Catching up

Wow, a 6-week blogslack. I blame Facebook.

Couple of things:

Macromediocrity: This bit of sophomory goes straight to the heart of why we started this blog in the first place (remember, it was about American culture rewarding the lowest common denominator). The article I link to above is all happy about the possibilities for independent developers making a living from creating applications for the iPhone. I'm happy about that too. I'm just kind of crestfallen that, given a tool with the tremendous capacity for communication and learning that the iPhone has, people want more than anything for it to make rude noises[1].

More things in heaven and earth [2]:
- Frogs eat bugs. It's the way of the world. But did you know that there are wasps that eat tadpoles?! (Dragonflies eat tadpoles, too. But somehow I found that less surprising.)
- World's smallest chameleon! (For some reason this one is in Tokyo, even though they come from Madagascar.)
- Check out the snoutiness! It's a shrew the size of a rabbit which got discovered last year.

[1] Thanks to Will for the link.
[2] I've been watching Life in Cold Blood.

Mmmm, brains.

It's not what you think.

We had our office holiday lunch today at Bistro d'Oc.[1]
Brains were on special.
I got to say to Johanna, "Do you want to split some brains?" to which she replied, "Yeah, that would be great"--not one of your more usual conversations, I think you'll agree. (Well, outside the context of a zombie invasion, obviously.)
They were lamb brains with lemon and capers and noisette butter, and they were a fine thing indeed.
Johanna cheerfully admits to suggesting Bistro d'Oc for the holiday lunch "because they serve offal." I was most impressed that several of our less-culinarily-adventurous coworkers tried a little bit of brains ("Can I taste your brains?"). I don't think they'll ever order them on purpose, but they didn't spit them out or anything. (Hilariously, later in the meal, I did have to spit out a little bit of fig spread. I'm twitchy about figs at the best of times, and I was expecting it to be tapenade. Blick.)

[1] I'm kind of mystified by the online reviews of Bistro d'Oc, many of which are savage. We had a 12-person holiday lunch (reservations for 14, but two couldn't make it). When we arrived, the room was set up with two tables--one of 6 and one of 8. Our executive director asked the waiter if he could rearrange the tables so we could all sit together. He did so. He recommended gorgeous and inexpensive wines and described them accurately. He knew what went into everything on the menu. It's a bistro, and it does it well. It's not a high-end haute cuisine celebrity chef experience, but if you know your charcuterie and succulent cheeses and duck confit, it's good for what ails you . I feel as though a lot of the reviewers don't understand what a French bistro is; either they don't like French food, or they were actually looking for a bar.

New respect for flying rats

Yesterday on my walk I noticed an explosion of pigeon feathers on the lawn of the Ellipse. It wasn't gory, but it was impressive. Definitely a whole pigeon's worth. "Huh," thought I, "I wonder what's hunting the pigeons?" Red-tail hawk was my first thought. Then mere minutes later as I was crossing the Washington Monument grounds, I had my answer: Two birds came haring into my field of vision, right on top of each other, flying all rickety in what looked like close formation, until one veered off suddenly to safety among a little copse of (I think) old cherry trees, and the other swooped up to take a scanning perch on a much taller tree at the edge of the lawn. Not a red-tail; a peregrine falcon. Very pointy. Wings almost like a seagull at first glance. Knowing that a pigeon can outmaneuver a peregrine in (pretty much) level flight gives me new respect for pigeons.

Macrobeauty

High-speed photography of colorful water droplets. I'm not sure where the color comes from (lights? paint?) but they sure are cool. Thanks to Will for the heads up. (Oh, upon further investigation: it is paint.)

Eerie.

While taking my pulses this morning, my Chinese doctor (hereinafter referred to as JPG, which are his initials, not a file extension) asked me if I had a cold. "Mmmaybe," said I. "Not a cold, I don't think. Just the sniffles."
During my lunchtime walk I was meditating cheerfully on the pleasingness of the expression "the sniffles". All onomatopoeiac and quaint, like "the ague." Plus it's fun to say. Sniffles.
Now I'm pretty sure I do have a cold. All kinds of sneezing and nose-blowing and itchy throat. Booooo. But good on JPG for being able to tell me I had a cold eight hours in advance of me becoming aware of it.

Humor!

I'm not generally a big humor-forwarder on the tubes, but Darth Vixen sent me this "Font Conference" and I thought I'd pass it on.

Disappearing Ducks!

They're gone.
All the ducks in Lafayette Park are gone.
The grounds-crew there is in the process of cleaning out the eastern pond, presumably as part of Inauguration Day preparations (which are messing with my lunchtime walk bigtime).
The pond is empty.
I want to know where the ducks went.