tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-165901232009-07-17T11:24:15.644-05:00A desultory collection of book reviews, dreams, ruminations, observations, and questions from an odd, possibly alien misfit.Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.comBlogger638125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-62702366053148794922009-07-16T19:29:00.001-05:002009-07-16T19:31:09.800-05:00

Given the Apollo anniversary, a timely repost from 28 November 2005:A friend and I saw the Omnimax film Magnificent Desolation: Walking on the Moon narrated by Tom Hanks. The beginning and ending sandwich premise is overdone, butt the middle is wonderfully evocative of the era in which I grew up—the era of the Apollo missions.To my parents, the Apollo missions were major events, and I remember

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-39283950560164916782009-07-13T08:42:00.001-05:002009-07-13T17:32:56.213-05:00

At Bristol Renaissance Faire on Saturday, J. and I came upon these two combatants. The objective is to be the first to pop the balloon on the helmet of your opponent. The smaller of this pairing appeared to be two to four inches shorter than the larger, who, we thought, would win in short order (so to speak). To our surprise, the tiny knight not only was the victor in both duels we watched, but

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-22667297085034287012009-07-12T21:34:00.000-05:002009-07-12T21:35:32.735-05:00

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-34949678732576210522009-07-12T10:03:00.001-05:002009-07-12T10:05:00.132-05:00

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-17754073317057428862009-07-11T08:22:00.001-05:002009-07-11T08:24:28.527-05:00

A measure of age and experience, or simply the passage of time, is how many people we've known who are no more. When you're young, death is extraordinary, but as you age it is expected. Every generation sees it leaders, scientists, thinkers, artists, and celebrities pass out of existence and even sometimes forgotten (I’ve been asked who Clark Gable was by those who had no reason to know). While

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-19776476984141665482009-07-08T20:22:00.001-05:002009-07-08T20:22:40.963-05:00

I was semi-awake for what seemed like a long time, having a featureless dream that resolved into my university campus. On one of its main streets I came across a candy store, which made me sad. How could a candy store, which I associated with little children from a bygone time, survive on such a campus?In the twilight, I peered into the display window and saw a candy snowman with a permanently

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-13941048954226819252009-07-03T08:43:00.001-05:002009-07-04T08:45:26.430-05:00

I first noticed this proclamation displayed prominently in the building across the street, the pillars of which had been painted in colors complimentary to the logo, then in my building, then seemingly everywhere downtown. This ubiquitous display of Olympic love, it turns out, had been carefully orchestrated to coincide with a visit by the International Olympic Committee.Who is the "we"? I

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-31069612186274487662009-06-28T08:48:00.003-05:002009-06-28T08:52:52.842-05:00

at Geja’s Cafe.

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-67994790816105524752009-06-24T00:50:00.001-05:002009-06-28T00:55:10.914-05:00

Spring never arrived, and summer blew in like a defective furnace that never shuts off. Last Friday when I left work, the temperature was 87ºF, and the humidity 96 percent. It's like the tropics, but without the charm of exotic birds and monkeys, unless you count Hyde Park's monk parakeets (which, by the way, I haven't seen in a while). Here by the lakefront, the temperature was lower and less

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-32473598891069620522009-06-21T08:32:00.002-05:002009-06-21T20:32:03.543-05:00

In this episode of General Hospital, on Tuesday the 16th, the day after my annual physical, I set off for Northwestern Memorial Hospital to consult Dr. M. about performing a laparoscopic myomectomy on the remains of Ignatius, the tenacious fibroid that, eight months after an 18 August 2008 uterine fibroid embolization (UFE), had shrunk no more than 1 centimeter. As you can see in the MRI image,

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-82432999471633181092009-06-18T21:33:00.003-05:002009-06-18T21:37:09.366-05:00

From John Adams by David McCullough, in a passage about a possible Adams candidacy for US president:When [Abigail] reminded [John] that he was sixty years old, he replied, "If I were near I would soon convince you that I am not above forty."

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-51705491326786044232009-06-17T20:20:00.001-05:002009-06-17T20:22:12.334-05:00

Each year, a new element seems to be added to my annual medical exam. Last year, it was a test for Vitamin D level, which had by then become a hot topic. Mine showed that I was critically deficient—not surprising for a fair-skinned, obese Anglo-Saxon after a typically overcast midwestern winter.The other new test for me was an EKG. Thanks to CPR training, I understand how important it is to have

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-26618670094602323352009-06-16T19:16:00.005-05:002009-06-16T19:40:02.626-05:00

I'll post an update when I have time, energy, and energy and time, but for now enjoy this April 2009 MRI view of Ignatius, the persistent subserosal fibroid. Click the image for a larger version.

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-10508871736192184232009-06-10T21:24:00.001-05:002009-06-10T21:24:34.447-05:00

I was walking on the path along the woods at home, with the trees on my left and the field on my right. In an instant, I was transported into a dense fairy-tale forest, where among the trees were amiable people and interesting shops full of unusual wares. This secret place, which combined the beauties of nature and the comforts of civilization and art, was deeply mysterious and inaccessible. I

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-51204558599816466232009-06-10T20:52:00.003-05:002009-06-10T20:56:38.209-05:00

This is what I look like when I'm writing at Bonjour. Don't let it deter you from stopping in for a croissant or morning roll.

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-30026320344739234192009-06-08T20:20:00.006-05:002009-06-09T19:51:50.754-05:00

Saturday J. and I went to the 57th Street Art Fair, arriving around 50 minutes before closing. I have a one-sided love-dislike relationship with art fairs:On the love side:They're outdoor community events, an ancient human tradition I adore. I love the idea of a crowd coming together under the open sky for an event that's important to individual participants and to the community. In this case,

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-40162728703670107952009-06-08T19:11:00.000-05:002009-06-08T19:12:11.740-05:00

A high school friend invited me and others to a concert featuring a female rock singer—someone who could fill a club or maybe an amphitheater, but not a stadium, a woman who’s more notable for influencing male rock stars than for her own performances. (And someone whose music I’ve never heard.) We sat near the front, where I held two vertical poles that could connect to one another through cross

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-15424648313089724082009-05-30T13:27:00.000-05:002009-06-06T13:28:46.457-05:00

More than ever I am convinced that the older I get, the more quickly time passes. I suppose this means I am getting older more quickly, which means time goes even faster, and so on. Even Einstein could not have figured this out.I'm on the return trip to Chicago, although it feels like only hours since I arrived in Altoona. Was it really a week ago already that I was leaving work for the train

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-24990085541593740722009-05-23T09:23:00.000-05:002009-05-31T09:24:04.756-05:00

It's 6:15 a.m., and I'm in the Pittsburgh train station waiting for the Pennsylvanian to Altoona. So far this has been an uneventful trip. No one has talked to me; I wonder if meeting Chicago Tribune employees, amateur historians, and Mennonite farmers was a phenomenon limited to my youth, when perhaps I looked more interesting. The friendliest person I've encountered was the young man at ROM

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-64455522806240948652009-05-18T16:32:00.000-05:002009-05-18T16:33:30.215-05:00

I've lost count now.At some point during the wee hours, I awoke to the pleasant sound of rain. I listened to it for a few moments while trying to ignore the pleas of my tortured bladder.It occurred to me that the weather had been fine, with no rain in the forecast.I flew out of bed to the bathroom, where water was pouring from the light.I nabbed Hodge and put him into his crate. I tried to

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-74343944524666387932009-05-17T21:39:00.003-05:002009-05-17T21:44:31.324-05:00

A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson. New York: Broadway Books. 2003. 560 pages.To me, the sciences are fascinating but elusive. The concepts are marvelous and compelling, but the details are difficult and tedious, especially if your grasp of mathematics is as tenuous as mine. I grew up with a love for what I knew of astronomy and the underlying physics, and an interest in such

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-67343305141461592232009-05-17T17:54:00.000-05:002009-05-17T17:55:07.217-05:00

Having missed the 171 bus from the Shoreland, a young man was tearing at top speed after it for a block or two until a red light at 55th and Hyde Park Boulevard cut him off. He had to settle for watching from the opposite side of the intersection as the bus, which runs only on the hour and half hour on weekends, pulled away from the stop. I'm sure he slumped. I wondered why a healthy young man

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-51212359073168393972009-05-10T07:09:00.001-05:002009-05-10T07:09:56.288-05:00

A friend invited me to an event where we would be sitting near the members of the Grateful Dead. I was interested in the event so I accepted, even though I wouldn't recognize any of them.Once there, she pointed them out, so I was spared the embarrassment of having to ask. She didn't mention names. All I thought was that they looked more cleaned up than I expected and that I hoped no one would

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-39509327412705461172009-05-05T20:59:00.002-05:002009-05-05T21:08:34.734-05:00

More random bits from a few dreams: I came home to find a piece of a cat's tail on the floor. Horrified, I opened a drawer and found another piece in it. Feeling denial, I looked at the cat, who indeed was missing part of his tail. The end was healed and covered by fur, and there was no blood anywhere. It was as if this, whatever it was, had happened a long time ago. I wondered about bits of

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16590123.post-31857932646964704802009-05-04T19:57:00.000-05:002009-05-04T19:58:35.618-05:00

In the wee hours of Saturday, I had a marvelous dream that I was sure I would remember when I woke up. I didn't. I think it involved water.I remember a second dream. I had to return to a party because I'd forgotten something, but the only way to it was by a stairway arched like a rainbow. It looked impossible to ascend, but when I touched a step, it flipped, and the contraption started to move

Slywyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01424323662407341123noreply@blogger.com0