Jason's Fleece

While I was at the Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago I came across a Patagonian cavy or Patagonian mara as it is also called. 

Odd looking little beast and at least one person exclaimed with joy that they we were looking at a kangaroo, a miniature kangaroo. Someone else thought it was a very large rabbit, another a large rat.  I was not sure what it was but I knew it was not a rabbit nor a kangaroo. I decided upon further examination that it was one of those creatures GOD made out of leftover parts. HE did not want to waste anything. You know, like a hyena is made of leftover parts. Legs of coyotes and wolves, boar hair, leopard spots, parts leftover from other animals.  

The Patagonian cavy is a rodent. They are native to Southern and Central Argentina and Patagonia. They travel in mated pairs with the females in the lead and the males protecting the ck and sides of the herds from predators and gangs of rival males. They eat grasses, fruits and sleep. A lot. They breed once a year and have about three babies each litter. These youngsters and highly developed and are off on their own by month 6. They are raised in a communal warren much like wolves with one pair of adults as babysitters throughput the day.

These guys can hop like rabbits and gallop like deer. They communicate through sounds ranging from grunts to screams.

They also had Sichuan takin. It is a large goat like, antelope like, cow/ox looking mammal with a golden blonde fleece. 

They weigh about 600 pounds and are about 4 feet tall. Males and females both have horns, and they are found in parts of Tibet and China.  They prefer to live in dense bamboo thickets but are also very adept at maneuvering rocky cliffs. They have a thick undercoat which keeps them warm in winter and they move warm air into their lungs much like a moose.

Here is why I saved this creature for last. Remember the Sichuan takin has a golden blonde fleece. Do you recall who went looking for a golden fleece? Jason and his jolly band of Argonauts. 

                   Jason returns with the Golden Fleece, shown on an Apulian red-figure calyx krater, ca. 340–330 BC

The Golden Fleece is a symbol of kingship. Or was it a reference to the method of extracting gold from streams. Or was the Golden Fleece a very special book written about the secrets of Alchemy? Some even hint that the Golden Fleece is the forgiveness of GOD.

I hope you find your Golden Fleece today. 

Look! LLamas!!

I found myself with an entire day to explore Chicago on my own. What should I do?  After perusing several options in propaganda I gathered from the Concierge I decided a day at the zoo would be fine. There were some reports on baby animals and the whole city was alive with spring blossoms.

The day was warming up when I arrived via cab.  I was already filled with giggles as my cabby proceeded to regale me with a tale of a fare he had a few days before me. He picked up a woman and her small dog and took them to the groomers. She asked him to wait and tipped him $50 promising more. So he waited.  A while later they came out, the dog all coiffed and fluffed and bedecked in bows. He then took them to her home again where she asked him to wait again for another tip which he did. The woman and the dog both came back out and this time the woman was dressed and coiffed and bedecked in Pearls and some black vampy Louboutin heels. Where were they going I asked? He giggled and said “A Puppy Party”. A what??? Puppy Party… they are apparently very popular in Chicago. You dress up your dog and yourself and go to a very chic party. He says they have had formal events that included dogs at the very posh Drake Hotel. After an enchanting ride and my cabby’s generous and thoughtful offer to hold on to my credit card so my hands would be free to photograph the camels I hopped out, waved good-bye and practically skipped into the zoo.

The Lincoln Park Zoo is free and feels more like a park with a few animal displays than a zoo with some flowers.

 I was thrilled. However after reviewing my photos I realized that it appears as though I was at a garden. It is just impossible to get a good shot of anything behind glass.

I started out observing the sea lions 

but the only cooperative fellow was a seagull.

 I wandered on bewitched by all the flowers stopping often to look and just enjoy a real spring. 

We don’t have these in Texas. The sun was out but the air still held a veil of chill which would be warmed suddenly by gentle whispers of sun heated air.  I think this day was my favorite.

I passed the Swan Pond where the swans were not and on to the Waterfowl Lagoon which was overtaken by flamingos all napping in the sun.

My meandering brought me to the zebra enclosure where the contrary beasts were all under a bridge in the shade and impossible to see. 

Next were Alpacas. Fluffy headed goofy, shaggy Alpacas.

I snapped a photo and sent it to Sam I Am. She adores Alpacas.  I moved onward stopping at the sight of some humpty-backed camels.

My first thought was “it must be awful for them in winter”.  They are Bactrian camels. They have two humps and are native to China and Mongolia but can be found all over Asia. They live mostly in dry grassland and desert areas. They favor grasses, leaves and shrubs but they can tolerate dry vegetation and thorny brush other grass eating mammals cannot. They can live up to 50 years. The temperatures of their native Central Asia in the high rocky desert can drop as low as 20 below 0 in winter so they are very well suited for cold Chicago winters.

My second thought was Humpty-back camels and yes The Unicorn, written by Shel Silverstein and sung by The Irish Rovers did pop into my head.

My third thought was interrupted by a group of several people including three women one of whom said, “Look!! Llamas!! They have llamas!” I paused looked again at the enclosure and then at the women and then further back from where I had come and thought, No those are alpacas. But we were standing in front of the camels and they could not yet see the Alpacas. “Are you sure?” I heard one say. “Yes, yes those are llamas.” To my surprise a couple of the men in the group agreed that indeed they were looking at llamas. I looked again at the camels. The camels were now looking right at the group. I had to turn and step away to better observe these people. They were so delighted and thrilled by the llamas. I was amused. But not in a cruel way that I was thinking of making fun of them. I wanted to watch their excitement change when they finally realized or were told that those were camels. I was not to be disappointed. One of the women who was a llama believer went to read the plaque explaining about the camels when she said in a very reverent whisper, “Those are camels. GUYS!!! Those are camels!!” She was excited, however a couple people in her group argued that no they were llamas. (WHAT??? I am thinking….lol…. this just got better…LOL) She pointed to the plaque and told them that no they were camels the sign said so. The men in the group trudged over to plaque and read it. “This does say these are camels.” A hush fell over them all. I had to walk away.

I visited the apes, and hurried through the monkey exhibit which are always disturbing. I found a pretzel peddler and was very disappointed with the worst pretzel EVER!  The Kovler Lion House gave us an up close and practically personal encounter with a sleeping lion. He was snuggled up to the glass and soundly asleep. There was a girl standing right next to him starring in awe at his size when the lion’s keeper walked up to her looked her in the eye and said ‘Oh good! You are here. Just in time for feeding. Are you ready to go in?” She looked at him turned white as chalk and quickly backed away shaking her head. We all laughed as he touched her shoulder and explained he was teasing. She relaxed and laughed.

I waved good day to the Zoo and after expertly flagging sown a cab whizzing by at Mach2 I went back to my Hotel. It was a wonder filled day. Thank you Chicago and Lincoln Park Zoo. 

Cover Her Head

Yesterday I came across this verse on this poster followed by a lot of disparaging remarks and comments.  1 Corinthians 11:6 - it is a disgrace for a woman to have her hair cut off or her head shaved.

The verse actually says - For if a woman does not cover her head, she might as well have her hair cut off; but if it is a disgrace for a woman to have her hair cut off or her head shaved, then she should cover her head.

Let me add to this that the verse is referring to a woman who is praying and prophesying in a church. It is actually part of a letter that was written by a man named Paul who was addressing several issues and challenges in newly founded churches in a wicked little place called Corinth.  

Women who had cut their hair as a symbol of their independence were becoming Christians and participating and taking active roles in churches. The men in these newly founded churches were fussed up by this and sought advice from Paul. So he advises that “if” it is a disgrace to you men (it was an act of defiance against men) for her to shave her head or cut her hair then she should cover her head while in church. Paul was suggesting a peaceful solution to a problem. He does not ask that women not be allowed to participate or take on active roles for having short hair or bald heads. He does not ask that they be kicked out or barred from service for having short hair or bald heads. And, he does not say the women will go to hell for having short hair or bald heads.  

It is a letter people. It is NOT a command from GOD.  It suggests a peaceful solution to a challenge he was asked to help resolve.

On to another challenge. I have a great great…… grand uncle who was named Zorobabel Madocks (the spelling of which later ended up as Matics.) I have seen the name spelled Zerubbabel also on other men. He named a son Zorobabel.  Now on all documets I can find my uncle is called Bell Madocks. People assume his name is Bell, named from his mom Mary Bell allegedly) but I believe it is a nickname from Zorobabel. Neither idea can be proven at this time.  But that is not what this is about. I was curious as to where or who a Zerubbabel was/is.  Well, he was the governor of the Persian Provence of Judah. Actually the grandson of the King of Judah. Want a frame of reference? King Darius I of Persia appointed Zerubbabel as governor of Judah. Shortly after that appointment Zerubbabel started rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem. 

      Zerubbabel displays a plan of Jersalem to Cyrus the Great

The name means “born in Babylon”. Zerubbabel descended from the Royal line of King Solomon.

Has anyone else come across this as a family name?

Good thing my mom was a girl she could have been Zorobabel.

Well, I am back to tracking down my Zerubbabel’s real mom. Mary Bell… lol…. Really people?  It is probably Mary but NOT Mary Bell.

I love ghost hunting!

All the Nellie Blys

I am not saying that there is any relationship between the two Cochran families. But while I was hunting the ghost of Nellie Bly Sawyers I made this weird discovery.

The more famous “Nellie Bly”

 was born in 1864 in Pittsburg. Her real name is Elizabeth Jane Cochran. Her father was Michael Cochran and her mother named Mary Jane. They spent their whole lives in the Pittsburg area.

Who is the famous “Nellie Bly” you may ask? I am sure the name is ringing in the back of your mind as vaguely familiar. Nellie Bly is the pen name of Elizabeth Jane Cochrane Seaman. She was a writer, industrialist, inventor, charity worker and world traveler. 

She took on a writing assignment in 1887 to expose the abuse in asylums and spent 10 days undercover in a Women's Lunatic Asylum on Blackwell's Island. 

This tale is to be released as a movie in the late summer of 2015 starry Caroline Barry, ChristopherLambert, Julia Chantrey and Kelly LaBrock. The movie is titled 10 Days in a Madhouse.

Inspired by Jules Verne’s Book Around the World in 80 Days and the character Phelias Fogg she went around the world in 72 days in 1889. She traveled by train and by ship. She actually meets Jules Verne while in Paris during this trip.

My Nellie Bly was born in 1909 in West Virginia. That is her name although she went by Nell as she grew into womanhood. What caught my attention was that in 1930 living right next door to my Nellie Bly Sawyers and her family is the Maywood Cochran family.  

In 1850 Stephen Foster wrote a song “Nelly Bly”. He lived in Pittsburgh for several years off and on and is buried there. His song Nelly Bly was the inspiration for the pen name of Elizabeth Jane Cochrane and was given to her by the staff at the Pittsburgh "Dispatch” newspaper. In their haste to meet the copy deadline for the paper the name was misspelled Nellie and by the end of the day it was too late to change it.

How my Nell Bly got her name is a mystery.

 I have found a newspaper article from 1936 for a Nellie Sawyers who was sentenced to prison for 6 months for “violating liquor laws”. On her third offense she was charged with a liquor offense and sentenced to two years and fined $300. Does this mean that she was operating a still on her daddy’s farm? Making gin in an old bathtub in the barn? This Nellie however is not my Nellie. I am sure there is an interesting and tragic story for this Nellie. 

Just in case you were wondering Nelly Blighs are eyes. Just ask Basher from all the Danny Ocean films.

Tesla and Hair Nets

Science and Industry are not my favorite subjects. I seem to be quick at figuring out scientific concepts and understanding however, they are not my favorite things. So a visit to the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry would be a challenge to find something that would hold my attention.

 I will say now…Well done Chicago, well done. 

They had a Coal Mine Experience. We signed up and climbed up several flights of stairs where we were greeted by Miner Sophia. Since there was just two of us so we got the personal tour and a one on one experience. Brilliant! We were taken 600 feet underground in the dark on an open elevator where we had to hold on to suspended chains so we would not fall off.  

Once in the mine we learned of the many hazards that face miners on a daily basis. We experimented with methane gas, learned about canaries in coal mines and discovered that the mine in the museum has been there since 1933. We learned about several types of equipment used as well as how the phrase “don’t yank my chain” came about. Coal miners carried a small length of chain with them for a very unique purpose…

The portable potty that was used in the levels of the mine was a wagon on wheels on a track so it and the waste could be moved out of the mine when it was full. A common practical joke was to unlock the break and push (to use a phrase my father used from his military flying days) the "honey pot" down the track while someone was sitting on it. Because of this possible very messy incident miners carried a length of chain to lay in front of one of the wheels to act as a brake in case someone decided to pull this prank. Creating the phrase, "Don't yank my chain?" 

The original tour guides for the mines at the Museum were the miners who were out of jobs when the original mine shut down. 

There we were minding our own business looking at a display on chemical elements when we were approached by a student from Chicago University and asked if we wanted the chance to get a piece of candy. Sure! Off we were ushered with another man and his daughter (she decided to observe not participate) into a room where a camera was set up and another student then took charge. We randomly chose to be a worker or a manager. I proceeded to act like myself (which could be an experiment in observation by itself) and asked questions, challenged authority, attempted to create a bond with my more serious co-worker who seemed to lack a sense of humor but not adventure. It was a timed 3 minute experiment and before I knew it we were done, given a questionnaire and won not only a piece of candy but also a pen. I guess that makes me a cheap lab rat to maintain. 

Farther into this adventure we entered a capsule and were whisked off like a speck of dust and hurled into the middle of a tornado. I am now very over tornadoes. It was like a crazy amusement park ride. We were slammed into an airborne truck, whacked by a whirling telephone pole, tossed through a barn, smashed into a windmill that disintegrated as we connected with it.  Flung into space where we passed though some aurora borealis, a huge airplane and gazed into space. 

We decided on a more sedate activity after that and wandered into a forest of human bodies all dissected into layers. A life size view of human nerves, and in case you want to know we look like a tree with roots and branches. Our veins are formed all over us like we are covered in mesh netting. 

Yes like the hairnets worn by lunch ladies. Wish I could get these images out of my head now. 

The next thing I know we are face to face with a very large Tesla Coil, a 20 foot suspended coil and rings to be exact, and a timer giving us a countdown to a 1.5 million volt electrical discharge.  We sat down and looked up waiting. The electrical arc crosses from the coil 10 feet to the waiting rings. There was a hiss in the air, a loud buzzing and a long zapping sound as the lighting bounced around the coil. 

AMAZING!!!!!

Again, Well done Chicago.

What is a fiasco?

I recently took a trip that started out as a series of unfortunate events, or I should say misadventures. Let me start with what happened on Friday evening….

My daughter arrived from Austin with her daughter and her dogs

 and an assortment of minions in tow. She was supposed to also have a suitcase for me.  Within moments of her arrival I was informed she had forgotten the suitcase and was leaving her dogs for me to babysit while she, my granddaughter and minions went to the beach. I had to be at the airport by 9:00 in the morning on Saturday. Now I was having to readjust my budget and rearrange my evening to include a trip to the store to buy a suitcase. 

A few hours later I am off to the store where I found the perfect bag and stepped in line to pay for it. I get to the cash wrap stand and the clerk asks for payment. I look at my purse and the horror starts. I had removed all my money and credit cards and put them in my travel bag. But wait, I have checks. But then she asks for my ID which is at home with my money in my travel bag. They refuse to take my check without it and are very dismayed I do not have my Driver’s License number memorized. Who does that? Memorize that number? I live in America, we have technology, look it up! I pick up my unwanted check and walk out. Back in the car, driving home, picking up my travel bag and heading back to the store I begin to wonder if this “escape” plan I have in play is even going to work. I have barely survived the week. 

Back in the store we head straight to the cash wrap stand and are now in a long waiting line. Where did all of these people come from? Our turn arrives and we get the same clerk. Keep in mind barely 15 minutes has passed. She says “hi”! Shaggy responds “we are back” and the girl just nods and asks if she can help us. She is clueless and does not remember us even after I caused a minor incident over the check earlier.  I ask for the suitcase. She points across the store. (Really????) I point to the one behind her. She looks and the lights dawn on her very dim mind. I pay and we leave. The rest of the night passes in relative calm. I am encouraged and believe the worst is soon behind me. 

Saturday morning dawns uneventful and all is good checking in for my flight. Or so I thought. 

Bags checked, flight upgrade checked, all in carry on for flight checked. Arrive at TSA check in and the man eyes me, my boarding pass, and asks for my ID and eyes that, me and the boarding pass for several stress filled moments. He waves over the Supervisor and she eyes me, the boarding pass and my passport. She looks me dead on and says “no worry you are fine, relax.” What did I appear about to bolt?  “Did you realize they have misspelled your name on your boarding pass? Did the agent notice?” No I did not and I am sure he did not either. (Yes we noticed and yes we intended to create an international incident! Really???) She eventually waved me on and then I knew, the nightmare was about to continue from the week before. 

I board the flight and there I see a very large man wearing a health mask sitting in what I just knew was the seat next to mine. Yes it was and he proceeds to cough his way to Dallas. Great!!!  If that was not bad enough I paid for an upgraded seat that promised more leg room. Uhm….. for whose legs? Stimpy McGee?? They were touching the back of the seat in front of me. I feel cheated and at the same time thankful that the flight is only 45 minutes long. Maybe. We back up from the gate and sit there, and sit there and sit there. Finally Captain Jeff announces that there is a slight delay and we will be getting to Dallas a bit late but he sees no problem with connecting flights. What!! I only had 45 minutes to get to my connection on the first place. 

Arriving in Dallas we are told what gate our connecting flights are parked at. I get C-39. I hope we are unloading at that gate but no, we pull up to gate A-4. I now have less than 20 minutes to get through three terminals to my gate. I arrive as they are boarding the last of the passengers. I order my drink and we pull back from the gate. I finally let out a breath I did not realize I was holding as we reach the taxi-way and wait our turn. Captain Rick comes on the system and tells us that the fuel gauges are not reading. He knows we have fuel but the gauges are not showing anything and we will not fly with faulty readings so we head back to the terminal. He tells us maintenance has been called and will meet us at the terminal. It will be just a few minutes. Us rock stars in First 
Class had already ordered our meal service. Back out of the warmer they come. Captain Rick comes back on and says we can get off the plane if we choose. After several more moments he comes back on and says we all have to get off the plane. The agents at the gate will keep us updated. We are told it will be an hour. We finally get to re-board and take off and all goes well. However we have lost a few passengers who were not going to make their connecting international flights. The few remaining on board will have about 25 minutes to make their connections. We land without further incident and then the pilot hits the gas and we taxi toward the terminal at about 180 mph. We drift the curves and the turns and I am suddenly in a Fast and Furious sequel. I am looking around for Vin, The Rock, anyone. The flight crew ask that anyone not catching a flight please stay seated.  I do. Apparently the only one and as I finally leave the flight crew, captain and all thank me for waiting to disembark last. An upgrade on my return flight would have been nice. 

All this maintenance issue caused my meal to be reheated three times and the tortellini was dry, brown and crunchy. Yeah!! 

The trip to the Hotel was thankfully uneventful. So went the end of a very unfortunate week. I am  looking forward to the upcoming week with nothing short of apocalyptic dread.