In My Spare Time

More photos! Some pics from the March party and in NYC that never made it up. (Ok, so I have some time on my hands and have been inspired by recent contact with old friends who need to see this!

Secret Garden Video pilot

I'm testing out the video uploading capabilities of Blogger. Mom, if this works, this one's for you, some shots of the garden that I promised ages ago. If anyone has problems viewing the video, leave me a comment about it. I'm curious to see how it all works.

One Year, After Cake

There has been a long lull in postings on this blog. Have I lost y'all yet? Let me beg you for forgiveness! Thanks for checking up on me and sticking with my ebbs and flows. I just hooked up my camera since we moved (in July, I know. That was way too many months ago.). Contrary to my regular habits over the past couple of years, it's been a fairly undocumented summer. Unfortunately, I didn't take any photos of us on our Long Island beach weekend in August, and Fady forgot the camera during our first US Open matches. And I never got a shot of us at Fady's first Mets game at Shea Stadium. But, here's that lovely moment I've been waiting for: 1 year old freezer-soaked wedding cake. For our first anniversary, after a very long seafood dinner, where we also had dessert, we came home to eat the cake. I remember, a year ago, this was the best tasting carrot cake my mother has ever made. But here, what remained was soggy and not so pleasing on the tongue (but, yes, Mom, you did wrap it very well--plastic wrap, tin foil and zip locks can only do so much). I loved eating it, still, the first time and the last. Here's why:

If All the Cabs in NYC...

...looked like this:

...do you think New Yorkers would be in such a rush? Have I posted this Cairo taxi photo before? I just came across it recently and thought I'd share it. The dog days of summer in NYC are making me ask myself again why I chose to marry a man from Egypt--just kidding, F! Even if Cairo's taxis are not the cleanest or newest driving machines, some of them are pretty hot!

Great Things Galore

It's been over a month since my last post--sorry for my undo slacky-slackness. Here's something finally worth posting: Cousin Kim has broken onto TV as a smash-hit amature designer on HGTV's Design Star reality show. Watch on Sunday nights at 9pm and check out her rad new website.

http://www.kimmyles.com

I Don't Know Everything

I stand adjusted on the definition of "wonky," as pointed out by a co-worker. The word "wonk" is defined by Merriam Webster's online dictionary as:

a person preoccupied with arcane details or procedures in a specialized field; broadly : NERD: "a policy wonk," "a computer wonk"

If we disregard the British slang (a term meaning unstable or awray), then wonky as defined above may very well fit the stereotype of archivists. Unsteady or obsessive-compulsive, I fully admit that either definition will do!

Wonky. It's Just a Popular Word These Days

My dad asked a good question: What is the wonky type? Maureen Dowd described the archivist as the wonky type, albeit probably without ever having met one. I checked out the definition, and here's what dictionary.com had to say:

wonky (adj):
1. (British Slang) shaky, groggy or unsteady;
or unreliable, not trustworthy
2. stupid, boring, unattractive

I don't think Maureen Dowd was going for the 2nd definition, or even the second half of the first definition. But in relation to "shaky, groggy or unsteady," there exists a stereotype that record keepers are unhappy, like Bartleby of Melville's story called "Bartleby the Scribner" who got sent to the Dead Letter Office as a eternal punishment for his obsessive stubbornness and his unwillingness to adapt to modern office life. Aside from being stereotyped as outmoded, perhaps we also share a bit of the mad scientist's instability. Let me explain: archivists are charged with preserving "history," or preserving for the "sake of history." We do live up to that stereotype because we believe we are also somehow also preserving "the truth." That's a lot of pressure--I'm thinking that is a good place to couch a psychological unsteadiness. Alas, since post-modern academia and the Bush administration has proven that there is no "truth," archivists can lay aside their fears of being sent to the Dead Letter Office and again sleep at night.

"Archivists Are the New Macho Heroes of Washington."

Maureen Dowd declared, in her Sunday op-ed piece about Dick Cheney's refusal to deposit classified material to the National Archives, that "archivists are the new macho heroes of Washington" because theses archivists are demanding compliance from the Vice President's office.

Here's a NYTimes article from Friday about the National Archives and Dick Cheney: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/06/22/washington/22cheney.html?_r=1&adxnnl=1&oref=slogin&adxnnlx=1182779972-37PLN5H1T6J5QDNYfggmsA

Dowd's article at the NYTimes website is restricted to those who want to pay for it, so I can only quote what all archivist have been raving about on the listserves. Despite Dowd's nerdy characterization of archivists -- "dedicated 'We the People' wonky types with glasses and pocket protectors" -- we have some muscle. (Maybe I need to work out a little more to gain more muscle, but at least I can claim professional machismo. And, Dad, aren't doctors a little wonky and wear pocket protectors?)

To Be 8 Years Old and Hanging Out

My 8 year old niece and my 18 year old cat are hanging out in California. I am happy about this, because I have not seen nearly enough of my baby Persephone in the last 10 years, and she deserves all the attention she can get in this old age of hers. Rebecca's cat, Mohegan, died a few years back so Persephone has been left alone, to guard her food from the raccoons by herself. Akiva, on the other hand, is spending some time in California with Gran and Grandpa, going to day camp and amusing herself. It seems that a sweet old lady cat takes the place of her younger sister in nicely. Here's what my mother had to say about Akiva and Persephone:

Persephone is getting smothered in love...Akiva picks her up every chance she can get...hugs her, carries her like a baby, scratches her tummy, sits with her on the skateboard and rides down the ramp...that one is a hoot to watch...so far Persey has been very tolerant of it all and hasn't unsheathed her claws, yet...she will get a tad vocal and look at the floor if she doesn't like things but not much else...

It is 9:20 PM and Akiva is stretched out on the glider watching Cartoon Network...Persephone is on Akiva's tummy, nose to nose, purring away...a blue airline blanket is warding off the night chill...

I'd be purring, too.

An Update on the Ice Cream

This is getting better and better:

http://gothamist.com/2007/06/15/staten_island_i_3.php#comments

Can An Ice Cream Hit Where It Really Hurts?

For those who don't know much about my cousin's ice cream bizness, here's a little taste. This kind of press is priceless and couldn't come at a more perfect, hot and summer-y time. Good thing that New Yorkers have a sense of humor:

http://gothamist.com/2007/06/12/borough_preside.php

http://www.1010wins.com/pages/575950.php?contentType=4&contentId=605014

Getting "Hooded" (at Graduation)

I've been asked, what does the white hood symbolize? For academic regalia in the United States, white is the color that represents the Humanities. Though receiving the actual degree certificate on paper confirms my attendence and completion of the work for a Master's in History at New York University, at the ceremony getting "hooded" is the only way the audience knows my degree has been conferred. Though a lot of paperwork and signatures went into figuring out if I had completed the requirements, the ceremony expresses this a bit more regally. I have no good pictures of being hooded because someone walked directly in front of me on stage when my aunt snapped the would-be illustrative photograph. My mom had the wrong setting on her camera, so all interior shots are too dark. And my eyes are closed in the shot taken by the official photographer, so we did not buy one for framing.

There would be no other reason for the ceremony if such a symbolic action did not occur. It is just one procedure marking this "rite of passage," much like when I stood before the judge and put the ring on my husband's finger and he did the same to mine. We have a piece of paper to confirm that we are married, but the ring-ing action also confirms it for the people in the room. The tax man and the future employer would not take these symbolic actions as proof that I am married or have a Master's. Only the legal or official documents will prove it true. As some people ask, what is marriage but a piece of paper, or what does that diploma really stand for? It is quite obvious that many gay couples live in unison without the paper, and the actions taken to mark the "rite of passage" become symbolic and meaningful in their own way. And I could have just as easily skipped the graduation ceremony, or changed our vows to eliminate the ring part, not had a reception or invited anyone to the ceremony so that all I have left are the papers to prove it. But what kind of fun would that be?

Proof: it's whatever you put in the pudding. And there's symbolism in however you put "the whatever" there.

Graduation, It's that Simple

How Many of You Know About This....

...And Haven't Told Me Yet?

http://www.randomkittengenerator.com/

Or This?

http://www.stuffonmycat.com/