Noncurantist: Word of the Day

Noncurantist, a. [f. It. noncurante, not caring, careless + IST.] Marked by indifference.
1882 W. S. Blunt Future of Islam 42 The faith of Mecca was giving place to a noncurantist infidelity.

Dixie's Land 8.2

Previous    First

[Continuing chapter eight]

After a miserable night, Stewart washed and dressed himself without enthusiasm for his appointment with General Magruder. Stewart doubted that anything Magruder could say would be worse than having William Walker exclude him from the glorious Texas expedition.

He was nearly correct.

The interview with the general itself was no trial whatever. However, Stewart spent most of the brief meeting trying to absorb the information Magruder gave them as they entered his room: President Calhoun was dead.

This Ought to be a Real Thing

Alas, not a real book. Image by Chris Smith.

Once upon a time, people bought books either unbound or bound between plain boards. Then they had them covered in bindings (almost always leather) designed for them; these bindings provided a uniform appearance to a library—and probably made life miserable for anyone searching for a particular book by its appearance, which is how I do it myself a lot of the time.

Shortly after I announced the birth of the Herridge Lake Public Library, my pal (and Sucrophile-enabler) Chris Smith sent me this image. I think it's a glorious thing, and my only regret is that it's purely a digital thing. I wonder, though: how much might it cost to have my own novels rebound in such a fashion?

Graphospasm

I was looking up the etymology of the word guts just now, and my copy of the Compact OED thumped open to a page with the header GRAPHOSPASM. So of course I had to check out the meaning.

And is there a more appropriate word to encounter for this blog? Graphospasm is defined as "writer's cramp."

Froot Loops

Overall Rating: 96

The essential breakfast experience has not changed. Long live the King.

Appearance

Sometimes simplicity just works. Froot Loops are miniature donuts in day-glo colours; not as shockingly bright as, say, Trix, they seem to shimmer in the bowl before you pour on the milk. The addition of lime-flavoured (and green-coloured) Loops is the perfect touch, breaking up the sameness of red-orange-yellow colouring of the old-style Froot Loops.

Taste and Texture, Dry

The perfect snacking cereal. The simple shape makes them easy to pick up; the variety of flavours is quite noticeable when the package is fresh, and overall is a wonderful, sweet-sour tang that perfectly balances acid with sugar. These aren’t cloying or heavy, and as a result it’s easy to snack your way through an entire package, thus ruining a carefully structured taste trial.

Taste and Texture, With Milk

As above, not quite as bright as Trix when the milk goes on. Froot Loops shines, though, in retaining its crunch and crisp, firm mouthfeel in milk. Maybe they’ve done something to the sugar frosting, which resists the milk quite tenaciously. Even several minutes after the addition of the cow-juice, Froot Loops have a distinct snap to them as you bit down. And the acid zip, though somewhat subdued by the milk, is still there. Oh, and by the way: the [old] TV commercials are right: you can tell this from other cereals by smell.

Conclusion

If anything defines the suburban Saturday-morning kid experience, it’s a couple of bowls of Froot Loops and a couple of hours of Warner Bros. cartoons: sugar, psychotics and falling anvils (or coyotes, or Yosemite Sam). Practically speaking, there is little real difference between Froot Loops and its competitor, Trix. either is a great cereal choice, and if Froot Loops has been given a higher score, it’s for sentimental reasons on the part of the Institute staff. Sucrophile has very fond memories of Froot Loops, and sometimes even science can be affected by sentiment and myth. [February 1993]

Dixie's Land Chapter Eight

Previous    First

The howls of the late-night drunkards bounced weirdly off the walls and rain-soaked streets of the old city. Stewart, walking back to his hotel, felt a small kinship with those revelers; he wanted to shout out his pleasure and joy and the magnificent electricity that seemed to course through him. He could still smell Pauline's scent; it had, he decided, permeated him completely. Grinning, he composed letters to Mother and Father describing the happiness he felt. From time to time he tried to imagine how he would describe the sensation of Pauline's body to the men of the regiment. To do so would be to coarsen the experience, though; some things could never be spoken of without diminishing them. That sensation would have to remain his own personal possession.

New Orleans no longer seemed a monotonous, gray monster to him. Now he and the city shared a delightful secret.

He was surprised, on reaching his hotel, to find Thomas's recumbent form slumped in a chair in the lobby. Stewart shook the slave awake. "What are you doing down here?"

Dixie's Land 7.3

Previous    First

[Concluding chapter seven]

Stewart and Patton joined the happy crowd thronging from Placide's Varieties onto the sidewalk. It was relief to be out in the fresh air. Patton was still laughing at the comic antics of the final act on the program; Stewart, familiar to the point of boredom with the play, had had other things on his mind. Thomas, for instance: the servant had been reluctant to leave the hotel, and only when persuaded of the mission’s importance to Virginia’s future had he agreed to visit Barber’s hotel this evening. Stewart had already written a pass for Thomas when Patton, laughing, had pointed out that passes weren’t necessary in Canada. Nobody here would question a negro on the streets unsupervised. It was that realization that prevented Stewart from fully enjoying his anticipated meeting with Miss Martin.

"Why, Captain Stewart, how nice of you to come and see me again." Pauline Martin stood up, smiling, as Stewart and Patton were let into the room. Her face was still heavily made up, and she looked a little like a poorly done child's painting. Through the paint, though, Stewart could still see the exotic beauty that had taken up residence in his mind.

Dixie's Land 7.2

Previous    First

[Continuing chapter seven]

“Will you slow down your damned horse?” Patton whispered. He had dropped back of Stewart, who noticed that they had fallen behind Captain Menard. “He’s going to notice in a minute.”

“What are you so worked up about?”

“Are you mad? I haven’t had a chance to speak with you alone yet this morning.” Patton looked at him for a moment, and when Stewart didn’t respond he sputtered, “Barber, man! What did you learn this morning about Barber?”

“Why are you suddenly so interested?” Stewart hissed in return. “Two days ago you were convinced I was mad for thinking that the riverboat explosion was an attack. What’s changed?” Could it be that Patton had also had a visit from the mysterious Colonel Hopkins?

“A man’s allowed to change his mind.”

“Well, the change hasn’t done you any good. All I’ve been able to do so far is to find the hotel Barber used. The desk clerk was very polite, but it was clear to me that he knew more than he was telling.”