Whodat?

Introducing. . . my beautiful baby sister!

Monday pichers

because I'm too lazy to post a real post. Here's something I made out of images of a desert (the kara kum). Cubism seems to be a really good way to break images down into their palettes

Monkey Bread!

So, I've been seeing this stuff all over Pinterest and tonight I decided to see what its all about . . .

IS this not the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?

• 3 (12 ounce) packagesrefrigerated biscuit dough
  1 cup white sugar
• 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
  1/2 cup margarine
  1 cup packed brown sugar
  1/2 cup chopped walnuts(optional)
  
  
  
  

• 
  
  
  

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Grease pan. 
2. Mix white sugar and cinnamon in a plastic bag. Cut biscuits into quarters. Shake 6 to 8 biscuit pieces in the sugar cinnamon mix. Arrange pieces in the bottom of the prepared pan. Continue until all biscuits are coated and placed in pan. Arrange nuts in and among the biscuit pieces as you go along.
3. In a small saucepan, melt the margarine with the brown sugar over medium heat. Boil for 1 minute. SPREAD THAT SHIT ALL OVER!
4. Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 35 minutes. Let bread cool in pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a plate. Do not cut! The bread just pulls apart.

Origins of Basketball, disambiguated

During my life, I have heard three separate places lay claim to the invention of the sport of Basketball, and do so with conviction. The source of this confusion lies with this guy:

James Naismith, who is considered the father of the sport.

Canadians will remember this video being played on the CBC (do they still do the heritage moments?) which features a rather cranky seeming Naismith explaining the game to a bunch of kind of derpy looking americans;

The reason Naismith features here as a Canadian is because he is one. Born in Ontario and educated at McGill, where he obtained his BA in phys-ed, anyone looking into this guy will soon come to realize that, although born a Canadian, the sport really wasn't invented here. Sure, it was rattling around in Naismith's head for years before he made it into a real game, but it wasn't as though he came from McGill with the handbook of Basketball fully formed in his McGill school sweater pocket. That's right, this Canadian heritage moment is just another government lie, boys and girls. Moving on.

Naismith moved on too, to Springfield Massachusetts, where he taught at the local YMCA (I suppose that explains the levels of derp in the above video), and it was there that the game became fully fledged, and started to catch on, spreading through YMCA networks like wildfire. WILDFIRE, I SAY. Okay, so probably nothing spread much like wildfire in 1892, (except for wildfires) but you get the idea. It seems that Naismith did not stay in Springfield long, moving on to Denver where he pursued a medical degree. However, Springfield Mass. is the home of the basketball hall of fame: 

Which features an appropriately gigantic basketball, so I think you could very validly make the argument that Springfield is the home of the sport.

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! 

After getting his medical degree, Naismith moved to Lawrence Kansas, where he taught at the University of Kansas for many years. KU's basketball program began in 1898, shortly after Naismith arrived on campus. Apart from training up the Phog, Naismith was, reportedly, a pretty shitty coach. HOWEVER, basketball caught on like crazy insane in Kansas (seriously, you should go there), and so that state, having possessed Naismith for longer than anyone, has also laid claim to the invention of the sport, or to being its "home" (I'm not sure which).

ROCK CHALK JAYHAWK!

Anyway, basically, you can blame Naismith and all of his moving around for the confusion about where Basketball comes from. For me, I'd go with Springfield . . .but then, the CBC *did* put a lot of effort into that well done history minute, so I might have to rethink that . . .

A question of scruples

I don't want a whole lot out of life. Or I don't think I do. A steady job, a place to live, the ability to live relatively comfortably, and people to care about. But aside from what I want to live, there is also the question of how. The question of not just living the life I want, but living it right.

So, what does "right living" mean to me? My mind goes ( and has always gone) automatically to dying. When I die, what sort of a person do I want to be remembered as? What achievement do I want to grasp at as I lie gasping for my last breath? (sorry kids, that was morbid).

The answer I've come up with somewhere in the past ten years was a very simple one: I want to do right by people. I want to know I've done right by people, and I want people to say over my grave, at the very least "well, she always tried her best to do right by me."

Doing right by a person means, first and foremost, always remembering their humanity is as valuable and palpable as your own. Never treat anyone as lesser, no matter what you may think of them and they may think of you. Secondly, it means taking the time to give a fuck. To listen, to talk, even just to open a door or pick up a dropped mitten and return it to a stranger. Finally, it means trying to do things for others that will brighten their day. Reaching out in small ways that can make big differences in other people's lives. I'm not so good at this last one, I don't think. Its something I would like to work on. Recently I have been the recipient of just such a gesture, finding a surprise card and bit of cross-stitch in my mailbox at school, which put a smile on my face. I feel like if I could remember to do more of these neat little things that let people know that I'm out there, that I care, and that I value them, I'd be doing a much better job of doing right by them.

And lets face it, I've had my times when I've failed miserably at doing right by people. I have been selfish. I have lied. At some point or another I have done all of those things that qualify as doing wrong by a person (short of stealing and murdering, I suppose). But I guess those sorts of mistakes are just part of being human. Life is, if nothing else, a learning process, and I hope that by the end of mine, I will have truly learned to do my absolute best by everyone I come into contact with.

An unreasonable goal? Maybe.
But something worth striving for?
Definitely.

Fly home

Another entry in my christmas journal, which is really becoming more of an art/writing collage journal of MAYHEM.

ahem

This little scene works off of an art technique I learned in grade four: colorful crayon background, black construction paper (in this case newsprint) foreground. Always wanted to do this again, because I wasn't very good at it in the fourth grade.

A little better this time, maybe.

Easy Custard

Ingredients:

2 cups milk

1/3 cup sugar

2 large eggs

2 tbsp cornstarch

vanilla (to taste)

Directions:

Whisk together the eggs, set aside. Mix milk, sugar, and cornstarch in saucepan, whisking together. Allow milk to scald, whisking gently to prevent burning. Remove milk mixture from heat and add 2 tbsp of it to the egg mixture. Slowly add the egg mixture to the milk mixture while whisking. Return to heat, stirring lightly until mixture begins to thicken. Do not bring to a boil. Once thickening occurs, remove from heat, mix in vanilla and allow to cool thoroughly (transfer to another bowl for cooling--I cool mine in the fridge)

et voila!