I don't think I have ever stood up for more consecutive hours than I have today. Lordy, my feet hurt. I was even wearing sneakers most of the time! But I was standing, and cleaning, and waiting, and I guess I have always moved more when I was upright. I don't usually just stand there; I move around and walk.
Other than that, I love Miss Jackson's. Did you know that mannequin arms just pop up and out of their sockets? Very odd. They are also around a size two, and are even smaller than the dress forms we used at school. That's why the clothes are so often pinned on; the sizes that the store carries are too big for the mannequins, which are basically the same proportions as fashion illustrations.
I am having trouble figuring out where everything is. There are no windows on the second floor, so there are no reference points, other than furniture and clothes. It's very disorienting, especially because all sides of the building look the same.
There's a trunk show tomorrow from Escada. They still actually send everything in trunks, like fancy steamer trunks. I'm curious to see what the women who come in look like...
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
I was really proud of myself at this moment
Joseph and I have long struggled with creating a veggie burger from scratch that neither crumbles at the slightest touch, nor oozes out the back of the bun when bitten into. I don't really like buying them, because they cost so much, they can't really be seasoned, and they're really not all that appetizing when it's clear that they were cut out of a sheet of processed vegetable matter.
But we did it. We triumphed! After all the recipes that we have tried, promising great taste and texture but turning instead to mush or cardboard, we finally did it.
All because of me, of course (haha, yeah, right).
It wasn't even all that hard. We didn't use a recipe; Joseph would add things, and then I would.
The final process:
1. Mince one small onion; sauté it in a little bit of olice oil. Wait until they are clear and just beginning to caramelize.
2. Add two portobello mushrooms, chopped (the kind that you can get in packs of two at the grocery store, about the size of your hand). Cook until softened, and add a bit of white cooking wine; reduce.
3. Add a can of black beans, including broth. Reduce until sauce is thick and sticky, where it doesn't drip off the spoon easily.
4. Transfer to another bowl, and mash everything up until it's the consistency you like (all of our black beans were about halfway cut up).
5. Add two eggs and mix. It should be fairly liquid.
6. Add oatmeal until the mixture is thick and formable. I think we added between a cup and a cup and a half.
7. Spice the mixture to your liking. We used salt and garlic powder, which was plain but tasted really good.
I think this is the key step:
8. Grease a patty mold, and press the mixture into the mold and drop into a preheated skillet on medium-high heat. Cook until browned, about 3 minutes, and carefully flip, cooking another 3 minutes.
These actually stayed shaped, and got cooked all the way through. They didn't shrink up any, though, like real hamburger meat does. Still, though, they actually looked like patties! They bore a distinct resemblance to hamburgers! They even got nice crisp edges and browned in the center.
They even worked when we didn't use the patty mold, but we didn't make any big ones. I think that if it were formed into small balls and cooked really well, it could be crumbled and used as a substitute for ground beef, such as in spaghetti sauce or Sloppy Joes. I think it'd work much better than seitan (I really hate grating it to put into things, and it doesn't absorb things the same way, so recipes have to be adjusted).
But we did it. We triumphed! After all the recipes that we have tried, promising great taste and texture but turning instead to mush or cardboard, we finally did it.
All because of me, of course (haha, yeah, right).
It wasn't even all that hard. We didn't use a recipe; Joseph would add things, and then I would.
The final process:
1. Mince one small onion; sauté it in a little bit of olice oil. Wait until they are clear and just beginning to caramelize.
2. Add two portobello mushrooms, chopped (the kind that you can get in packs of two at the grocery store, about the size of your hand). Cook until softened, and add a bit of white cooking wine; reduce.
3. Add a can of black beans, including broth. Reduce until sauce is thick and sticky, where it doesn't drip off the spoon easily.
4. Transfer to another bowl, and mash everything up until it's the consistency you like (all of our black beans were about halfway cut up).
5. Add two eggs and mix. It should be fairly liquid.
6. Add oatmeal until the mixture is thick and formable. I think we added between a cup and a cup and a half.
7. Spice the mixture to your liking. We used salt and garlic powder, which was plain but tasted really good.
I think this is the key step:
8. Grease a patty mold, and press the mixture into the mold and drop into a preheated skillet on medium-high heat. Cook until browned, about 3 minutes, and carefully flip, cooking another 3 minutes.
These actually stayed shaped, and got cooked all the way through. They didn't shrink up any, though, like real hamburger meat does. Still, though, they actually looked like patties! They bore a distinct resemblance to hamburgers! They even got nice crisp edges and browned in the center.
They even worked when we didn't use the patty mold, but we didn't make any big ones. I think that if it were formed into small balls and cooked really well, it could be crumbled and used as a substitute for ground beef, such as in spaghetti sauce or Sloppy Joes. I think it'd work much better than seitan (I really hate grating it to put into things, and it doesn't absorb things the same way, so recipes have to be adjusted).
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Let's see if I can make a list of which Dr T approves
Someone told me recently that she was worried about how often Joseph and I had made the drive back and forth from Lubbock to Fayetteville. The reason? It was so "dreary."
I take offense at that. She didn't even drive the right way! Sure, she didn't take the interstate, but she took the turnpike in Oklahoma, and then went on state highways down to Wichita Falls. I think that way is actually a lot less interesting. The toll road has a speed limit of 80, and doesn't even have any interesting billboards. And, as is normal for train tracks, which the Texas highway follows basically all the way, the engineers chose the flattest and straightest way through the area. The only interesting thing about it is counting electrical posts.
The interstate is a lot more interesting. There are billboards, signs, crazy names--enough to keep my focus for basically all nine hours (or the eight after I have my coffee).
Between Fayetteville and Fort Smith, there are signs that my speed is monitored by airplane and helicopter. I've never seen it, but it makes me smile, because what could a helicopter do if I were speeding, besides radio it in? And I don't know of any airplane that can fly that slowly.
Inside Okahoma is Prague (Pray-gue, not Prah-gue), home of the Kolache Festival the first Sunday in May. I always kind of thought that was what you called the girls dressed up in white hats and wooden shoes. Apparently, it's a breakfast food.
Then comes Lake Eufala, a pretty enough lake with an exit sign for "Lotawatah Road" (I kid you not, and I guess there is a LOT of water there.)
Then it's signs for Weleetka, Wetumka, Wetonga, and Wewoka. I assume that those were related tribes, but I wonder what the middle part means. I think they are in Citizen Potawatomi nation (spelled various ways on various signs). Thlopthlocco! I have no idea what that means, but a sign says it.
There are about 14 signs between Lubbock and Fayetteville for Cemetery Rd., and maybe 4 for Country Line Rd. Very creative.
There're signs for Robertson's Ham Sandwiches. I've always wanted to stop there, but I don't really like ham. They just repainted the sign this semester.
Oklahoma is apparently quite proud of Susan Powell, Miss America 1981, who is from Elk City, which is a certified Oklahoma city (a sign tells me so!).
There's a moon rock in Weatherford, OK.
There's a bent water tower in Britten, TX, with an abandoned truck stop nearby with an itty bitty matching bent water tower on top of their sign.
There's the biggest cross in the Western Hemisphere, where they are building a gift shop, where I suppose they will sell models of the Twelve Stations of the Cross statues that they have outside. Then there's the Top of Texas Catholic Superstore. I have no idea what makes it a superstore.
I just think all of it is so interesting. I want to stop at Sequoyah's Cabin, Roman Nose State Park, and the Heavener Runestone (heave, like puke, not like heaven. Much less interesting). I want to eat kolaches, or stop at the Cherokee Trading Post and pet a buffalo, even though I have no idea where they keep it. It's not dreary, it's fun, especially if you just pay attention.
I take offense at that. She didn't even drive the right way! Sure, she didn't take the interstate, but she took the turnpike in Oklahoma, and then went on state highways down to Wichita Falls. I think that way is actually a lot less interesting. The toll road has a speed limit of 80, and doesn't even have any interesting billboards. And, as is normal for train tracks, which the Texas highway follows basically all the way, the engineers chose the flattest and straightest way through the area. The only interesting thing about it is counting electrical posts.
The interstate is a lot more interesting. There are billboards, signs, crazy names--enough to keep my focus for basically all nine hours (or the eight after I have my coffee).
Between Fayetteville and Fort Smith, there are signs that my speed is monitored by airplane and helicopter. I've never seen it, but it makes me smile, because what could a helicopter do if I were speeding, besides radio it in? And I don't know of any airplane that can fly that slowly.
Inside Okahoma is Prague (Pray-gue, not Prah-gue), home of the Kolache Festival the first Sunday in May. I always kind of thought that was what you called the girls dressed up in white hats and wooden shoes. Apparently, it's a breakfast food.
Then comes Lake Eufala, a pretty enough lake with an exit sign for "Lotawatah Road" (I kid you not, and I guess there is a LOT of water there.)
Then it's signs for Weleetka, Wetumka, Wetonga, and Wewoka. I assume that those were related tribes, but I wonder what the middle part means. I think they are in Citizen Potawatomi nation (spelled various ways on various signs). Thlopthlocco! I have no idea what that means, but a sign says it.
There are about 14 signs between Lubbock and Fayetteville for Cemetery Rd., and maybe 4 for Country Line Rd. Very creative.
There're signs for Robertson's Ham Sandwiches. I've always wanted to stop there, but I don't really like ham. They just repainted the sign this semester.
Oklahoma is apparently quite proud of Susan Powell, Miss America 1981, who is from Elk City, which is a certified Oklahoma city (a sign tells me so!).
There's a moon rock in Weatherford, OK.
There's a bent water tower in Britten, TX, with an abandoned truck stop nearby with an itty bitty matching bent water tower on top of their sign.
There's the biggest cross in the Western Hemisphere, where they are building a gift shop, where I suppose they will sell models of the Twelve Stations of the Cross statues that they have outside. Then there's the Top of Texas Catholic Superstore. I have no idea what makes it a superstore.
I just think all of it is so interesting. I want to stop at Sequoyah's Cabin, Roman Nose State Park, and the Heavener Runestone (heave, like puke, not like heaven. Much less interesting). I want to eat kolaches, or stop at the Cherokee Trading Post and pet a buffalo, even though I have no idea where they keep it. It's not dreary, it's fun, especially if you just pay attention.
My final fishing clothes project
I'll spare y'all the accompanying text, but:
Go Fish!
Spring 2011
Women's Fishing Apparel
Better price range (like Banana or Macy's)
Estimated garment pricing, assuming no overhead costs:
Shirt: $49.99
Pants: $129.99
Vest: $99.99
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Who Knows
I don't know much about flowers. I don't even know much about plants in general. I can identify flowers commonly used in wedding bouquets (thank you, Martha Stewart) but I can't tell you what anything on the side of the road is.
That being said, I like to know that sort of thing. According to my StrengthsQuest (thank you, freshman seminar (not)), one of my top strengths is "Collector." I like collecting knowledge, especially collecting knowledge that helps me gain more knowledge. That's why I like having a bird field guide, and a guide to wildflowers of the Western Plains. Perhaps I won't need the latter anymore after this semester, but I have it if I do.
Fieldcraft has given me a basis upon which to build the foundation of a naturalist tendency. I don't think that I will ever be the kind of person who just goes out and identifies flowers for fun, but I could if I wanted to. Even if it's not an essential life skill, it's still good to have. Besides, it's kind of an ego boost to be able to say, "That's not a weed, that's tansy mustard!" and bask in the awe that surrounds that sort of comment.
I wish that I had been able to take Advanced Fieldcraft as well as the introductory course. The Bones, Birds, and Botanicals class (or whatever all those b's stood for) and Intro to Fieldcraft gave me a tantalizing glimpse of what it must have felt like to be Lewis and Clark, or Audubon as they found new creatures and took specimen samples. How would it feel to know that you have accomplished so much in a realm of science that is so readily accessible? To be a naturalist is to share knowledge with others, with the understanding that others will build upon your work. It is not research for the sake of research, or for the sake of money; it's research for the good of others.
That sounds kind of pretentious. I don't mean for it to be; I just like the idea of being able to go out into the world and possibly make a change. I also just like going out into the world. NHH was pretty much the most that I got to go outside during these last three semesters. Often, I would think, "What a pretty day to sit outside and read, or go for a walk." But I would have to sew, or write a paper, or do something indoors. Most days, the time I got to spend outside was limited to walking to and from class. That's not satisfying to me. I like going on field trips to places that I wouldn't even dream of going to on my own. I like sitting around telling ghost stories in the dark, or putting up teepees with Comanches from Oklahoma. Those are the things that I'm going to remember later, not sitting in class and learning about seam classifications and digitizing patterns.
Honestly, I think classes like this are the kind that are most important to a college career. So many classes just focus on rote memorization, learning things just because they're going to be on the test, and things that really won't matter in the real world. Honors classes, not just NHH classes, tend to be more about learning how to think, how to learn. Isn't that more important in the end? Sure, soon I'll have a degree, but shouldn't I know more than how to be an entry-level worker at some menial task?
Even if I do wind up that way, at least for a while, I'll know how to go out and learn things on my own. I'll know how to find the resources to tell me what that plant is, or that bird flying overhead. I can make educated guesses, not just about that, but about a lot of things. I tell people that NHH is kind of about learning to be a forest ranger or a nature writer, but it's also about being an independent person with critical thinking skills. I thought that was what college was supposed to be about; maybe Natural History just distills all those classes and ideas into just a few, so that each class maximizes knowledge.
All I really know is that I enjoyed them at least as much as my other classes put together. I never dreaded going to one of these classes; I never thought, "I wonder if we're doing anything important," or "Can I skip class today?" I always wanted to go.
That being said, I like to know that sort of thing. According to my StrengthsQuest (thank you, freshman seminar (not)), one of my top strengths is "Collector." I like collecting knowledge, especially collecting knowledge that helps me gain more knowledge. That's why I like having a bird field guide, and a guide to wildflowers of the Western Plains. Perhaps I won't need the latter anymore after this semester, but I have it if I do.
Fieldcraft has given me a basis upon which to build the foundation of a naturalist tendency. I don't think that I will ever be the kind of person who just goes out and identifies flowers for fun, but I could if I wanted to. Even if it's not an essential life skill, it's still good to have. Besides, it's kind of an ego boost to be able to say, "That's not a weed, that's tansy mustard!" and bask in the awe that surrounds that sort of comment.
I wish that I had been able to take Advanced Fieldcraft as well as the introductory course. The Bones, Birds, and Botanicals class (or whatever all those b's stood for) and Intro to Fieldcraft gave me a tantalizing glimpse of what it must have felt like to be Lewis and Clark, or Audubon as they found new creatures and took specimen samples. How would it feel to know that you have accomplished so much in a realm of science that is so readily accessible? To be a naturalist is to share knowledge with others, with the understanding that others will build upon your work. It is not research for the sake of research, or for the sake of money; it's research for the good of others.
That sounds kind of pretentious. I don't mean for it to be; I just like the idea of being able to go out into the world and possibly make a change. I also just like going out into the world. NHH was pretty much the most that I got to go outside during these last three semesters. Often, I would think, "What a pretty day to sit outside and read, or go for a walk." But I would have to sew, or write a paper, or do something indoors. Most days, the time I got to spend outside was limited to walking to and from class. That's not satisfying to me. I like going on field trips to places that I wouldn't even dream of going to on my own. I like sitting around telling ghost stories in the dark, or putting up teepees with Comanches from Oklahoma. Those are the things that I'm going to remember later, not sitting in class and learning about seam classifications and digitizing patterns.
Honestly, I think classes like this are the kind that are most important to a college career. So many classes just focus on rote memorization, learning things just because they're going to be on the test, and things that really won't matter in the real world. Honors classes, not just NHH classes, tend to be more about learning how to think, how to learn. Isn't that more important in the end? Sure, soon I'll have a degree, but shouldn't I know more than how to be an entry-level worker at some menial task?
Even if I do wind up that way, at least for a while, I'll know how to go out and learn things on my own. I'll know how to find the resources to tell me what that plant is, or that bird flying overhead. I can make educated guesses, not just about that, but about a lot of things. I tell people that NHH is kind of about learning to be a forest ranger or a nature writer, but it's also about being an independent person with critical thinking skills. I thought that was what college was supposed to be about; maybe Natural History just distills all those classes and ideas into just a few, so that each class maximizes knowledge.
All I really know is that I enjoyed them at least as much as my other classes put together. I never dreaded going to one of these classes; I never thought, "I wonder if we're doing anything important," or "Can I skip class today?" I always wanted to go.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Milnesand, New Mexico
The lesser prairie chicken is one of the goofiest animals I have ever seen. Like the wildebeest, the LPC must have been a good laugh that God was having.
Proof:
(photo from the Audubon 2007 Watch List)
Does this not look to you like an anxious man pacing, like one who is waiting to be told if it's a boy or a girl? Such a charming creature, if bizarre in appearance and behavior.
Like zebras, the banding on the lesser prairie chicken helps to camouflage it in the grasses. I was amazed at how well-concealed the birds were, especially when they weren't moving. It took me some time to find the females out in the grass (of course, at first I didn't realize that they were in the grass; I thought the lek (or mating display field) would be out on the bare earth in front of our van). We could hear them well before we saw them, before the sun even really thought about coming up.
(video by DisapprovingRabbits on youtube)
The plainer specimen is the female (very nice sexual dimorphism); while the population of about 4,000 in the Milnesand breeding range is fairly evenly divided between males and females, we only saw a handful of girls in comparison to the boys. We joked that the females came out when they felt like it, and reported back to all the other girls still having their morning coffee.
You can't see it in that video (not mine, by the way; I was too far away to get good pictures or video, though I could see them really well in my binoculars), but the males also stamp their feet while they run back and forth. It's a booming noise that I'm sure is quite sexy for the ladies.
While we were in Milnesand, which is where we saw the prairie chickens, we camped out (in wind so strong that we couldn't pull the rain fly all the way away from the tent, so it was a moot point anyways), had good food cooked by the sweet ladies of the town, and marked four miles of fences so that the chickens would see them when they are flying away from predators.
Mentioning predators, we also saw a male golden eagle in captivity. He was just kind of hanging out in the back of this guy's truck, looking around imperiously. There was a dead hare at the foot of his perch, which was covered in Astroturf for some reason. He had apparently been killing and eating livestock in Montana (?), and the government stepped in to have him relocated at the rancher's request. The guy that took him has some sort of agreement where, even though he is not a government entity, he can capture the eagle and take him around and show him off. I thought it was awesome.
One last image:
Proof:
(photo from the Audubon 2007 Watch List)
Does this not look to you like an anxious man pacing, like one who is waiting to be told if it's a boy or a girl? Such a charming creature, if bizarre in appearance and behavior.
Like zebras, the banding on the lesser prairie chicken helps to camouflage it in the grasses. I was amazed at how well-concealed the birds were, especially when they weren't moving. It took me some time to find the females out in the grass (of course, at first I didn't realize that they were in the grass; I thought the lek (or mating display field) would be out on the bare earth in front of our van). We could hear them well before we saw them, before the sun even really thought about coming up.
(video by DisapprovingRabbits on youtube)
The plainer specimen is the female (very nice sexual dimorphism); while the population of about 4,000 in the Milnesand breeding range is fairly evenly divided between males and females, we only saw a handful of girls in comparison to the boys. We joked that the females came out when they felt like it, and reported back to all the other girls still having their morning coffee.
You can't see it in that video (not mine, by the way; I was too far away to get good pictures or video, though I could see them really well in my binoculars), but the males also stamp their feet while they run back and forth. It's a booming noise that I'm sure is quite sexy for the ladies.
While we were in Milnesand, which is where we saw the prairie chickens, we camped out (in wind so strong that we couldn't pull the rain fly all the way away from the tent, so it was a moot point anyways), had good food cooked by the sweet ladies of the town, and marked four miles of fences so that the chickens would see them when they are flying away from predators.
Mentioning predators, we also saw a male golden eagle in captivity. He was just kind of hanging out in the back of this guy's truck, looking around imperiously. There was a dead hare at the foot of his perch, which was covered in Astroturf for some reason. He had apparently been killing and eating livestock in Montana (?), and the government stepped in to have him relocated at the rancher's request. The guy that took him has some sort of agreement where, even though he is not a government entity, he can capture the eagle and take him around and show him off. I thought it was awesome.
One last image:
Monday, April 19, 2010
Fishin' Clothes
One of my projects this semester, an NHH senior project, is to make a set of women's fishing clothes that is attractive and not just a "unisex" version of men's clothing. Oftentimes, what is marketed as being for women is just plain unattractive, lacking both hanger appeal and body appeal. Instead of making the clothes to fit, flatter, and be comfortable on women, it is just sized-down menswear that is full or tight in all the wrong places.
Even big-name companies, like Bass Pro Shop, carry very few women's items (around a dozen, compared to literally hundreds of men's items), and what they do carry tends to be unisex blobs of clothing that are uncomfortable. Pants rely on drawstrings to fit at the waist, or have a long, narrow crotchseam that binds at the hips and sags at the inseam. There's no real reason for the dearth of women's fishing clothes; niche markets are generally fairly sustainable in the long run, especially ones that have so many potential consumers. I know many women who fish in spite of discomfort, and many others who would fish if they could be comfortable.
So what I've been making is a pair of women's pants, a knit top in a pretty color but still in a technical fabric, and a vest that fits a woman's contours and needs (also in a pretty color). Instead of anticipating that a fisherwoman will just buy what approximately fits, regardless of what it looks like, this is designed to attract her based on what she actually likes, not just what she needs. Instead of breast pockets on the vest, I hope to be able to put magnets inside slits to create places for the flies to attach. There will be magnetic closures, instead of velcro that will get nasty with time, or snaps, or a zipper.
Haha! I triumph over computers, and win! Here's the picture.
Even big-name companies, like Bass Pro Shop, carry very few women's items (around a dozen, compared to literally hundreds of men's items), and what they do carry tends to be unisex blobs of clothing that are uncomfortable. Pants rely on drawstrings to fit at the waist, or have a long, narrow crotchseam that binds at the hips and sags at the inseam. There's no real reason for the dearth of women's fishing clothes; niche markets are generally fairly sustainable in the long run, especially ones that have so many potential consumers. I know many women who fish in spite of discomfort, and many others who would fish if they could be comfortable.
So what I've been making is a pair of women's pants, a knit top in a pretty color but still in a technical fabric, and a vest that fits a woman's contours and needs (also in a pretty color). Instead of anticipating that a fisherwoman will just buy what approximately fits, regardless of what it looks like, this is designed to attract her based on what she actually likes, not just what she needs. Instead of breast pockets on the vest, I hope to be able to put magnets inside slits to create places for the flies to attach. There will be magnetic closures, instead of velcro that will get nasty with time, or snaps, or a zipper.
Haha! I triumph over computers, and win! Here's the picture.
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