pogoism

That’s something that’s always bugged me, there didn’t seem to be any reason for it (at least not one I knew of), until @GrammarGirl tweeted about it.

Apparently it’s all because of a guy called Noah Webster - the Father of American scolarship and education. He was born in 1758 and went to Yale at the age of 16. When he graduated, he became a school teacher. At this point, America was still very much influenced by England, and as a result most of the school textbooks used in elementary schools were from there. He thought that American children should learn from American books, so he started writing his own - A Grammatical Institute of the English Language. It came in 3 parts - a speller (published in 1783), a grammar (published in 1784), and a reader (published in 1785). 

His goal was to rescue the “native tongue” from “the clamor of pedantary” found in English grammar and pronounciation. At that time, the study of classical languages, such as Latin and Greek was  often persued before the study of English – a system he thought unnecessary. 

He developed his own standard from American English which was ”the same republican principles as American civil and ecclesiastical constitutions” – that people control the language.

The books were arranged logically, taking its basis from the teachings of the learning psychologist Jean Piaget. The book had a whopping 385 editions, and was the most popular book of it’s time, selling 1 million copies a year at it’s peak, and is considered the first dictionary. 

Over time, he Americanized words such as “defence”, which he changed to “defense”, “centre” became “center” and “colour” became “color”.

In 1906 he published the first dictionary - A Compendious Dictionary of the English Language, which he expanded in a process that took 27 years.

He served in the Connecticut House of Represtitives from 1802-1807 before dying in 1843.

So there you have it – the reason why American English exists.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect of St. Paddy’s Day this year. Over the last two years, living in Belfast, I’ve got used to having the day off, and getting extremely drunk before midday.

This year, it seemed like business as usual. We didn’t get the day off, but everyone was wearing green. I don’t own anything green, so I wasn’t. A lot of the people in the department I work in are from Ireland, mainly from Northern Ireland, and so a party was organized at Studio on 4th. I got to talk to some people I haven’t spoken to or seen since my first few weeks here, which was nice.

At about midnight, we were buzzed, so Niamh, Emily, Becky and I went to Corrigans, a seedy bar down Wells in Reno. It was packed, and it was fun. After that we decided to walk to Ceol’s, near downtown, and we stopped off at Lucky’s. We met some randomers and went with them. After a pit-stop at Seven 11 for taquitos and hot dogs, we eventually got to Ceol’s… which was shut, so we went to Amendment 21 instead.

And that was about it. We stayed in Amendment 21 until about 4, and got up for work at 7.

A fun, and slightly unexpected St. Paddy’s Day. And not a Guinness drunk.

Photo via Flickr user Still Burning.

My boyfriend is going to be working in Sacramento a lot more now, and as a result I’m probably going to be spending a lot of time there too. I’d previously only been through Sacramento, as it’s the main stop on the way to San Francisco on the Greyhound. I’ve always thought it looked like a nice city, perhaps like a mini San Francisco.

Alonso had to work on Saturday morning, so we arrived at Rancho Cordova on Friday night, got a burrito (probably the yummiest burrito I’ve had since I’ve been here – which is quite an accolade, ‘cos I’ve had quite a few…), and chilled out in the hotel room.

Next day I got the light rail into downtown Sac. I love public transport in the US because generally it’s a fixed price. One ride, which took about 25 minutes from Rancho Cordova to the Capitol, downtown Sac cost me $2.25. Compare this to a single ride within zone 1 on the London Underground, which is £4.00. That’s almost $6, even with today’s crappy exchange rate.

Armed with the two most essential tools to discovering a new city – my iPhone and a Lonely Planet guide – I got off the train in search of the Capitol building. I couldn’t see it, or find it, despite me being on Capitol Mall, but I ended up near Old Sac at the very impressive looking bridge.

Then I wandered around Old Sac. It felt deserted, and stank of taffy. There wasn’t much to do, and it wasn’t pretty to look at. Cheap, tacky and touristy – almost like Virginia City.

Then it was onwards to downtown Sacramento, which luckily was very close to Old Sac. I found a Starbucks, plonked myself down with a ginger green tea, and studied Lonely Planet in search of something else to do. Tired, and someone disappointed with the place, I waited until Alonso had finished work, then went to meet him.

We had a nice lunch/dinner at Scott’s by the river, which almost didn’t happen, thanks to TomTom taking us totally the wrong way.

Having got a bit bored of downtown, we went in search of the gay district, midtown. This is apparently where stuff happens in Sacramento, where the locals come to hang out. With it being the Saturday before St. Paddy’s Day, there were many, many Americans celebrating their tenuous link to the Emerald Isle. After looking in some expensive lighting stores, we got a drink and panacotta at Lounge ON20.

We wanted some mochi for dessert, so we headed to Osaka Ya (again, after getting totally lost at the hands of TomTom, though, to be fair not actually TomTom’s fault). In case you’re wondering what the heck mochi is, here’s what Wikipedia has to say:

Mochi (Japanese: 餅) is a Japanese rice cake made of glutinous rice pounded into paste and molded into shape. In Japan it is traditionally made in a ceremony called mochitsuki. While also eaten year-round, mochi is a traditional food for the Japanese New Year and is commonly sold and eaten during that time. Mochi is also a prominent snack in Hawaii.

Despite not seeming like I liked Sacramento, I’m actually looking forward to going back. I’m sure there are loads of great places yet to be discovered.

You can see more photos over on my Flickr.

Oh the irony…

via Indexed

I don’t like how you can’t tell the difference between status updates and wall posts.

Sure, you could look see who wrote them, but my attention span is too short. I liked it when status updates were larger than wall posts.

But generally I like it. It’s not nearly as bad as everyone seems to be making out…

Continuing in my task of eating things that I’d never be able to find in the UK, last week I had cactus for dinner.

Yup. Cactus.

According to Wikipedia, cactus, or nopales as they’re called in Mexico comes from the Nahuati word nōpalli, for the pads. After they’ve been harvested, the spines are removed and can be sold fresh, bottled, canned or dried.

We found our nopales in the Mexican market in Sparks. They’re apparently very good for you…

Nopales are very rich in insoluble and especially soluble dietary fiber. They are also rich in vitamins (especially vitamin A, vitamin C, and vitamin K, but also riboflavin and vitamin B6) and minerals (especially magnesium, potassium, and manganese, but also iron and copper). Nopales have a high calcium content, but the nutrient is not biologically available because it is present as calcium oxalate, which is neither highly soluble nor easily absorbed through the intestinal wall. Addition of nopales also reduces the glycemic effect of a mixed meal. Nopales are low carbohydrate and may help in the treatment of diabetes.

After getting home, and not really knowing what to do with them, we stumbled across a recipe for nopales and cous cous salad, which we decided to make. We steamed the nopales, and when we added the lemon juice, they got covered in a substance that looked exactly like mucus. Not the most appetizing thing I’ve ever seen, so we washed them a few times before adding the rest of the ingredients.

Verdict? Actually, quite nice. Nopales is slightly bitter, and has a distinct lemon flavor to it. Can’t wait to try some more nopales concoctions.

Next thing to try? Shark. Watch this space.

Oh, btw, the cactus fruit isn’t nearly as nice. I wouldn’t recommend it.

Photo via Flickr user dotpolka.

Please don’t mess this up – you’ve come too far.

Love,

Joel.

Some people are scared of heights. Some people are scared of spiders. Others are scared of injections.

None of these things frighten me.

One of the few things I have a phobia of is going to the hairdressers and getting my hair cut. There’s even a name for it – tonsurephobia.

Okay, phobia might be a bit strong, but I hate it. I’ll put it off for weeks and weeks, and make up any excuse not to go. “I’ll go at the weekend, I don’t have enough time now” “It’s the weekend, but I should have gotten up earlier to go get it done – now it’s going to be busy” and so on…

There isn’t a single part of the experience I like. Going in and waiting, secretly hoping that you don’t get the weird looking hairdresser who you’ve convinced yourself will make you look like a member of the Beatles. Reading the boring magazines about the latest trends in hairdressing, which none of the stylists would be able to recreate on your head. Then going to sit down and having to make small talk with the hairdresser about all sorts of inane rubbish when both of you couldn’t give a damn about where you’re going on holiday.

And when you’ve run out of things to talk about, it gets really awkward. You try to avoid all eye contact with them, which is surprisingly difficult given that you’re both looking into the same mirror. When you do catch their eye, you feel as though you have to give lame conversation another attempt, and you awkwardly stumble on.

The it’s over. Or at least you think it is. The hairdresser puts a mirror to the back of your head an dyou cringe at what an awful job they’ve done. They ask you if it’s ok. You lie and say yes. Then you realize all the things they’ve forgotten to do – trimming sideburns, left too much over the ears, and you have to ask them to fix it. Then you see something else. And repeat.

You leave, not wanting anyone to see you until you can get home and survey the damage and hope it looks better after a shower.

What a horrid experience. Until next time…

Photo via Flickr user insertinanename

Made this last night, and it was delicious (and incredibly easy to make), so I thought I’d share it with y’all… (via RecipeZaar)

Takes about 30 minutes.

Ingredients

• 1 cup fish stock (we used clam stock which worked fine)
• 2 cups coconut milk
• 1 tablespoon fish sauce
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• 4 kaffir lime leaves
• 1 stalk lemongrass
• 1 small red chile (we used 2 green chilies)
• 4 white fish fillets (we used tilapia)
• 1 tablespoon lime juice

Method

1. Mix together stock, coconut milk, fish sauce, sugar, lime leaves, lemongrass and chili in saucepan over medium heat.
2. Boil for 10 minutes, bring to simmer.
3. Add fish and poach for about 3 minutes.
4. Remove fish, cover and set aside.
5. Reduce sauce over high heat until slightly thickened.
6. Strain, stir in lime juice.
7. Serve with cooked rice covered in sauce.