Hobbies

Why do so many hobbies result in stuff? Like, knitting, you end up with sweaters or socks or cute stuffed animals or hats and stuff. Crocheting, you end up with blankets and scarves and washcloths and stuff. Painting, you end up with paintings--more stuff, and there's only so many walls in the world. Baking--you make stuff. And then eat it. Unless you know someone who will take it off your hands. So many hobbies generate stuff!

There are things like writing, which can be all digital, but it's still a lot of files that you have to deal with. And, I dabble in photography, which means a LOT of photos on my computer and then I have to keep moving them across hard drives and computers, or I have to print them. And then what do you do--albums? Scrapbooks? More stuff.

There are hobbies like running and other athletic things, but I was not blessed with great ability or joy in most sports. (I do like volleyball, but it is a little hard to do solo or just anywhere). I could take up walking. I don't mind a good walk. And I do have some new winter boots to break in, if it ever decides to snow. And reading! Which, there are libraries, so you don't actually have to buy books, which is delightful. And it's a hobby, right, so it doesn't have to produce a thing. It can just be fulfilling.

I do wish there were a few more options, but how many hobbies does one really need. 

Who are those cows, anyway?

In archives, it is common to come across photos that don't have any description. So, a lot of unidentified people.* And sometimes unidentified places, and other unidentified things as well. And, when describing archival materials, it is best practice to include what you don't know, not just what you do know, so saying "unidentified" is an easy way to let people know that you absolutely don't know who those cows are.

Yes. Cows. In my institution's catalog, we have not one, not two, but 11 photographs with one or more unidentified cows.

As I said, it is best practice to include what you don't know. But somehow, this feels like, well, overkill. Did anyone expect that we would know the cows' identities? It would be more shocking if we did know their names. I'm not saying that the cows didn't at one point have names, but I'm not sure the names are historically relevant. If one of the cows was, say, a mutant cow superhero, then yes, I would hope to know the name. And probably would. So, it just feels unnecessary to state that they are unidentified. It's best practice coming up against practicality, and a small thing that doesn't really matter in this instance.

That being said, I do actually love that we have 11 unidentified cows in our catalog, described as such. I get a real kick out of it. I think this is a new challenge for AI tools. Can they do facial recognition on cows? I mean, what if the 11 photos really are all of the same two or three cows? Is there a way to track cows, like a cow census or something? 

I'm considering hanging the photos up around the building, just to see if anyone knows who these cows are. I mean, it would be hilarious.*** And would really confuse people. And make me laugh. 

In the meantime, though, I'm going to brainstorm some other goofy things to search for in the catalog. Maybe more unidentified stuff, or who knows, something totally new. Archives are great for that sort of thing. 

*Be kind to history. Label your photos.

**In our catalog we also have an "unidentified aerial photograph" taken on an unknown date. Look, most things have value in the right context. If anyone can think of the context in which an unidentified aerial photograph with no date has a lot of value, I'd love to hear from you. I'm not saying there isn't value. I just haven't figured out the scenario yet.

***At the very least, I am going to hang them up in my boss's office the next time he goes on vacation. Long story, but it's kind of a tradition, and he is the one who discovered that there are in fact 11 of them.

A simple story

A month or so ago, I was looking for something to read that would just hit the spot. I wasn't in the mood for non-fiction, or deep fiction, so I picked up a nice little bit of youth fiction, "The Year of Miss Agnes by Kirkpatrick Hill. I really wasn't sure what to expect but it was exactly what my self needed. 

It's a really simple read, an Alaskan girl's account of getting a new teacher at their small school and basically, just a narrative about what she learned at school, how her teacher taught, things going on in her community, what life is like, her family, etc. The kind of thing you'd write in a journal, minus the angst and the "My little brother is always taking my stuff" type of thing. There isn't really a big plot, like a mystery to solve, or a major problem to overcome, or anything like that, it's just a narrative about a year in a girl's life. And it was just beautiful. With just a little tiny heartache for a moment in time that no longer exists, both historically and in the sense of a point in one's life where you are innocently young but also growing up.

I think I sometimes get caught up in the need for a lot of action or plot or problems with resolution--with books, with movies, with TV. It's easy to forget that you don't need a lot of drama or anything to really enjoy something. 

Drama can be overrated.

It's about time

I think shower time runs differently than other time. The shower has its own particular temporal reality. I say this because it never seems like I've been in the shower very long, but when I get out, my clock says otherwise.

To be honest, I think there are lots of these little independent temporal realities. Some are pretty standard, always found in the same place (maybe it's not just my shower, maybe it's my whole bathroom!), or the same time of day (mornings. I think my body is just in its own temporal reality in the morning). And others just pop up randomly. Some meetings seem to last for years. Others go way too quickly. The same is true for days, weeks, months, and years. 

And then I think there are loops and whorls within the independent temporal realities, which explains how, after returning from my last trip, it felt simultaneously just a day since I got home and also 10 years. 

I really think someone should explore this phenomenon. For too long we have just chalked it up to our perception of time, but have we even considered something else might be going on here? It seems to me we need some definite answers. 

And also a way to manipulate them, because I'd love to find a way to have my sleep time seem longer than it is. 

A little bit of fall

Yesterday I visited a state park. It was a nice day for October, and I figured maybe it wouldn't be too late to see some fall colors. Which, it wasn't, hooray!

 

The itsy bitsy spider went up a water spout--but with a cat (?) and my car

I think I may have mentioned the layer of dust that constantly shrouds my vehicle. Well, there's been a new twist: paw prints on the front and rear windshields.

I went out to my car the other day and noticed some prints in the dust on the back window: 

And later, I observed it on the front windshield too (which was hard to see in daylight, too many reflections, but you can see here):

I feel like I have the perfect clues sans one really good mystery but I also I really want to see what I presume is a cat climbing up my car. 

And a dust free neighborhood.

Immigration and customs

It's always entertaining to go through customs and immigration when I travel for work, especially when we visit multiple countries. First, because we are traveling as a group but don't go through as a group, we always compare notes, and I can tell you, it is kind of ridiculous how inconsistent the officials are. Second, because we hit so many countries (on this trip, 6, including one that we entered 3 times), you get to compare notes across multiple locations, and again, it's kind of ridiculous.

Someone pointed out that of course they won't ask the same questions, because then you can plan for them. And a TSA person said something that hints that that is true. Still, it seems that at least some of the questions should be consistent. "Are you bringing in any plants?" What is the advantage of not asking that some of the time? If you don't ask me, cool. If you do ask me, I either lie or get caught. But, if I'm a liar, I'm going to bring those in if you don't ask. Aren't I?

Anyway, this last trip was full of variations. In some places, half of us would get grilled, the other half nothing. Here are my favorites:

• In one country, we passed through security (I believe it was customs), and the people watching the monitors were young and flirting with each other. I watched the whole time. They didn't look at the screen with the scan of my bags. Not even once.
• In Perú, there were no employees, no officials. Just a big doorway that said, "If you have something to declare, go this way. If not, go that way." No x-rays, no people. Just our call. 
• Which got us into some trouble later, because the camera set up we traveled with got confiscated in Uruguay. We really should have thought about that and had forms filled out, and one of us did reach out to my organizations international office to see if we'd need to and was told no. But it was definitely a far cry from Perú. And we got our equipment back, and know what to do now. No fault to Uruguay. But we definitely weren't prepared.
• Driving over the border into Brazil, we got out of the vehicle and walked into the Customs/Immigration office. There were signs saying, "Silence" and others with pictures of someone with their finger to their lips. We literally said nothing. And they said nothing to us. NO questions, not even about our camera setup. Just a stamp in the passport and away we went.
• I had one immigration official who was kind of younger, and had his AirPods in. I think it was the flight where we were going from Uruguay to Argentina and then on to a different place in Argentina where we'd cross into Brazil. He asked like, 3 questions, and then was satisfied. Everyone else got grilled, because there was nothing on our itinerary showing we were leaving Brazil (no flight). But not my guy. He just wanted to get back to whatever he was listening to, I guess.
• I think my all time favorite was immigration in Atlanta. I don't think the guy even looked at my passport, but his computer showed that I'm an archivist, which led to a 5 minute conversation about what exactly it is that I do for a living. Not where I usually have that conversation. (Everyone else in my group usually puts down historian, but I stubbornly refuse. Thus, explaining to an immigration official what I do for a living). 

I will say, I spent waaaay too much time in customs, immigration, and security lines on this trip. But, at least it was entertaining.