bowl with noodles; bowl without

Any number of years ago, while living in England, we stumbled upon a newer place in London called Wagamama. It’s a noodle house that I believe opened in the early ‘aughts in the Bloomsbury area of the city. If I’m not completely insane, I vaguely remember that the owner came from a long list of successful joints he’d either run or chef’d at in the past. The general room configuration is rows of wooden tables that seat 10 or 12 down each side and people simply sit side-by-side ignoring the conversations ongoing to the left and right or, taking the opportunity to engage with other humans (see our tea experience). L, in particular, loved to eat at Wagamama at every opportunity when we were in the City five or six times a year. The huge bowls of steaming noodles, the open kitchen layout, and the bustle of the London crowd at night was always enjoyable; she’d spent a couple hours hunting the huge noodles with her poorly-executed chopstick ability. It’s a place we’ve missed over the years – vaguely hanging in that dark corner of our past lives. I’m sure the franchise has expanded quite a bit in England (they’d added more in London before we left) but I’m not sure if they’ve been able to maintain the quality and kick ass-ness of the original; maybe I could do a little research and divine expansion quality. What brings this up is that as Laurel and I were walking from our dinner to the theatre on Friday night I was telling her that my favorite bookstore, Olsson’s, used to have a great location on 7th St. NW in the Penn Quarter – we were approaching the very block of its location, hence the story – but this locally-owned chained went bankrupt early last year and my favorite hangout in the area had been shuttered. As I’m relaying this horribly interesting story I point across 7th to what had been the store’s location and, lo’ and behold, the store front windows are covered with lovely signs announcing that a Wagamama is to open in 2010. Great joy was expressed by both of us as we danced around and dreamt of returning, once again, to our beloved noodle restaurant sometime next year. Laurel, realizing how much I love bookstores, and knowing how much she loves Wagamama, pointed out rather sardonically that the bookstore died for a higher calling; I couldn’t agree more.

My father and uncle have been visiting since Saturday and X pointed out to me after dinner last night, clear of the guests that had departed, that my storytelling ability is just like my father’s. I not sure what word she used but it wasn’t anything that resembled great, fantastical, enthralling, or good. In truth, it was a funny conversation as much as anything else but she’s challenged me to tell all my stories in no more than five or six sentences. So, in the spirit of that challenge I’ll retell the Wagamama story within the confines of that call to arms.

Laurel and I used to eat at a place call Wagamama in London. We both loved the noodles and chatter of the crowd. Laurel is visiting this month and we noticed that a Wagamama is scheduled to open in the Penn Quarter sometime next year. Maybe when she’s here next summer we can partake of the noodles. There used to be a bookstore there. Hooray!

T

so very sick and tired

What I find most strange about the first six months of the Obama presidency is this: the categorically weak positions now either held or supported by the 58.3 million that voted for John McCain; and the people that continue to support the arch-conservative movement so blindly. I want, for just a moment, to make it clear that 66.8 millions Americans – not Sarah Palin Americans – actual American people, voted for Barack Obama to be President of the United States. Those people are no doubt a part of your family, your neighborhood, your friends and co-workers. That 66.8 million come from the military ranks, academia, white- and blue-collar families, whites, black, Hispanics, Asian Americans, and every other corner of the country from Maine to Washington to California and back to Florida. You may not agree with the decisions that have been made so far, and that’s the way it should be, so voice those policy differences loud and proud. But remember, when you decide to idly repeat the moronic theories and hate that is so deeply rooted in the opposition then you’re basically telling everyone else that supported, and still supports, the President that we too are terrorists, Muslims, baby killers, America haters, unpatriotic, and secret communists and socialists. A whole bunch if incendiary words that are meant to convey nothing more than blind hatred of the President for whatever reason you choose to throw out there. Think long and hard about what it says – long and hard. I’ll give you a few tips: anything other than the baby killer slag is directly reflected by the fact that Barack Obama has a funny name and is not white. How exactly do we get to terrorist, Muslim, unpatriotic (tied to terrorism), and most likely socialist, if Obama weren’t black? Feel free to take some time to sort out a defense for continuing to not only believe these stances, but to actually spread them as if backed by facts. Maybe you don’t think you’re a part of the fringe that contains whackjobs and conspiracy theorists – but, in reality, you are. The folks in this video may not be your Members of Congress but they certainly don’t fall under what we might call the fringe as they are currently sitting members of the House of Representatives. Have a watch.



These are Members that either aren’t smart enough to get the hoax or are so blinded by complete loons that they can’t answer a simple question. The only reason a politician won’t answer a question – well, one of many – is because they are worried about getting re-elected. A U.S. Congressional District is made up of approximately 750,000 people living in an embarrassingly gerrymandered areas (gerrymandered by both the Republicans and Democrats). If the stance that House Member X is taking on Obama’s birth is because he’s worried about his rigged constituency not voting for him then we are talking about a ton of Americans who are seriously confused. Obama was born in Hawaii and any lunatic who continues to hold any position different than that is lost. Watch that video again – these are members of the U.S. Congress who are running away, in suit-and-tie, in order to not answer questions; and these questions aren’t even substantive – they are questions that can be answered by anyone of sound mind and body. I don’t even care if the video is edited and there were twenty others who did answer the question. The ten or so in here are evidence enough of the insanity: his birth, terrorist, Muslim, baby killer...no doubt the rumor that he's a fag will be thrown out pretty soon.

We’re all free to take a positions on abortion, religion, the wars, taxes, the stimulus, healthcare, the bailout, the economy, more on taxes, the Middle East, nuclear weapons, or Rahm Emanual. What we are not free to do, like it or not, is to incite people to violence by the very means used throughout history. Claims of support for terrorism, cries of conspiracy, the screaming of wholly untrue accusations used purely to incite are ignorant. What Sarah Palin did at her rallies, fully supported by John McCain and all of those in attendance, was nearly criminal. Maybe it seems like fun now – or a stand-in for an actual opinion on issues – but it’s not. It’s lazy, it’s ignorant, and it's embarrassing. What happens when something truly terrible happens? Are you going to sit on your porch and play the Limbugh / O’Reilly defense? “Hey, they were just words. I didn’t kill anyone.” Think about it. Pick yourself up and have a reasoned stance on the issues of the day. Have a position that is true to yourself and your ideals not some stance based on the fact that Obama is black, a terrorist, a communist, born in Africa, or a hater of America. Read that list again. Now read it again. None of those words are positions – they are simply you resorting to playground catcalls that you should have outgrown by now.

In 2012 there will be another election and we’ll all have had time to see what’s been done right and what’s been done wrong. We are six months in with three-and-a-half years to go. Time is needed to get anything done in Washington and six months isn’t a reflection of anything. Scream about taxes and the deficit and all the spending – but do your homework first and make sure you know the numbers…for both the spending and deficit now, and the spending and deficit from the last administration.

Good luck, we’ll need it.

dusted

Laurel and I headed over to Eastern Market this afternoon to get our first look at the refurbished (re-after-the-fire-ished?) market and wander the artisan stands outside. I don't know if the re-opened main building has attracted more locals folk, or if it's a combination of the tourist season and the new building, but it's very crowded these days. It also seems as if the new building has drawn in even more craft, arts, and flea market sellers. The finished building is quite nice inside and they've perfectly arranged the food sellers in the exact same positions as from the temporary building - no worry of getting lost when trying to find Bowers Cheeses. We managed to escape the heat while gathering pizza fixings and a variety of veg for the week. Once we got into the artisan area I ended up finding a cat-hood, bamboo bath for Mavis, a huge ceramic tea mug for X, a few containers of loose tea, an Obama print, and two massive lemonades...for survival. Aside from the lemonade, I'm not sure any purchase could be dubbed a necessity. Laurel somehow managed to convince me to buy her a bag of hot, mini-donuts which she then overly dusted with the supplied powdered sugar (the overdusting being fully intentional and not merely a mistake). She could only get through five of the seven donuts before giving it up and thereby extending her life by at least ten years. Here's a good look at the overdone bag of donuts:

Dinner last night went well once we figured out the table configuration for ten, or eight, or nine, or ten...you see the problem. The beets, sweet corn, and homegrown garlic are roasting for tonight's pizza extravaganza.

The heat and humidity furnace has been turn to the full blast setting. It's lovely.

t

evening out

Last night was spent in and about the city. L and I headed in to met X at Rosa Mexicano for dinner before heading separate ways - X to a gathering at a friend's house in NW, L and I (the 51) over to the Woolly Mammoth Theatre in the Penn Quarter. Woolly is hosting the Second City Improv for a three-week run of their Barack Stars show. (We had tickets prior to the invite to NW so splitting up, post dinner, seemed the best option.) The show is two hours of great fun; poked at President Obama, the GOP, the public, and anything else they could imagine. Even Laurel was impressed and laughing all night - it's two hours of very good theatre. Much like the Oresteia a few weeks ago, this troupe represents what's really great about live theatre in the six to eight-member mold: everyone can sign, dance, act, and deliver great lines. You'd be hard pressed to have a better time on a Friday night - and, they're letting you take your drinks in during the show! A rarity only seen of late at the Keegan Theatre on Church St. This was my first visit to Woolly Mammoth and it's one of the great theatre spaces that I've seen. There's not a bad seat in the house, the design is gorgeous, the staff top notch, and location easily accessible. The lobby is perfect for the size of the audience and the ticket prices reasonable. They offer $20 standing room only tickets which actually seem like a great idea. There's a bar rail/standing area behind the main floor seating that would be quite comfortable for a two-hour show. We'll definitely be heading back throughout the 2009-2010 season.

Here are a few shots from last night: Laurel over the main lobby and then posing with "Michelle".

We have a herd of kinfolk and friends over tonight. Report at 10.

t

one more

I'm off baseball for the year; no apparent reason, just am. But, Mark Buehrle of the ChiSox pitched his second no hitter this afternoon on the South Side - this one a perfect game, only the 18th in history. The most stunning play? One out, top of the ninth and he's two outs from the finish. Normally, the final out is the highlight clip but there's no doubt that the 26th out was historical within historical. Watch the video and watch this kid go, and go, and go. That shot was hit hard and DeWayne Wise covers at least 30-35 yards just to get to the fence before he pulls the ball back, bobbles it, and finally holds on. Amazing stuff. Stuff of legend.

sunny day

Weddings are stressful, I guess. The formality involved in vows can be overbearing and I've often thought (thought, not married!) that something to lighten the mood would go a long way. Since I don't have much to say today, and it's been a week of heavy thoughts, I'll just pass along this fantastic wedding - and its video. Very few things make me smile outright; this is one of them.

a bit foggy

Being that I’m not philosophical enough to ever get all my thoughts properly aligned, nor my writing ability up to scratch, I’ll direct you to Ta-Nehisi Coates' piece at the Atlantic. It’s a bit long – and I’m passing that along as a warning to you, not an critique of the piece – but so perfectly encapsulates for me not only the problem of “-isms” but also the massive divide I see between conservatives and progressives. And to some extent, it ties into how we frame our positions on other important issues; using extreme examples to justify whether we are or aren’t doing something wrong. The most obvious scenario where I see this happening is the ‘ticking time bomb’ line of defense when we talk of torture. I think it’s brilliantly written. What’s always on my mind when talking about social issues is my belief that things aren’t the way they appear because there’s so much still behind the curtain, stuff we don’t see and therefore don’t take into account. We think we have full awareness of everything around us yet we don’t even try to see details that aren't overtly displayed. I have pages of my memory that are filled with why something like disparate impact makes perfect sense. Volumes of thoughts from the ride home that have been penned about how disingenuous it is to see the phrase “reverse discrimination” used in an serious discussion. It always sounds like two kids fighting on a playground. The big kid is always punching the little kid in the face – every recess, every day, all year long. The little kid decides that enough is enough and he buys a catcher’s mask to wear every single recess; sure, he’ll look pretty funny and the damn thing isn’t comfortable but it seems the best option. As they head out the first day for some morning games the big kid hangs out around the corner of the exit and, as usual, punches the kid in the face. Fortunately, the mask takes the brunt of the strike and breaks three of the kid’s fingers. Now, is there any sympathy for the big kid? Should the thug be going to the teacher and claiming the little kid broke his fingers? I’m just saying…

I think I’ll just relax tonight and quit getting wound up. Maybe I can squeeze another entry out of Laurel. She told me the other night that she “doesn’t like deadlines”. We’ll see about that.

Love to all.

t

P.S. If you are Mad Men follower there’s some sort of unintended second-season spoiler over the first few paragraphs of the Atlantic article. If you’ve seen that season on TV, no worries; if you’re waiting for the DVDs to show up…well, I’ve been spoiled.

guest room

(by guest poster)

Guten tag! I’m Todd’s younger daughter Laurel, and welcome to the first installment of Fantasy! (by a dork who can talk of nothing else.)  I’m thirteen and live in Omaha, Nebraska. I really want to be an author, and have started my first book with my laptop that my school handed out to all the eighth graders. Which is great, because I could steal the neighbor’s internet. One more thing you should know about me: I have an unhealthy obsession with anything magical (dragons, elves, mythology, etc.).

Have a lot less people than I thought read Lord of the Rings? Because yesterday my dad was driving me to camp, and he asked who the elves are in LOTR. When I told him who they were, he then asked me who the short guy with the ax was, and if dwarves and hobbits are different. While I was explaining to him about how no, hobbits are much more peaceful than dwarves, I was suddenly struck by what a geek I was. Considering one of my favorite topics is the logic of the characters within fairy tales and mythology, I’m surprised I don’t feel like that more often. But I mean, come on, who just walks into a creepy old lady’s house in the middle of the woods, even if it is made of candy, which is pretty much awesome? Not quite as cool as Baba Yaga’s house, because it walks around on chicken legs, and… I just got that geek feeling again.

Has anyone here read the Percy Jackson series, by Rick Riordan? Because you really should, if you like fantasy. It’s like a modernized version of Greek mythology, and it’s honestly one of the best series I’ve ever read (and I read more than most of the people I know.) It manages to be really funny without sacrificing action or plot, which is nice, and as I mentioned earlier, I’m a mythology nut, so it’s basically perfect for me. (PS: If you have read Percy Jackson and liked it, try The Shadow Thieves by Anne Ursu. It’s really good too, but Percy will always be #1 in my heart.)

Have you ever noticed how the gods in Greek mythology are kind of hypocrites? They find humans basically worthless animals, but then get mad when we ignore them or don’t honor them enough or something. They were upset about Prometheus giving us fire, so they sent Pandora with her jar (it’s not actually a box,) and insist humanity honors and sacrifices to them. Doesn’t really seem to be a fair trade off. Your kind-of friend steals fire for us, but that leads to us beginning to worship you, and you release a bunch of vices on us. Even-steven. And they seem oddly eager to punish us. Like the king Erymanthia (that’s the best I can spell it) once forgot to include Artemis in a sacrifice, and she released an enormous boar into his country. Hera doesn’t like Zeus’s son Heracles, so she drives him insane a couple times. Though admittly, her husband cheats on her all the time, and punishes her if she tries to get back at him, she’s allowed to try and get revenge on his offspring and girlfriends instead. But anyway, when Heracles (named after Hera!) is driven insane and kills his family, he gets punished for something that is blatantly arranged by Hera. Where does she get off?

Anyway, I hope you have been educated by this rather rambling blog entry, or else you’re probably entirely sick of fantasy. This has been the first installment of Fantasy! And yes, that means there might be more.

Be afraid.

Be very afraid.

ah, shhhh, get out of here

As I was putting the final touches on a miniscule dinner party last evening - and, after fetching the WonderTwins and a co-worker from the Metro - there was monkey chatter all about as they tore into a package that had arrived at the house. There are a few things to know about when the monkeys are together; first, if they both know what's in a package then it's clearly a pre-planned event of great excitement. Second, if it somehow involves you then you know you've been dragged even further into the clan's clutches. This package included a print by Amber Alexander (shop her cool stuff here). There's long been the opinion that I'm more type / blog, and watch or listen quizzically at the loons who live in the canopy; believe me, you don't want much to do with those that live in the canopy. So, my reflective gift was this print which is truly a priceless rendition of me and my couch...and newspaper....and coffee. Not a monkey in sight.


I'll have a Laurel's week update later today. Maybe even a guest post.

i'll have that swamp land

As if on cue or via eavesdropping, Jack Shafer at Slate.com has decided to do a piece on something the Eleven debated, at length, last week: e-books (and our discussion eventually turned the newspaper industry but that's for another time). What brought it up then was the arrival of L.'s Kindle reader that I'd promised her for her birthday - Kindle reader, iPods; books, music. My position on all the technology and cultural tidbits is this: I believe that the publishing industry and newspapers are too stupid to have learned from the downfall of the record labels. That's a very simplified version but it cuts to the point. I also don't believe that those running newspapers or publishing houses are any smarter, either in business or technology, than music industry executives; I think they're all blinded by profit and are willing to do anything they can to keep what they have right now. I told X that if I were a book publishing house I would be at the very forefront of moving nearly all my books to e-books while working in coordination with Amazon and Sony to develop software that protects the product while still earning money. I don't see that as swimming against my company's or my client's best interest - anything less is more like dereliction of duty. Yet, here we see publishers fighting the technology by wanting to keep prices up and delaying e-book releases for no good reason. What's even more comedic about the "delayed release" road is that the movie studio-to-VHS-DVD triptych has already played that out. Remember when the window (I think that's the movie business term) for release of a movie on tape or DVD after it's theatre run opened used to be six months or more? Then 90-days, then 60, now it's something like 30 day for most movies. Why? because people won't wait that long and the iron, for a hot movie, cools rapidly. As the scales tip toward more e-books the industry will fall way behind if it keeps the prices up and plays with marketing via two different technologies. I cannot even fathom what business model involves a meeting where anyone in the room utters the phrase, "Well, we'll release it in print on June 1st and dick over the e-bookers by waiting to release it until September 1st." I'd actually fire that person for even thinking that thought. I don't know what to say about the person who accepted that advice. The question is this: what outside agent, and it may be Amazon, is going to jump into the market and force the publishers to work by their rules? Apple has clearly dominated the market for music and they don't even own the music - nothing but a gateway that racks up billions of dollars because the music industry was too slow and stale to consider keeping up. We'll talk again in a few years and see just how much wasn't learned by the publishing industry.

Wha'chu talking about, Willis?

When you grow up visiting Chicago, and in a time when tall buildings ruled the World and boys were interested in these sorts of details, you have a laundry list of buildings: Empire State Building, John Hancock, Standard Oil, and the Willis Tower. Granted, the last three are all Chicago landmarks since the Windy City seemed to rule in the tall building derby back then – I think that at one point they were the three tallest in the World. Oh, maybe I need to go back and check that list…right, the Willis Tower. I remember in my youth when I’d ride the massive, high-speed elevators to the observation deck of the tallest building on the globe. Looking out far to the east-northeast I could see Wisconsin on a clear day; I could see my favorite Chicago landmark, the John Hancock building over on Michigan Ave. As I stood there, in awe, I thought “Wow, the Willis Tower is just way cool…” (remember, I was in my teens). I’ve often thought back on my journeys to the Willis Tower, my bus rides down Sheridan Ave, my walks around downtown and all these passed along to my children; the greatness, and trivial details, of theWillis Tower. Everyone who goes the city wants to see the Willis Tower. Even though it’s been bumped down some random list of “tallest structure/tower/blah blah blah”, it is still considered the tallest of the skyscrapers. SKYSCAPER! What a great term apparently from a nautical history and first applied to the Home Insurance Building (1885) in, of all places, Chicago. Long live the Willis Tower

slow simmer until done

The other night while I was making the pizza dough – and no doubt humming to myself - I suddenly came to the opinion that cooking shows, primarily the 24-hour Food Network, are part of a larger problem; it seems a food problem cloaked in a TV problem. I don’t have anything against cookery shows, at the base level, because I learned a load from quite a few of them (Lidia on PBS, the older Bobby Flay shows, the early BBC Jamie Oliver shows), but I’m starting to believe that cooking has become something closer to a hobby than an actual live requirement. Think about all the other hobby-ish stuff on TV: flipping houses, antique collecting, makeovers, home improvement, and gardening. That’s not an all-inclusive list but it does reflect a load of activities that seem to fall under sideshows to actual daily life. All of them are great activities but they aren’t required in order to survive. With entire networks devoted to home-and-garden, cooking, motorcycle building, and new wardrobes, I think we’ve begun to see all of them as accessories to life as opposed to actual life. What logically comes to my mind is that we’ve moved from cooking as a part of our daily life and decided that it’s much like gardening, knitting, or redoing a bedroom; it’s nice enough but it can wait. Not only can it wait – like the bathroom redo – it can be fulfilled by someone or something else be that a restaurant, a microwave, or a bag of chips. If you untangle that mess and pull yourself back towards the idea that buying quality food and cooking it at home is an actual function of everyday life then you’ll be in a better place. I don’t buy into the idea that eating out, or eating crap food, is either easier or more cost effective in either man hours or money. Cooking at home certainly consumes a piece of your day when you do the shopping and putter about the kitchen but it’s not an inordinate chore that is somehow beyond most people. I know it’s no a fully-formed idea as written here but it makes sense to me. The other issue I think I could fold into my idea of “food isn’t that hard” would be the American workday timeline. I happen to think that eating breakfast at 7am so you can be to work at 8 or 9am throws off our entire cycle. If we awoke a bit later and had our workdays run more like 10 or 11 am to 7pm then we could change our dinner planning – which is the bane of the eating process – to something more like 9pm and then hit the sack closer to 11pm or midnight. The forced eating process that squeezes everything in between 7am and 6pm is problematic, at least as I see it. I think that I can make the point better by imagining a TV network that was full of shows that showed nothing but housecleaning techniques and tips; within that idea, people would stop cleaning their houses because it would’ve become a hobby. Here’s some enlightening news about fast food:

bitch sessions

Sen. Sessions refuses to actually listen to anything that Sotomayor gives him in response to his questions. His stance is very simple and I’ll summarize here; “You say that life experience, whether or not what you mean is that experiences comes from your youth, law school days, prosecutor days, and/or 17 years on the bench isn’t applicable here because all I see is a Latina woman. The fact that you are a Latina woman, and a minority, is clearly the only life experience you are considering and that means you don’t like white men. Good day.”

it's an opening

So, I have the Sotomayor confirmation hearing up in a small window. My first take of the day is that Chuck Grassley (R-IA) is a tool. Of course, I already knew that but it’s nice to have your beliefs reaffirmed. Even though Grassley is spouting on about his “review of her judicial record”, I seriously doubt that he’s cracked an opinion written by Sotomayor. Of course, maybe Jon Kyl (R-AZ) is showing himself to be even worse: it’s enlightening that Kyl, in particular, can’t even look directly at Sotomayor during his opening remarks as he twists ideas and throws about the “activist judge” epithet. Sen. Kyl has let us know that “80% of her decisions were either overturned or vacated by the Supreme Court.” Nice number, Kyl, but it’s not true. In Sotomayor’s 11 years on the appeals court she has written the majority opinion in 380 cases. Of those 380 cases the Supreme Court granted cert on five of those cases and overturned three of them. No matter how you slice that up mathematically, the Supreme Court only chose to review less than 3% of those case and overturned three – which is 7/10th of one percent of those in which she wrote the majority opinion; or, one in every 127 cases. If you were to take in consideration the full number of opinions issued by that court – other opinions in which she was in the majority but didn’t write the actual opinion – the number of overturned decisions is probably well less than one-half of one percent. Sen. Lindsey Graham (R-SC) is now flexing his stellar abilities from the dais. I love this line from Graham, “Does this mean I’m calling you racist? No, it doesn’t.” That’s pretty much like saying to someone, “I would never be one to call you an asshole but others might.” At least Graham has the strength of character to look at Sotomayor as he’s telling her that he wouldn’t throw water on her even if she were on fire. Oops, I had it turned down just now but it sounds like Sen. Leahy (D-VT) just laid some smack down on Graham for being petulant child – now Jeff Sessions (R-AL) has jumped in as big brother and Leahy gives him a whack on the nose. What’s most comedic about any of these hearings is that we have to listen to all the senators pontificating during their opening statements: four hours of blowhards from both sides of the aisle who like to hear themselves speak. I’ll finish off the morning session with Tom Coburn (R-OK) pointing out that the law should not be unpredictable, something that Sotomayor apparently said as some point in her life, according to him. He believes that it shouldn’t matter what judge you draw on a case but the law. He’s essentially saying that every case should be a unanimous decision at any level. By his standard, there’s no need for appeals courts or the Supreme Court because every bit of law is objective – and even if we maintain a Supreme Court, every decisions should be 9-0, preferably always deciding for the corporations and against citizens. Did I say that aloud? Oh, and by the way, if anyone wants to even consider international law as something worthwhile? Well, you can move back to Europe, Frenchie.

One more thing is this headline, unrelated to the hearing, from Yahoo!, “S.F. Zoo's gay penguin couple broken up by female penguin.” I think that’ll open the door to the “anti-gay, it’s a choice” crowd; and in San Francisco of all places.

"don't be an a-hole." - the furies

So, last night I took my love to see Dizzie Miss Lizzie's Roadside Review's version of the Oresteia. Call it a mythological tragedy, if you will, but this troupe of minstrels turned a very entertaining presentation. They'd first done this last year during the Capital Fringe Festival and this year they've been booked late nights into the Keegan Theatre in D.C. for three weeks. There was some serious discussion as we were homeward bound about the adaptation misfiring on the Eumenides portion of the trilogy; it was a bit slapdash by skimming over the Furies chase, social justice, and the hung-jury issue of the law. Granted, it's an important bit that ends up being wrapped in a big Kumbaya finale song (good as it was) that doesn't quite give full force to the finish of the actual text. But, for a rousing evening's entertainment it can be overlooked because there are so many great talents across the stage. Everyone is musically gifted, they all act well, the rock n' roll aspect is fantastic, and the comic turns hilarious. X's laugh-out loud moments during the Furies center stage moment and Orestes' ponderings were comforting. (She thinks one of the Furies licked me during the show but that is wholly untrue.) Orestes, in particular, was just great. As Elektra is trying to convince him to slay their mother - during a revival/bible-thumping song - he finally yells to all to just "Shut the fuck up! I hear you!". From there his soliloquy addresses his feeling that he's "a bit ambivalent" about killing his mother and uncle. The music and performance was grand all around and I'd recommend it to anyone wandering DuPont Circle on a weekend. Bring your tap shoes and your hoots-and-hollers.

Laurel has arrived safe-and-sound for her summer month here in D.C.; trading kids on The Hilltop.

I managed to recreate the goat cheese and corn enchiladas with mole sauce this evening. It was met with howzahs across the house.

We have the farmer's market and test run for Laurel's commute tomorrow morning. Results to follow.

townes

I've put some Justin out there before and I'll do it again. Here's an in-studio version of Mama's Eyes from KEXP earlier this year.

taco todd

  
In my Omaha youth I had an elementary gym teacher, Mr. Halperin, who might be considered by many as an early Chris Berman. He was making up nicknames for kids during sport endeavors long before Berman unveiled his ESPN mug (and he ended up marrying the hot fourth-grade teacher!). I was a pretty good elementary school athlete: all-arounder, good basketball player, pretty adaptable even it was the days that I still threw my tennis racquets. I'm sure many kids looked up to the gym teacher when they were young and Haleprin was no different for me. For some reason he once dubbed me "Taco Todd" - even if that doesn't sound as entendre-ish as ESPN, it was pretty big for an elementary kid. I think I even drew it in those cool 3-D letters that every kid learns on the front of my faux-denim three-ring binder. At some point, maybe in fifth grade or so, he'd let everyone take half-court shots in the gym/cafeteria after school. Anyone who made one would get a gratis chocolate shake at Goodrich, across the overpass. Good times. That's my backstory.

The boys had a couple of friends over today since they are leaving tomorrow for a month. Tonight's plan for their dinner was tacos and I was suddenly hit by the fact that I'd need more tacos than required for two boys. I somehow managed to turn the fixings into 16 tacos to feed four hungry mouths; no mean feat. As they were laid out, half with sour cream, half without, they were set upon by locust. Loads of oohing-and-aahing at my simple taco feed on The Hilltop. It got to a point that kids were selling tacos to each other for hard, cold cash. I'm not sure if I felt used or flattered. That's about life, ain't it?

Taco Todd, indeed.

One more thing - this Michael Jackson thing is comical. I loved a decade of his music and he was a grand entertainer but really, all this? There's a picture of his brothers sitting in the front row at the sports event / memorial each wearing a single, sequined glove. Honestly, at the risk of offending those that have passed on, it was horrid. That's all I have to say about that...

love to all

t

P.S. I just got a text from L. asking me if she has unlimited texting on her phone. What do we think that means? My response was, "Should I get you unlimited texting?" I think the question is actually answered by the question. I see some charges coming on this month's bill.

on a lighter note

After The Eleven put a wrap on our civil rights discussion (Ricci) and my query as to whether or she felt Roger Federer’s 15 Grand Slam titles or Tiger Woods’ 14 Major Championships was more impressive (she went with Tiger), we finally settled into bed about midnight. At which point there was some story from her youth that included the following phrases: Fra Angelico Blue, a “pigment enthusiast”, “started her own religion”, and Ruthie. That was enough to send me to sleep with a chuckle but I was also then lucky enough for her to speak of “scrapping dead chickens off the road”, as if that were a normal pursuit in every child’s upbringing.

lighten up, buddy

I'm not normally a fan of Bob Herbert's columns because they tend to wander into the obvious but today's piece is interesting and fully damning of Robert McNamara. What strikes hardest is the accusation that McNamara must have found it hard to look in the mirror knowing what he knew and doing what he did. The admission by McNamara that he knew the war was a massive mistake, yet he continued execution of that mistake, is probably something lost on the public as his death is being overshadowed by Michael Jackson Tribute Month. My first association is to Colin Powell who we may not remember as being a huge cog in the war machine but whose actions were the straw that broke the dissenters. By the time Secretary Powell sat down at the UN to give his "brief" on Iraq there had already been plenty of time for the Bush Administration's quality to be questioned. The number of Americans, who were ready to walk away from Bush/Cheney and probably the Iraq War, was growing rapidly. I think that as a country we were back to realizing just how inept we felt the Administration had been between Jan 2001 and Sep 11, 2001 and there was a realization that what happened between 2001 and late 2003 wasn't so much leadership as it was a course of events. The war in Afghanistan was justified to most but it wasn't going awfully well and there was still no way out or any endgame in sight. The idea of Iraq was lunacy yet we fell for it because of Powell's UN appearance. He was the one who unwittingly or not, and I don't believe he was played for a fool, brought enough independent and wavering Americans onboard the war idea. As he walked away after that first term – having been the cheerleader for the war and the man who essentially got Bush re-elected – I often wondered how he looked in the mirror every morning. I had great hopes for Powell but I vividly remember watching his testimony that day while I was sitting in a hotel lobby on Crete ; I was shocked to see and hear everything he provided. It was shabby information that wouldn't have passed muster to the most basic intelligence officer or analyst, and I know because I was the most basic intelligence analyst type. But you know what? It didn't pass those desks because they were removed from the process and the rest were bullied by the herd-to-war executive branch. What makes it all the more egregious when comparing McNamara and Powell is that Powell had spent his life in the military; working, supporting, and protecting the troops – he knew the cost. McNamara, if you discount his advisory service in statistical analysis, was a desk jockey with no real military experience or interaction. For Powell to know the dangers of this war and yet still saddle-up that day at the UN and spout the party line is a massive reflection on his failure to continue doing what had been his life's work. No amount of post-event analysis or dramatized Hollywood scenes where "Powell" is trying to speak truth-to-power will undo his mistake; any more than McNamara's mistake is undone by his admission. We can debate all day long the issue of war execution with Rumsfeld, Bush, Cheney, and Myers, and etc. and their overall responsibility for what happened, and that responsibility is whole, but the accelerator was the sale made by Powell. Could he have stopped it? Who knows? Could he have resigned and chosen to not be a part of it? Yes. In the end, I think he now claims that working from the inside was in the best interest of the country but that's a weak stance. I'm sure McNamara felt that working from the inside on something he knew was wrong and horrific was the best option; what good did that do? I'll never be convinced that Powell's best position wasn't to be a vocal opponent of a war he felt was wrong. I believe his position as an outsider, had he left the Administration, would not have been questioned as sour grapes or a case of a disgruntled employee as so often happens. He made a choice – McNamara made a choice – and they were both horribly wrong. And it isn't the being wrong that the most grievous result, it's the dead bodies, ruined lives, and broken families.

a manouever

I mistakenly forgot to pass along my tennis confession. I watched the first 4 1/2 sets online at NBC.com - but suddenly, and without warning, they cut the feed at 6-6 in the fifth. The feed continued to post "network difficulties" but it was clearly a matter of the "fuck yous". I was, surprisingly enough, fully able to reconfigure and watch the Travelers' commercials - shocking. Suddenly, action needed to be taken - heroic action - and we fired up the big 36" Sony Wega configured with the digital converter box. It was all for shit and the remote did nothing but fire the on/off switch if you hit any button: no scan, no channels, something messed up in the wiring. As we tried to rescan the channels and get NBC to configure we were stuck sorting out how to start the scan, remove the batteries quickly enough to allow scan completion, and then repower the system to get the tennis on. You've got to be kidding me. Or, in the immortal words of John McEnroe, "You CAN'T be serious!" X manned the remote and longed for the ribbon deloader while I sat on my ass directing activities. As she finally managed to yank the AAAs from the remote in mid-tune, and we suddenly had the NBC picture - the only one that came in since it's first - she fell to the floor in misery as I told her to quit her belly-aching; shhhh, the tennis is on. By that time it was 10-9, Federer, and I called in for assistance. Needless to say, she was fine and assitance wasn't required as she later in the evening said to me, "You didn't mention my heroic effort that allowed you to watch that tennis thing."

I love her.

t

30 is the new 40, and 15, and love

In the end, the fifth set could never go any other way. Roddick broke Federer in the first - to win the set - and early in the fourth to essentially grasp hold of that one; but it wasn't going to happen in the fifth. Even though Federer didn't get that first break until the ultimate game, Roddick had zero chance to break over those 15, fifth-service games. If you look at the numbers from the fifth it's not so much that they are lopsided as it becomes clear that Roddick never even sniffed a deuce game. I think he may have gotten to 30 two or three times, led at 0-15 or 15-30 twice, and got lambasted the remaining games. Federer, on the other hand, continued to chip away at Roddick's service games, getting to deuce at least the final three games - probably four times in the set - and eventually he was going to close one out. Both men played fantastic tennis and I sat mesmerized for the final 3 1/2 hours; like Pete Sampras, I showed up a bit late.

"She was reliable 90 percent of the time." I've lifted this little gem from a news story. I'm trying to sort out at exactly what level you'd classify someone who is reliable 100 percent of the time. I imagine telling my boss that I'll be reliable, for the most part, and only skip out on work one day every two weeks. I mean, I'll be around but it'll be a bit of a mystery as to why I'm not at work. I like this management style.

I'm running a strange experiment on tonight's - delayed from Friday - pizza night. Don't worry, the boys will get the usual but I'm going to try to do a roasted new potato, roasted corn, leek and garlic wonder; with everything resting on a vidalia onion, white wine sauce. Reports to follow.

It was a very cool 70-degree holiday weekend. Everyone still has all their fingers since we didn't really do fireworks.

hey to all.

t