mispronouncing his name, as we will with L. And visitors will only be corrected once.
The Girl, in Jeans
