The Dallas Miracle

reddalek

Last night, a miracle occurred in Dallas airport. Randi and I were having dinner before our flight home. It was Katie’s annual Chicken Caesar Salad Day, so I was providing the chicken and Randi was bringing the Caesar salad. I got up to find the loo, and ran into our server who pointed me down the airport corridor, “about 25 metres that way”. I thanked him and went on my way, and it took me a few steps to realise… metres? He said metres?

I asked him about it later, and he explained that he studies engineering and “thinks in metres” before suppressing a thinly-disguised shudder at the “other measurements”. This is encouraging. This is the spark of the future. If the metric system can infiltrate Texas, it’s only a matter of time before the US goes the whole 8.23 metres and converts.

If you recognise this road, you were really paying attention in GCSE History

If you recognise this road, you were really paying attention in GCSE History

We were in Dallas and the surrounding metroplex (the actual term) for Randi’s grandmother’s birthday and a mini family reunion. I already knew most people (although hello to the person who only knew me from this blog!) and it was especially fun to see the youngest cousins again. We stayed with Randi’s immediate family in Grapevine, a town with a cheerful and extensive main street which includes an impressively stocked ‘British Emporium’ for some reason, but we did briefly venture into Dallas proper to visit Dealey Plaza and the Sixth Floor Museum. This is the infamous ‘Texas School Book Depository’ from which JFK was shot, a tragedy which presumably could have been averted by arming school books with machine guns. (Back in Grapevine we passed a guy wearing an NRA baseball cap, and in my superhero fantasy I was able to confront him rather than tutting behind his back and donating to Everytown to make myself feel better. Take that, anonymous man!)

Pancake Day 2018

Pancake Day 2018

Earlier this month, it was Pancake Day! Unlike Chicken Caesar Salad Day I am no less than 100% committed to Pancake Day, as this video surely makes clear:

This level of coordination might explain why I slipped and fell on the ice in Chicago last week, gifting my thigh a giant ‘nebula purple’ bruise (©Katie Self) and giving me a great excuse to lie back on the sofa and watch the Winter Olympics. It has never really occurred to me to watch the Winter Olympics before, but at Randi’s urging I gave it a try, and aside from the ice dancing it was pretty great. This was also a good moment to see Icarus, an incredible documentary which we were lucky enough to watch in a cinema, by a filmmaker who stumbled into an amazing relationship with the lab director at the centre of the Russian doping scandal. I was dimly aware of the doping story, and had obviously noticed the Russian athletes competing under the ‘Olympic Athletes from Russia’ banner, but understanding the events which led to this moment was eye-opening. Highly recommended.

And when you’ve done that, you have to watch the three-part BBC series on IKEA, Flatpack EmpireIt’s totally compelling, and it’s the type of cosy BBC2 programme I need more of in my life.

We saved the world

We saved the world

Also in the last fortnight: a traditional Valentine’s Day at La Scarola, a dipping of our toes into watching The Crown (I could be wrong and sometimes the origin of phrases can surprise you, but it felt very wrong to hear about Churchill on the “campaign trail”) and a winning game of the co-operative Pandemic with Toggolyn. Although it was touch and go in the end. If there’s a real global pandemic I don’t think we are the people to call.

This past weekend I had a “mystery weekend” on my calendar courtesy of Randi, which I figured was probably a trip to somewhere either (a) objectively interesting to visit, or (b) in a new state. On Friday night it turned out we were on our way to Atlanta, which ticks both boxes! What follows is our busy 48 hours in Georgia’s capital. Ignore all the grey skies and raincoats… in comparison to Chicago, it was basically tropical.

Welcome to Atlanta!

Welcome to Atlanta!

Visual metaphor for the rain

Visual metaphor for the rain

So, a couple of things about Atlanta. As its Wikipedia entry notes, the city was burned to the ground during the Civil War, before regrowing to prominence as a well-connected railway hub rather than a classic southern seaport city such as Charleston. Walking around, therefore, it doesn’t feel so different to a typical Midwestern city, aside from the large number of construction signs which begin with the word “pardon”. (“Pardon our progress!”) That said, it was pleasantly and surprisingly walkable, and the city has invested in some dedicated walking/biking routes as well as a rapid transit system. And to Georgia’s credit, Atlanta is the state capital rather than a town in the middle of nowhere as often seems to happen. I suspect, however, that the politics inside the golden-domed Capitol building is quite at odds with the city around it. There are still four large plaques by the entrance, erected by the “Daughters of the Confederacy” in 1920, retelling the capture of the city by the “enemy” Union forces. Travelling in the age of Trump can make you twitchy about such things.

Wouldn't win any prizes in a Historical Argument & Practice essay, but still

Wouldn’t win any prizes in a Historical Argument & Practice essay, but still

Because fact into doubt won't go

Because fact into doubt won’t go

This was particularly true on the tour of CNN’s global headquarters, which is one of the major tourist attractions in the city. In ordinary times, I wouldn’t exactly be a CNN ‘fan’, but this is 2018 and the world is a strange place, so we went on the tour. At first everything was lighthearted and jovial, our guide cracking a joke at the BBC’s expense in the same way the guide on the BBC Broadcasting House tour will throw shade at CNN. But then a solitary guy in a leather jacket starts asking repeated questions about political bias before launching into an intense monologue about news “propaganda”, while the poor tour guide puts on a neutral listening face and murmurs “fair enough” and I wonder if we’re all about to die. I’m not sure if this guy was expecting to stumble across the top-secret Fake News studio on a public tour, but it was a good microcosm of the era we’re living through.

My "always pleased to see a railway" face

My “always pleased to see a railway” face

Later I got cocky (and then wet)

Later I got cocky (and then wet)

Oh, Jimmy...

Oh, Jimmy…

Atlanta is also home to the Jimmy Carter Presidential Library, so I was excited to expand my celebrated art series of stupid poses with presidents. Disappointingly, though perhaps in keeping with the humble legacy of the Carter administration, the best I could find was this photo on the wall. (Later I found an actual statue outside the State Capitol, which made up for it.) The most striking thing I learned about Carter was that his Oval Office furniture arrangement was all out of whack, with back-to-back sofas and a desk in the middle of the room. Clearly things were never going to go well with that layout.

The most significant figure from Atlanta, of course, was Martin Luther King. The National Park Service maintain a historic site including a museum, his birth home and the historic Ebenezer Baptist Church where he preached. If you visit you can sit and listen to a recording of one of his sermons, and I like to think it wasn’t a coincidence that they were playing the one where King warns against cynical advertising of cars a week after the very same speech was literally used to sell cars during the Super Bowl.

An actual statue!

An actual statue!

Ebenezer Baptist Church

Ebenezer Baptist Church

A puffin!

A puffin!

We had planned to see the World of Coca Cola, but there is a limit to how ‘ironically’ you can do such things, so we opted instead to see the cool fish, amazing dolphins and cute puffins at the famous Georgia Aquarium. And while I realise this is an awkward-as-hell transition, it does remind me of the excellent seafood place we ate at on Saturday night too… 😳

Other food highlights this weekend included the obligatory fried chicken with biscuits and gravy [sic] and Mary Mac’s, a giant ‘tea room’ with a home-cooked vibe. I wish we could have stayed longer, because I’m not done with their side plates!

Fish, searching desperately for the plastic they are used to

Fish, searching desperately for the plastic they are used to

Choose your own adventure

Choose your own adventure

Atlanta, you were an awesome surprise.

Here are just a few of the things I lost when my laptop was stolen from our apartment:

  • Audio recordings of my dad making up stories for me when I was a child, which I originally captured on audio cassette with my very own portable recorder
  • Silly videos from the very last day of secondary school
  • All of those history essays I wrote in university
  • About 28 years of photos
  • My first ever conversation with Randi

I didn’t lose any of these things for very long, of course, because my next step was to download everything exactly as it was from a CrashPlan backup. A week later, I’m typing this on a swanky, self-indulgent new laptop purchase with my digital life all restored. So I can get on with feeling nerdishly excited over this slim new computer which recognises my face, or shame-faced that we hadn’t got around to buying renters insurance yet, or philosophical that the forensics officer from the Chicago police who came round “mostly handles homicides” so our Friday night drama was just some light relief by comparison, or confused that whoever broke into our apartment decided not to take my laptop’s power cord or the actual cash sitting on the coffee table. That’s all fine, I can cope with all of these feelings very easily.

But – public service announcement – backups are good. Would recommend. Now all I have to worry about is the @ sign in the wrong place on the keyboard 😉

If you've recently picked up this laptop from a Chicago pawn shop, I have a power cord to sell you

If you’ve recently picked up this laptop from a Chicago pawn shop, I have a power cord to sell you

Aside from being victims of minor crime we’ve had a relaxed few weeks, venturing outside for select activities such as a lovely catch-up night with Chloe and Aaron at Kingston Mines. Oh, and my first “proper” Super Bowl party on Sunday. I thought I’d already ticked this one off back in 2015 but apparently that didn’t count because (a) there was no chili cheese dip (b) we all fell asleep. Anyway, this time around I can rest easy thanks to our amazing hosts Ashley and Erik, who I last saw during our phone-banking on the Clinton campaign. (Remember that? Seems like a good idea now, doesn’t it?) The food was amazing – I’m still a little full of queso – the crowd was pleasantly moderate on the “caring about sport” spectrum, and the underdogs won by doing lots of running and less stopping than usual. Huzzah.

Recipe for Vegetable Frittatas (Serves 4)

  1. Go to Catherine and AJ’s.
  2. Eat some of their already-baked biscuits (in the American sense) as an appetiser.
  3. Have everyone put a slightly different combination of vegetables into their own skillet on the hob. Consider including bacon as a power vegetable.
  4. Add eggs and cheese. Think you’ve added enough cheese? You haven’t. Add more cheese.
  5. Bake!
  6. Spread the word about Catherine and AJ’s as a ‘social media influencer’.
Frittatas

Frittatas

I think I write the same thing every January, but here it is again: January is a time to stay indoors and plan trips for the rest of the year. We have been pretty successful at planning our big summer trip… but unfortunately this is still seven months away, so I’ll need to improvise some more blog content between now and then.

So let’s see… we played Codenames with Toggolyn and friends, in which it was demonstrated again that Codenames is a stressful, stressful game which lures couples into massively overthinking each other. Much easier to play with someone you’ve never met before. We had dinner with Randi’s cousin, Arielle, and successfully lured her to Chicago. (Well, it wasn’t really us. It was a job. But we didn’t put her off.) I got to see Saujanya after way too long, albeit with the good excuse that she lives in Australia now, and through her I also got to see Katie & Mike again: a couple I know largely through Goodreads, but are great. We also dogsat Willow again, played more Citadels, had brunch with Michaela and Andy, and celebrated Julie’s birthday by watching a live US Senate feed as the government shut down*. Oh, America.

Randi the Wizard

Randi the Wizard

*Blogging behind the scenes trivia: this statement is actually a half-truth. Really, we celebrated Julie’s birthday on one evening, and then the next evening Joe and Julie also happened to come over with doughnuts – we are neighbours, after all – and we watched the Senate vote. But this was extraneous detail, so I simply merged the two nights together and retold them as if they had been a single event. Do you feel deceived? Just wait till you find out that Randi isn’t actually a wizard…

Five candidates will enter the theatre in turn.

The first candidate is a 54 year old white man from a famous political family. He wears a suit with slightly baggy trousers and a tie in London Overground orange. He starts by introducing his daughter, who is in the audience, and he hopes that all of his children will decide to keep living in Illinois when they grow up. He complains that the state funds its schools through local property taxes rather than a progressive income tax. He believes this may have something to do with corrupt elected officials who also work as property tax appeals lawyers, and attacks the notorious machine politics of the state.

The second candidate is a 52 year old white man who has a estimated net worth of $3.5 billion. He does not wear a suit, because he is really rich, and really rich people do not need to wear suits. He does, however, have highly polished brown shoes. He also supports a progressive income tax, has ‘put out a plan’ for expanding healthcare and makes a supportive passing reference to a $15 minimum wage. He also says “I’ve worked harder than anyone else on…” multiple times. An audience member asks a detailed question about the backlog in processing rape kits. The candidate is awaiting the results of a commission on the issue.

The third candidate is a 40 year old white man and former mathematician at the University of Chicago. He wears a suit with a pale pink tie and does not have many prepared remarks, deferring instead to audience questions. He does, however, also support a progressive income tax. He does not support lowering the age at which teenagers should be tried as adults for property crimes, nor does he support term limits for ordinary legislators. His speech pattern drifts in and out of emphasis, as if he has been told to practice slowing down at key moments. Occasionally he responds to an injustice with a trio of synonyms (“it is unconscionable… it is immoral… it is wrong”). He is helpful in providing unflattering background notes on the second candidate.

We do not stay for the final two candidates, and nor does most of the audience. It is difficult to judge which candidate would be best for the role of Governor, given that the actual job has very little to do with public speaking abilities. On the walk home, Randi convinces me that her rank ordering is probably right. The primaries are in March, followed by the general election in November. I will watch with interest.