Well, it's now official. I defended the dissertation on Tuesday back in St. Louis, so now I don't have to correct my students when they call me "Doctor." It feels good to be done, especially since I know that a certain elderly family member will finally stop hounding me about it! The defense went well, and I got good feedback from my committee members.
I ended up dedicating it to Watoosa, which is the least I could do, since she's been so patient and supportive. Honestly, I don't know how I would have made it without her.
It was great being back in St. Louis. Most of my friends have moved on, but I did get to have a celebratory dinner with some who are still there. Two of them were the first friends I made after starting grad school, so it was a fitting way to finish things off.
On the previous evening (the day I arrived in town), I treated myself to a quick meal at our favorite TexMex place, Nachomama. Then I headed over to Serendipity. We discovered this place shortly before we moved away, and I was kicking myself for not trying it sooner, because their ice cream is just amazing. In fact, after this trip, I think I have to say that it's the best ice cream I've ever had. On this visit, I had two flavors. One was gooey butter cake. GBC is a dessert the locals make, and it's delish--sort of like pound cake, except gooier and butterier. I'd never had it in ice cream, but it was great. The second scoop was chocolate peanut butter, which is definitely the best example of that flavor I've ever had the pleasure of tasting. The chocolate was wonderfully rich, and as you bite into it you are thrilled to discover generously-sized dollops of peanut butter, and the peanut butter is still creamy (I don't know how they manage that). It was divine. I seriously thought about going back the next day, but I just couldn't swing it. But anyone reading this who lives in or near St. Louis should make sure to try it.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Fun Fact of the Day
"From the first days of life, [human infants] attend more readily to faces than to other visual stimuli and more readily to speech than to other auditory stimuli. This latter bias can apparently be traced to a preference for the intonation contours in spoken language: two-day-old babies show distinctive cerebral blood flow when they hear a normal sentence but not when the same sentence is played backward."
That's from Baboon Metaphysics: The Evolution of a Social Mind, which I think is worth reading for the title alone; it certainly raised the librarian's eyebrow when she handed it to me. The book also includes stories of domesticated baboons in Africa: one who worked as a signalman for the railroads in South Africa, and another who worked as a sheep-dog. I've just started it, but it promises to be a fascinating read.
That's from Baboon Metaphysics: The Evolution of a Social Mind, which I think is worth reading for the title alone; it certainly raised the librarian's eyebrow when she handed it to me. The book also includes stories of domesticated baboons in Africa: one who worked as a signalman for the railroads in South Africa, and another who worked as a sheep-dog. I've just started it, but it promises to be a fascinating read.
I'll Take "Misuse of Executive Privilege for 500," Alex
Economics is increasingly shedding its reputation as "the dismal science." Here's one example--a recommendation to improve elections as decision procedures. I like it, and not just because it involves Salma Hayek.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
What Dreams Did Come
Last night, I had a dream that Watoosa and I got married, or got married again. It was very much like our real wedding--we looked the same, all our friends and family were there, the church looked a lot like the one we used. Watoosa's dress was the exact same one she wore seven years ago, too. And like our real wedding, we hadn't seen each other that morning until the actual ceremony.
The only major difference was that I was wearing her dress, and she wore a tux (thankfully, without those goofy vests that the formal wear shop foisted on me and my groomsmen). I'm not sure why. The intention was that Watoosa would wear the dress after the wedding day, and so I remember asking her, "Do you think this will fit you after today?" I don't remember what she said. But I do remember that I absolutely rocked that bridal gown!
So, armchair psychotherapists...what is my subconscious trying to tell me?
The only major difference was that I was wearing her dress, and she wore a tux (thankfully, without those goofy vests that the formal wear shop foisted on me and my groomsmen). I'm not sure why. The intention was that Watoosa would wear the dress after the wedding day, and so I remember asking her, "Do you think this will fit you after today?" I don't remember what she said. But I do remember that I absolutely rocked that bridal gown!
So, armchair psychotherapists...what is my subconscious trying to tell me?
Fun with Visuo-Cognitive Stimuli of the Frontal Cortex
Here's a quick experiment you can try right at your computer. Click on this page and watch the video (it's only about 15 seconds). It features two teams--one dressed in white and the other in black--throwing basketballs around. See if you can accurately count the number of successful passes that the white team makes. Then look in the comment section on this page to check your answer.
UPDATE: Make sure you do the test before looking at the comments. If you don't, you'll only be cheating yourself!
UPDATE: Make sure you do the test before looking at the comments. If you don't, you'll only be cheating yourself!
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Book Report
I know that writing about books is Watoosa's gig, but here's what I've been reading this summer (for fun, as opposed to dissertation/class prep), in no particular order.
1. Passarola Rising, by Azhar Abidi. A Jules Verne-esque adventure story that also features light philosophical explorations of the challenge to ecclesiastical authority that early modern science posed (although I think that challenge was more acute in the seventeenth century). It's fiction, but the protagonists were historical figures--one of them invented a working airship years before balloons were used for flight. It's a fun read, and I read the whole thing in a day.
2. Water for Elephants, by Sara Gruen. A pretty absorbing tale of life in a third-rate circus in the 1930's, a life that was pretty rough. The protagonist recounts his story as an old man, and the narrative shifts between his recollection and his present experiences in an assisted-living home. The latter is what I found especially affecting, as he is constantly patronized and infantilized, and therefore dehumanized. I can't think of another book (or film, for that matter) that portrays old age so vividly. You can read Watoosa's review here.
3. Whales on Stilts, by M. T. Anderson. A completely silly--and hilarious--novella for junior readers. It blithely blurs the line between fiction and reality, and it is populated with characters from children's lit of earlier generations who keep all the idiosyncrasies of their eras, even though it takes place in the present. For example, one of the main characters is Jasper Dash, Boy Technonaut, whose books Anderson read as a kid. He wears knickers and uses exclamations like "Jupiter's Moons!" unironically. He's also so earnest, industrious, and upright that he makes model Boy Scouts look like slackers and scoundrels. It's one of the funniest books I've read in a long time. The follow-up is The Clue of the Linoleum Lederhosen, which is not quite as funny, but still worth reading. These books are completely different from Anderson's Octavian Nothing, which is one of the best books I've read in the past year. It's hard to believe they came from the same author.
4. Lieutenant Hornblower, by C. S. Forester. A ripping tale of life in the Royal Navy, wonderfully told. All the Hornblower stories are great entertainment, as are the A&E film versions. This one was especially fun, since it features mutiny against a crazed captain. I've also been listening to an audiobook version of Patrick O'Brian' Master and Commander, which I'm enjoying, but I'm still partial to Forester.
5. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by J. K. Rowling. We saved money by getting a Chinese-pirated version for two bucks. This was a HUGE disappointment. Granted, I thought it was a bold choice to make Ron gay, but when Voldemort slices off Harry's hand and says, "No, Harry... I am your father!" I just gave up.
6. The Ladies of Grace Adieu, by Susannah Clarke. A collection of stories in the same vein as her wonderful novel, Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. Clarke mixes English legends and ghost stories with nineteenth century "society" lit in a way that is utterly unique. I describe it as a mix of Edgar Allan Poe and Jane Austen, but that doesn't do her work justice. I liked Jonathan Strange a bit more, but Ladies is well worth reading, too. I'm eager to see what Clarke does next. Also, I wish I could add an extraneous "e" to my name like the Clarkes and Brownes of the world.
7. The Chinatown Death Cloud Peril, by Paul Malmont. The characters of this book are the great pulp writers from the early twentieth century. One of them is a young upstart named Ron Hubbard (sound familiar?). I've just started it, so I can't say yet whether I like it or not, but it struck me as an interesting idea for a novel.
1. Passarola Rising, by Azhar Abidi. A Jules Verne-esque adventure story that also features light philosophical explorations of the challenge to ecclesiastical authority that early modern science posed (although I think that challenge was more acute in the seventeenth century). It's fiction, but the protagonists were historical figures--one of them invented a working airship years before balloons were used for flight. It's a fun read, and I read the whole thing in a day.
2. Water for Elephants, by Sara Gruen. A pretty absorbing tale of life in a third-rate circus in the 1930's, a life that was pretty rough. The protagonist recounts his story as an old man, and the narrative shifts between his recollection and his present experiences in an assisted-living home. The latter is what I found especially affecting, as he is constantly patronized and infantilized, and therefore dehumanized. I can't think of another book (or film, for that matter) that portrays old age so vividly. You can read Watoosa's review here.
3. Whales on Stilts, by M. T. Anderson. A completely silly--and hilarious--novella for junior readers. It blithely blurs the line between fiction and reality, and it is populated with characters from children's lit of earlier generations who keep all the idiosyncrasies of their eras, even though it takes place in the present. For example, one of the main characters is Jasper Dash, Boy Technonaut, whose books Anderson read as a kid. He wears knickers and uses exclamations like "Jupiter's Moons!" unironically. He's also so earnest, industrious, and upright that he makes model Boy Scouts look like slackers and scoundrels. It's one of the funniest books I've read in a long time. The follow-up is The Clue of the Linoleum Lederhosen, which is not quite as funny, but still worth reading. These books are completely different from Anderson's Octavian Nothing, which is one of the best books I've read in the past year. It's hard to believe they came from the same author.
4. Lieutenant Hornblower, by C. S. Forester. A ripping tale of life in the Royal Navy, wonderfully told. All the Hornblower stories are great entertainment, as are the A&E film versions. This one was especially fun, since it features mutiny against a crazed captain. I've also been listening to an audiobook version of Patrick O'Brian' Master and Commander, which I'm enjoying, but I'm still partial to Forester.
5. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by J. K. Rowling. We saved money by getting a Chinese-pirated version for two bucks. This was a HUGE disappointment. Granted, I thought it was a bold choice to make Ron gay, but when Voldemort slices off Harry's hand and says, "No, Harry... I am your father!" I just gave up.
6. The Ladies of Grace Adieu, by Susannah Clarke. A collection of stories in the same vein as her wonderful novel, Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. Clarke mixes English legends and ghost stories with nineteenth century "society" lit in a way that is utterly unique. I describe it as a mix of Edgar Allan Poe and Jane Austen, but that doesn't do her work justice. I liked Jonathan Strange a bit more, but Ladies is well worth reading, too. I'm eager to see what Clarke does next. Also, I wish I could add an extraneous "e" to my name like the Clarkes and Brownes of the world.
7. The Chinatown Death Cloud Peril, by Paul Malmont. The characters of this book are the great pulp writers from the early twentieth century. One of them is a young upstart named Ron Hubbard (sound familiar?). I've just started it, so I can't say yet whether I like it or not, but it struck me as an interesting idea for a novel.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Portland Maine and Sloe Gin Fizz*
I haven't been posting much in the past month. One reason for that is the ol' mad-scramble-to-finish-one's-dissertation-before-the-fall-term-begins. Another reason is the endless trouble we had with Verizon, our local phone and DSL provider. We needed, on three separate occasions, a technician to come and fix something. On none of those occasions did the guy show up on the day he was supposed to. The last incident was the worst--Verizon just kept canceling the appointment (without informing us, naturally). Each day, when we called to ask why our phones still weren't working and why they were blowing us off, they told us, "You probably just have a phone off the hook." Thanks. On one occasion, they actually hung up on Watoosa, leaving me to cower from the ferocity of her rage. I could go on, but suffice it to say that I've never seen a utility company that provided less utility, nor have I ever had a worse experience with customer service. So don't do business with Verizon. Ever. We now have cable internet and phone service, but it meant going about two weeks without either one. Thankfully, that's behind us.
Life in Portland, though, communication utilities notwithstanding, has been great. And I've reproduced two great pleasures from our life in California. The first is cycling. Alas, Portland doesn't have mountains to climb like my route in Santa Barbara, and so my calves are no longer frighteningly huge. Still, I've enjoyed biking along the coast. We live near the Back Cove (the city of Portland sits on a peninsula, just like Boston), so I start there and follow the trail around it and into the city. From there I work my way through downtown and over the Casco Bay Bridge into South Portland and Cape Elizabeth. That area has lots of beautiful houses and rugged coastline. It also features two lighthouses: the Spring Point Ledge Light and the Portland Head Light. The latter is supposedly one of the most photographed lighthouses in the country, and it's easy to see why. Its other claim to fame is that George Washington dedicated it, shortly after his election as our country's eighth president (you read me right; check this out for proof). So while I miss biking in California, I still have some good ride options here.
The other great pleasure we've now reproduced is grilling out ("barbecue," as the benighted locals call it). I bought another Weber kettle grill, but I got a slightly larger one, so that now when we cook for four I won't have to do it in shifts. We had some new friends over on Sunday and cooked up a flank steak with chimichurri marinade (which I think is now my favorite for beef). Then we did swordfish on Wednesday night. I can't tell you how jazzed I was to see that we could get fresh, local swordfish here on the East Coast (plus, all the seafood here is much cheaper). Tonight we do steaks, with pork chops on tomorrow's menu. I think Watoosa is going to make more of her sangria, too, so if you want to hear what she is like when she's loopy from wine give us a call late this evening. It's, uh...entertaining.
*Title explanation here, for those of you who are less hip than I.
Life in Portland, though, communication utilities notwithstanding, has been great. And I've reproduced two great pleasures from our life in California. The first is cycling. Alas, Portland doesn't have mountains to climb like my route in Santa Barbara, and so my calves are no longer frighteningly huge. Still, I've enjoyed biking along the coast. We live near the Back Cove (the city of Portland sits on a peninsula, just like Boston), so I start there and follow the trail around it and into the city. From there I work my way through downtown and over the Casco Bay Bridge into South Portland and Cape Elizabeth. That area has lots of beautiful houses and rugged coastline. It also features two lighthouses: the Spring Point Ledge Light and the Portland Head Light. The latter is supposedly one of the most photographed lighthouses in the country, and it's easy to see why. Its other claim to fame is that George Washington dedicated it, shortly after his election as our country's eighth president (you read me right; check this out for proof). So while I miss biking in California, I still have some good ride options here.
The other great pleasure we've now reproduced is grilling out ("barbecue," as the benighted locals call it). I bought another Weber kettle grill, but I got a slightly larger one, so that now when we cook for four I won't have to do it in shifts. We had some new friends over on Sunday and cooked up a flank steak with chimichurri marinade (which I think is now my favorite for beef). Then we did swordfish on Wednesday night. I can't tell you how jazzed I was to see that we could get fresh, local swordfish here on the East Coast (plus, all the seafood here is much cheaper). Tonight we do steaks, with pork chops on tomorrow's menu. I think Watoosa is going to make more of her sangria, too, so if you want to hear what she is like when she's loopy from wine give us a call late this evening. It's, uh...entertaining.
*Title explanation here, for those of you who are less hip than I.
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