You’ll probably need to click through to the original site (a wonderful exhibition of WWI and WWII posters) to read this:
Eat local. Preserve at the height of the harvest. Keep chickens.
Could be 1917, could be 2010.
It’s like real-life Happy Feet!
How I hate it when people live up to stereotypes.
I look at the G20 coverage and that’s all I see. We had people marching peacefully for good causes, whose messages will now never be heard. We had the riot-helmeted cops marching in rows. We had idiots who like to break things and nobody stopped them despite 900 arrests — at a billion dollars of security, that’s $1,111,111 per arrest, never mind that the vast majority had charges dropped and were released in short order. We had media covering the people who break things instead of the people with interesting things to say. We had protest-tourists who stood around uselessly watching things go pear-shaped, tweeting and snapping photos. And we had millions of us who just stayed home and let it all happen.
I hate it all — well, all except the folks who were marching peacefully and using their democratic right to have their say. I’m fully in support of peaceful demonstrations.
But how can the Toronto police, who normally let small children pat the noses of horses in riot gear, who line Yonge and high-five a million people and politely confiscate open beers whenever we win any sort of sports thing, who happily close off part of University Avenue for two weeks while Tamils have their say in front of the US Consulate, have allowed themselves to be such immense jerks?
How can anyone — dressed in name-brand black outfits (note Fila pants) and Kevlar body armour — have such an overwhelming sense of entitlement that they think randomly smashing up other people’s stuff is either fun or OK?
How can anyone — given the presence of fifty or more other nearby observers — stand there blinking like sheep and watch someone smash stuff up? I mean, look at these people in the background; they’re pretending it’s TV:
Shame, shame. Also, as we would say in college: WEAK. Dudes, whatever kind of society you’re advocating for, count me the hell OUT. That kind of crap is why I stayed home.
I think that was probably our collective mistake, giving in to the imposed fear and inconvenience and failing to say “eff it, I’m a Canadian, this is my city, and I’m going to continue to live my life,” going to our offices and restaurants and shows and walking our dogs and generally continuing life downtown despite the lack of transit or the presence of eleventy-gazillion police in riot gear or whatever. After all, what’s the point of inflicting house arrest on ourselves in the name of security? Would this all have unfolded differently if we-the-people in our millions didn’t collectively abdicate our responsibility to be ourselves, thus leaving downtown a howling wasteland / combat zone where everyone present fell into one of four or five stereotypical roles? What if we kept the focus squarely where it belongs in a democracy such as ours: on freedom-to instead of freedom-from?
It makes no sense. None of it makes any sense. And it’s all very disappointing, to put it mildly.
THIS is my Toronto: police marching WITH today’s anti-brutality protestors.
This is also my Toronto, courtesy of a friend on Facebook (and if anyone runs across a link to the video, which was apparently on tonight’s news, I’d love to add it) edit – here it is:
…just saw what is probably my favourite video of the mayhem in Toronto this weekend: Some guy in a black shirt & bandana smashes the window of downtown electronics store and grabs something. This Joe walking by in a polo shirt & knapsack tackles him, takes away the thing, throws it back in the store, then just gets up and continues walking the direction he was going.
Thanks, Joe. You may have been the only honorable person in Toronto this weekend.
Airhorns were used for emergency signalling at the camp I went to as a child and then later worked at, so not only do they startle me in the usual way they activate my fight-or-flight response.
As a counsellor, three blasts on an airhorn meant we needed to do a water search. This meant running down to the lake while shedding clothes, ready to dive in immediately. If you want to see me rip my shirt off at high speed and go for a swim in my scanties, all you need to do is set off an airhorn near a body of water.
This is actually a more interesting article than one might guess by the title. As one might’ve expected, they find hunger does affect how we perceive risk and make decisions.
A few years ago there was a paper on how to get decisions made at conferences. The answer was, of course, to put the decision point right before lunch.
In honour of Bike Month, here’s how to die on a bicycle:
Fall under the rear wheels of a large vehicle (bus, dump truck, transport truck, etc.) which is turning or otherwise at an angle to the cyclist.
The Coroner’s Report from a decade or so ago has many more details, but that’s the easiest and most common way to manage it.
Happily, it’s easy to avoid, isn’t it? Just never ever allow your cycling self to be between the front and rear wheels of a large vehicle at or near an intersection. Simple. It’s not like you won’t notice they’re coming; those things make a ton of noise. So get out of their way. Don’t pull up on their right. If they’re behind you, take the lane so they can’t pull up on your left. Give them some space. Done.
I mention this because I think we need to remember what the primary danger is when cycling.
Is it the act of cycling itself? No. It’s pretty darn hard to kill yourself on a bike. If you try very hard and if you don’t wear a helmet you might manage it, but generally a fall won’t kill you.
On the other hand, on one discussion board I’m on, just this past weekend two participants were involved in serious car crashes. Luckily they’re (mostly) fine, but it’s not that hard to kill yourself in or with a car. People do it all the time. In fact it’s one of the most popular ways to die if you’re under 45 or so.
Think: how many people do you know, even very slightly, who have died in car crashes? I’m betting it’s a nonzero number. Someone from your high school class? A colleague? A friend of a friend? All of the above?
As a society we’ve somehow normalized a very substantial death rate due to motor vehicles and made it acceptable, just like we’re not especially fussed about the thousands of people who die each year of seasonal flu. Somehow we manage to delude ourselves into thinking that it all happens to other people when demonstrably it does not. We do the opposite when we think about cycling: we’re sure some jerk in an SUV will kill us, when in fact it’s wildly unlikely. As a society we completely suck at understanding risk.
Anyway, my point is that it’s not the bike that’s the danger here. And my other point is that as a cyclist even with millions of cars around it’s pretty hard to be killed in city traffic unless you do something foolish around the rear wheels of a very large vehicle.
So, bike commuting. It’s not as dangerous as you think. It’s often faster than either a car or the TTC, it’s definitely better exercise, and it’s probably more fun. Give it a try!
If you’re uncomfortable riding on your own, get someone experienced to ride with you the first few times if you like, but make sure they’re not Asshole Cyclists of the stop-sign-running, wrong-way-on-a-one-way-street-riding, weaving-in-and-out-of-traffic kind because the last thing Toronto needs is more of those jerks. Ask if they’ve taken a Can-Bike course, and book yourself into one. They’re good and they’ll give you both experience and confidence riding in traffic.
Aside from a bike, there’s other stuff that makes your riding life more pleasant. Here’s my list, but (as with baby supplies) what some people find absolutely necessary others find useless, so consider it just a starting point.
Well, except for a helmet. That’s not really optional if you prefer your brains on the inside of your head. Helmets are hot and mostly ugly but if you fall they reduce your chance of a head injury by (estimates vary) 63-88%. After the Ontario law requiring children to wear helmets came in, cycling deaths in that age group dropped by half. Sure, you might ride carefully and slowly but you never know what other people are going to do so best to wear the darn helmet.
Helmets have become both more comfortable and much cheaper in the past fifteen years, so it ought to be possible to find yourself something that fits you and doesn’t feel like your head is in a packing crate for a reasonable sum. If you have a micro-noggin like mine, go for a Giro. Otherwise you have a broad range of choices.
Don’t wear it on the back of your head; the front edge belongs two fingers above your eyes. This is so the helmet can protect your forehead. Frontal lobes are good things so you probably want to protect them.
Other stuff:
1. Gloves
Kind of like a helmet for your hands. You hardly need bike gloves for comfort over a typical commuting distance, but if you fall they’ll save the skin on your hands. I spend a lot of time typing for a living so I find this important. I buy very cheap gloves, since I’m not riding hundreds of km at a time and thus do not care about gel inserts and whatnot. I toss them in the washing machine every week (in a mesh bag) and dry them on the ends of my handlebars, so they don’t last forever but nor do they get really smelly.
For colder weather you can get a lobster-claw type of mitten-glove hybrid which is warmer than normal gloves but which still lets you brake and shift easily.
2. Lock(s)
I like to carry both a U-lock and a cable. Neither are top-of-the-line, but my theory is that if some evil bike thief sees two locks on my bike and one on the one next to it, mine is more likely to be the one that’s still there when I come out of the office at the end of the day.
If you can park your bike inside, do so.
3. Rack and pannier
A rear rack is pretty cheap and so is a low-end pannier or basket. If you have a rack and pannier (or two) you don’t have to carry your stuff in a backpack, which can be really sweaty. Those black wire baskets that attach to rear racks are cheap, permanently attached and foldable, so they’re a reasonable choice. Also, they hold a 12 of beer.
4. Water bottle cage and water bottle
It’s nice to be able to have a drink at red lights.
5. Lights
The law in Ontario says you have to have a front light and a rear light or reflector. This makes little sense. Unless you’re doing something deeply inadvisable, a front light isn’t all that helpful in a well-lit city setting. You can generally see where you’re going thanks to streetlights, and you can also see anyone coming toward you. A rear light lets people see you as they come up behind you in the dark, though, and THAT is important. So get both front and rear lights. There are lots of good, cheap LED options now, and it makes a HUGE difference in your visibility.
6. Bell
The law in Ontario calls for a bell, horn or gong. There’s a sad, sad lack of bike gongs out there.
A bell is nicer than a horn because you can ding lightly and politely to announce your presence without startling the heck out of someone.
7. Light-coloured cycling jacket with reflective stripe
If you’re riding at night this is a good idea. Never mind that it looks dorky.
8. Padded shorts
Again with the dork factor. I like my lady bits to stay unbruised, however, and I find my 10k commute is long enough for some serious discomfort if I don’t wear the shorts. If you have a reasonably short commute (or more durable bits) you might not need these.
I just wear any old t-shirt. Some people like those bike jersey things but they’re all made of polyester and they all seem to have pockets right in the sweatiest part of the small of your back. Bleah.
9. Bike computer
For data geeks. It’ll tell you how fast you’re going, your trip distance, and all that kind of stuff. Mine’s a really cheap one but I like having an odometer. It’s fun and motivating to watch it tick up and up.
10. Repair kit
This doesn’t have to carry anything major, just enough to fix a flat or otherwise get you home. Anything more serious than a flat and you’re going to want a bike shop, or at least somewhere that’s not the side of the road. My kit includes a tiny pump, a spare tire tube, some tire irons, two quarters (so I can use the air machine at a gas station), a subway token in case things REALLY break, a couple of wet wipes, and a really clever little carbon dioxide tire inflater device that’s like a teeny scuba tank full of compressed air. It’s the size of my thumb and it holds enough air to fill one of my tires very well in three seconds with zero effort. I highly recommend them.
The whole kit probably sounds huge but in reality it’s about half the size of a kleenex box. The tube is the biggest space hog.
A patch kit would be smaller than a tube and probably more environmentally friendly but in practice I never patch punctured tubes. It takes ages and it’s messy and unreliable, at least when I do it. I find it’s easier to just chuck a new tube on there, deploy the CO2 inflator and get back on the road.
11. Patience
There’s zero point darting in and out of car traffic to try and get one or two cars ahead. Day after day I see people do this and you know? There they are stressing themselves out with this bizarre unsafe gotta-pass-everyone stuff while I hang back and wait ten seconds for dude in the car to make his right turn or for the light to turn green or whatever, and yet I get to where I’m going at exactly the same time as they do. Plus I feel more relaxed and have time to look around a bit. It’s not a competition.
Final advice
If you’re just starting out, don’t worry too much about what bike you get. It won’t be the one you ultimately find you want. Take a few bikes for test rides — any good shop will let you test ride — and then get something that fits (get the shop to fit and adjust it properly for you), that you like right now, and that isn’t too expensive. In a year or two you can trade it in once you’ve figured out what style and features REALLY appeal to your needs. In the meantime grab something and go!
(OK, maybe only three. But it felt like twenty-seven since there was hand-sewing involved.)
M is hard on pants. At this point in the year every single pair will have a rip in at least one knee. I never bother fixing them particularly well, since she’ll have outgrown them by the fall anyway, but I do some nominal patching whenever the rips get indecent.
She had two pairs of identical jeans, one with massive rips in both knees, one ripped in only one knee. She’s low on shorts and the jeans still fit, so we decided to turn the more-trashed pair into shorts. After pinning them at a good length and cutting them several inches lower, I turned up a hem and stitched it down with the sewing machine. The thread is purple because I was too lazy to reload the machine with navy thread, but oh well, purple is M’s favourite colour right now anyway. Then I turned it up again and tacked it down by hand (grumbling only a bit) and added some little ribbon flower decorations for, as Olivia the pig would say, extra beauty.
I’m pleased with how they turned out. My theory is that they may withstand the summer.
Then I had two jean-legs left over. This is the less-destroyed one.
A piece of the more-destroyed leg became a patch for the other pair of jeans. Again with the purple machine-sewed hem and the hand-applique (with more grumbling).
It’s totally noticeable, but they just have to last through the summer — camp, mucking about in barns, etc. — so who cares.
Then (having been called on to sew up a light flanellette skirt for M’s doll that same morning) it occurred to me that the leg of the jeans was probably about the right size for a doll skirt. I cut it off at an approximately suitable length, used the machine to sew a single rough hem and added a bit of elastic. Done! Pretty good for a five-minute project.
Sadly it’s a little too tight for Ms. Doll to wear while riding her horse, but she can wear it post-ride.
And there endeth the jeans.
I like to make my own jam. Unless you buy the crazy-expensive kinds, store-bought jam tastes kind of blah — over-sweet, too much filler, not enough fruit. I think I was spoiled by home-made jam when I was growing up and as with so many things (air conditioning, dishwashers, high-speed Internet) there is no going back.
You can probably make jam with stuff you have in your kitchen right now, but it helps to have some equipment. None of the extra equipment is very expensive — everything I show here would run you about $30 or $40, which you’ll make back pretty quickly if you make jam instead of buying it. It really is cheaper (especially once you own a bunch of jars) and you can’t beat the quality.
Here are some general instructions for fruit jams, like strawberry or raspberry — most fruit jams are easy and not a botulism risk, but if you’re doing something low-acid like blueberries, please use a real, tested recipe.
First, you need some jars. You can buy a dozen 250ml Mason jars plus lids at most grocery stores, Canadian Tire, etc. This will run you about $8.
Second, you need a big pot in which to boil and thus sterilize your jars. If you have a big stock pot you can use that. Or you can buy one of these cheap purpose-built enamel jobs. Sears, Canadian Tire and a bunch of other places usually carry them in the spring and summer.
Now you need some way to keep the jars off the bottom of the pot so they don’t break while they’re boiled. You can buy a metal insert like this (if you bought the enamel jam-sterilizer pot, it probably came with it):
Or you can use a small metal rack, such as a roasting rack or even tie a bunch of the screw-tops for the jars together with string.
Here’s some other handy stuff:
In that picture there’s a jar lifter (for picking jars out of the boiling water), a plastic funnel for pouring jam into jars, a box of snap lids, a magnetic wand for lifting heated snap lids, and screw tops for the jars. You probably have the snap lids and screw tops already if you bought a dozen jars. The other stuff is nice to have but not at all necessary.
OK, now we need some fruit and some sugar. That’s all the ingredients in real jam: fruit and sugar, in that order. It’s best if a quarter or a third of the fruit is a little under-ripe.
That’s waaay more fruit than you need for one batch. One batch of jam takes about four cups of prepared fruit. (Don’t try to double it; it just doesn’t work well.)
Now for the boring part: you need to wash and destem the fruit. Put some music on and make any available small children, spousal units, etc. help you.
I like my jam pretty smooth so at this point I like to toss the prepared fruit in the food processor and puree it a bit. Then, measure out 4 cups of fruit and put the rest in the fridge or freezer for later.
Now for the actual jam-making part.
You need a large, flat-bottomed pot and a sturdy implement to stir with. Something with a flat end that will scrape the bottom of the pot is good. You want to keep the jam moving and prevent it from burning to the bottom of the pot.
You also need a small pot in which to boil the snap lids. Put 6 or 7 snap lids in this pot and cover them with water.
Before you start the jam itself, fill your sterilizer pot with water, with the insert that keeps the jars off the bottom, and with 6 or 7 jars. Bring it to a good rolling boil before you start cooking the jam. Then, as you’re cooking the jam, boil the jars for ten minutes and leave them in the hot water.
Also before you start cooking the jam, put two small plates or saucers in the freezer. You’ll use these later to check if your jam is done.
When you start cooking the jam, also start heating the snap lids. You want those to boil for about five minutes to soften the rubber stuff around the edge so that it will make a good seal on your jars.
Now you need sugar. Put 3 cups of sugar and 4 cups of your prepared fruit in your big flat-bottomed pan. Don’t skimp on the sugar, it’s important for helping the jam gel properly. Console yourself with the thought that you’re using nice fresh in-season fruit and so your jam will be healthy despite the crapload of sugar. Turn the heat on your stove as high as it can go — the idea here is to bring it to a boil FAST and then boil it FAST. Stir constantly.
After a very few minutes the sugar should melt and everything should be boiling nicely.
At this point, make someone else stir for a minute and cover your arms. You’re probably wearing a short-sleeved shirt since it’s probably summer and you’re in the kitchen with three pots on the stove. But jam splatters in a particularly vicious way, so either put on a long-sleeved shirt or wrap some tea-towels around your arms.
After a while (fifteen or twenty minutes for strawberry, but it depends on the fruit – black currants can be less than ten minutes) the texture and sound of the jam will change. It’ll feel thicker and more lava-like, it’ll start spurting molten globs onto your arms (and everywhere else) and the sound of the bubbles will be louder. It’s kind of a horror-movie boiling-entrails kind of effect here.
When it starts to do this, drip a small amount of jam onto one of the plates you put in the freezer. Put the plate and proto-jam back in the freezer for about a minute, then check to see if the jam has gelled. If not, try again in two minutes (using the other plate) and repeat as necessary. You don’t want to overcook it; it’ll get all stiff and hard to spread.
When the jam gels properly, turn off the heat. Now lift your sterilized jars out of the boiling water and line them up on the counter. I like to put them on a tea towel to catch any drips and help contain the mess.
Pick up the jam pot and using the funnel (if you have one) pour jam into each jar. It’s a nice idea to have someone else move the funnel from jar to jar so you don’t have to put down the jam pot. Leave 1cm airspace at the top of each jar.
Pick hot snap lids out of their own pot (using a magnetic wand or two forks) and put them on the jars.
Hold the snap lids down with the screw tops, but don’t overtighten them. It’s not the screw top that matters here; it’s the snap lid. Just make them finger tight. That’s tricky enough, since jars and lids are really hot at this point!
Put the filled jars back in the sterilizer. You’ll see bubbles. Don’t fret, it’s just air expanding within the jars; they’re not filling up with water. Boil the jars for ten minutes or so – this step is actually optional but it’s a good idea as it both ensures a good seal and compensates for any errors in sterility you might have made while filling the jars.
Lift the jars out onto a heat-proof flat surface. Separate them as much as you can so they can cool, but don’t put them anywhere too drafty in case they cool unevenly. Uneven cooling can break the jars.
Now is the moment when you look around and realize that someone’s going to have to clean up a big mess. Toss the jammy dishtowels in the direction of the washing machine, fill the dishwasher with whatever will fit, rinse whatever won’t fit in the dishwasher and leave it in the sink, and be sure to use your finger to get all the yummy remnants off the jam pot and the stirrer.
As the jam cools, you should hear loud PING! noises as the snap lids seal the jars. This may take a few hours. When they’re properly sealed, the snap lids should curve slightly downwards. If you push down on the middle of a snap lid and it moves, it’s not properly sealed. After 24 hours, jars that haven’t sealed should go in the fridge and you should eat those ones first. Jars that DID seal can go in the cupboard.
Now you have jam! Even if winter is long and cold you will be happy!