Table Topics

Yesterday, my sister and I took a nine-hour road trip. That is a long time to sit and talk. We spent a lot of it discussing our memories of the past and hopes for the future.We talked about concepts as serious as racism and as light as what our favorite desserts are. Much of this conversation was fostered by a 4″ acrylic cube.

TableTopics

A few years ago, the Professor and I took a cross-country trip right after we had been given a Table Topics cube as a gift. The company’s website currently lists 15 different themes. Some are based on their intended audience, such as Girls Night Out. Others are topical, like Foodies or Sports. The cube contains 135 cards, each with a question. Vassie and I were using the original version. A few of the questions we answered were “What are your simple pleasures?”, “What do you complain about most?”, and “What is the best vacation you’ve ever taken?”

This is not a game per se–there are no wrong answers and no one keeps score. Its sole purpose is to get the ideas flowing and to provoke conversation around those ideas. The conversations will be as interesting and diverse as the people sitting around the table.

I bought our cube at the Landing in Renton, but it’s available at 10 locations in the Seattle area. I don’t know how widely distributed it is elsewhere. The company HQ is in California. Our friend bought it in Texas. So check out the “at a store near you” search link on their website. The item runs around $25.

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Happy Mensiversary

If you’re reading this, you probably know that WordsWordsWords used to be a linguistics and etymology blog, where I commented on, informed about, and played with my language obsession. The last post I wrote of that nature was in November 2011, after which followed a 2 ½ year gap. In its previous incarnation (fortunately, there was no literal flesh involved), the blog had just over 80 posts. When I returned to the blog lately and was cleaning up all the administrative stuff, I looked at the stats for the time I was away.

I was interested to see that two posts consistently got hits. “Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication” is a very common search phrase that lands people at my blog entry about it—281 views in the last year, putting it in second place. Coming in third with 198 hits is “Sibilance, sibilance, sibilance,” which people must be led to when seeking the Saturday Night Live skit featuring Tom Hanks as Aerosmith’s roadie on “Wayne’s World.” (Wayne: Aerosmith is in MY breakfast nook!!) Many consider it to be the best sketch ever on SNL, followed closely by “D*ck in a Box” (12/16/06). Sadly, the link I originally had to the sketch is dead, and I haven’t been able to find another source to link to—NBC is rightly diligent about their copyrights. The date of the episode is 2/17/90. You may find it on one of the streaming services, or on one of the SNL “Best of” CD’s. For example, King County Library System has SNL: The Best of Mike Myers, which I assume would contain it.

But coming in number one as my most viewed post—by far, with 383 hits this past year—is “Happy Mensiversary.” In celebration of one month of my newly themed blog, I offer a revised version of the mensiversary post.

Today marks one month since I wrote my first post on the repurposed WordsWordsWords, which previously had a linguistics and etymology theme. I sure am having a good time with it!

Statistical software isn’t flawless, but it tells me that in that time, there’ve been about 375 page views. It makes me really happy that others are reading and enjoying what I’m writing.

One thing that I discovered the first time around is that a daily post is too much. While I post a few short, whimsical or informational items, my major posts are in the 500+ word range, and putting together an essay like that too often takes more time than I have without something else getting short shrift. I’m never at a loss for ideas, but I want to make sure I have the oomph to keep up the blog. I’ve posted nine in my first month as the redefined middle-aged dyke; at two a week, it’s about the pace I had hoped.

I’ve said “Happy Mensiversary” because “anniversary” comes from the Latin root annus, meaning year (hence annual, etc.). Mensis means month, and we see it in words like menstruate. If you’re an etymologist, the phrase “one month anniversary” strikes a dissonant chord in your ear for that reason. Do a Google search for “mensiversary,” and you’ll see that there’s a world of folks out there concerned with this topic. There’s even a Facebook group called “Make ‘mensiversary’ a word.” I’m not sure how they think a word is made. If I’ve just written the sentence “Make ‘mensiversary’ a word,” it’s a word already. See it there? Right on the page about two inches from the beginning of this sentence.

As for me, I don’t mind if someone congratulates me on my one-month blog anniversary. It would be rude to rebuff such graciousness with a grammar lesson.

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Ironic news of the day. No, week. Ever, maybe.

More Than 100 Sickened At Baltimore Food Safety Conference

BALTIMORE (AP) — Health officials are investigating what may have sickened over 100 people who attended a conference where more than 1,300 food safety experts had gathered.

No one at the Food Safety Summit held April 8-10 in Baltimore was hospitalized, according to health officials, and most people reported cases of diarrhea.

Alvina K. Chu, who is leading the Maryland Department of Health’s investigation, said Tuesday that officials haven’t yet determined what caused people to get sick. It’s not yet clear if the illness was transmitted by food or from person to person, she said.

The Baltimore City Health Department received complaints of nausea and diarrhea from four people one week after the conference. After the illnesses were reported, city health officials inspected the convention center after and its in-house catering company, Centerplate, on April 16, and issued a violation for condensation dripping from an ice machine, according to city health department spokesman Michael Swartzberg.

City health officials found no violations during the most recent regularly scheduled inspection of the convention center on Feb. 27.

The state health department sent a survey to summit attendees on April 17. About 400 responded, with more than 100 people reporting symptoms. Health officials said there have been no reported hospitalizations or deaths.

Rita Foumia, corporate strategy director for BNP Media, which hosts the summit, said nothing like this has happened in the summit’s 16-year history.

[Verla here: In all fairness, note the first line. They have not determined whether this was a food-borne illness or something else.]
**
The UPI chose this unfortunate photo to accompany the story on their “Odd News” page:

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So long, National Poetry Month

To bid adieu to National Poetry Month, I share with you my favorite poem, “The Layers,” by Stanley Kunitz. I met this poem about 13 years ago. I was driving south on I-5 from Seattle and heard it being read on some NPR program. It hit me hard. I had missed the title and poet’s name, so I simultaneously was absorbing its wonderfulness and trying to memorize enough keywords to be able to find it later. I succeeded. Since then I have gone back to it many times, perhaps with a period of months or years in between. It never ceases to speak to me, and always in a different way. It and the Dawna Markova poem I posted earlier this month were the two readings at our wedding in 2004.

There is a poetry garden in Seattle Center, a tiny square of space between the cacophonic territories of KeyArena and the Armory (formerly known as Center House). Along the garden’s walks lie rocks with snippets of poetry etched into them. It’s a lovely place for a short stroll if you need an escape from the heat or the noise that Seattle Center can offer on busy days.

I love the whole poem, but the thing I find most inspiring is the ending. His prophecy, or his determination, or however he viewed the line, was borne out. He was 73 when the poem was first published. He lived to be 100, dying in 2006.

I have walked through many lives,
some of them my own,
and I am not who I was,
though some principle of being
abides, from which I struggle
not to stray.
When I look behind,
as I am compelled to look
before I can gather strength
to proceed on my journey,
I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp-sites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings.
Oh, I have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections,
and my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way,
bitterly stings my face.
Yet I turn, I turn,
exulting somewhat,
with my will intact to go
wherever I need to go,
and every stone on the road
precious to me.
In my darkest night,
when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
directed me:
“Live in the layers,
not on the litter.
“Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written.
I am not done with my changes.

    

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What? A coincidence.

Note: a This American Life podcast inspired this post.

I’ve been thinking about getting a job. Not that I don’t have a job. I do—two, really—private investigator and Spanish interpreter. I haven’t been as busy as I’ve liked lately, though, so I’ve been looking casually. Maybe there’s something out there that’s a good fit, and that would leave me the flexibility and freedom to still do the investigation and interpreting work.

A week ago, I was cruising craigslist, and saw a position I thought I might like. I figured I’d keep it in mind. That evening, the Professor and I went out to dinner with two brand new friends, women I had met at a party at the home of an investigator friend of mine. Since this was our first real meeting, we were getting to know each other, talking about, among other things, what kind of work we do. Turns out, one of these women does the VERY SAME JOB (there are multiple positions) that I was looking at on craigslist that morning.

What are the odds?!?!?

Well, pretty good, actually. Many of the events we view as amazing coincidences are less improbable than we think. There were a lot of work-related data points at that table. We were all in the 45-65 age range and had extensive job histories. I had looked at a number of ads. The nature of this particular work is somewhat related to investigations, so someone who was moving in the sphere (at the party) of another investigator would be more likely to be working at something that I’d also be interested in. The job is part time, and both of us are sort of in the category of semi-retired. We’re similar in age, so we’d also be more likely to be attracted to part-time work for that reason. The position requires a higher level of education, and of course we’d be more likely to socialize with someone similar to us in that way.

Almost any amazing coincidence can be dissected like this. Over breakfast today, the Professor and I talked about different coincidences we had experienced and the factors that made them more likely than they first appeared. Here’s another example. In 1999, I attended the Mensa annual gathering in Long Beach, CA. I met a woman there in passing and we chatted for awhile. She lived in Virginia; I lived in New Mexico. Two or three years later, I ran into her at a potluck in Seattle, where by that time we had both moved. What are the odds?!?!? Not so bad, really. When we met in California, we both were visiting the LGBT hospitality suite at the conference. Seattle has a highly intelligent and highly educated population. Seattle has a large LGBT population. While Washington is still more welcoming to gay people than many places, that was even more true 15 years ago. Virginia and New Mexico are both places that might make you want to get away for awhile and go to a conference for brainy fun, and are both places that, if you’re gay, might make you want to move to a place like Seattle. And last but not least, middle-aged lesbians tend to have potlucks. So, a scenario where two smart lesbians living in less-than-gay-friendly places might end up first in the Mensa hospitality suite in Long Beach and later at the same Seattle potluck, is less improbable than you might think.


        image courtesy of nokhoog_buchacon freedigitalphotos.net

The Professor visualizes this concept as the turning of cogs. Our lives are composed of many, many cogs. Sometimes, at an unexpected moment, a number of the teeth from disparate cogs intersect, and we have our coincidence. I picture these elements more as data points, as I termed it above. All our lives are composed of the charting of millions of data points—places we are and have been, each with a time component of the moment we were at that place. The people around us and all connections that they bring to us as secondary data points. What sort of work we do and have done. What sort of activities we like, what our national origin is, what food we like, what health issues we have, what clothes we wear, whether we need glasses, whether we drink tap water or buy bottled. If you buy bottled, you might end up in a different aisle at the grocery store on that day when your best friend from college, whom you haven’t seen in 20 years and who is in town with his wife to bring their daughter to college, a little liberal arts school 1800 miles from where you knew each other…but he drinks tap, so you miss each other, and never know how close you came to a coincidental reunion. You of course, teach at that little college. You and your friend had similar values/backgrounds/interests that brought both of you to the college you attended back when. Those values were then reinforced by the similar education that you and your friend got. So it’s not so odd that, even across the country, you and his daughter should end up as a professor and his student. Because they have a common last name, you’ll never wonder whether she is your college friend’s daughter.

The point is, when there are this many millions of data points, it would be far less likely if some were NOT to coincide! But none of this—none of this. None of this! Takes away the magic and delight that the universe lends us with these coincidences. They are often sweet and wondermaking.

Here’s my most poignant coincidence story. In the mid-’90s, I lived in Puerto Rico. My position was a long-term but temporary one, and I ended up leaving after two years. I had loved living on the island, and several years passed before my mourning over having to leave was complete. I just wanted to go back there, and in a way, I did. I was living in the middle of the New Mexico desert when I met the Professor, then moved in with her. Her house was on Puerto Rico Avenue.

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