Sunday, December 16, 2012

Things you never knew existed...

Warning: This post may not be safe for work or appropriate for children... sorry...

I have known from references in books and on television that there is a rather enthusiastic subculture around the world that loves model trains. They buy them. They build landscapes for them. The give up entire basements to construct little worlds for these trains to ride through. What is critical, however is that all of the details, from the fake trees to the miniscule lights must be to scale. That means that there is an entire market for scale items to populate these strange little worlds. 1/87th scale model school buildings. 1/87th scale cars. 1/87th scale barber shop poles and lounging sheep and shopping carts. For the model train enthusiast, creating a realistic model world is key.

This never struck me as anything more than a bit eccentric. Sure, it's strange, but probably no stranger than collecting baseball cards or collecting Civil War paraphernalia if you really think about it. To be honest, I never really gave the model train community much thought.

Until last week.

Last week I learned that these miniature worlds, so focused on maintaining a representative-if-tiny reality, include people. Unlike tractors and trees, people spend approximately 97% of their time doing unflattering things. If you froze reality in the square mile around where you currently sit and made a 1/87th scale model of what each person was doing in that moment, what would you get? Well, you would get at least one person hunched forward looking at a computer screen with their chin in their hand (you). A few people would be sleeping. A couple might be walking or eating. Someone would be in the shower. Some teenager would be alone in his bedroom with a magazine. At least four people would be checking their smart phones. Probably ten are picking their noses. And someone, somewhere, is having sex.

And that brings us back to the world of our model train enthusiasts. That brings us back to the people who design the scale models to satisfy these reality-obsessed hobbyists. That brings us to the shelf of scale figurines in the toy department of a store that I was standing in front of last week in Augsburg, Germany. That brings us to this.







As you can see form Kris's thumb, these models are tiny. As you can see by looking at them, these models are naked. This company, in its pursuit to miniaturize the world, has miniaturized a community of nudists. Some poor factory employee somewhere spends his day with a tiny paint brush of black paint putting pubic hair on these figurines because, somewhere, one of these model train enthusiasts has decided his train happens to be driving by a nude beach.

Yes, there are more mundane models, but even in these the faithfulness to reality is astounding. Take this family outing, with the dog watching the children play in the sand.



Or these bank robbers holding a hostage; it is clear that someone puts a lot of thought into the body language.



Even these wandering street animals aren't just sitting around. No, they are stretching, sniffing, and peeing on things.



The sports fan collection is being notably unruly.




Clearly the person who designed the city-scene collection spent some time in  New York. There is a flasher, an old woman hitting someone with a purse, a beggar, and a man urinating in public! No world is complete without public urination.




And then there is this. The lower set can satisfy any of general need for your scale naked people being scale naked in their scale world. But, for certain situations, situations which include two of your scale people being scale naked, well that requires the top package.



Obviously displaying the figures themselves would be too graphic, but the customer needs to know what he is buying. So the company is kind enough to display the piece of furniture (a desk) and a stick figure cartoon of the models themselves. Out of morbid curiosity we checked the website to find that the "Sexy Times" collection is so popular that there are nine different scenarios for the model train enthusiast to pick from, each featuring a different piece of furniture and provocative cartoon silhouette. What more could a model enthusiast need?

I imagine that I don't want to know.

I hope that knowing these models exist has somehow added to your day. If you cannot get these images out of your mind despite trying, I am sorry. Know that you are not alone. Perhaps deal with it by making a blog post and ensuring that the images are burned into the minds of your friends and family as well.

Saturday, December 1, 2012

The Economically Priced Christmas Tree

Today started as a 14-chimney morning.

It may sound cheesy, but every morning Kris and I check out our window for two things: whether we can see the mountains and how many chimneys have smoke coming out of them. The answers give us at least a small idea of what the day will be like. The answer to the first question, and the inspiration for the name of this blog, is typically no. This morning the early winter fog had lifted giving a beautiful view of France.


The second question focuses on the bottom half of our view and is a little more obvious: the more people using their fireplaces, the colder it is outside. Recently it has been about eight or nine. As I said before, today started as a 14-chimney day.

The brisk air and snowy mountains seemed a fitting start for a day with the goal of finding and decorating a Christmas tree. Having such a goal was oddly refreshing after weeks of goals like "get a key to our mailbox," "fix the bathroom door so that it closes," "find out how the leasing agency lost our 1800 francs," and "get a working fridge." After weeks of being ignored by the agency, finding the right person to talk to, and a flurry of contractors, we are finally able to shift our focus to other things. That meant today started with a trip to Ikea.

This trip to Ikea (hopefully our last) was to fill in all of the holes that we had discovered in our household since moving in. Some holes were small, like more plates and a shelf for the bathroom. Others were larger. Apparently, when buying a duvet for a new bed, the dimensions of the duvet exactly matching the dimensions of the mattress is not a convenience, it is a highly misleading coincidence. Perhaps, if one sleeps alone and never rolls from side-to-side more than once in a complete night of sleep, this arrangement can work. If, however, there are two people sharing the bed and one rolls around a lot, or likes to read for a while with her knees up, or systematically rolls to face his spouse and grabs the blanket then turns away and lets go at least a dozen times per night ... then this arrangement is non-ideal. We needed a bigger blanket.

Our list set and our goals clear we blasted through Ikea in record time. On our way out we stopped in their holiday shop, grabbed the ready-made pack of ornaments and looked for a tree. The trees were small, but nice enough, interestingly displaying hanging upside-down from the shop ceiling. After a few minutes of looking a friendly looking employee smiled her way to us and asked if she could help. We explained (with much stumbling and ample pointing) that we were looking for a tree.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, clearly happy to understand our question. She smiled brightly and said, "We don't have any trees."

Thinking we had misunderstood we asked again, pointing to the trees on display.

"No," she smiled again. "Out of stock. Anything else?"

We shook our heads and she smiled off. Mostly victorious we headed back home to drop off our things and run to the grocery store. Thankfully, the grocery store had Christmas trees for sale. Each box was clearly labeled:




For those of you who don't understand German, the phrase roughly translates as, "Basic: The Economically Priced Christmas Tree." Obviously assured that we were getting the best bargain for our money, Kris and I grabbed a tree and headed for the registers.

That is, we started to. Our triumphant exit was interrupted by a box of small, and rather hideous, tree ornaments. For any of you who know my husband, you know that he has moments of odd taste. His stuffed animals include a mandril, an octopus, and an opossum. The last he liked to keep under the bed to scare me when I went looking for lost socks. So, you can imagine his joy at finding small squirrels seemingly made from old pine needles, fake fur, and bad vibes. Some of them were deeply unsettling. One was missing an eye. Kris took a few minutes, picked out the "cutest" one, named it Henri, and took it home to live in our Christmas tree.

Here's how it all turned out.

The tree



and, of course, Henri.



Merry Christmas.