Seals and kiwi and wine, oh my!*

George, Agnes, Emily, Vincent, and I went to New Zealand this past weekend**. It was super and beautiful and delicious all at the same time.

We saw animals!




We experienced stunning beauty!




We drank beer made from hops and just the right amount of heaven, all carefully packaged in very cheap six packs! (And the wine wasn't half bad neither!)




Vincent and I even went swimming at Kaiteriteri.




Mixed in with all that goodness was a fantastic road trip where we got to hang out with great friends and meet lovely new people (and eat ice cream!)

The full trip is detailed here... if you think you can handle it.

* Other possible titles include: Penguins and tuatara and beer, oh my! or Sheep and beer and takehe, oh my! or Cows and kea and hokey-pokey, oh my!

** Technically, George and I went for three and a half days; Agnes, two and a half days; and the hard-core Emily and Vincent, two days.

i looked up and ::WHABAM!::

Mildred and Bartholomew are back, people, BACK!

I'm absolutely thrilled. I had missed them for most of the spring because a silly-dilly Currawong had set up shop just in front of my balcony. Well, s/he (and the offspring) are gone and my rainbow-coloured joy-packers are BACK!

Welcome to summer!!

special populations

Question: Which special populations provide evidence for the modular view of language?

Answer: Canadians, Deaf people, Koreans who were captured during the war and later released by the Japanese, and Pygmies.

a running linzi is the happiest linzi.

i've been very busy lately. i went to france to see friends and family... and castles... and catacombs... and mummified cats! then, i had to go to america to be clever...and other things. then when i got home i found out that facebook finally decided to let me into my account after more than a bloody year and a half (a big thanks goes out to cecily on this one). don't worry-- i've already deactivated it; my way of sticking it to the big bad facebook. eh.

anyhoo--other than that, i've been too busy being a phd student and running. well, running mostly*. my physical therapist just gave me the all-clear (with conditions). i can't believe i hadn't run in eight months. i'm surprised i didn't die waiting--the situation was pretty dire. ask vincent, he'll tell you. in any case, i can't run long enough yet to get to centennial park (doh!), but here's a picture of where i want to be in a month or so.


stay tuned for more. more about running indubitably! but also vincent and i are off to new zealand in about a month. think: fur seals and little blue penguins. coffee and bbq's. a very cold ocean and hot springs...and of course, kiwis!





* Except if Trevor is reading this. In which case "being a phd student" has totally been topping my to-do list.

Dear America,

I'm coming. Not quite yet. But soon. First I have to go make a presence in France--I know--but it must be done. I have to walk around Paris, drink du bon cafe, and hang out at a castle--because that's what people do in France*.

But then ::dramatic music:: I'll be over. Get your cheap Mexican food and fake meat ready. Put on your best customer service and your greasy Waffle House apron. I'm ready for flip flops and fancy pants. Southern accents and ASL. Best friends and family. Sam Adams and Jack Daniels.

Until then,

Lindsay


* Ask Kyle, he knows.

meet piwi the kiwi

piwi is in rehab like me. except that he's already walking on a treadmill...

what a showoff!

See him strut his stuff!

when I grow up...

I wanna be a leafy sea dragon


I'd float around all day and look like a plant. It'd be glorious.

* Picture: Caelum Mero / One of the top photos for the New Scientist Eureka Prize: see them all

lindsay is still on crutches.

crutches make life boring. you know what else makes life boring? hip arthroscopies. they're even worse than crutches.

feel free to come over and make me less bored.

::insert witty title here::

Summary: Lindsay got a hip arthroscopy and now she's a sleepy monster who eats everything in sight. She also can't wait to go running. But mostly, she thinks about nothing and has spent her last days lalala-ing about.

It should all be a bit embarrassing, but to be honest she doesn't care enough to be embarrassed. And although she tries to kind of feel bad about that--her preference for inattention cannot be dissuaded. She blames the fairly weak pain pills and her stellar intolerance for anything narcotic.

She will get on with writing blogs later. Until then, she has some brownies to bake and some tv to not really watch.

what i've been up to: alleged money laundering and watching my husband kick some crazy butt in tennis

As many of you know my long awaited hip arthroscopy is in two weeks. I can barely contain myself with joy. Except when the shooting pain in my leg reminds me of why I'm getting surgery in the first place, then there is little joy. But no matter-- in two weeks time I'll be on the road to my next marathon!

In the meantime, I've been busy trying to get ahead on all my work. Also, we're in the midst of organizing several trips: France/ the States in September and October and then New Zealand and Tasmania in December! During all this funness I was paypal-ed a certain amount of money and subsequently was sent an email from the great Paypal themselves. I quote,

We are contacting you because changes to Australian anti-money laundering laws require PayPal to confirm the account information of its customers whose accounts reach a specific transaction level.

I won't go into details because they are too dumb, but I will say it was all an incredible waste of a Friday morning that I will never get back. Thank you Australia, again, for your impeccable rationale and sense of security. Really.

But don't worry my friends--the day got better! That afternoon Vincent and I headed to Sydney Olympic Park for a tennis tournament. I read about semantic structure of nouns while Vincent crushed his first opponent. Then after a short sojourn to the pub, we headed back for a second match. I made friends with some Japanese chic and we made the pieces for a kusudama ball. And Vincent won a three set match against a crazy person. Seriously. Crazy. He'd scream angry compliments at Vincent and throw his racket very very far when he missed a shot. Interesting way to play.

So, now it's Saturday and Vincent is headed back to Olympic Park. I won't be joining because it's Emily's birthday tonight, but let's hope the weather holds and Vincent plays some good tennis!

this is what more happiness looks like

my acetabelum is trying to murder me

Indirectly of course...which is the sneakiest type of murder

let's not kid ourselves

To make matters worse, the rest of my hip joint has been recruited for this dirty dirty plan. While I'm unsure the cause of this ill-will, I am certain that the result will be death precipitated by a hate spiral, or several.

Or maybe I'll just hurt to death. I mean, it's possible. It's also possible I'm being dramatic. But since I'm rarely dramatic, I can't help but expect the worst.

In everyday language, my hip socket sucks at its job. Specifically, the labrum, or the tissue that lines the socket and kindofsortof forms a suction that holds the head of the femur to my body, is a sissy. Stupid sissy labral tissue. It couldn't handle something-- gymnastics, water skiing, running, who flippin' knows--and now it's torn under the pressure.

Like I said, a sissy.

A deadly deadly sissy.

I'm tired.

And I want to GO RUNNING!

Instead, I have a bottle of wine and I'm stuck with some episode of Glee.

AGH! That's it. Please someone check on me tomorrow... wine and Glee can be murderous--murder without motive = un*trace*able.

As I already said: my acetabelum is trying to murder me.

this is what happiness looks like.

sloth love - the amphibian avenger

this is it people.

Sloth love - The Amphibian Avenger

Posted using ShareThis

and while you're at it, be super cool and Adopt-A-Sloth!

j'adore les pelicans

A few photos from our day-trip to the Hawkesbury River.

(Click here to go to the photo album).

retrievers in tutus make me happy

...but not as happy as ginormous basset-wiener dogs jumping over styrofoam.

The Surry Hills dog showcase, as part of the Surry Hills Festival, should not be missed. Bright and early Saturday morning all the neighborhood pooches got together and strutted their stuff. It was awesome. There was a little-sized dog race, a medium-sized dog race, and a large-sized dog race (where the greyhounds obstinately showed they were retired).

Then they had an obstacle race where the dogs had to jump over "hurdles". The crowd favourites, a golden retriever and a super large basset hound, stole the show as they simply didn't understand why their owners would want them to step over some styrofoam. The retriever finally exhausted from trying to figure it all out just laid down on the course lapping up all the applause.

I want a dog now. Vincent's mean though and won't let me have one.

hoopla!

This Easter long weekend Darling Harbour is hosting a Hoopla Festival. What is that you ask?Well it's just what it sounds like: 4 days * 100s of death-defying stunts * thousands of laughs

OOoooooohhhhhh! AHHHhhhhhhhh!

There is a big top and a tiny top. Contortionists and jugglers and magicians dazzle you with their oddly-developed skills. And most said that for fifty bucks, they'd go home with you to continue the fun. Hm.

Vincent and I agree that the Controlled Falling Experiment is the best. Three guys go through a series of "experiments" of acrobatics, gymnastics, and of course...falling with all sorts of contraptions and props. It is an elegant and spectacular show. Go see it.

Controlled Falling Experiment

Aerialist Nat Harris

Bendy Em the Contortionist

linguistics is good for business...beer business, that is.

Direct from www.news.com.au

A BREWER has won his fight to market a beer named after the Austrian village of F**king. The Sun reported today European Union officials originally rejected the brand "F**king Hell beer" on the grounds that it contained a swear word. But after the brewery proved the village actually existed, officials were forced to back down. Brewery spokesman Stefan Fellenberg said: "In German the word for a lager beer is a Helles Beer, so we have also patented the name F**king Hell, which means lager from F**king of course.

"I don't understand why the patents office think of something else. They must have dirty minds."

The village of F**king, to the north of Salzburg, close to the German border, has been in the headlines in the past, because of its unusual name. Now it seems the village has tired of fighting its popularity and is set to cash in. Last year Mayor Franz Meindl complained that tourists were flocking to the village to steal the road signs. The bizarre name is understood to come from a sixth century noble called Lord Focko, with 'ing' being old German for 'family of'. The German pronunciation is different from the English. Mr Meindl added: "I am looking forward to getting the first-crate. Until then I'm reserving judgement. But maybe it could be good for local industry." Read more about F**king Hell beer at The Sun.

It's all true-- GoogleMaps has verified the city's existence. Thank you GoogleMaps.

the sugar momma and the prostidude?

Read the latest on Language Log about our dilemma-- or not really, but it's tangentially related and completely hilarious.

Mangling the prostidude.

I know. I KNOW. I'm supposed to be writing insightful and smart things about lexicalised depiction.

But the going is slow.

Plus, we still don't have a ceiling. And my hip is still broken.

AND IT'S RAINING.

So, why don't you cut me some slack and post it to me. To show me that you care.

... after you read about prostidudes though of course.

gettin' the sugar

What do you call a pretty boy, a handsome boy; but a who does not have a job and is the boyfriend of a woman who is wealthy.

This question was posed to me today by a student working on a translation assignment (only god knows for which language or which class). The student thought you might call this person a 'gigolo,' but I suggested that might mean something else.

My first guess is that it's a sugar momma's lover. But does English have a specific lexical item to designate that person? We have sugar daddy and sugar momma...but what do you call the people getting the sugar?!

HELP! I cannot possibly concentrate on my PhD when this pressing question is taking up all my brain space. I thank you in advance for your thoughts on this matter.

glenbrook: an entrance to a wonderful wilderness

When George and Agnes invited me to tagalong on an upcoming bushwalk to investigate some aboriginal cave art, I of course said yes. I mean, who doesn't love a 4 hour hike that's kind of difficult in the Blue Mountains during the summer?* And cave art?! BRING IT!

Our hike started in Glenbrook:

I knew right then that this was going to be a tough day. Glenbrook was no joke--they even had the cutest nursery right next to the train station (where I later bought some super cool plants to take home with me).

Then, not five minutes into things we see our first signs of wildlife; a blue mountain puma! Vicious for sure and just a little bit pretentious.

We hurried by, praying the little crazy cat stayed put so we could continue our hike without looking over our shoulders every three minutes. But then it got more interesting.

An albino Australian dingo (that apparently just had a perm)! These buggers are almost extinct-we could not believe our good luck! I snapped a photo before it became aggressive and started chasing us for any small children we might be hiding in our bags or bacon Cheetos. Dingos love Cheetos.

The minute we entered the national park, the scenery changed. All the concrete gave way to narrow, unkept trails with ferns and gum trees and wildflowers reaching up over our heads.

I love the forest. It's so peaceful and quiet...and green...and full of.... AGHHHHHH!!

I'm so glad Em and George had the lead at this point--and I have to admit it was quite confusing to see them running for their lives while having a strange chuckle on their faces. At first I thought we might be running from a wombat. But then I thought, "George would never run from a wombat." That's when I realised it was an 8 foot diamond python--> actually, I take that back. We had no idea it was a diamond python. It could have been the most fatal taipan on the planet for all we knew. But it was at least 8 feet long. Steve; the most bravest man I know, fended it off for us with a big stick. After that we picked up the pace to our halfway point where we stopped for some refreshments and to look at the "surely this is a crime scene" tree.

After resting a bit from the last two hours of super-excitement (oh yeah--i forgot to mention that I took a typical-linzi-fall on some slippery rocks while examining some aboriginal tool grooves etched into the river rocks), we headed to Red Hands Cave.

Get it? Red Hands? This is some of the only existing aboriginal art in New South Wales. The park has had to put a fence up around it so people don't vandalize it. Why in the world a person would vandalize an archeological treasure such as this, I have no idea. Humph. But, the cave and the art were beautiful and I'm so glad we made the hike to see it!

Halfway done. We looped back and made the final few kilometers on the same path we started on. The day was getting hot, and we were getting a bit tired. Finally arriving back in Glenbrook, some ice cream and sugary drinks went down nicely (while we waited for a few others in our party to come back from a hilly de-tour).

The best part of the day came last.

A yellow-tailed black cockatoo. Sigh.

Stay tuned for more bushwalking adventures! ::dramatic musical exit::

* Actually, Vincent might not--he blew us off to go play tennis. (To be honest, he's just probably still scared to hike with me after the incident in the Royal National Park. ::coughchickencoughcough::).

** George, Agnes, Emily, Steve, and me!

i heart cricket.

Not really-- I just said that to get you interested. Lindsay loves cricket? Whaaaa?

But how can I pass up tickets to a 20/20 game between Australia and the West Indies. I mean c'mon--a three hour cricket game is as good as it's gonna get!

You see, Bec and her dad has season tickets to the Sydney Cricket Ground. And I'm about a 15 minute walk away from the Sydney Cricket Ground. Plus, they sell beer there. A match made in heaven I say.

Oh yeah. I almost forgot. Vincent came too. While I love beer, he actually is interested in the game; i.e. he knows the rules and can figure out who's winning based on the score. Bec and him talked allllllll night about hitting wickets, making sixes, and how many overs some dude got. I know right ::rolls eyes::.

I got as far as knowing Australia were in yellow and the West Indies were in red... And that Australia kicked the West Indies' butt. That's not too bad considering I never watch sports*.

Maybe there's hope for me yet. I think Bec believes I have potential because at every sporting function we go to, she calmly and clearly explains the rules to me and helps me follow the game. She's a good friend. One day she'll learn.

* Except tennis. But that's for the cute boys.

"won't" is an adverb...obviously. just like i'm a noun.

Queensland rocks my grammatical world.

Go here for the full story-- Weird Grammar (via Language Log)

P.S. Who is this David Barry guy--I think I have a crush on him.

i've always wanted to know how to do that!

While looking for a suitable image to use in a figure I was making of a real space blend I came across this website... that actually explains how to open a door using a key.

How to use key to open a door?

You're having a problem to open a locked door. But you're sure that you have the key to access into the place.

First, make sure that you have the key/access into that restricted place.

And of course, the door that's blocking your way. Instead of bashing or running through it, we'll use the civilized way.

By having the key on your hand, slip in the key onto the door knob's keyhole.

Just make sure that it's inside fully.

And it's optional that you can make a 90 degrees twist counterclockwise or clockwise to open the door. If you still can't seem to turn the knob and open the door, make sure and recheck if it's the correct key, else you'll break it.

Mission complete, you're in!

OMG- Thank you so much Internet! I've been waiting outside my apartment for days now trying to figure out how to get in. It's so simple! How could I have missed it?!

for the love of flamingos, get that snow out of there!

This is the Riverbanks Zoo in Columbia SOUTH CAROLINA. Seriously America, get your act together or I demand that you send those beautiful, super awesome pink birds to Taronga! Sydney has some heat to spare!

um.

This is how our morning started. Well, actually that's not true. It really started at 4:30am when a 'new' hole allowed water to stream out of the ceiling into one of our numerous buckets (thanks to those who have lent us buckets!). Now I imagine how bad Chinese Water Torture would be. I got up to go run. Vincent managed to go back to sleep--he's insane like that. Then at 7:38 an insurance assessor came to look at the problem (who I thought would be coming at 8:30 and who would actually be a handyman come to fix it). Then, seriously, THREE minutes later the ceiling collapsed.

Two good things happened this morning. 1) I got to run in the city as the sun rose. 2) The drip drip drip has stopped.

centennial park has the best tree ever.

Vincent and I went running at Centennial park the other day to make fun of all my snow-locked friends (no harm meant, y'all). It was hot and humid and generally summer-y. I love running here because there are some flippin' awesome trees. This one is by far my favourite. It is ridiculously big and the roots are super super cool. Crazy banyans (or some other kind of tree).