I was in DC with my parents for (American) Thanksgiving this year. And though I had been to the city several times before, I had never made it to a monument save that presidential phallus that sits between the National Mall and the Reflecting Pool. It was my mom's idea to take one of the tour buses that ran around to all the memorials at night.
One of the first stops was the monument dedicated to Thomas Jefferson, the president credited with the creation of the Declaration of Independence. I was standing there peering up at the text beside my mom and said without thinking, "It's funny, how this statement is
still being discussed today."
"How so?" she asked. I realised it was too late to take those last words back. I knew that not long ago, my parents' church had a petition speaking against gay marriage. I didn't know whether they had signed it, but I did know my parents were firm believers in the faith.
"Well right now it's the discussion of gay marriage here in the States, you know, with Proposition 8," I admitted. I cringed inside.
A moment of silence. Then, co-opting a poignant quote from Animal Farm, she said, "I guess here, some men are considered more equal than others."
CONSUMED: Thomas Jefferson Memorial; Washington, DC
One of my suppliers at work decided for this holiday season to send out boxes of chocolates to their customers. Except this was no ordinary box of chocolates. They had custom chocolate plaques made with their company logo. Talk about over-the-top branding (especially for a science reagent company).
I was in DC with my parents for (American) Thanksgiving this year. And though I had been to the city several times before, I had never made it to a monument save that presidential phallus that sits between the National Mall and the Reflecting Pool. It was my mom's idea to take one of the tour buses that ran around to all the memorials at night.
You know it's Christmas time in New York when the street vendors start selling trees. I actually don't mind that these tree stalls take up the majority of the sidewalk; it helps get me in the spirit of the season, especially when I refuse to go anywhere near retail shopping areas of the city. What I don't understand is who are the people that buy the large trees? No one I know (except for those lucky kids in the loft apartments) has the space for such enormous conifers. And surely not in Manhattan.
I think I knew that the Wright Brothers were bike makers. But maybe that knowledge was overshadowed by their other work. (We so often forget the history behind certain breakthroughs; they used bikes to test out methods of stability and control for their flyer.)
My roommate Dory knit a fork. Yes, a fork. Out of yarn. It's pretty darn cute, and for the longest time, it sat in our cutlery drawer along with all its steel brethren. Until we had our brunch party, when Dory decided to put it out with the other forks on the table for people to use. That's when our cat found it, and all of a sudden this inanimate piece of knitting was transformed into our cat's favourite toy. She didn't even need us to play with her. She would throw it up in the air herself and catch it all on her own. She would toss it across the room and then chase after it. Never before have I seen something so lifeless receive so much love.
