KFC

Back in 1991, Kentucky Fried Chicken changed its name to KFC. As of today, I've heard reasons for them eliminating each word in their old name.

Kentucky: Kentucky passed a law charging for each commercialized use of the state's name. That's why you don't hear Randy Newman's "Old Kentucky Home" anymore. (I totally thought this was true for years, but today I thought at it a bit and find my reasoning shaky. I can't find any internet evidence that this is so, and it seems... plum crazy.)

Fried: Fried now has unhealthy connotations. (This is the reason on snopes. Fascinating, isn't it.)

Chicken: Genetically engineered super chickens with four legs and eight breasts can no longer be legally called "chicken". Instead, KFC. (I think they probably could legally be called chicken.)

I'm finally working on my poster, so I naturally have lots of ephemera to chat about.

First, it seems I did a terrible job collecting data this year. I should have given data collection an entire day and not lost my notes on the control transect. I should also have more than one control transect, although the Forest Service didn't plan their project so I could do that, and the nearest meadow to the experiment is a SPI clearcut. I guess I should have avoided getting my camera stolen, or gotten those photos off my dad's camera before he deleted them. I was reeeaaallllly depressed about the whole thing- fussing in little mental circles, trying to figure out how I could prevent doing something similar in the future- when C pointed out that buying a laptop and a backup system went a long way towards preventing future data loss. I guess I already fixed that problem then. Huh. Still, sorting out the data is proving to be a terrible pain- I wish I'd started sooner.

I'm listening to every song in my iTunes library that has the word "bird" somewhere in the notes. I thought this was a clever way to listen to both "Birds Flying Home" and everything by Redbird without bothering to make an actual playlist. I forgot that I have the Peterson Guide to North American Bird Calls in my library. You might think it's all melody, but most of it is rattling and chattering and horrible moans. If I had to rename this site, I'd name it "Least Bittern". Also, the cats are more disturbed by my owl call imitations than the actual owl calls. It's tough toes for them, because I really want to be able to do the hidden owl magic trick. I bet you a dollar Assisi used that one.

Poster Madness

Every single search function on my computer and my online accounts has "trout" as the last search. All of them.

Girl Scout Cookies

"Um, I'd love to help your daughter with Girl Scouts, but those cookies are delicious, and I have a thing where I don't eat things that aren't graded for human consumption. Non food grade cotton oil is scary, and we both know I wouldn't throw cookies away...."

Next Bubble: the Wedding Industrial Complex

I break the promise again while I wait for my ancient computer to move files around.

So y'all have already heard ALL about the event planning friends. I was a little surprised to have such a business in my wheelhouse- in my mind, all my friends are botanists and programmers. I'm not too startled when someone shows up with a grown-up job, (Oh you are a teacher? We are OLD.) but the whole quasi artistic/events industry has always seemed to belong to another class of person. You know, the people who'd like my taste in music, but for the wrong reasons. People who like the Be Good Tanyas for their harmonic structures instead of because it's field worker music. People who believe that pop country can be listened to ironically. People who eat a lot of local food and will be the first to die when the crash comes.

Right, that's a little bit of personal insecurity neatly exposed.

But I was looking through my Facebook friends, and I realized that I have three (3) wedding photographer friends. I have four friends who sell things (laser etched cutting boards! embroidered handkerchiefs!) that seem to exist only as wedding gifts and favor fodder. I have one friend (and her crowd) who do flowers for ceremonies. I am also apparently blessed with six acquaintances who are willing to officiate at weddings.

That's too many people working in the wedding industry. The center cannot hold.

Pfeffernusse

Many of you have heard me expound on my family's recurring pfeffernusse madness. There's an old family recipe which involves a great deal of powdered sugar, a very slow oven, and a toothbreaking peppercorn lurking deep within the adamantine cookie. The smallest recipe is for one gross (144 cookies) and my great-aunts and cousins have been known to blithely double or triple it it. It's a given that we'd receive a several boxes containing a dozen of these terrifying pastries- my sainted mother even succumbed one year, though she hates the damn things. I've been insulated from the recipe- to avoid triggering the syndrome.

C and I were at Trader Joe's this week, and he snuck a box of pfeffernusse into the shopping basket. They're an entirely different cookie- tender little spice cakes with a dusting of powdered sugar. I'd like to make some, but I fear looking up a recipe will only call down the madness.

How do you get tiny spice cakes to not get all dry and hard?

I managed to avoid setting anyone on fire last night, so you know it's got to be in my top twenty New Year's Eves.