Random bitching about the Grey's Anatomy season nine premiere with annotated photos and charts -- because I'm a scientist, dammit

I wish I knew how to quit you, Grey's.

Because, seriously (hah! get it?  'Seriously'?? bwahahahaha), this disrespect for both the characters AND your viewers is getting old. 

Yeah, I'm talking to you, Shonda Rhimes.

I've watched this show for going on nine years.  I've turned a blind eye to confusing timelines, to outrageous medical acts that would never happen (cut LVAD wires, anyone?), characters disappearing with little or no explanation (Erica Hahn????), and the preponderance of disasters (ferry crash/shooter in hospital/giant sinkhole/plane crash/bomb in patient), because I really love the characters.

More than you do, apparently.

The send-off you gave Mark Sloan?  Not. Good. Enough. Seriously. Really.

Oh, it was sad.  And I cried and cried, like you knew I would.  Here he is on his deathbed with his two best friends beside him, Derek and Callie:

Richard, Bailey, Jackson and Ben are waiting somberly outside. 

But who isn't at his bedside?  Who should be at his bedside, if you really cared about the characters?

Well, let me see. Oh, how about....

A. Sloane, Mark's daughter, and her baby?  Remember them? 

B. Julia, Mark's plot-device, eye-surgeon girlfriend?

C. Addison, his ex-flame? 

D. I dunno, maybe his parents???

Maybe I just think way too much about this stuff.

***********************************

And now onto the next subject.  Geography or meteorology, or both.

(This is what happens when you ask a scientific editor, someone who cares about both consistency AND scientific accuracy, to suspend her disbelief.)

(Yes, it drives people who watch TV with me crazy.)

(No, I don't think I'll stop any time soon.)

During the season premiere, we got to visit Cristina at the Mayo Clinic, in Rochester, Minnesota:

  

Please note that she is wearing a winter coat under her scrubs, with a fur-collared hood (A).  Also present are blowing snowflakes (B). (Well, OK, I drew those in myself, but only because this is a screen capture from a video [the things I do for you people, it's a wonder I'm sane] and you can't see them blowing around in the photo like you can on the video.)  Shorthand: brrrrr, it's winter, it's cold.

During the same time period, we got to visit April at her parents' farm in Ohio:

  

Please note that she is in shirtsleeves (A) and next to some sort of blooming shrub (B).  Shorthand: mmmm, it's nice and warm and summer-like. (She also has a pig on a leash and appears to be channeling Heidi, but that's another discussion altogether.)

OK, let's look at a map now:

Rochester, Minnesota, is in the extreme southeast of the state of Minnesota, which puts it roughly 500 miles away from Ohio.  And not 500 miles due north from Ohio either.  So I find it very suspect that it's deep winter temps for Cristina and flip-flop weather for April, at the same time. 

The plane crash was up in the mountains.  Even at that elevation there was no snow -- and the doctors are in light jackets, so it has to be at least late spring or early summer, say May or June, when the crash happens. (Holy Cats! I do think way too much about this stuff!)

At that point in the year, I don't think you still get blizzards in southern MN.  Let's check out what the climate charts say. (Yes, it's official. WAY. TOO. MUCH.)

(Sorry, scientific editors love charts.)

The only thing I can think of is that the writers, who are probably all from L.A., looked at a map and said, "Hey, Minnesota is practically Canada, it probably snows all the time up there and is full of ice and goofy midwestern stereotype people."  Seriously, Truly, it's the only explanation.

And it's STUPID.

Is it stupid enough that I'm going to stop watching? Oh, hell no. I'm hooked. Despite my bitching, Thursday night will find me curled up on the couch as usual in my PJs with wine and good supply of kleenex.

I don't know how to quit Grey's. It's like Brokeback Hospital.



Why the world needs translation editors: "But sometimes the mistakes make me happy, especially when I'm drinking beer with lunch" edition

I was looking through my photos from France this summer, looking for a suitable profile picture for Facebook, and man, I took a lot of pictures of us sitting around tables eating and drinking.



I found a couple of photos that I took of not-quite-right translations that I found in menus. (I warned you that you'd be hearing about my trip to France for way longer than you were going to want to.  Promise kept.)

The first one was from the Restaurant L'estragon in Monaco-Ville, Monaco, where we stopped for lunch:



"Assorted Pork-butchery"

Okaaaay.

I'm sure that they meant this:



Rather than this:



It might be kind of hard to bring an entire butchery to the table. At any rate, none of us were brave or curious enough to order the butchery -- we settled for warm goat-cheese salads and omelettes.




Then there was this, on the menu at the Nid d'Aigle in Eze village:

"Grilled Lamb Shops"

Again, I'm sure they meant this:

Rather than this:

But, hey,  you never know.

I ended up ordering this:




and two of these:

Which may explain why I found the menu so funny.

Why the world needs editors: "I'm sure that's not what they really meant" edition

Why the world needs translation editors: beefs on the loose edition

I am totally reblogging something I saw today on Dave Reevely's blog in the Ottawa Citizen, as it fits in so well with my "Why the world needs translation editors" series.  This is an actual press release sent out this afternoon by the Service de police de la ville de Gatineau. (Gatineau is the city in Quebec right across the river from Ottawa.)

"Appeals in connection with two animals.


On October 27, 2011 to 12h22 P.M.


The SPVG received a call in relation to an animal or a beef, who was walking in public at large and was threatening to the population. The call stated that there could be two beef in liberty.


The call was received October 27, 2011 to 12:22. The beef was walking freely on the 148 or the Montreal Road West, near George Street in Gatineau (Masson-Angers). Throughout the duration of the intervention, the police found that the animal was aggressive and threatening to the population. The police even had to ask staff to primary school St-Jean de Brebeuf to bring the children inside the school for safety. Several times the animal has dark on patrol cars and police officers.


Around 1:27 p.m., the animal was at the height of the shore road and path of the Quai. It was impossible to contain the animal because of its high aggressiveness. With the consent of the owner, the police had no choice but to kill the animal. The animal has since been taken over by its owner.


Meanwhile, a police officer spotted the second animal in the George Street exit of Highway 50 eastbound. The police managed to contain the animal for some time, but again, the animal was aggressive and difficult to contain. With the consent of its owner the police had to shoot the second animal (2:08 p.m.).


It is important to know that prior to slaughter animals, including the police tried a few times to get the beef into the trailer of their owners using different tactics (in collaboration). The animals showed a lot of aggression and loaded with police officers, patrol cars and the trailer’s owner several times, the decision to kill the animals was necessary to protect citizens (the animals were threatening the population). All measures have been taken to ensure that no person has been put in danger when the shots were fired police officers."

Ah Google Translate, how I love you.


Poor beefs :(

Two countries separated by the same language

That quote, attributed to George Bernard Shaw (and sometimes to Oscar Wilde, people are arguing about this) was meant to refer to Britain and the U.S. But, in my experience, the same can be said for Canada and the U.S.

I was clearing out some old files on my computer and found this guest post that I contributed to a friend's blog some years ago. Alissa doesn't blog anymore, well except for her photo blog where she showcases her gorgeous Kentucky landscapes, sunsets, flowers and dogs, which is a shame. (The fact that she doesn't 'blog' blog anymore is a shame, not the fact that she takes beautiful pictures and shares them online.) So, I've dusted that post off and I'm posting it here.

(This may or may not have something to do with the fact that I'm having a bit of writer's block at the moment, and am dealing with the fall craziness of yard work, back-to-school, pool closing, firewood ordering, garage cleaning, cookie baking, etc., etc.)

Hi, I’m Alison, and I live in a small village just outside Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. Like Briana, who guest-posted last week, I ‘met’ Alissa online through a parenting forum and have known her for probably six years or so [more like 9 or 10 now - Alison]. It was her blog that first inspired me to start one of my own, so I’d like to take this opportunity to say “Thanks, Alissa!”

Internet friendships have added a lot of joy to my life. I’ve been blessed by a wonderful and group of women (and one man) from all over Canada and the U.S., and now new friends in Europe, Australia and New Zealand, reaching out and showing that the world is a pretty small place after all.

But for all our similarities in experience and outlook, I have come to see that there are differences. And being a Canadian with American and British friends, I’m finding that language can be one of those places where those differences pop up.

During one thread on our parenting forum, I mentioned that the girls were getting a new toboggan because the old one was too worn out from banging into trees. Some confusion ensued with Alissa, and when we finally figured out what was going on, we realized that while I was talking about this:


Alissa thought I was talking about this:


Big difference. Yes, the same word is used in Canada to mean sled and in parts of the U.S. (Kentucky, apparently is one) to mean a winter hat. Which we would call a tuque up here. Go figure.

This reminded me of another miscommunication that happened in Kentucky, funnily enough, back when I was in university. I was on a third-year geology field trip in Corbin, Kentucky to study sedimentary geological features. They’re kind of hard to study in Ontario, seeing as the last glaciation scraped most of them away, but there are some gorgeous sections to study down in Kentucky.

It was November, and starting to get chilly. We spent our day driving around in a bus, stopping along the highway to get out and look at the roadcuts. (Sedimentary rocks are arranged in layer-cake fashion, and the best place to look at the features is in a roadcut, where you are looking at a ‘slice’ through the rocks.) Just an aside here, Kentuckians must be the most friendly, helpful people I’ve ever met. Whenever drivers on the highway would see the bus pulled over and all of us out looking at the rocks, they would pull over and ask if we were OK and if we needed them to call us a tow truck.

At the end of the day we were chilled. I hadn’t packed a heavy enough jacket, thinking we were headed to the (almost) Deep South. We ended up at a restaurant after nightfall for dinner. We sat down and the waitress took our orders. I wanted to heat up fast, so I ordered a bowl of chili and tea, and then headed to the washroom to run some hot water over my icy hands, thinking of how hot and comforting the hot chili and tea would be, picturing steam coming out of the little steel teapot, the cup upside down next to it.

Imagine my surprise when I returned to the table to find that the waitress had already set my drink order on the table, and I was looking at a tall, frosty glass of iced tea. Iced tea! When the waitress came back, I apologised for the error, and told her that I had wanted a cup of tea, not a glass of iced tea. “Oh”, she said as she headed back to the kitchen, “you want hot tea.” Up here, ‘tea’ means a pot of steaming tea, and if you want it cold, you have to order iced tea. In Kentucky, it’s the exact opposite: ‘tea’ is iced tea, and if you want tea, you have to order ‘hot tea’. Weird, eh?

I guess that ‘eh’ is a giveaway that I’m Canadian. Though I don’t pronounce ‘about’ as ‘aboot’ as we are reputed to do. There are a few Canadian words or phrases that seem to confuse readers from other countries, so as a public service, I’ll use the rest of my time here on Alissa’s blog (and doesn’t she have the cutest accent?) to explain a few of the most questioned Canadianisms, in case you’ve ever wondered:

Loonie – A one-dollar coin with a picture of a loon on the tails side. We no longer have bills lower than five dollars.

Toonie – A two-dollar coin. Named because it’s worth two loonies.

Tim's, Timmie’s – Tim Horton's: a franchise of coffee shops selling the Canadian national food: the donut. Founded by Tim Horton, an National Hockey League player who played for almost 20 years for the Toronto Maple Leafs. They are everywhere in Canada.

Double double – When you’re at Timmie’s if you want your coffee with two cream and two sugar, you order a double double.

Pickerel – what American fishermen call Walleye

Eavestrough – I think it's called a gutter in the States, you know, the long things that are supposed to collect water from the roof and then send it down the rainspout, but all they really do is clog up with dead leaves?

Kraft dinner – Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, the main diet of the Canadian university student

Chesterfield – sofa or couch

Serviette – napkin

Poutine – a French-Canadian delicacy – french fries covered in a layer of fresh cheese curds and drenched in brown gravy

I guess only a Canadian would understand this, “Excuse me, could you please pass me a serviette? I spilled my poutine on the chesterfield.” Only now, you all (y’all) do too! :-)

Why the world needs translation editors

Or, why Google language tools are not always the best.

Many years ago, I had dinner with my father in a restaurant in the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Montréal. I had bouillabaisse, a French fish stew that originated in Marseille. It was so delicious, I remembered that meal for years. So, when I Googled a recipe for it a few years ago, the first few pages returned were in French. I figured that a French recipe for a French dish would be the most authentic. However, I didn't read French that well back then, and hit the button on the page which translated the recipe into 'English'.

The translation was about as good as the English instructions for a Japanese VCR circa 1988. Here are some excerpts:

"Subtle dish with the many fish species which cook together to release us their different taste and particular perfume, to make a success of it it is essential to rigorously respect the order and the time of cooking of fish, if not parks with a pulp dull full with stop!"

Um, OK. I'll respect the cooking order. Because you know I don't want it to parks with a pulp dull full stop. That would be bad. I think.

"To make partly cooked, potatoes to the vapor, and to keep them with the heat. They will be cut in 4 sections each one and will be added during cooking. To put 8 semi hollow or hollow plates and a large hollow dish to heat."

Great! A chance to use the hollow plates. I hardly ever use those.

"In a pot, to make a bed with white onions thin slices, the crushed cloves of garlic, crushed tomatos, the bay tree, fennel and the bark of orange."

I'm not sure there's room enough in the pot for a bay tree.

"If need be, to add a little soup or water for just to cover fish, and to let cook 10 minutes. Your Bouillabaisse is ready to be useful, and like the soufflés, it could not wait."

I'm *so* glad the bouillabaisse is ready to be useful. Maybe it could vacuum the living room. Or fold some laundry.

"For the service, to present fish and their trimming of potatoes in the large hollow dish, the soup, the sections of toast rubbed with garlic, and garlic mayonnaise and rust with share. To pour a little soup in its plate, to deposit sections of bread pasted of rust or garlic mayonnaise and to taste there various fish with soup, rust or garlic mayonnaise with its own way. "

I'm totally lost with this one. Not sure I want to eat rust. And the mayonnaise sounds kinda pushy, wanting its own way.

I ended up making lasagna instead. But next time I'm in Montréal....

Why the world needs editors: Starfrit edition

This was sent to me by Evelyn (the BFF) attached to an email this morning: "I bought a slider press last night and was reading the instructions. Read the text in the central part under the 3 pictures."






I don't think I want to eat any of those.

Why the world needs editors

This is a door on the fourth floor that leads from our building to the adjoining one. Every time I go through it and read the sign, I snicker.