We are in the twenty-first century, and this box in the women’s toilet stall is precisely the same as it ever was.
Seriously. Same as the sixties and seventies.
Putting the TMI in absentminded
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Antiquated
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TWIL: My father was not quite right about the calendar
When I was a sophomore in high school, I took Latin, because I was insufferably affected, and the first lesson was counting one to ten.
ūnus (1), duo (2), trēs (3), quattuor (4), quīnque (5), sex* (6), septem (7), octō (8), novem (9), decem (10)
*Nothing better than shouting “sex” for six as you recite the numbers in Latin class.
Dad told me that originally there were ten months, and that’s why the names of months September through December still contained the corresponding Latin words. And he then said Julius and Augustus Caesar were vain and demanded additional months, hence July and August, so now we have twelve.
I didn’t question Dad. It didn’t occur to me that given his original premise of ten months, we’d need only a few 300-day years before the equinox would be pretty far off.
As it turns out, the Romans didn’t even count the cold months. The year started in spring with the equinox. January, February, screw those months. Lump them together and call them “Cold” and stick them at the end.
Also, they mixed their metaphors. While the last six months were named after numbers (Dad was right there), the first four were not unus, duo, tres, quattuor. Instead they were named after lesser Roman gods / goddesses / demi-gods / Mom’s of demi-gods.
- March was Mars, head of the Roman Department of War
- April was Aperire or Apru (the Etruscan Venus), eventually Aphrodite
- May was Maia (associated with spring, daughter of the Titan Atlas, mother of Mercury)
- June was Juno (Mrs. Jupiter).
Then instead of sucking up to the bigger gods, they switched to numbers. - July was Quinitilis
- August was Sextilis (“Sex!”)
- September was septem
- October was octō
- November was novem
- December was decem
- Nameless cold month 1
- Nameless cold month 2
At some point they decided to name the cold months, I suppose because other things happened in the cold months. (When I learned this my American mind promptly thought, Martin Luther King Day! President’s Day!)
They named the first cold month Janus because Janus is the two-faced god of past and present and transitions, and that month was a transition into bitter cold and dark. I then read that the second cold month was named after a purification holiday named Februa (Presidents’ Day!) because you want to purify for the last month of the year.
No one agrees who decided Janus should shift to first instead of second to last. Whoever did it threw off the parallels between the month names and the numbers. Now it was 1) Janus, 2) Februa, 3) Mars, 4) Apru, 5) Maia, 6) Juno, 7) Quinitilis, 8) Sextilis, 9) Septem, 10) Octo, 11) Novem, 12) Decem, which MAKES NO SENSE considering the numbers. I can not tell you how this bothers me. One source blames Julius Ceasar, and that makes sense, because they stabbed him later, understandably.
After stabbing Julius Ceasar, Marc Antony recommended they rename Quintillis “July” in honor of Julius. Perhaps he planned to keep stabbing people until they could rename all the months that didn’t match their order numbers. Perhaps that’s why Augustus wasn’t even dead before the authorities renamed Sextilis to August. I’m really sad they didn’t carry through and make the last four months of the year Tiberi-ber, Caligu-ber, Claudi-ber, and Nero-ber.
So, Dad was a little wrong, but because the people at Merriam Webster and Wikipedia have been doing Jupiter’s work on this, I now know more of the full story.
(After all this I also know that the Welsh don’t have planets named after Roman gods, nor the Chinese, and now I want a global system for naming the planets. Maybe one based on numbers.)
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More zoo
The zoo had fires, low to the ground so toddlers could make Smores. Crazy. Terrifying. I don’t understand how both toddlers and adults are not afraid of fire. I can’t even use paper matches. Think about it. Paper matches. The only thing between your finger and fire is paper.
Last year the mac and cheese was vegetarian. This year we had the option to add bacon.
At one point I turned a corner and it began snowing, and I panicked, because no snow had been forecast and we recently were caught out when the same thing happened and the roads weren’t treated. I noticed it was only snowing in one spot. I reeled back and a volunteer dressed as a polar bear said, “snow machine.”
I feel quite happy to have paid my yearly Christmas visit to the zoo.
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At the zoo
I have the Christmas party at the zoo down to a science now. Get there at five fifteen, park at the exit, spend an hour wandering the zoo in the dark, eat, nod at the one or two people you recognize, and then bail.
This penguin knows what I’m saying.
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Weekly Paint Progress: 12/4/2025
This week Tulips 2025 went from this:
… to this.
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Body work begets body work
One would think that taking a day off to visit the dentist and the urologist would be sufficient, but no.
Urologist
The urologist visit was a straightforward bladder botox procedure. I advised him that our previous conversation — about the impending TeddyJ reduction in force — was not salacious enough to distract me from the needles poking deep into my bladder. I asked if we could revisit whatever trash was on TLC, and he did say there was a show that followed a urologist, but then he soon veered the conversation into how he dislikes putting up the Christmas tree.
Afterward, I did a little debrief and said today’s topic was a better distraction than work re-orgs but not as salacious as I needed. I suggested next time we investigate the Epstein files and how small all those men’s organs must be to require sex with a seventeen year old to be able to get any traction. He wisely side-stepped that entire topic.
(But really, they must be tiny. Right?)
Dentist
The dentist pointed out yet another chip in my front teeth, again as a result of some tooth-vs-tooth scrum going on in my face. So tomorrow I go in to have that chip patched, and then be measured for Invisalign – style retainers. This is the third time he’s suggested it. It seems much more reasonable now: until recently I couldn’t imagine having to take out a retainer for half an hour every time I snagged a grape or swigged a drink. The weight-loss shots have cut down on my grape-snagging and drink swigging entirely.
So, this is 63: braces instead of dentures and bladder botox instead of diapers.
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Family Chair
Late in her life my Mom began to correspond with cousins, step cousins, half cousins removed, and the like.
In one letter she complained that her family kept secrets, and from the tea spilt in later letters it’s clear she was done with that.
There was the secret of the chair shown above. I have often wondered where Mom’s dainty chair came from, and why she took such care to restore it.
The photo shows a letter that explains the provenance of the chair peeking out in the background.
“There was also a set of six stenciled chairs that Bob wanted. He managed to acquire five but could never find the sixth one. My mother had to sew a cover for it to hide the stenciling should Bob ever come by. Arthur” [Stepgrandfather] “and she were immensely pleased at pulling one over on Bob. I have the chair and use it shamelessly.“
Very happy that Mom didn’t pass on that sneaky gene. I would say, “BOB! Don’t forget to say hello to your chair when you come to visit.”
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Symphony: Beethoven’s seventh
As usual, the visit to the symphony to see Beethoven’s seventh was dwarfed by other events.
I mean the symphony was lovely, like an old friend, especially the opening movement which just skips along in a jolly manner, like an old friend. I thought I didn’t know it, but here it is. Swipe ahead to 4 minutes and 30 seconds in and you’ll say, “Oh, I know that.” But do I know what car commercial I heard it in? No, I don’t.
That symphony was after the intermission. The first half had something dour by Bartok, but then there was Rachmaninoff.
I love him because he wrote the work they used as background to Brief Encounter (you know it, you love it, favorite movie). That work also has an old friend you will recognize if you swipe to the midpoint of this video of Rachmaninoff’s 2nd Piano Concerto.
I love that the video is titled “Best Part,” because it just aches, and because it is the best part, and that’s why the song “All By Myself” is based on it.
Anyway, Symphony 2 was not the Rachmaninoff we heard. Instead, we heard Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, which was played by a Joyce Yang, who put her complete heart into her performance. She energized the entire orchestra. I won’t say she overshadowed the others, but well, she did.
It contains another old friend, which you will hear if you swipe to about one minute in.
If it sounds familiar, it’s because it’s the tune Bill Murray learns on the piano in Groundhog Day.
And I think that’s fine. I suppose, if I hear enough symphonies, someday I’ll hear pop music and think “Why that’s my old friend from the 18th movement of the Symphony in D flat by … that Russian guy.”
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TWIL: Hot Pockets don’t come with the sleeves any more
Hot Pockets. Essentially high-fat hand pies, sold so you could pop them in the microwave and eat them in your car. And because it’s a pastry and should be crispy, they had cunning little origami quasi-metal sleeves that would supposedly crisp the pastry in the microwave without making the microwave spark.
Well, now we have air fryers, so evidently, the sleeve? Is gone.
This happened sometime last year. The box says it was because they wanted to be eco-friendly, but we know better. It was the advent of the air-fryer.
Of course now sleeves are selling at a premium.
Forty dollars for a “vintage” Hot Pocket sleeve.
What else would one expect from a fancy Swiss company?
Société des Produits indeed.
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Brave!
Two brave things today:
1. Braving the foul weather to go to the symphony for Beethoven’s Seventh. The weather really is vile: rain snow and sleet all in one day
2. Wearing a half capelet sweater thing with a built in bra to the symphony. This one’s white; mine is black.
I don’t think I have ever worn anything so outre in my life. We will see if I wear it or it wears me.