I have a couple stories too good not to share.
Saturday
After P90X that morning, I went outside to read a little bit in the fresh air and enjoy a warm cup of coffee. My neighbors' son and son-in-law were in the back, enjoying some not-so-fresh air, so I sat on the front steps.
First: Geography and Backstory.
My apartment is arranged so that the front door faces my neighbor's front door, both opening into a long corridor. In the front, steps lead down to the parking lot. In the back, the steps go down to the grass. This is grass, I might add, where even the angels fear to tread. Every dog owner in the complex lets his or her dog evacuate its bowels here, so you cross at your own risk. I don't understand why. Poop bags are cheap. The dumpster is near. I guess it's too much of a hassle for some folks. I think not picking up after your dog is the worst thing you can do. Or not do. I'm not sure how the grammar works there.
My neighbors are a middle-aged couple with a teenage son who still lives at home. He's often on the back step with his high school friends, indulging in certain extracurricular activities which are now legal in Colorado and Washington. They have a daughter, probably mid-twenties, and a son-in-law. These two have their own place somewhere, but they visit often with their toddler. The son-in-law likes to talk sports to me. I love talking sports. I've spoken to every one of them on numerous occasions. I don't know any of their names, though, because I am a bad neighbor.
Saturday morning, as I sat on the front steps, the son and son-in-law were sitting in the back, partaking in extracurricular activities, coughing, and talking in nasally voices. The daughter came out of the apartment, put a bag in the car, then walked past me to talk to her husband. It was then I noticed how extremely pregnant she was. I've been in this apartment for 9 months, which means she's been pregnant the entire time, and not a chunky monkey like I thought.
She walked back and talked to him for a moment. Asked how much longer he would be. He told her just a few minutes. She sounded irritated. She stomped to the car, started it, backed it out of the spot and sat idling in front of the apartment. They have a Mustang, by the way. That should explain everything.
After a few minutes, he walked out to the driver's side of the car. She rolled down the window and they got into a little tiff. A spat. As married couples are wont to do. At least, that's what I hear. He sounded scattered. She sounded angry. He told her just a few more minutes, then turned around and walked back up to the apartment.
He blinked at me with two bloodshot eyes. We spoke.
Me: How's it going?
Him: We're having a baby today...
Me: Congratulations!
Him: It's a girl, we're going to name her... (I don't remember what he said.)
Me: That's very exciting!
Him: It is exciting... so exciting I just have to be stoned...
He returned to the extracurricular activities with his teenage brother-in-law. His pregnant wife stared at me from behind the wheel of the Mustang. It made me feel uncomfortable, so I went inside.
Long Story, Short: New Baby in the World! Very Exciting!
Sunday
My birthday. We had a laid back day. Aine made breakfast after P90X. I made lunch. We went to Barnes and Noble and I spent most of the day reading. Before dinner, we went to Picadilly (a liquore store: liquor stores are open on Sundays here) and bought two beers (you can buy them by the bottle at Picadilly). I got an IPA and Aine got a brown ale. I fixed dinner and we drank our beers with the meal to celebrate my special day. We watched some Parks and Recreation, then went to sleep. We are party animals and we will not apologize for it.
Monday
I felt off during P90X. Just not myself. Less energy. I blamed it on the 12 ounces of ethanol, water, and tannic acid to which my body is no longer accustomed. After breakfast, my stomach felt weird, but I went down the hall to work.
It was important that I went to work. For one, Mondays are usually crisis days. For two, by some weird scheduling anomaly, everyone in my group, including my manager, took vacation this week (except for me and one other person).
Most of the morning, I had a headache, chills, and nausea. I thought maybe it would go away. No. That afternoon the puking commenced.
The beautiful thing about working from home is that you don't have to call in sick. You can puke for a little bit, then write some emails. Curl up in a ball on the floor for a few minutes, then work on formatting. Dry heave and weep into the toilet bowl, then do some publishing.
When you up-chuck, you have a few moments of relief before the tide of queasy starts to crescendo again and build to another ralf. I used one of these down times to go pick Aine up from school.
Then we had a snowstorm. I could see maybe 15 feet in front of the Yaris. This made the drive to campus seem really long.
That night, before bed, Aine took my temperature. I knew I had a fever all day, I didn't see the point in verifying it. Plausible deniability. She took my temperature anyway. It was 100 °F, which is only halfway to the boiling point and brain cells don't start popping like popcorn (State Snackfood of Illinois) until 106 °F, so I went to bed. Did you know that popcorn reaches an internal temperature of 450 °F before popping with the force of 135 PSI?
It wasn't only me, though, I just had it worse. Aine felt queasy all day and Bojangles yakked twice.
I have pictures, but Aine said it wouldn't be appropriate to post them on the blog. I don't see why. If you want to see them, just ask and I'll include them in the next post. I know you're curious to see what half digested craisins and peanut butter look like.
Tuesday
It snowed again. Also, my fever broke and I was able to eat for the first time since Sunday night. Most importantly, I got all my work done. My record remains mostly pristine. In the seven years I've been there, I haven't taken more than two or three full days of sick time (the last time I had the flu, I worked two half days). I have used less sick time than anyone else in my group. Some of us care more about formatting and publishing than others. So, next time you buy a new gadget and throw the user manual in a junk drawer without reading it, just remember: someone might have worked through a stomach virus to ensure that the layout looked pretty.
Wednesday
It's still snowing. We've skipped two days of P90X. I almost feel normal again. It was bad planning on my part to have a stomach virus the first Monday after Spring Forward when my entire group was on vacation. I take full responsibility.
Moral of this Story
Dulce et decorum est pro occupatio vomitere.
3/13/13
3/12/13
Mumford and Some
Where It Is
The University of Illinois was built on a north to south axis, concentrated around four main quads. The northernmost quad, the Beckman Quad, opens on the southern side of the Beckman Institute. This building replaced the old, multipurpose Elephant which fell over in the 1880s. The Beckman Quad and the Bardeen Quad to the south form the Engineering Campus. Boneyard Creek runs through the Bardeen Quad where it dips underground for a mile or so before flowing out underneath the Old Stone Bridge. The third quad (from north to south) is the Main Quad, around which sit Altgeld, Harker, and Lincoln Halls. It forms the center of the Humanities campus. The southernmost quad, known as the South Quad or the Agriculture Quad, marks the focus of the Agriculture College.
I've made a little map to orient you:
Today we're going to take a look at the South Quad. I took these pictures on the same drizzly day in October that I took the Lincoln Hall pictures. I made it all the way to the McFarland Bell Tower and the Mumford House. This southern point feels like the edge of the world. I saw, farther south, a building with fantastic Dutch Gables (which, of course, comes from Deutsche), but the rain drove me back to the car. I still don't know what Dutch Gabled Building I saw, but one day I will return, MacArthur-style with a corn cob pipe to retake it.
I did get some pictures of the bell tower and the farm house, though.
Mumford Farm House
The University built this Gothic cottage in 1870 and it's the oldest remaining structure on campus. Built as a model farmhouse to inspire Illinois corn growers in much the same way as the Round Barns, this structure provided a home for University Folks for over 100 years. Former residents include George E. Morrow, namesake for the experimental corn field, Thomas Burrill, important for negotiating funds from Governor Altgeld, and the eponymous Herbert W. Mumford, Dean of the College of Agriculture. After Dean Mumford passed away, the Art School took over the building and used it to house artists in residence.
The Mumford House received extensive renovations in 2010 and two additions, a summer kitchen and well house built in 1891 and a parlor from 1922, were removed. I guess they weren't old-timey enough. The little house has been the center of controversy at least twice. First, they wanted to knock it down to build the McFarland Bell Tower, then after building the bell tower, they wanted to move the Mumford House down to Windsor Road (the actual edge of the world). Bell tower proponents thought the little farmhouse detracted from the grandeur of McFarland. Mumford fans claimed that bell tower proponents were lousy jerks. If Mumford had been moved, the National Historic Register would have removed it from the list. Luckily, the Mumfordians won in the end and the farmhouse remains.
McFarland Bell Tower
Richard McFarland, food business heavy weight, funded the bell tower in 2004. He named it after his wife, Sally, who passed away a year before after battling ovarian cancer. The original plans, advocated by University Chimesmaster Emeritus, Albert E. Marion included extensive renovations in Altgeld Hall.
Let's back up. You read that correctly. Albert E. Marion was appointed University Chimesmaster in 1958 and served in that capacity until 1994 when he retired and became University Chimesmaster Emeritus. I don't know what a Chimesmaster does, but Mr. Marion's life-long dream was to have a four octave carillon installed in Altgeld.
Carillon comes from French, where it basically means Glockenspiel, the German word for Xylophone. Think of a carillon as a giant musical instrument housed in a bell tower. Your basic carillon has 23 bells, that is 2 octaves, chromatically tuned and played by a keyboard. You need 47 to make it 4 octaves. The 49 bell carillon planned by Chimesmaster Emeritus Marion wouldn't fit in Altgeld's narrow tower, so campus architects went to the drawing board to design a new bell tower.
McFarland Tower, built on the south quad in a location that didn't require moving the Mumford House, is 185 ft. tall and houses 49 bells cast in the Netherlands, since the Dutch are pretty much the best bell makers in the world. This 4 octave instrument is controlled by an electronic keyboard, but also came pre-programmed to play over 500 songs.
McFarland did not replace Altgeld as the primary bell tower. It was, however, set to play in unison with the bells of Altgeld, every quarter hour.
During construction, some teenaged pranksters hung a red eye between the vertical elements of the tower to make it look like the Eye of Sauron from Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings.
Apparently, the Campus Police never identified the culprits. Word on the street is they thought it was pretty funny, too.
Many people claim the tower resembles a popular part of the male anatomy. The inferior epiphysis of the fibula, of course. What were you thinking?
To put it the McFarland Tower into perspective, the UT Tower reaches 300 ft. and houses 56 bells. So, I guess bell towers, at least, are bigger in Texas. Sorry, Illinois.
I wanted to get a picture from the ground up through the center of the tower, but two kids were making out beneath it. I mean, I guess that's romantic or whatever, making out in the drizzling rain underneath a bell tower, but they messed up my shot. I think they watch too many movies and I hope they have a messy break up.
Parting Shot
We all know Netherlanders are the best bell makers, but have you ever wondered about the different between the Netherlands, Holland, and Dutch? CGP Grey, aka pretty much the smartest guy ever, knows the answer:
The University of Illinois was built on a north to south axis, concentrated around four main quads. The northernmost quad, the Beckman Quad, opens on the southern side of the Beckman Institute. This building replaced the old, multipurpose Elephant which fell over in the 1880s. The Beckman Quad and the Bardeen Quad to the south form the Engineering Campus. Boneyard Creek runs through the Bardeen Quad where it dips underground for a mile or so before flowing out underneath the Old Stone Bridge. The third quad (from north to south) is the Main Quad, around which sit Altgeld, Harker, and Lincoln Halls. It forms the center of the Humanities campus. The southernmost quad, known as the South Quad or the Agriculture Quad, marks the focus of the Agriculture College.
I've made a little map to orient you:
Today we're going to take a look at the South Quad. I took these pictures on the same drizzly day in October that I took the Lincoln Hall pictures. I made it all the way to the McFarland Bell Tower and the Mumford House. This southern point feels like the edge of the world. I saw, farther south, a building with fantastic Dutch Gables (which, of course, comes from Deutsche), but the rain drove me back to the car. I still don't know what Dutch Gabled Building I saw, but one day I will return, MacArthur-style with a corn cob pipe to retake it.
I did get some pictures of the bell tower and the farm house, though.
Mumford Farm House
The University built this Gothic cottage in 1870 and it's the oldest remaining structure on campus. Built as a model farmhouse to inspire Illinois corn growers in much the same way as the Round Barns, this structure provided a home for University Folks for over 100 years. Former residents include George E. Morrow, namesake for the experimental corn field, Thomas Burrill, important for negotiating funds from Governor Altgeld, and the eponymous Herbert W. Mumford, Dean of the College of Agriculture. After Dean Mumford passed away, the Art School took over the building and used it to house artists in residence.
The Mumford House received extensive renovations in 2010 and two additions, a summer kitchen and well house built in 1891 and a parlor from 1922, were removed. I guess they weren't old-timey enough. The little house has been the center of controversy at least twice. First, they wanted to knock it down to build the McFarland Bell Tower, then after building the bell tower, they wanted to move the Mumford House down to Windsor Road (the actual edge of the world). Bell tower proponents thought the little farmhouse detracted from the grandeur of McFarland. Mumford fans claimed that bell tower proponents were lousy jerks. If Mumford had been moved, the National Historic Register would have removed it from the list. Luckily, the Mumfordians won in the end and the farmhouse remains.
McFarland Bell Tower
Richard McFarland, food business heavy weight, funded the bell tower in 2004. He named it after his wife, Sally, who passed away a year before after battling ovarian cancer. The original plans, advocated by University Chimesmaster Emeritus, Albert E. Marion included extensive renovations in Altgeld Hall.
Let's back up. You read that correctly. Albert E. Marion was appointed University Chimesmaster in 1958 and served in that capacity until 1994 when he retired and became University Chimesmaster Emeritus. I don't know what a Chimesmaster does, but Mr. Marion's life-long dream was to have a four octave carillon installed in Altgeld.
Carillon comes from French, where it basically means Glockenspiel, the German word for Xylophone. Think of a carillon as a giant musical instrument housed in a bell tower. Your basic carillon has 23 bells, that is 2 octaves, chromatically tuned and played by a keyboard. You need 47 to make it 4 octaves. The 49 bell carillon planned by Chimesmaster Emeritus Marion wouldn't fit in Altgeld's narrow tower, so campus architects went to the drawing board to design a new bell tower.
McFarland did not replace Altgeld as the primary bell tower. It was, however, set to play in unison with the bells of Altgeld, every quarter hour.
During construction, some teenaged pranksters hung a red eye between the vertical elements of the tower to make it look like the Eye of Sauron from Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings.
 |
| A-Ha! Photography |
 |
| Peter Jackson |
Many people claim the tower resembles a popular part of the male anatomy. The inferior epiphysis of the fibula, of course. What were you thinking?
 |
| Gray's Anatomy |
I wanted to get a picture from the ground up through the center of the tower, but two kids were making out beneath it. I mean, I guess that's romantic or whatever, making out in the drizzling rain underneath a bell tower, but they messed up my shot. I think they watch too many movies and I hope they have a messy break up.
Parting Shot
We all know Netherlanders are the best bell makers, but have you ever wondered about the different between the Netherlands, Holland, and Dutch? CGP Grey, aka pretty much the smartest guy ever, knows the answer:
3/7/13
What's in Your Olive Oil?
The Oil
I know what you're thinking. Oh my gobs, do they produce olive oil in Illinios too? No, if you remember from previous posts, Americans eat very little of what Illinois farmers grow. Most of it goes to Chinese pigs. Also, this isn't the right climate for olives. They do sell olive oil in Illinois. In fact, I found some at our local Schnucks.
Before the Greeks invented Democracy, Art, Philosophy, Science, Written Vowels, or Gyros, they invented Olive Oil and the civilized parts of the world have been cooking with it ever since. Archaeologists have found Minoan amphorae almost 6 thousand years old. An amphora was a pointy sort of clay pot used for storing and transporting olive oil.
The Minoan period denotes a bronze age civilization named for Minos. That's right. Labyrinth, Minotaur, Icarus and Daedalus, Theseus and Ariadne. That Minos.
The olive oil we eat today comes in two basic varieties: virgin and refined. Virgin olive oil is extracted directly from the olive in a "cold press" process. Heat causes the oil to lose its flavor. Refined olive oil has been filtered with charcoal and other chemicals to remove acidity.
The official designations look like this:
The magic ingredient of olive oil, the one responsible for its cholesterol zapping powers, the one that gives it the acidity measured above, is oleic acid. Oleic acid is monounsaturated fatty acid. Calm down. I'll explain.
A fatty acid is small acid molecule with a long string of carbons attached. Each carbon can carry up to two hydrogen atoms. If all the carbons have both of their hydrogens, the fat is saturated. Because it is saturated, it lies flat and you can pack it closely together into a solid. Like butter. If you're missing a few hydrogens, the fat is unsaturated. The missing carbons cause a kink in the chain, so the fats squiggle around like a liquid. Like oil, to be exact.
Sometimes food companies will hydrogenate oil, that is, bombard it with hydrogen to saturate it. When they do this, sometimes you get trans-fats, which are kinky like an oil, but pack tight like a solid. Also, it kills you. Check your ingredient labels. Hydrogenated = bad.
Anyway, back to oleic acid. Here's what it looks like:
The Ugly Truth
The other day, someone posted an article on Facebook about how some brands of honey aren't real honey. Someone posted a comment saying that sometimes olive oil isn't real olive oil. Concerned, I googled it and read several articles referencing a study done at UC Davis. They ran tests on several common brands of olive oil and determined that most of the olive oils on the grocery store shelves weren't real olive oil. They were adulterated with other kinds of oil like safflower and sunflower and sometimes canola.
I was horrified. The brand sitting in my kitchen was on the list: Pompeiian.
There's a simple test you do at home to determine if you have real olive oil or not. Oleic acid solidies at 39 °F, so if you put it in the fridge, it should turn cloudy and thick as it cools. The internet people call it the Fridge Test.
The Experiment
I poured 3 oz of Pompeiian Extra Virgin Olive Oil into a shot glass. I took the temperature and noted the clarity and solidity of the room temperature oil straight from the bottle. Then, I recorded those three physical attributes every 10 minutes until the oil fell beneath the 39 °F threshold. I checked it one last time an hour after I put it in the fridge. Here are my results:
1:05 PM
Temperature: 68 °F
Clarity: 100%
Solidity: 0%
1:15 PM
Temperature: 52 °F
Clarity: 100%
Solidity: 0%
1:25 PM
Temperature: 46 °F
Clarity: 100%
Solidity: 0%
1:35 PM
Temperature: 37 °F
Clarity: 100%
Solidity: 0%
2:05 PM
Temperature: 35 °F
Clarity: 100%
Solidity: 0%
Conclusion: Even after sitting beneath the 39 °F threshold for over 30 minutes, Pompeiian Extra Virgin Olive Oil never grew cloudy or viscous. Which means I had adulterated olive oil. I spent several minutes sobbing on the kitchen floor. Then I actually read the report.
Turns out, no one else had.
The Study
http://olivecenter.ucdavis.edu/news-events/news/files/olive%20oil%20final%20071410%20.pdf
Near the end of report, after all the pictures and fancy charts, in text, it says:
"If any of the samples were adulterated, it is most likely that the adulterant was refined olive oil rather than refined nut, seed, or vegetable oils. Unless the adulteration levels were very small, the failed samples would not have met the IOC/USDA standards for fatty acid profile and sterol profile if adulterated with refined nut, seed, or vegetable oils."
So, the testing revealed that the oils were blends of refined and virgin olive oils not blends of olive oil and non-olive oil. The lower oleic acid levels resulting from the addition of refined olive oil affect the solidification in The Fridge Test. The primary concern here is the flavor. I read that oil companies ship the pure stuff to countries like Greece and Italy, where they can tell the difference, and ship the adulterated versions to America since we're idiots and can't tell the difference.
I can't. Can you?
When it says Extra Virgin Olive Oil on the label is it a lie? Sort of. Is it as good for you as unadulterated oil? No. Is it bad for you? No. Should you dump your oil down the drain and order expensive, organic olive oil online? Of course not. Don't Panic.
The Parting Shot:
Olive oil smells like death.
The decaying corpses of some insects like bees and ants spontaneously emit oleic acid, the magic ingredient of olive oil. When a living ant gets a waft of oleic acid from a nearby corpse, it responds by hauling the dead ant to the ant graveyard. I heard a story on the radio the other day about the scientist who discovered this. After isolating the chemical culprit, he smeared living ants with oleic acid to see what would happen. Other ants would haul the oiled ants to the graveyard and toss them on to the pile of dead ants. Every time the oiled ants returned, they would be promptly hauled back and tossed on the pile. It took the ants over an hour to clean off enough of the oil to keep themselves out of the dead ant pile. And you thought you had a rough day. Ants leave no ant behind. If you leave out ant poison in your house to kill ants, you will often see more ants after the poison clears. They are returning to drag their dead back to the ant graveyard.
I know what you're thinking. Oh my gobs, do they produce olive oil in Illinios too? No, if you remember from previous posts, Americans eat very little of what Illinois farmers grow. Most of it goes to Chinese pigs. Also, this isn't the right climate for olives. They do sell olive oil in Illinois. In fact, I found some at our local Schnucks.
Before the Greeks invented Democracy, Art, Philosophy, Science, Written Vowels, or Gyros, they invented Olive Oil and the civilized parts of the world have been cooking with it ever since. Archaeologists have found Minoan amphorae almost 6 thousand years old. An amphora was a pointy sort of clay pot used for storing and transporting olive oil.
 |
| Janusz Recław |
 |
| George Frederic Watts |
The official designations look like this:
- Extra Virgin - derived from virgin oil, 0.8% acidity
- Virgin - derived from virgin oil, 1.5% acidity
- Pure Olive Oil/Olive Oil - blend of refined and virgin oil, 2% acidity
- Refined - filtered oil, .3% acidity
The magic ingredient of olive oil, the one responsible for its cholesterol zapping powers, the one that gives it the acidity measured above, is oleic acid. Oleic acid is monounsaturated fatty acid. Calm down. I'll explain.
A fatty acid is small acid molecule with a long string of carbons attached. Each carbon can carry up to two hydrogen atoms. If all the carbons have both of their hydrogens, the fat is saturated. Because it is saturated, it lies flat and you can pack it closely together into a solid. Like butter. If you're missing a few hydrogens, the fat is unsaturated. The missing carbons cause a kink in the chain, so the fats squiggle around like a liquid. Like oil, to be exact.
Sometimes food companies will hydrogenate oil, that is, bombard it with hydrogen to saturate it. When they do this, sometimes you get trans-fats, which are kinky like an oil, but pack tight like a solid. Also, it kills you. Check your ingredient labels. Hydrogenated = bad.
Anyway, back to oleic acid. Here's what it looks like:
 |
| Public Domain |
The other day, someone posted an article on Facebook about how some brands of honey aren't real honey. Someone posted a comment saying that sometimes olive oil isn't real olive oil. Concerned, I googled it and read several articles referencing a study done at UC Davis. They ran tests on several common brands of olive oil and determined that most of the olive oils on the grocery store shelves weren't real olive oil. They were adulterated with other kinds of oil like safflower and sunflower and sometimes canola.
I was horrified. The brand sitting in my kitchen was on the list: Pompeiian.
There's a simple test you do at home to determine if you have real olive oil or not. Oleic acid solidies at 39 °F, so if you put it in the fridge, it should turn cloudy and thick as it cools. The internet people call it the Fridge Test.
The Experiment
I poured 3 oz of Pompeiian Extra Virgin Olive Oil into a shot glass. I took the temperature and noted the clarity and solidity of the room temperature oil straight from the bottle. Then, I recorded those three physical attributes every 10 minutes until the oil fell beneath the 39 °F threshold. I checked it one last time an hour after I put it in the fridge. Here are my results:
1:05 PM
Temperature: 68 °F
Clarity: 100%
Solidity: 0%
1:15 PM
Temperature: 52 °F
Clarity: 100%
Solidity: 0%
1:25 PM
Temperature: 46 °F
Clarity: 100%
Solidity: 0%
1:35 PM
Temperature: 37 °F
Clarity: 100%
Solidity: 0%
2:05 PM
Temperature: 35 °F
Clarity: 100%
Solidity: 0%
Conclusion: Even after sitting beneath the 39 °F threshold for over 30 minutes, Pompeiian Extra Virgin Olive Oil never grew cloudy or viscous. Which means I had adulterated olive oil. I spent several minutes sobbing on the kitchen floor. Then I actually read the report.
Turns out, no one else had.
The Study
http://olivecenter.ucdavis.edu/news-events/news/files/olive%20oil%20final%20071410%20.pdf
Near the end of report, after all the pictures and fancy charts, in text, it says:
"If any of the samples were adulterated, it is most likely that the adulterant was refined olive oil rather than refined nut, seed, or vegetable oils. Unless the adulteration levels were very small, the failed samples would not have met the IOC/USDA standards for fatty acid profile and sterol profile if adulterated with refined nut, seed, or vegetable oils."
So, the testing revealed that the oils were blends of refined and virgin olive oils not blends of olive oil and non-olive oil. The lower oleic acid levels resulting from the addition of refined olive oil affect the solidification in The Fridge Test. The primary concern here is the flavor. I read that oil companies ship the pure stuff to countries like Greece and Italy, where they can tell the difference, and ship the adulterated versions to America since we're idiots and can't tell the difference.
I can't. Can you?
When it says Extra Virgin Olive Oil on the label is it a lie? Sort of. Is it as good for you as unadulterated oil? No. Is it bad for you? No. Should you dump your oil down the drain and order expensive, organic olive oil online? Of course not. Don't Panic.
The Parting Shot:
Olive oil smells like death.
The decaying corpses of some insects like bees and ants spontaneously emit oleic acid, the magic ingredient of olive oil. When a living ant gets a waft of oleic acid from a nearby corpse, it responds by hauling the dead ant to the ant graveyard. I heard a story on the radio the other day about the scientist who discovered this. After isolating the chemical culprit, he smeared living ants with oleic acid to see what would happen. Other ants would haul the oiled ants to the graveyard and toss them on to the pile of dead ants. Every time the oiled ants returned, they would be promptly hauled back and tossed on the pile. It took the ants over an hour to clean off enough of the oil to keep themselves out of the dead ant pile. And you thought you had a rough day. Ants leave no ant behind. If you leave out ant poison in your house to kill ants, you will often see more ants after the poison clears. They are returning to drag their dead back to the ant graveyard.
2/25/13
Nourishing Mother
That's what Alma Mater means.
No connection to the Spanish word alma. Alma means soul in Spanish, a corruption of the Latin word anima. Alma in Latin is an adjective that means nourishing.
The Romans used the phrase to refer to a mother goddess, usually Ceres, the goddess of agriculture and grain from whom we get the word cereal. Ceres didn't keep the title for long.
The Catholic Church loves all things Roman. To this day, the Pope lives in Rome, speaks Latin, and dresses in a style worn by 4th century Roman emperors (even the hat). They loved Roman culture so much they kept all the same traditions, renaming Solus Invictus to Christmas, Lupercalia to Valentine's Day, and giving the name Alma Mater to the Virgin Mary.
Yeah, she didn't keep it very long either. The University of Bologna, the oldest operating university in the world (est. 1088), took as their motto the phrase Alma Mater Studiorum. That is, Nourishing Mother of Studies. Since then, Alma Mater just means the place you went to college.
Different schools celebrate the idea of Alma Mater in different ways, with songs, murals, and statues. Remember Altgeld Hall?
What you don't see standing in front of the building is the Alma Mater statue. Here's a close up.
In August 2012, the University removed the statue for $100 thousand worth of repair and restoration. A previous restoration effort in 1981 included sealing the bolts and joints to keep out water. Instead, they managed to seal water inside the statue which caused so much corrosion that University officials were concerned the statue would collapse and squash a student. Once the restoration experts got it back to the work shop, they realised the damage was far more extensive than anyone anticipated. They promised to have the statue back by May 2013, but that deadline now looks a bit optimistic.
Our old buddy Lorado Taft created the sculpture in 1929.
As you remember, Taft also sculpted Lincoln the Lawyer in Carle Park (Lincoln #5).
Alma Mater, cast in 30 pieces bolted together, weighs over 10 thousand pounds. It features a Mother figure with outstretched arms standing in front of two other figures, Labor and Learning.
Taft, clearly perceptive of the psychology of undergrads, hoped that students would climb all over the statue. It has since become the defining symbol for the university. You can find it on the university website, twitter account, and ID card. For big games, like those against the much loathed Ohio State, officials dressed the Alma Mater in jerseys. At graduation, they dressed her in a graduation robe and students stood in long lines to take a picture in front of the her. It was tradition. This May, the graduating class may be the first in 80 years unable to participate in the tradition.
Students are doing what they can to fill the empty place in front of Altgeld and in their hearts.
There's no word yet on the decision between restoring the statue to the original shiny bronze or leaving it rust green.
Fountain of Creation
Lorado Taft continued working well into his 70s, attempting to complete a monumental sculpture up to a week before he died.
He planned to name this work "The Fountain of Creation" and only finished four of the statues. These statues represented the sons of Deucalion and the daughters of Pyrrha. The Greek myth of Deucalion and Pyrrha parallels the Biblical account of Noah. Deucalion built a chest into which he crammed a lot of animals and waited out the rains. After floating around for a while, he sent out a pigeon which returned with an olive branch. After stretching his legs a bit, he wondered out loud how he would go about repopulating the earth. It's a big job and he was only one guy. Luckily, the Oracle of Themis (who apparently was an execellent swimmer) gave them an easy alternative. At the instruction of the Oracle, Deucalion and Pyrrha threw rocks over their shoulders. The rocks thrown by Deucalion transformed into men, those thrown by Pyrrha transformed into women.
The sons of Deucalion and daughters of Pyrrha finished by Taft were donated to the University of Illinois. The daughters now sit in front of the Main Library.
The sons sit to one side of Foellinger. They look quite glum, so a student gave one a smile.
No connection to the Spanish word alma. Alma means soul in Spanish, a corruption of the Latin word anima. Alma in Latin is an adjective that means nourishing.
The Romans used the phrase to refer to a mother goddess, usually Ceres, the goddess of agriculture and grain from whom we get the word cereal. Ceres didn't keep the title for long.
The Catholic Church loves all things Roman. To this day, the Pope lives in Rome, speaks Latin, and dresses in a style worn by 4th century Roman emperors (even the hat). They loved Roman culture so much they kept all the same traditions, renaming Solus Invictus to Christmas, Lupercalia to Valentine's Day, and giving the name Alma Mater to the Virgin Mary.
Yeah, she didn't keep it very long either. The University of Bologna, the oldest operating university in the world (est. 1088), took as their motto the phrase Alma Mater Studiorum. That is, Nourishing Mother of Studies. Since then, Alma Mater just means the place you went to college.
Different schools celebrate the idea of Alma Mater in different ways, with songs, murals, and statues. Remember Altgeld Hall?
What you don't see standing in front of the building is the Alma Mater statue. Here's a close up.
In August 2012, the University removed the statue for $100 thousand worth of repair and restoration. A previous restoration effort in 1981 included sealing the bolts and joints to keep out water. Instead, they managed to seal water inside the statue which caused so much corrosion that University officials were concerned the statue would collapse and squash a student. Once the restoration experts got it back to the work shop, they realised the damage was far more extensive than anyone anticipated. They promised to have the statue back by May 2013, but that deadline now looks a bit optimistic.
Our old buddy Lorado Taft created the sculpture in 1929.
 |
| Public Domain |
Alma Mater, cast in 30 pieces bolted together, weighs over 10 thousand pounds. It features a Mother figure with outstretched arms standing in front of two other figures, Labor and Learning.
 |
| Public Domain |
Students are doing what they can to fill the empty place in front of Altgeld and in their hearts.
 |
| pic.twitter.com/ihajU2kS |
 |
| Heather Coit |
Fountain of Creation
Lorado Taft continued working well into his 70s, attempting to complete a monumental sculpture up to a week before he died.
 |
| Public Domain |
The sons of Deucalion and daughters of Pyrrha finished by Taft were donated to the University of Illinois. The daughters now sit in front of the Main Library.
The sons sit to one side of Foellinger. They look quite glum, so a student gave one a smile.
2/22/13
Q Came
And Q went.
We got a fairly light snow here, compared to what Q did to the rest of the Midwest. Life went on here according to schedule, no school or government closings. We got the snow, but live north of the line where freezing rain fell. When we got up at 6 am, the roads, parking lots, and sidewalks had already been cleared.
Our neighbors to the West were not so lucky. Parts of Oklahoma, Kansas, and Nebraska got well over a foot of snow. Kansas has declared a state of emergency. Flights all over the Midwest, Chicago included, were delayed or cancelled. Traffic deaths in several states have been reported.
In other news, the feral cat that lives underneath our building has not gone anywhere. It sits under our floor and yowls and sounds a bit like small child crying, "Hello?"
So, as we sit and watch TV, we hear:
"Hello?"
"Hello?"
"Hello?"
We've mostly gotten used to it, but Crankles is little unnerved. The utility closet has a vent in the floor that opens to the outside. If you look into, you can see the dirt beneath the building. Also, pipes and things. Since the water heater sits in this closet, the feral cat hangs out beneath it to stay warm. Bo and Pig can hear and smell this creature through the door and want to investigate.
2/21/13
Q Arrives Today
ETA 1500 hours.
Nah, man, that's still not it.
But did you know that Desmond Llewelyn, Welsh actor who played Q (short for Quartermaster) during the golden age of Bond, also starred in the children's move Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? Did you further know that Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was adapted from a book written by Bond writer Ian Fleming? Did you even further know that the screenplays for Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and Bond film You Only Live Twice were both written by Roald Dahl, writer of popular children's books Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, James and the Giant Peach, and The Witches? Did you finally know that Roald Dahl also wrote macabre short stories for adults, one of which was adapted for Alfred Hitchcock Presents and later adapted for a film by Quentin Tarantino?
None of that matters. Because that knowledge won't save you from WINTER STORM Q.
Or maybe it will. Because now you know. And knowing is half the battle. Go Joe.
At 3 pm today, the snow will start to fall and it won't stop until we've gotten THREE INCHES. That is, we're expecting an average snowfall tonight. We're in the AWARE sector of the map. Kansas, Nebraska, and Missouri are taking it on the collective, anthropomorphic chin for us. Many thanks to them.
 |
| Towpilot |
But did you know that Desmond Llewelyn, Welsh actor who played Q (short for Quartermaster) during the golden age of Bond, also starred in the children's move Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? Did you further know that Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was adapted from a book written by Bond writer Ian Fleming? Did you even further know that the screenplays for Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and Bond film You Only Live Twice were both written by Roald Dahl, writer of popular children's books Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, James and the Giant Peach, and The Witches? Did you finally know that Roald Dahl also wrote macabre short stories for adults, one of which was adapted for Alfred Hitchcock Presents and later adapted for a film by Quentin Tarantino?
None of that matters. Because that knowledge won't save you from WINTER STORM Q.
 |
| weather.com |
At 3 pm today, the snow will start to fall and it won't stop until we've gotten THREE INCHES. That is, we're expecting an average snowfall tonight. We're in the AWARE sector of the map. Kansas, Nebraska, and Missouri are taking it on the collective, anthropomorphic chin for us. Many thanks to them.
2/20/13
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)