Author Archives: errhode

Mar10

Games children play

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Well, the Kirby entries are still attracting comments from people I don’t know, but I’m done mourning, so it’s time for a new post…
A few years back, before I had a blog, there was discussion of the game “Duck, duck…” As a Minnesotan, I immediately follow that up with “gray duck” (or even “grey duck”). I said it on Anand’s post, and I’ll say it here… Duck, Duck, Gray Duck is much more fun than whatever silly game you play with geese because it allows for more creativity. (“Red duck, blue duck, pink polka-dotted duck, plaid duck, gr… een duck (ha ha, fooled you), rubber duck, roast duck, gray duck!”)
In some random web surfing the other day, I came across www.gray-duck.com and this article,* which brings up another children’s game for which Minnesota apparently has its own variation. Growing up, did you play “Captain, may I?” or “Mother, may I?” or do you have no idea what game I’m talking about? To perhaps refresh your memory, the game worked something like this:
Everyone stands at one end of the yard (or whereever your starting line is) and procedes in turn to ask the Captain/Mother, questions like…
“Captain (Mother), may I take two scissors steps?”
“Captain (Mother), may I take four bunny hops?”
etc.
The captain/mother uses his/her discretion as to whether or not you can. And if you don’t say “Captain, may I…” you have to go back to the beginning. Under these rules, the winner is the one who gets to the other side of the yard (or to the tree or whatever the finish line is) first.

* – Amusing side note: I once saw this article tacked to an office door in the old LCS at MIT, back when building 32 (the Stata Center) was just a big construction project. Given that the owner of the site has a csail e-mail address, the article I saw on the door was probably the exact same one scanned to make the jpg I linked to.

Mar6

More on Puck

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According to this, Kirby Puckett was given his last rites. From what I’ve gathered from a phone call from my dad and some comments on Batgirl, there’s no brain activity and they’ll be taking him off of life support soon.
I feel sick to my stomach right now. It’s hard to describe. To those people who say, “But he’s just a ballplayer,” my response is that no, he was much more. He was a hero and legend to the entire state. He was such an integral part of my childhood, that I often took his existence and his heroics for granted, and I think we all did. The scandals a few years ago just proved that while the man was fallible, the legend was infallible.
There’s something about the loss of innocence and childhood and whatnot that I want to say right now, but I can’t seem to muster the words. I just don’t feel well.
Edit: Mostly for Amy and my dad, but go check these out. The Bob Casey one is particularly memorable.
Edit 2: It’s over. He’s gone.

Mar6

Batting Third, Number 34…

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kirby-thumb.jpeg
The day I met Kirby Puckett

Batgirl’s keeping an updated entry with Star Tribune coverage, but the short version is, my childhood hero, Kirby Puckett, had a stroke yesterday morning and is in critical condition at an Arizona hospital today.

I stayed up late to watch him win the sixth game of the 1991 World Series with an 11th inning homerun. When my fifth grade class took a tour of the Metrodome, I joined in with everyone else in trying to replicate Kirby’s amazing catches at the wall in deep center field. How did he jump that high? None of us came anywhere close. My friend and I defended his honor against a bunch of drunken Brewer fans at a game in Milwaukee — they probably hated him for the weekend when he had 11 hits in two games against the Brewers. I saw one of those games too.
When it was announced that he woke up one day in spring training and saw spots out of his right eye, I was worried, but not too worried. It was Kirby, and he was invincible. Yet, as his eye got worse and the season started with him on the DL, I started saving every retrospective the Strib published. When he finally announced his retirement that July, I cried to myself in my grandmother’s bathroom. Then I watched his retirement speech on the five o’clock news where he told us not to cry for him because he had a full life and he got to play baseball — and so I didn’t anymore. But I still kept all of the newspaper articles I could get my hands on. They’re still stacked in my closet at home.
When he was elected to the Hall of Fame on his first ballot, I convinced my dad to schedule my sister’s college tour such that we could be in Cooperstown to see his induction ceremony. On that weekend, if you judged solely by the license plates of most of the cars, you would have thought that Cooperstown was in Minnesota.
Ignoring the scandals that plagued him in the early 2000’s, that was probably his legacy. Not only was he the face of the Twins, but he was the face of all Minnesota sports. When the Twins were terrible, the Vikings stunk, the North Stars moved to Texas, and the Timberwolves a brand new team just trying to win a few games, the Twin Cities could still be proud because we had Kirby Puckett, a virtual lock to start in the All-Star game every season he was out there. Every backyard ballgame, including more than a few that I played in, had a kid that wanted to be the centerfielder and hit a homerun, just like him. He was everyones hero.
We haven’t really had Kirby Puckett as a hero for a few years now, but there have been pushes to get him back into the Twins organization recently as a spring training coach or maybe more. Here’s to hoping that we still have that chance.
Edit: Farewell, Kirby.

Mar4

Move Over Mike’s Pastries

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cannolis.jpg Since everyone else seems to be doing it, I thought I’d post the recipe for one of my latest concoctions… one that doesn’t require throwing something in the microwave. A few weeks ago I noticed that my local grocery store, Kroger’s, sells cannoli shells. I kept it in the back of my mind and finally decided to do something with them when Martine came to visit this weekend. The recipe for the filling comes from the back of the cannoli shell box, but we modified it slightly (our additions in bold):
15 oz. whole milk ricotta cheese
1/2 cup confectioners sugar
1/8 tsp cinnamon (half as much as the box called for)
1/8 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp almond extract
Mini-chocolate chips
6 cannoli shells
In a large mixing bowl, combine ricotta and sugar until well blended. Add cinnamon, nutmeg, and almond extract. Mix well. Fill the cannoli shells using a ziploc bag with the corner clipped off. (Pastry bag? We don’t need no stinking pastry bag!) Top the ends with chocolate chips. Serve and enjoy.
The filling isn’t nearly as thick as Mike’s Pastries/Modern/Bova’s, but given that the North End is 760 miles away (according to Google maps), this will more than do in a pinch. Plus, I got three cannolis out of the deal. (Well, I did have to share with Martine and Alyson… couldn’t have all six.)
Oh, and if people are curious about the results of the real purpose of Martine’s visit, I now I own a pretty royal blue dress.

Mar1

On the Road Again

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road-trip-map.gifThe University of Michigan is, for inexplicable reasons, very proud that it has four month summers (and as a result, very little time off around the holidays). Since “summer” starts at the end of April here, “spring break” is pushed back to the end of February. Given that I have no plans or obligations until Martine comes to visit tomorrow, this Saturday I decided to get in my car and take off with my camera. I wasn’t really sure where I was going to go, so I just went north. I didn’t have to get far out of Ann Arbor before I saw the billboard for the windshield repair center offering the “Deer Hit Special — Free loaner while we fix your car.”
Looking at the map, I decided to get off the freeway just north of Saginaw* and onto Highway 23, which hugs the coast of Lake Huron. I stopped to take my first set of pictures and use the facilities at the Au Sable River Park. After snapping some shots of driftwood on the snowy shores, I headed over to the little outhouse to relieve myself. And instead, I walked in on a hunter in full camouflage, popping a squat to take a dump. I apologized, walked to my car as fast as I could, and drove another twenty miles to a gas station to fill up my tank and empty my bladder.
At that point I kept driving until I saw a sign for the Sturgeon Point lighthouse and museum. I drove off the plowed highway onto a snowy road, only to discover that the lighthouse and museum was closed for the winter. (In hindsight, this should have been obvious.) On the plus side, I took my favorite picture of the trip and saw a number of deer. Unfortunately, I didn’t get my camera out fast enough to digitally capture the deer. And so I got back on the highway and drove to my final destination for the day — Cheboygan, MI, where I ate some delicious parmesan encrusted whitefish and stayed at a Best Western on the Black River.
25Tahquamenon.JPGFor day 2 of my trip, I learned from my experience with the lighthouse and used the free hotel internet connection to look for something that would be both interesting and open in the winter. And that’s when I found out about the second largest waterfalls on the eastern side of the Mississippi, Tahquamenon. I got in the car, stopped for some gas and some fudge in Mackinaw City, drove over the Mackinaw Bridge into the upper peninsula, and headed to the falls.
The upper peninsula really is a different world — in the winter, snowmobiles far outnumber cars and trucks. The closer I got to the falls, the less plowed the roads got and the farther apart the gas stations were separated. The vehicle permit for the park was obtained on the honor system — put your money in the drop box and grab a permit for your car. And then there were the falls themselves… absolutely gorgeous. My one complaint was the brown water, but the information plaque informed me that it was neither rust nor mud, but tannins from the trees that grew in the swamps at the head of the river.
I was feeling ambitious, and sick of sitting, so after looking at the falls for a while, I started out on the unplowed four mile trail to the lower falls. Other than the wind blowing through the trees and the sound of the rushing falls, which got softer and softer the farther I walked, it was serenely quiet. I haven’t gone hiking in the snow since sixth grade during my elementary school class trip to Wolf Ridge, so I had forgotten how tiring wading through knee high snow really is. About halfway through the hike I opted to rest against a tree before turning around. I never did get to the lower falls.
Worn out from the hike, I drove to the nearest city, Sault Ste Marie, and spent a second night in a motel where I watched the Olympic closing ceremonies on Canadian television. The next day I headed back on the freeway, slowed down slightly by some food poisoning obtained at a Big Boy in West Branch, before returning back to my life in the civilization known as Ann Arbor. (I spent some quality time in the bathroom of three different rest areas, but I’ll save that story for another time…)

* – Yes, I listened to Simon and Garfunkel’s America as I drove through, just for the line “It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw.”

Feb21

Spring Training

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In honor of the start of spring training and the fact that there’s currently no snow on the ground here, I reverted back to the old style sheets.
I’m starting to think about stadiums I’d like to get to this season… obviously I’ll return to Comerica, as that’s the easiest for me to get to. More than likely I’ll get to a Metrodome game at some point as well, as I’m bound to go home at some point. Given the frequency with which I go to Cincinnati, revisiting that stadium seems likely as well. The next closest stadium to me is Jacob’s Field in Cleveland to the east and to the west, the only stadium that may rank as high as Fenway, Wrigley Field in Chicago. (Oh, and Chicago has that other team too. I think they were pretty good last year, so I may attempt to brave the Southside as well.) And as long as I’m driving to Chicago, I may as well go a little bit north and hit Milwaukee (perhaps with Amrys?). My other option for a short road trip is to go to the north and west and visit the only remaining Canadian team in Toronto, though I’ve already been to the Skydome.
For longer road trips, I’ll more than likely be driving to Jenn’s wedding in DC, which would be a perfect chance to catch a Nationals game at RFK, before they replace it with a real baseball stadium. (And kudos to Jenn for scheduling her wedding during a weekend when the Nationals are in town.) Saturday’s probably out, though it is an afternoon game, but if people aren’t too hungover after the reception, anyone else attending the wedding would be welcome to join me at a Cubs-Nationals game on Sunday afternoon. (Laura Lopez, I am specifically thinking of you here, given that it’s your team and all.) Pittsburgh is conveniently located right between Ann Arbor and DC, but unfortunately, the Pirates are away that week, so it doesn’t appear that that would work out too well.
So… Comerica, Dome, Great American, Jacob’s Field, Wrigley, Comiskey (because US Cellular is too stupid a name to recognize), Miller Park, Skydome/Rogers Centre, and RFK are all on the short list of stadiums to visit this year. Stay tuned to see which ones actually pan out.

Feb15

Henry Partch

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My roommate, Alyson, is an ethnomusicology PhD student here at Michigan. As a result, I get exposed to things I normally wouldn’t. Tonight, for example, she brought home a video on a 20th century American composer named Henry Partch. I looked for a good online biography of Partch or description of his music to link to, but other than a few references to his wind chimes, I didn’t find much. Perhaps it’s because his particular compositions never caught on with the mainstream public.
As most people with an elementary knowledge of musical theory know, the Western scale breaks the octave into twelfths (C, C#, D, D#, E, F, F#, G, G#, A, A#, B). But this was not enough for Henry Partch. He didn’t like the idea of conforming to these rigid standards and preferred to split the octave 43 ways instead of 12. Given that he started his work in the 1920s, well before synthesizers or other digital forms of music that could easily do this for him, this meant that he had to build his own instruments — mostly elaborate windchimes.
And he didn’t necessarily stop there. The video we just watched included clips of Partch in his garage, making his “music” by pinging glass bottles. His big observation was that you could get different notes out of different brands, ranging from Old Heaven Hill Sourmash on the low end to Bristol Cream Cherry on the high end. Not to knock his art, but it sounded like a bunch of out of tune banging around to me. Even my roommate commented that “he looks like a bad impression of what I imagined him to be.” But maybe we’re still too conformist and unlightened to appreciate Henry Partch… a man whose time has still not come.

Feb12

Meta Puzzles

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During the Mystery Hunt off-season this year, my team has decided to try something new: practice puzzles. This week I was assigned to post two meta puzzles. Instead of culling from previous hunts, I decided to write two of my own. Now that they’ve each been test solved, I’ll post them here for people that Big Jimmy didn’t fantasize about to solve.

Read the rest of this entry →

Feb5

I’d Love To Turn You On

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“Grab your coat, grab your hat, catch the bus in seconds flat.”
When I was very small, my dad used to say this to my sister and I every morning as we got ready to go to daycare. One of my earlier memories, it was probably the first instance of the Beatles influencing my life, although I didn’t know it at the time.
Flash forward about ten years to our living room, me staying up late watching television with my dad. An old black and white movie about a British rock band from the 60’s was on PBS.
“What is this?” I asked my dad, mildly impatient. I vaguely recall wanting him to switch to Nick at Nite or something.
“A Hard Day’s Night,” he said, “a Beatles movie. Let’s watch it.” And so we did. Of course I had heard of the Beatles, but I never really paid much attention to them before. I realized that I already knew all the songs from the radio or ballgames or wherever it is that we hear songs that we don’t really pay attention to, and that I liked them. And even though I didn’t get all of the jokes, something about the four lads from Liverpool absolutely transfixed me. Thus was the beginning of my obsession with the Beatles.
Later that year, the Beatles Anthology aired on ABC and I watched every minute of it, along with my father. On the second night, they covered Sgt Pepper’s and the song “A Day in the Life.” The song moved to the middle part and I heard the lines “Woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head. Found my way upstairs and had a cup, and looking up, I noticed I was late,” and then suddenly, “Found my coat and grabbed my hat… made the bus in seconds flat.”
I looked at my dad. “You took that from the Beatles?!” He gave me a little smile before simply saying, “Yep.”
As I sit today re-watching the anthology on DVD while minimizing some logic circuits for class, I once again find myself watching the bit about “A Day in the Life” and once again flashing back to being a small child getting ready for school. It’s funny what will trigger a memory or five.