Bike to work day

Almost every workday, for 18 years, I bike to Georgia Teach and back to VaHi, crossing Monroe at Park Drive, then on 12th to Williams St, then to 10th on the Williams St sidewalk, and then on 10th on the sidewalks until one can get onto campus bike / walking paths. It's very safe.
There is only one dangerous spot, the corner of 10th and Williams, where the traffic to interstate is already speeding up, and I see no way of improving the dangerous driving at that corner. Other than educating drivers...

(Not) my grandmother's štrudla s jabukama

[Deutsche Übersetzung ist unten]                                       [blue text: live hyperlink]

C remembered I had a recipe for apfelstrudel. So she wanted to come over and make it with me, as a school project, to show off her Österreichische Kultur, what would her mother and grandmother bake for a project like this.

I biked out to the closest supermarket to get the phyllo dough. Came back with a ton of supplies I did not need, with one exception: the phyllo dough. Biked out again. They did not have the right size. Three supermarkets later I got the right size.

I biked over to fetch her at 6pm, as agreed. But the 3 little grumps were not there - so I sat on their doorstep, waiting, for 1 1/2 hour. Worried about something happened to Big Grumpy, as he did not respond to my text.

When they showed up, C giggled and said that - well - they had just forgotten me. Don't know what school of etiquette they get their manners from ("thank you" is a verbotten phrase in that school). On the other hand, they are doing very well in their respective schools, so OK. Takes love to put up with the little grumps.

The Little Grumpy did not even say hi, he just marched right by, so I'll never know why - out of roughly millions of Konfirmationsspruche possible - three kids in his confirmation class picked out the same Luke 18:27: "Was für Menschen unmöglich ist, ist für Gott möglich?" Not the most obvious choice, nein? Well elucidated, however by Rabelais.

On the other hand, in his confirmation service I learned that Jesus was indeed the first Republican:  Johannes 15, 16a: "Nicht ihr habt mich erwählt, sondern ich habe euch erwähl." The fundamental Christian teaching, now that Jim Crow needs a tweak: draw up Congressional districts by choosing the voters that chose you.

Now C and I had very little time before she would be picked up again. Usually C gets me to do everything, but this time she was the chef - read the recipe, measured ingredients, brushed the phyllo dough with butter, rolled up the strudel rolls. I was strictly assistant sous chef. The result were two gigantic apfelstrudel rolls that neither C's nor my grandma would ever approve of.

Turned out not to be the supposed school project, that had been due today. It's really for her classmate Alexander the Dutchman "he does not even have an accent"), who she has a crush on (see "On Gender").

Then, as we were waiting for the strudel to bake, and whipping up the requisite schlag, we discussed The Wandering Earth. Worldwide blockbuster, except in US, because heroes are the real cosmonauts, i.e. Chinese and Russians, no Gringos. Movie is made for teenage gamers. I would invite Little Grump to see it on the big screen - 700 million viewers so far - but it is not shown in USA movie theaters. C is against messing with gravity. Not good.

C switches to German, and shares with me her currently favorite racy videos, with words and references to various body parts fascinating to 10 year-olds. But Ugly is touching.

When I packed it, it was 2 immaculate strudel rolls. Next morning it was like a medical school dermatology textbook illustration of the dreaded Baghdad boils. Hope it tastes better than what it looks, and do not forget the schlag!

Meanwhile, Google remembers May 17, 2010

And I remember Mother's Day from a year ago.

            ======== Deutsche Übersetzung ========================

C erinnerte sich, dass ich ein Rezept für Apfelstrudel hatte. Also wollte sie rüberkommen und es mit mir machen, als Schulprojekt, um ihre Österreichische Kultur zu zeigen, was würden ihre Mutter und Großmutter für ein solches Projekt backen?

Ich fuhr zum nächsten Supermarkt, um den Phylloteig zu holen. Ich kam mit einer Tonne Vorräte zurück, die ich nicht brauchte, mit einer Ausnahme: dem Phylloteig. Ich bin wieder rausgefahren. Sie hatten die richtige Größe. Drei Supermärkte später bekam ich die richtige Größe.

Ich fuhr hinüber, um sie um 18 Uhr abzuholen, wie vereinbart. Aber die 3 kleinen Nörgler waren nicht da - also saß ich auf ihrer Türschwelle und wartete 1 1/2 Stunden lang. Besorgt über etwas, das Großer Jammerer passiert ist, da er nicht auf meinen Text reagiert hat.

Als sie auftauchten, kicherte C und sagte, dass sie mich - naja - einfach vergessen hatten. Ich weiß nicht, von welcher Schule der Etikette sie ihre Manieren bekommen ("Danke" ist ein verbottener Satz in dieser Schule). Auf der anderen Seite geht es ihnen in ihren jeweiligen Schulen sehr gut, so OK. Man braucht Liebe, um sich mit den kleinen Miesepeterchen abzufinden.

Kleine Jammerer grüßte nicht einmal, er marschierte einfach vorbei, also werde ich nie wissen, warum - aus etwa Millionen von Konfirmationsspruchen möglich - drei Kinder in seiner Konfirmationsklasse den gleichen Lukas 18:27 auswählten: "Was für Menschen unmöglich ist, ist für Gott möglich"? Nicht die offensichtlichste Wahl, oder?

Andererseits habe ich in seinem Konfirmationsdienst erfahren, dass Jesus tatsächlich der erste Republikaner war:  Johannes 15, 16a: "Nicht ihr habt mich erwählt, sondern ich habe euch erwähl." Die grundlegende christliche Lektion, jetzt, da Jim Crow gezwickt werden muss: Erstellen Sie Kongressbezirke, indem Sie die Wähler auswählen, die Sie gewählt haben.

Jetzt hatten C und ich sehr wenig Zeit, bevor sie wieder abgeholt wurde. Normalerweise bringt mich C dazu, alles zu tun, aber diesmal war sie die Köchin - las das Rezept, maß die Zutaten, streichelte den Phylloteig mit Butter, rollte die Strudelrollen auf. Ich war ausschließlich Assistentin des Sous-Chefs. Das Ergebnis waren zwei gigantische Apfelstrudelrollen, die weder C's noch meine Oma je gutheißen würden.

Es stellte sich heraus, dass es sich nicht um ein Schulprojekt handelte, das heute fällig war. Es ist wirklich für ihren Klassenkameraden Alexander den Holländer, den sie mag.

Dann, als wir darauf warteten, dass der Strudel backt, und die erforderliche Schlagsahne auftreiben, diskutierten wir Die Wandernde Erde. Weltweiter Blockbuster, außer in den USA, weil Helden Chinesen und Russen sind, keine Gringos. Ein Film, der für Teenager-Spieler gemacht wurde. Ich würde Kleine Jammerer einladen, es auf der großen Leinwand zu sehen, aber es wird in den USA nicht gezeigt. C ist dagegen, sich mit der Schwerkraft zu beschäftigen. Nicht gut.

C wechselt nach Deutsch und teilt mit mir ihre derzeit beliebtesten rassigen Videos mit Worten und Hinweisen auf verschiedene Körperteile, die für 10-Jährige faszinierend sind. Aber Hässlich ist rührend.

Als ich es verpackte, waren es 2 makellose Strudelrollen. Am nächsten Morgen war es wie ein Lehrbuch der Medizinischen Fakultät für Dermatologie, das die gefürchteten Bagdad Geschwüre illustrierte. Ich hoffe, es schmeckt besser als das, was es aussieht, und vergiss nicht den Schlagsahne!

The strange and wonderful manner of Gargantua's birth, and old grumpies

Now it is my fate to have to humour any number of old grumpies, all totally uninhibited about their endless lists of dislikes. Which reminds me of one of my favorite parts (well, there are many) of Rabelais Gargantua and Pantagruel  in 1936 Jacques Le Clercq translation:

I.VI The strange and wonderful manner of Gargantua's birth

A few moments later she began to groan, lament and cry out. Suddenly crowds of midwives came rushing up from all directions. Feeling and groping her below, they found certain loose shreds of skin, of a rather unsavory odor, which they took to be the child. It was, on the contrary, her fundament which had escaped with the mollification of her right intestine (you call it the bumgut) because she had eaten too much tripe, as I explained above.

Here comes the part the reminds me of the sins of old grumpies, and their loong looong lists of dislikes:

A truly revolting thought, this, but one suggested by the story of the Devil at St. Martin's Mass noting down the chatter of two trollops and with his teeth stretching the parchment he wrote on, in a vain effort to keep up with them.

And now we carry on with the miraculous birth of Gargantua:

As a result of Gargamelle’s discomfort, the cotyledons of the placenta of her matrix were enlarged. The child, leaping through the breech and entering the hollow vein, ascended through her diaphragm to a point above her shoulders. Here the vein divides into two; the child accordingly worked his way in a sinistral direction, to issue, finally, through the left ear.

No sooner born, he did not, like other babes, cry: "'"Whaay! Whaay!” but in a full, loud voice bawled: "'Drink, drink, drink!’’ as though inviting the company to fall to. What is more, he shouted so lustily that he was heard throughout the regions of Beuxe (pronounced "booze”) and Bibarois (which in sound evokes bibbers and is how the Gascons pronounce "Vivarais”) .

Now I suspect that you do not thoroughly believe this strange nativity. If you do not, I care but little, though an honest and sensible man always believes what he is told and what he finds written. Does not Solomon say in Proverbs (XIII, 15): "Innocens credit omni verbo, the innocent believeth every word,” and does not St. Paul (I Corinthians, 13) declare: "Charitas omma credit, Charity believeth all.”

Why should you not believe what I tell you? Because, you reply, there is no evidence. And I reply in turn that for this very reason you should believe with perfect faith. For the gentlemen of the Sorbonne say that faith is the argument of non-evident truths.

Is anything I have related beyond our law or faith, contrary to our reason, or opposed to Divine Scriptures? For my part, I find nothing in the Holy Bible that stands against it. And if such had been the will of God, would you affirm that He could not accomplish it? Ha, I pray you, do not ambiguembrangle your minds with such vain conceits. I tell you that nothing is impossible to God and, if He but pleased, women would henceforth give birth to their children through the left ear.

Was not Bacchus engendered out of the very thigh of Jupiter? Was not Roquetaillade or Cleftrock ushered into the world through his mother’s heel? Did not Croquemouche or Craunchfly first see the light out of his nurse’s slipper? Was not Minerva progenerated out of the brain and through the ear of Jupiter? Was not the bark of a myrrh tree brought to bed of Adonis? And did not an eggshell, laid and hatched by Leda, extravasate Castor and Pollux into being?

You would be infinitely more surprised and stunned were I presently to expose to you the entire chapter in which Pliny deals with fantastic and unnatural births, yet I am not nearly so accomplished a liar as he was. Read his Natural History, Book VII. Chapter III, yourselves, and do not plague me further with the subject.