Before and After (PSA Disguised as a Fashion Post)

Because I love you guys, there's going to be a heavy-handed lecture (with photos) at the end of this post about sun exposure and the consequences later in life. I know you don't come here looking for photos of my scarred back, so I'll understand if you just want to check out today's outfit, and scram. I rarely wear anything that shows my back, so I thought it might be a good opportunity to frighten the younger set into taking precautions in the sun. Anyway, just a heads-up that the post will have you looking at sun damage on an old lady's (mine) back. I know, "Old lady...ewwwww."

This cotton dress is another piece of Mexican tourist wear, though much later than most of the pieces I own. I would guess it is late 80's-90's but it could be even newer. Made in Guadalajara, it is clearly for the tourist trade as the label and washing instructions are in English. The patch on the front is a pocket-just large enough to carry a room key and a few Pesos to the resort beach. "Resort Beach", are there any better words in the English language? Anyway, with our heat of 104 F degrees expected (that's 40 degrees Celsius outside the US) and high humidity, the thought of wearing much more than a loose cotton dress isn't terribly appealing. Sadly, Omaha is not a beach resort (no beach=no beach resort) and if I want a tropical drink I'll have to fix it myself.

As I'm prone to severe sunburn (I'll be getting to that later) I need to keep covered-up in the direct sun. This Eileen Fisher shirt is light enough to wear without dying in the heat, and easy enough to shed when out of direct sunlight. I have a collection of linen shirts stashed around the house, in the car, by the garden-all so I won't accidentally find myself without adequate coverage. Sunscreen helps, but when the serious sun is out, I need all the protection I can get.

Outfit Particulars:
Mexican cotton dress-Hand-Me-Ups
Liz Claiborne earrings-Von Maur about 15 years ago
Vintage bag-New Life Thrift
Vintage ring-Mum's
Bamboo bracelets-Hand-Me-Ups & Goodwill
Hair Flower-Tiff and Tam
Eileen Fisher linen shirt (has matching trousers) Goodwill
Fragrance-Geminesse

So now we've come to the "Heavy handed lecture" part of the post.

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This is my back. Today, I've only had a couple of moles start spontaneous bleeding (Wisk does an ace job of removing blood spots from clothing, BTW). This is a good day. I've long since accepted the scars as a reminder of my youthful stupidity. I'm sparing you the close-up view. You're welcome.

For the rest of my life I'll need to be vigilant about having things carved out of my back (I think that deserves bold type) and worrying about whether it will eventually be the thing that kills me-all because my younger self figured I was immortal, and didn't need to worry about a few sunburns here and there. The thing is, a few blistering sunburns here and there on the same area spells trouble. Why was my back repeatedly subjected to the sun?

Great tan, eh?
(That's mud on my legs. There was mud everywhere as that particular site was below the water-table and we had to bail it out each morning).

Funny thing about archaeologists-our faces stay young because we're always peering down at the ground thus avoiding sun damage! I console myself that my face looks better than it ought to given I use almost no skincare beyond Ponds cold cream and Pears soap. My back is another story. If my face blistered and burned as much as my back and shoulders did, I surely would have used something to protect it-why I ignored my back is beyond comprehension today.  I never liked the way dirt clung to sunscreen (this was long before the lightweight dry formulas) so being young and stupid, I simply skipped it. More than thirty years on, I curse that decision each time I slap a plaster over yet another mole that has decided to start bleeding. Worth it? God, no.

I can't go back and lecture my younger self, so I'm taking this opportunity to lecture younger readers who think the warnings about sun exposure don't apply to them. Can you sunbathe safely? I have no idea, but I do know that getting to the point of blistering burns is very bad news. Doing it repeatedly is pure stupidity.

Okay, lecture over. I promise not to show you any more photos of my back.

Needs a Pith Helmet

I try to avoid khakis, linen suits, and jackets with multiple pockets so I don't look like some sort of whacko anthropologist...wait...aw shit. Well, at least I strive to avoid advertising it. The whacko part. But hey, here we are with a linen jacket sporting multiple pockets.

Know what I love? When you watch an ethnographic film and the anthropologists are all adorned in the indigenous clothing, and the locals are wearing Addidas trainers and Patagonia jackets.

Oh goodness no, I'm not an ethnographer, I hate people (though I tend to hate my own people with more consistency). I don't solve crimes either (in case you were wondering) but if you like theory, I'm your anthropologist. It went well with the history degree, what can I say?

My parents weren't pleased with my degree, particularly my mother.
"You'll end up like the Rockefeller boy!" she insisted. Well here we are all these years later, and I haven't been eaten by cannibals. So there! (He probably wasn't either, but it makes a better story than drowning).

Cannibal #1-I hate Michael Rockefeller.
Cannibal #2-Try some potatoes instead.

 Hey, I just passed Michael Rockefeller in the woods.

Har-de-har-har, that's a good one.

Outfit Details:
Skirt-thrifted Goodwill
Jacket-Thrifted Goodwill (same trip as above)
Belt-Just old
Tank-retail
Bracelets-everywhere
Earrings-retail, years ago
Hair flowers-Tif and Tam
Wooden Necklace-Goodwill
Ring-Goodwill
Handbag-Thrift store in the (nearly) abandoned mall on Dodge Street
Stockings-Gordmans
Shoes-K Mart (last year's clearance)

* After 50 years I think it is probably safe to make jokes about it.

Big and Small

Last evening, Danny asked if I had any photographs from my field work. I do, but mostly they are photographs of artifacts, test pits, and survey equipment. Danny insisted he wanted to see them, so I located a photo album, and let him flip through.

Danny: (pointing) is that you?

Me: Yes, I sure was covered in mud, eh?

Danny: Was that the summer you had amoebic dysentery?

Me: Yes, it was.

Danny: I could tell, you look really small. (Flips through a few more pages to photographs from another site the following year) Well you didn't have any dysentery there, you were much bigger. Look how big you got...

Me: You're grounded until your fortieth birthday.

I'm Probably Not A Very Nice Person

I don't watch much television, but last evening I caught about fifteen minutes of a PBS show called, Globe Trekker. Said programme featured a kid traipsing his way across Tunisia and Libya (prior to the recent events, obviously) and (here's the part where I'm probably not a very nice person) the first and only thought that came prominently to my mind was, "Wouldn't it be great if he met some Paul Bowles-ish (The Delicate Prey, A Distant Episode) fate out there in the desert?"

The kid hosting the show seemed like he had been waiting in the dock for some petty robbery offence, and they gave him the option of military service, the clink, or doing a travel programme. Had he not been saddled with so dreadful an accent he makes Billy Bragg sound upper class, I might have been able to absorb some of the historical facts the writers wanted conveyed to the viewers-but I couldn't (or rather, "coo'unt"). Yes, I know, I am not a very nice person. Truthfully, there wasn't a whole hell of a lot of historical fact being presented anyway. This show is focused on getting sweeping shots of sand dunes, and locals in ethnic dress. "Oooh look everybody-a fellow in a turban! exotic."

When I thought it couldn't get any worse, the kid dramatically strips off (to a pair of baggy trunks anyway) to go bathe in an oasis exposing his pale, flabby body for the viewers... for what? Certainly not enjoyment, probably not amusement either. This isn't like the time Michael Wood lay stark naked at some bronze age Mycenaean spot with nothing but a well-placed copy of The Iliad over his manhood. Really? You don't remember that?

Seriously for a moment, what really struck me about the presentation of the show is the disrespect it has for the local culture. I mean, that's a large part of what a travel show is expected to do, is it not? Pretending to take a shit at a Roman Bath, stripping off and leaping into the water...it all seemed so, "Colonial master takes a holiday in exotic locale." Do you know what I mean? As though the people are there for the Westerner's amusement. The snarky, too-clever commentary, the arrogance, maybe even perhaps the youthfulness of it (as in immaturity) really left me bewildered by the decline in quality shows on PBS these days.

Now get off of my lawn while I go think about Michael Wood in the buff. Er, I mean read Edward Said. Just get the hell off of my lawn, OK?

Dig a Hole, Stupid

I thought putting in rose bushes would be this big, complicated activity but reading the side of the package it sounds pretty straightforward. You soak the plant in water for a few hours, dig an hole, and plant it.

Gosh, if I'd known it was that easy, I'd have bought more. I'm not great at complicated pruning, or separating bulbs, but digging a hole I can do-I even know which end of the shovel to dig with. I have an anthropology degree-I spent a summer session at university learning to dig holes in the ground. I had a double major, and I can tell you from experience, history majors can't dig holes. Sorry, that's one of those truths like when you attend a military parade and the sailors can't march. Army, sure. Marines, certainly. Hell, even the Air Force can march. Get to the Navy and ...aw geez, you've been to parades and know that I speak the truth. There-my anthropology degree at long last becomes useful.

I should probably go purchase more rose bushes, but I'm having more fun making sweeping generalisations that happen to be true.

Too Good To Be Fudge

It should have a better name, because this is no run-of-the-mill fudge you get in the damn Wisconsin Dells (or Cape Cod, or wherever your fudge based memories originate). You know, I almost thought better of posting the phrase, "fudge based memories" because I know what sort of search hits that will bring, but what the hell, I'm bored. Go ahead, entertain me.

But you must promise to make this candy! Promise me. Swear it right now (I mean come on, if you're gonna make an oath it ought to be for something worth it). Yeah, I'll wait. Done? OK here's the recipe.


You Will Need:

4 tablespoons dark cocoa powder
3 cups granulated sugar
1 cup heavy cream
3 tablespoons corn syrup (yes, it will make you obese-it has NOTHING to do with the cup of heavy cream...it is ALL the corn syrup)
Pinch of salt
2 tablespoons butter
2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Combine cocoa, sugar, cream, corn syrup and salt in a large heavy pot. Cook to 236 degrees F. Remove from heat and let cool 5 minutes. yes, you must wait the entire five minutes or the Windigoes will get you (We're having a blizzard at the moment-never mind). After five minutes, beat in the butter and extract with a wooden spoon and beat like hell. Beat it like Windigoes are trying to eat your brains and the only thing standing between you and that Windigo is a wooden spoon. Keep going until your fudge is nice and glossy and the angry Windigoes leave. Pour it into a buttered dish and don't touch it (or the Banshee will get you) and when it is cool, cut it into squares. The trimmings don't have calories (a fact, really) so make sure to cut your squares nice and neat even if you have to keep cutting away at the edges. Makes about 2 pounds of Windigo chasing fudge.

There's An App For That

Book of the Dead for iPhone.

Squirrel Infestation

Been there, done that. Still doing it, actually. I must say though, if I had them leaping out of the closet at me, I'm not so sure I could handle it.

Last weekend, I needed something from the attic, and I could hear scrambling in the walls up there. Since the weather warmed, I thought they had all retreated outside-silly me. Still, I live in an old farm house in the country-it would be a much different situation in a city apartment.

Our squirrels aren't that bright. We watched one clinging to the very edge of a far branch on the tree, swinging violently in the wind. He couldn't jump, and it was too windy to climb back. For a good thirty minutes, that stupid squirrel swayed back and forth until it finally figured out how to get back down. Next day, same squirrel (I assume) in the same spot, swaying off the same branch in high winds again. Danny found it all terribly amusing.

I hear they're interesting prepared as a confit-just don't use the brains, as they carry some horrible disease.
Even if you don't care about mad-squirrel-brain disease, you should read the article out of anthropological interest for the description of the ceremonial presentation and eating of the squirrel brains. Really, just go read it.

Squirrels-the new rats.

Australopithecus sediba

So it IS an Australopithecus. I was confused by the headlines at various news sources screaming : "New Humans Discovered!" Oh wait, some people (well, Don Johanson anyway) think it belongs to Homo genus. Hey, is Richard Leaky still alive? Maybe they could all go on television together, and rip up each other's graphs in a public spat...remember that? That was awesome.

Discovered by a nine year old. Dude, that's some "What I Did on my Summer Vacation" story.


OK, set your watches and we'll see how long it takes before I receive the first comment telling me it is surely a fake, and citing Piltdown as some sort of evidence ("people were fooled! Oh my gosh! Every subsequent fossil must be a fake! Oh my gosh!") OR,I get the really compelling argument that "God made those fossils to test my faith."

I also find it fascinating that the articles I've read describe "walking upright" without using the term, "bipedal." Do you suppose they think it sounds dirty or something? I've always wondered if that's the real issue with teaching human origins in public schools-they'd be forced to say, "Homo erectus."


You're probably correct if you think I sound like I'm in a shitty mood today.

Missing Link

No, not Internet links. The Missing Link.

Don't tell the Kansans.

Study Your Other To Kill Them Better

Brushing my teeth this morning, I heard part of THIS report on the radio. I tuned-in just about the point where the Army guy was describing social scientists as effeminate, communist drug users.

Obviously (or it should be obvious is you've been reading this blog for a while) I find this programme horrifying. What I find particularly disturbing is how absolutely comfortable the people promoting it are with the outright dishonesty of it. I certainly wouldn't care to be a part of it.

When I was an undergraduate, one of the best jobs a newly degreed anthropologist could hope for (a cultural anthropologist anyway) was working at Arthur Andersen (remember them?) teaching accountants how not to offend clients in Asia. I thought that was offensive, and probably unethical. The CIA was recruiting on campus, I thought that was offensive and unethical. The thing is(not that it makes it any better) they were a bit more subtle about it. It wasn't like the CIA was handing out fliers saying: "Hey kids, sign up to be spy and we'll give you a really cool 2 way radio wristwatch and tuition reimbursement if you inform on the foreign students." The thing I heard this morning sounded pretty damn blatant. Again, I'm not sure that's bad-I like to know what I'm dealing with, but it certainly did give me pause.

I'll give the local NPR station credit for not editing out the Mengele comparison (which I think was pretty valid) because I'm sure they are going to be facing a shitstorm of angry letters threatening to cancel memberships.

Parfaits With Five Spice Cream and Ginger Tea Jelly

I thought about presenting this as deconstructed* smears on an Asian style square plate but then, thought better of it. That really does deserve the special place in hell mentioned in the previous post.

The jelly recipe HERE.

For the Five Spice Cream:

You Will Need:

1 cup heavy cream
1 cup skim milk
1 teaspoon five spice powder
2 tablespoons cornstarch
2 egg yolks
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup of sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
2 tablespoons butter

In a heavy saucepan, mix the five spice powder, cornstarch. egg yolks, salt and sugar. Add the eggs and slowly whisk in the cream and milk. Over medium heat, bring to a boil, whisking constantly. Boil one minute longer. Remove from heat, whisk in the butter and vanilla. Cover with cling film, poke a few holes in it, and chill before assembling parfaits.

*Unless you're talking about Derrida, I'm not really interested in your "deconstruction"-particularly if it involves pastry cream smeared on a plate.