Oh My!

Okay, okay. Everybody just calm down. There's nothing to get excited about 'round here.

Curios.

One of our gracious hosts for the weekend described the Museum of Jurassic Technology as, "Quirky beyond..." and then her voice just kind of trailed off. And that's probably one of the better descriptions out there.

Inside the museum itself (which, naturally, is housed inside a random old house in Culver City about 2 blocks from a giant movie studio) one can watch a short film that explains the origins of the museum. According to the film, the museum is essentially a shared relation to both the modern museums of today, and also carnival sideshows.

The Museum of Jurassic Technology traces its lineage from the collections of relics held in European churches throughout the middle ages to the quiet reading rooms of learned men who would sit, surrounded by their collection of curios while waiting for inspiration from the muses. Thus the root of the word Museum.

Or maybe it's all just a hoax. Or a collection of odds and ends left in a set of deteriorating shadow boxes and dioramas.

I have a suspicion that it is more than a hoax, but it can be hard to explain how a dimly lit collection of impressionist portraits of dogs from the Russian Space Program qualify as the trigger for inspiration from the muses. Or maybe it's not difficult at all.

The Chairman.

The man responsible for the death of 40 - 70 million people? Or a hip reference for an organic "peasant style" Chinese food restaurant on Melrose?

Converged.

I would really love to have seen the business plan these guys presented for a loan.

"Well you see, we're proposing a business that, are you ready for this, provides, are you ready, Thought Convergence!"

"That's right! Our business will Converge Thoughts! Together! All in one place!"

"And we're gonna call it, are your ready? Thought Convergence!"

"Now where do we sign for that check?"

And then.

And then? Well, one can hardly visit the desert outside of LA without a trip into LA too. To some living out east, California (and Los Angeles in particular) can seem another world.

For instance: what does it mean to be California Casual? Fine Wines and French Fries might be a good start.

Right 'round.

Just back from a very nice, but much too brief, visit to Palm Springs. A bit of wind, but otherwise the skies were clear and the windmills were spinning.

The windmill is, I suppose, a rather ancient technology (Wiki says the first ones were built in the year 1 AD), but every time I see a giant field of rotating blades powering unseen generators, the whole tableau seems very futuristic.

Tradition!

Ah DC, just like downplaying the murder rate (we're only number 7 in the nation!) and gentrification (housing prices are UP), the first snow of spring is a regular tradition. A few pictures from around the neighborhood before today's high of 44 melted last night's dusting.

Produce.

In the produce section at Safeway, filling a bag with broccoli. An older guy is next to me filling up a bag with green beans:

"Oh, no no. Broccoli is not for me. None of that cauliflower either. Nuh uh. I'll stick with these here long beans."

Gotta Hand it to 'em.

Good to know that the Arlington Fire Dept. has a sense of humor (and bear drawing skills). I guess a lot of guys were kicking the flush handle?

Still Fresh.

I inherited from my mom a tendency to take pictures of flowers, either growing wild or simply part of a bouquet on the table.

There's probably an obnoxious comment to be made about globalization and the ability to have fresh flowers in DC while there's still snow in the street, but I'll just appreciate these for what they are for now.

Up Again.

Just couldn't resist another beautiful sunrise photo. Makes the morning a lot more bearable.

More Language.

Today in class I learned:

Una persona sin alfabeta; an illiterate person.  But more literally a person without alphabet.  It sounds so much more sad that way.

Royale with Cheese.

Today in class we learned that a Happy Meal in Columbia is called una Cajita de Feliz.  Literally: a little box of happy.

Handle it.

At the DC Superior Court.

A boy, who looks to be no more than 14 years old waiting in line for the security check-in and talking on his cellphone:

"I told you, I'ma make it rain as soon as I handle my business here.  No, I'ma make it rain!  Just let me handle my grown man business at the court."

Girders.

On a beautifully clear and sunny day just before Christmas, I went on a walk with Lydia and her mom along the bay at Crissy Field.  At the end of the walk, located directly under the bridge is Fort Point, an old US Army fort built during the Civil War to protect San Francisco against Confederate or foreign military attack.  (I know, that would have been a way nicer posting during the civil war than say, Antietam.)

Anyway, the fort was open and we were able to walk around inside (it is unsurprisingly spartan) and along the open rooftop where a spread of cannons were once located.  The air was cooler on the roof and a bit of breeze was swirling around under the bridge, so we didn't stay too long.  But before we left I was able to get a few pictures from directly under the bridge.