the paddle

book it

2011-12-19T14:12:00.001-05:00

The Eleven had a discussion about bookstores at almost the same moment that Manjoo (or David Plotz) hit the ‘post this article’ button at Slate. Within days of our discussion, and not directly related, X commented on the overall crappiness of Amazon’s recommendations engine, particularly for books. If you gather nothing else from my input, know this: Manjoo is so wrong about the quality of Amazon’s ability to recommend to me another book based on my previous searches or purchases.

I remember trying to relate to X the parallel between what I heard from a local bike shop owner years ago, and the super bookstores (Border’s and B&N). What drew this attempt was a conversation between a good friend of mine and the ‘wrench’/owner of a higher end bike shop in Omaha. That conversation was driven by my friend’s observation that there were quite a few more quality bike shops that had opened in town over the last decade, and that there must be a load more people riding bikes. Said owner pointed out, based on his 30 years in town, that there were no more people actually riding bikes than there were ten years ago – more shops didn’t indicate more riders. Now, I don’t know why people were opening more shops if the size of the pie wasn’t growing, but I might put forth that there was a growth in the visibility of cycling (they’d just opened a wonderful city-wide set of bike paths) and entrepreneurs wanted to get in on the initial rush of excitement. The big bookstores strike me as a similar phenom: they overran the landscape because they felt there were more people reading (why? I’m not sure). Regardless, I never felt people were reading more books post-Border’s/B&N building explosion than they were prior. I’d bet that most of us can see that in ourselves, probably in our families, and if you ask around at work or your friends, the amount of book reading is probably way down across the country.

Amazon, bookwise, is simply another step up the accessibility ladder for book buying – a new rung, but not an actual representation of an increase in reading (any more than digital music delivery indicates that person A actually listens to more music). They no doubt have data that show an increase in book buying, though I’d be curious to really have someone get deeper access to the data’s “who” and “what”, before I’d be totally convinced that reading has exploded. Even with the Kindle and/or Nook, I don’t actually buy the premise that people who don’t read will suddenly become bookworms because of electronic access. Most people don’t even have the time or desire to read long-form journalism; and what of books? Probably not. Access doesn’t necessarily correlate to doing. I also wonder if Amazon’s other businesses props up the bookstore portion of their revenue.

Now, independents. I’ve long missed the local record store, and this is pretty much the same path, different medium. As we decided during our talk about independent bookstores, we both like havening those people that love books to do some of the filtering for us. If it’s a store that doesn’t fit our style we can always go to a different local. That filtering is far better, at least for me, than trying to maze my way through Amazon in search of a nugget that might appeal to me. On a trip to Richmond earlier this year I bought four books at two different shops that were are all excellent, and I didn’t know anything about them prior to grabbing them from the shelves. But, that’s not the biggest plus for me. What I miss from record stores and smaller bookshops is actual human gathering – even if we don’t ‘talk’ to each other, the engagement with the clerk, or some other person, is far preferable to an online live. And for that, I’m willing to pay more.

As David Plotz aptly pointed out while discussing this on the podcast, if your position is that Amazon does it for cheaper, delivers to your house, and ‘picks’ books for you, then fine – they win hands down. I have no argument. But, when I think about books I will always choose to hang around the old Olsson’s books in D.C., Kramarbooks, or a Powell’s before a Barnes and Noble, or shopping via Amazon.

stolen from an andrew sullivan reader

2011-12-15T12:06:00.001-05:00

"I appreciate the comparison you highlighted between the gay vet who confronted Mitt Romney and the black veterans in history observed by Ta-Nehisi. I am a former soldier, having served in the US Army from 1985 until 1989 before being discharged after a witch hunt. My sister is a retired soldier and my son is currently serving. We have a tradition of military service going back to at least the Second World War. It is my father, who fought with the storied 761st Tank Battalion (the Black Panthers) and his generation for black soldiers and airmen that I want to talk about briefly.

On my mother’s side, there were three Tuskegee Airmen.

My father, as I said, was a tanker. Before WWII, both my father and my uncles had lived every day of their lives in either Louisiana or Alabama, respectively. My father joined the Army the week following the attack on Pearl Harbor because the Army would let him fight as either infantry or a tanker but the Navy would have had him shining shoes or being a cook. My father wanted to fight.

He spent four years in the Army, was decorated with the Purple Heart and the Bronze Star. When he came home at the end of the war, he went to college where he met my mother, who had spent the war building airplanes as a ‘Rosie’. Because my father served, he and my uncles got the GI Bill that allowed them to go to college. World War II made my father who he was.

My parents stayed in Alabama, where I was born, until 1968 when they moved us to California. The 1968 election was the first time my father ever cast a vote in the nation he had fought and bled for. When I joined the Army my father was very opposed to it - partially because my sister had joined four years earlier, partly because of his memories of serving in a segregated military. To convince him that my reasons were good, I told him that it takes a special kind of man to go and fight for a country that does not consider him enough of a human being to go to school where he wishes, to vote in elections, to live where he can afford and to work in any job he is qualified for. That generation of black men who signed up and served knowing that they would return home and not be able to vote were very special men.

When I think of the generations of gays and lesbians who served in our military, I think that whether the likes of Romney (or a non-trivial swath of the GOP for that matter) realize it or not, they are in the debt of these folks and are in the presence of the very best of America.

I am not trying to blow my own horn. This is not about my service. I went in because I felt that I had grown up in a nation that did consider me an actual citizen and if my father could put on the uniform when he was, at best, a second-class citizen I could do no less. I just want us, as Americans, to acknowledge that gays and lesbians have served and continue to do so and that these are the very best of our nation. They get up and they do their duty knowing that the man or woman they love back home is not considered their actual, wedded spouse and yet they do it anyway. We should honor them as the exceptional Americans they are."

music

2011-11-30T20:51:00.002-05:00

Dawes with Mumford & Sons - When My Time Comes from WXPN FM on Vimeo.

a deed, indeed

2011-11-29T14:17:00.001-05:00

I’m going to be more positive. I think my blog can often whine.

We’ve done the deed and purchased a house. Contact is accepted, a bunch of paperwork is being done, money is changing hands. The American economy is strong.

It’s a two-level place with seven (yes, seven) bedrooms as currently configured. Corey is going to rip out the walls downstairs that create three bedrooms, and we’ll turn that level into a large, open living room and big dining room. The upstairs will keep four bedrooms with a full bath and master bath to follow. We got a very good price on a place this size while staying in the same school district for the kids – a primary goal. The commutes for us won’t change, time or distance, but the boys will have a longer bus ride to school. X did a load of the work on this, and I played the role of agreeable co-dependent. We’re very happy to have our own place with no limits on what we can do to it over the next few years – the longer view being 7-8 more years in this area. I can’t imagine what the gardens will look like in three or four years. The picture above is the backyard. The front of the house picture at the Web site isn’t the best so I’ll hold off on more photos until we get in and sorted.

I’m allegedly heading back to school in January to finish up the degree. I have three more classes – they weren’t offered at night this quarter so I was out of luck – and should be done in late March. From there, I still have one year of GI Bill benefits so I may move to community college and take some courses of interest to me. Or, as X asks, “why don’t you get certified as a massage therapist?” I think I see where she might be going on this one. Food. Massages. Maybe I can go to housekeeping college.

All the kids are home and healthy. The cats are fine. We’re doing great.

The move will be a very sudden evacuation between Christmas Day and New Year’s. We should close on the 23rd of December with nine days to sort out the place. Based on the just-completed military operations call from CINC-house, I’m responsible for victuals three-times-per-day from the 23rd to the 29th while they rip out walls and carpet (new, ugly white…anyone need 1000 sq. ft of carpet?), patch the wood floor, sand and re-varnish. 30th and 31st will be actual moving from The Hilltop. This has all been dubbed Christine’s Happy Holiday Moving Blast. We’ll keep a solid audio, video, and photographic blog of the festivities. I may have to set-up a field kitchen in that back shed.

Love to all.

t

is that a stick in my eye? i hope so

2011-11-28T15:14:00.001-05:00

I would be horribly remiss in my duties if I didn’t get one story off my chest, posthaste.
We made the one-day motoring trip from Brattleboro to the D.C. area yesterday; the Eleven and the Fifty. It ran about 11 hours, but a full two hours of that was passed by things you might consider screwing around: stopping at one bakery/sandwich shop, another deli, trying to find a Barnes and Noble, putting oil in the car (?!?), getting gas, finding a Barnes and Noble, and grabbing a bite to eat at the Panera in the B&N strip mall parking lot area. The Panera was my idea, and it’s the heart-and-soul of this vignette.

We walked in about 7:45pm, into a place manned (womaned?) by four teens who couldn’t possibly manage to lead actual lives that involve actual things. Yes, it was my idea to amble over to Panera from B&N – it seemed like such a grand idea. L. ordered a chicken Caesar salad, and we ordered two mozzarella and tomato Paninis, to go. Smooth. Done. Case closed. We are the only folks in there since they are closing at 8p; well, us and the woman and child ordering ahead of us – an order that took FOREVER to be completed. An order that included two bakery items. I should have known. We eventually get our bag of stuff and headed to the car, disregarding everything that Joe Pesci taught us about drive thrus and/or takeaway. L. has no chicken on her sorry looking salad, X starts to eat her Panini before ripping it open to see what looks like ½ a cherry tomato and an area the might have once seen mozzarella. We turn around. The smooth brains ‘working’ in the place have locked the doors by now and began ‘cleaning’ up for the night. We knock, wave, and eventually get let back in to the scene of the crime. Each and every one of the girls is totally confused by the situation as presented, one that involves bread, tomatoes, cheese, and salad. They continue cleaning while debating ciabatta and baguette, cheese and tomato, salad and salad. Eventually the manager is brought into the movie from his cubicle in the back of the restaurant – the bar is very, very low to be a manager. He looks at the sandwiches, says “those are all wrong”, and slowly begins the task of actually doing something. The girls are rallied, actual tomatoes are gotten, cheese is secured, and he manages to somehow make two new sandwiches. As for the missing chicken, one of the wedges pulls a little baggy of chicken from below the counter and shakes it out on L’s salad. Classy as fuck. L. decided she didn’t want the salad anymore. I tell manager-man that we’ll just take a refund on the salad. There are two rounds of questioning on the salad before he gives up. Two rounds before I pull my ServSafe qualification/culinary card and point out a few items. First, the chicken is clearly delivered pre-cooked in little baggies. Even with that, I don’t want to see the chicken disgorged from said bag onto the salad. Take the salad down off the counter, do your thing, and re-deliver it. I think there’s some old saying about sausage and making. Second, the minute we walked back in with a food issue, and there was a determination and agreement to make us some new stuff, you need to get the fucking minions to stop cleaning the counters, leaving the cleansing buckets and cleaners on the counters, and take care of us before going back to cleaning. Nope. Not these geniuses: scrubbing away, nasty sanitation buckets on the counter near the chicken – pretty bad. I understand they were in a hurry to close on a Sunday night and get home in time for Kickin’ it with the Kardashians, but really? It was probably the worst encounter ever in a food place. I don’t say that lightly. But, the good that comes from it all is that I’m even less likely to eat ‘out’ then I already have been of late. I’d like to thank the good folks at Panera Break, near 84 S 32nd ST, Camp Hill, Pennsylvania.

p.s. Don’t think me sexist. All the employees just happened to be girls. I’m sure we would have had the same outcome with dudes.

capital offense

2011-11-28T11:26:00.001-05:00

As expected, at least in my house, the Capitals fired Bruce Boudreau this morning. I didn’t think he’d make it through Thanksgiving weekend, but he did…barely. The Caps lost their last two games 6-3 and 5-1; games I didn’t watch, but the box scores told the story. Truthfully, Boudreau did some amazing stuff in his four years and three days as manager: he unleashed the offense, he then strangled the offense in order to focus on defense when the playoffs became an issue (and was successful until the team quit vs. Tampa last year), he won 200+ games. For what skills Boudreau has, he used them all. Now, here’s where the screw turns.

Ovechkin. His decline from top of the league to a minus-4 vs. Buffalo over the weekend has more than likely sealed his fate as a flash that’s burnt out over the last two years. You don’t get a minus-4 in a 5-1 loss unless you are actively sabotaging your team on the ice. You see minus-4 only rarely in hockey; even on off nights when you’re team loses 7-1, you won’t see minus-4’s on the score sheet. In order to ever be a considered a great in any team sport you can’t ever sacrifice the game on the ice or field. Ever. To finally be tabbed a coach killer, and make no mistake, Ovechkin is now a coach killer, is generally the final mark against a player in team sports. You can hate your coach, actively want him gone, talk to the press, etc., but when you quit on the ice then your hatred (or ego) moves you into territory from which you’ll never recover. Even though I say it’s been two years, it’s actually been a bit longer – that nearly two years marks the 2010 Vancouver Olympics.

In the 2009 Stanley Cup playoffs (about seven months prior to the Olympics), the Capitals lost game 7 at home to the Penguins in the Eastern Conference semi-finals. The final was score was 5-2 and the Penguins went on to win the Cup; Ovechkin and the Capitals began a long swoon to where we sit now. I left that game with about ten minutes to go in the third, obstensibly to beat traffic, but even then I saw the writing. They Caps quit in that game the moment Ovechkin failed to score on a breakaway with the score at either 0-0, or 1-0. The flood gates opened and the Pens built the led to something like 4-1 or 5-1 before I gave up. That was waypoint 1 on the journey. Waypoint 2 was the horrid Russian performance at the Olympics. Waypoint 3 was the loss to the Canadiens in the first round of the 2010 playoffs. Waypoint 4, and one far worse from a leadership point-of-view than the loss to Montreal, was the 4-0 sweep by Tampa in last year’s second round. Tampa was better than most thought, but they weren’t that good, comparatively. After losing the first two at home, the Capitals quit. The final destination is today. Two days after posting a minus-4 on the ice, Ovechkin gets what he wanted: a new coach. Problem is, #8 hasn’t shown any inkling to grow as a player and I don’t see it happening now. New coach Dale Hunter is walking into a locker room that’s been poisoned by at least two full years of refusing to play a team game. That poison has seeped so far into the team that you can see the rest of the players simply falling in line with the lack of will that Alex has exhibited since missing that breakaway in 2009. His path, and this team’s, is littered with failure after failure when the rubber hits the road. There’s a common denominator in the math: Ovechkin.

I don’t know if Hunter is the cure – I doubt it. A few things need to happen to right the ship. First and foremost, strip Ovechkin on the captaincy. He never should have been made captain, and after his performance in the last two games, he never should wear it again. If Dale Hunter is the badass everyone thinks he is, he needs to walk in the room, take the “C”, and tell Alex, in front of the team and the hockey gods, that’ll he’ll never wear it again after what he pulled the Buffalo game. If anyone else has any questions about winning, they’ll keep them to themselves. The result is that Ovechkin goes into a funk (could it be worse than this?), or he answers the bell. Choices. His career from this point forward is either a Steve Yzerman resurgence or a steeper fall into mediocrity.

Time tells.

i hate those people

2011-11-19T17:07:00.005-05:00

I have a winner. I've often babbled about how much I hate people in grocery stores; in this day-and-age of no courtesy clerks (my title at Albertson's in Omaha back in 1983 - a bagger). I'm at Balducci's the other night - a problem in and of itself - and I'm behind the worst....ever. She's standing at the register reading a magazine. As the cashier scans and bags her one bag of groceries, she does nothing. When done, the old bat then walks back 15 feet to the front of the register to replace the magazine she's reading. Really? Then, back at the point-of-sale, she pulls out her store card for discount, waits, waits, waits....and then goes for her money. Sllllllllllllllllooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwww. Finally, it appears the transaction is complete, but old bat doesn't like the fact that her smallish order, "with two bottles of wine", isn't double bagged. She attempts to put the already packed bag into another bag (won't work) while I wait and hope I don't slash her neck. The clerk lets her know that the maneuver she's attempting won't work, to which she belts out, "There are two bottles in here, I need it double bagged!"

1. Shut up
2. If you were watching, you would have caught this earlier
3. It doesn't need to be double bagged, you're an ass clown
4. You're an ass clown
5. I hate

Moving along.

I've been weaning myself from sport for a few years, believe it or not. I'm down to Capitals' hockey, but even those days are numbered. It's a bit like how I got off golf about 10 years ago - I don't have the time or energy to focus on hours-long stuff that somehow misses what I'm looking to accomplish. Nothing against golf, it's quite enjoyable. Within that discussion has long been a position that college sports - and certainly athletic scholarships - should be eliminated. Truth be told, nothing good ever comes from college athletics - as a program within a university. Competition is good, sport is good, the system isn't. The NCAA should have been abolished decades ago, colleges need to refocus on what they are suppose to be doing, and the idea of anyone attending college based on athletic prowess is comical on its face. There isn't any other valid position.

One more thing: the next person who uses the "you don't know what you would have done" in a given situation, as some sort of defense, gets the same treatment as the shitty, non-bagging lady.

I'm really a nice person. Really.

a tin cup for all these nickels

2011-10-20T09:05:00.002-04:00

When did a cup of Starbucks coffee become that standard measure against magazine subscriptions, NPR membership drives, and any other contributable financial matters? Why doesn’t the NPR semi-annual membership campaign say things like, “For a $120 donation, and that’s only $10 per month, Beverly, the same as what you might spend on a dime bag,” instead of continually harping on the cost of a Starbucks? Listen, I don’t drink Starbucks often and, quite frankly, their coffee isn’t great, but I don’t think that they should be singled out in the $5 spending realm. How about you don’t buy the NYTimes on Sunday ($6), or that Happy Meal for the kid ($4-$6), or drive 20 fewer miles in your Hummer H3?

H has an assignment for his science class – and something that will also be a project of sorts for the school’s science fair. There are something like 46 pages of rules (nothing illegal, no fires, no using animals, etc.), but there is also some bullshit requirement that the student can’t repeat any other experiment or project…..THAT’S EVER BEEN DONE. Ever. Anywhere. If the moronic science teacher can Google up your suggested thesis, and find any indication that Newton, Einstein, or Darwin have attempted what you’ve put forth, think again. Anything. Ever. Really? They are expecting 15 year-olds to come up with something completely new to the scientific world; something never pondered or subject to experiment? On the basis of the Fairfax County School procedures I think the Wright Brothers would have failed class because someone else had already ‘tried to fly’. Remember that guy with his wings, wax, and the approach to the Sun? Yeah, him. “Sorry, Orville and Wilbur, you fail the class because you tried something that had already been done. Granted, you did actually fly so I’ll give you an F+.”

do not

2011-10-12T09:19:00.001-04:00

I’ve been hand-making donuts at my weekend gig for the last six weeks. That’s not at the heart of this story, but I can at least vaguely tie into some professional donut qualification.

There’s a small Dunkin’ Donuts inside the shoppette here on base (for those non-mil types, the shoppette is essentially the combo gas station/7-11 on base). Since I walk right by while heading to work, I usually grab a cup of coffee to get me through the morning. The problem of the Dunkin’ Donuts is multi-faceted, but I only care to address today’s issue: buying dozens of donuts for work. Aside from the fact that I don’t care to stand in line while you buy three dozen donuts, what exactly are you doing with the individual donut type selection? Let’s imagine you’re buying two dozen donuts for your office. (For those who’ve worked in the same nozzle plant for a million years, play along.) Do you have the knowledge and personal connection to the donut eaters to know whether they like filled, cake, raised, sprinkles, chocolate, maple, etc.? Would you be standing in line thinking that Debbie in accounting would definitely want a bear claw with her coffee? Oh, and make sure to get a jelly-filled and a custard-filled donuts for Doug and Bob in shipping (they are always referred to as ‘Doug and Bob’ because they are like an old, married couple who’ve working in shipping for 15 years). How about just firing off the “fill two dozen boxes with a full mix of what you have up there” accepted technique and letting the donut artists do their job? We can be rid of you in about one minute instead of the 10 minutes I’m standing behind you listening to “one maple cake…..(pause)……two of the sprinkle ones. No the purple sprinkles not the white one. No the purple frosting, not the sprinkles. (Pause) (Pause) Two of the plain glazed. One maple cake. Wait, I already have one of those. (Pause) Two of the…..”

(fade to death)

what is....

2011-10-04T15:24:00.000-04:00

We returned to Quiz Night last evening. Since I’m out of class this quarter it opens up our Monday night options; but not next Monday night, as that’s my first Caps game of the new season.

It was a small crowd, team-wise, and we did quite well with our 61 points – good for third place. The first- and second-place team scores? 63 and 62, respectively. We had our shot at glory and couldn’t quite pull it off. Don’t think that we didn’t spend a bit of time figuring out where we shed points. How about this one: What is the chemical symbol for Tin? Our team? Nothing. Couldn’t come up with an answer to save our lives. But, Phil was able to successfully answer a question where Austin Power: Goldmember was correct. Priorities.

I’m not sure that I can claim to have been too busy to notice that Jolie Holland has a new CD out – not sure how I missed it, and am I really ever too busy? Was I not paying attention? She played here last month and I couldn’t make it this time around, but her touring should have been indicative of new music. Not always, but often. It’s a dash of serendipity that there’s new music after three years because I’ve probably listened to The Living and the Dead about a thousand times in the last month. I have no idea what brought me back to it ; but you can take that for what it’s worth. As a parting gift, I’ll pass along a song that’s moved way up into my favorite song of all-time list, Palmyra. The album version is a full-band (or multi-track) soiree, this is just Holland delivered a stunning acoustic version. Great stuff.

man with gun

2011-10-03T09:29:00.002-04:00

I bag my own groceries; we all understand this fact. I was at TJ’s yesterday, doing what I do, and the cashier is hell-bent on my dozen eggs and where I’ve decided is their final resting place. Trust me - the eggs were fine in their vertical position at the top of my well-strong reusable bag. She was overly worried that they might fall out. What happens if they fall out? What? Nothing. They won’t fall out, I’ve got this wired – and, I’m not going to be swinging my bags around above my head as I amble to the car. She’s really worried about this; so worried that she pulls out a wine bottle paper bag and offers to put that around my dozen eggs. Thanks, that’ll help if I get mowed over by a truck – which is the only thing that will cause a breakage of my eggs.

I then stopped at another grocery store to pick up ice (for Tom Collins-es at Pizza Night), and lunches for the boys. (They like these 90-second meals that cost about $1.50 each.) I’m a pre-scanner at this store – you sign up for a program, you get a scanning gun that lets you scan and bag your goods, and then you walk up the self-checkout lanes, and fire away.* I get to the lane and attempt to make the final scan of the account closing barcode at the register and my suddenly my gun dies. Not the oft-malfunctioning death, the actual no power death. Are you fucking kidding me? Jesus. Now I have to remove my 12, $1.50 lunches, and 5 lb. bag of ice and scan this crap. Needless to say, the clerk who sort of mans the self checkouts can see that I’m a wee pissed off at this development. She wisely stays away. As I start zipping the lunches over the scanner and down the belt, the fucking machine stops after about six and ‘lets me know’ know something: “The bagging area is full, Please bag items before continuing.” What? Now I’m really irritated – six microwave lunches, and it’s full! The clerk wanders nervously to my lane and starts to pull some of the items off the highly technical, weight-sensing, NASA-produced, piece-of-shit belt so that I don’t kill someone. I start scanning again and super whipping things the eight feet to the end of the ‘bagging area’ mere milliseconds after she removes her in-danger hands. She quickly backs away and returns to the security of her podium. Damn right. I finish scanning, walk down, re-bag my loot, and shoot her a look of ‘crazy old man’ as I depart, stage right.

Am I wrong?

*By the way, there should be two lanes just for us gunslingers. As it is, there are six lanes that any smoothbrain can use for self checkout. I don’t have time for ‘Bob’ to ponder using self checkout and then spending HOURS trying to weigh and enter codes for his produce. You can do that crap in the produce section, where they have the scales and stickers, and save us all a lot of heartache.

surreys and things....

2011-09-28T19:28:00.004-04:00

A few months ago one on my all-time favorite podcasts changed format. Musicheads, at The Current, decided it would be best to go from a high-quality product with reviews of three new albums to a Blender-like pile of junk. I miss Musicheads, and for good reason: I probably got 10-12 new artists or CDs out of the reviews over the course of a year.

This got me thinking this morning as I was commuting to work. My commute is longish, but quite pleasant: walk, bus, train, train, bus, walk (it's an anagram!). Anyway, I rip through endless podcasts once again, and my list of greats has changed a bit. Much like great musical artists - it's hard to keep it going for years without losing freshness. So, aside from Musicheads, which was one of my all-time favorites, here's a good list: The Moth, WTF with Marc Maron (my new favorite), and Splendid Table. Truth be told, Splendid Table should wear much thinner than it does, but I'm a food junkie so it's forgiven. Great stuff every week. I still run through This American Life, Car Talk, and Wait Wait! every week (simply because of the vast time to fill), but I don't feel committed. As an aside, I'm quite comforted by Prairie Home Companion, but they don't podcast the entire show each week. I've been listening for about 25 years and I'd be happy enough to catch up each week - never happens. Also, a call out to Thistle and Shamrock - what? you can't put up a podcast? Are you living in the 1990s with Garrison? I digress.

I'm going to Oklahoma! tomorrow night with WonderTwin2. We've learned a few things over the last few months: neither WonderTwin1 nor Corey could give a shit about musicals. I, for one, love all theatre, and it appears that Kt loves musicals so we are on for theatre dates. I don't sing. I don't dance, but I love some live performances. I also prior to the '(hating musicals' revolution) grabbed her two tickets for the Billy Elliot musical at Kennedy later this year - a box so her and Angry Bear could go on a nice date - but now I suspect she might have to coax him out of the den with the promise of a nice dinner at Cedar. Food often will soothe beasts.

I have and entire post-and-a-half about X and the Missoni sale at Target from earlier this month. I need to gather the narrative before I expose the World.

Love to all.

t

i order the large cup of coffee

2011-09-28T19:25:00.002-04:00

Well, maybe I’m settled in after nearly three months at the new job. Plus, I’m out of school for a quarter so I’ll have all my evening free until after the New Year (I only have one quarter left, but they aren’t offering two of the last three classes I need so I’m in holding for a bit). I am working a brunch on Saturdays and Sundays (at least until about Thanksgiving) so sleeping in and weekend days are a bit garbled up.

Apparently there’s a coffee mug in the house that X doesn’t care to use. It’s one she brought home not long ago, and it mirrors any number of big, bulky,’ bust-a-head’ open mugs that we’ve gathered over the years. The funny thing is that about a week ago I found the mug stored in a cupboard above the microwave (there’s nothing up there but rarely used dry goods) when I was grabbing some pasta. I figured that Henry has put it up there while fulfilling his duty as dishwasher emptier – even though that made no real sense – so I took it down and used it a day or two later for coffee. I hadn’t realized it had gone missing again until Monday night when I went to the cloth napkin drawer at dinner, and there it was tucked away with the linen. What the hell? Now I knew that Henry was crazy: the napkin drawer on the other side of the kitchen? I put it on the counter as I headed back to the table and it was then that X pointed out, in a threateningly/meek manner, that she didn’t like that mug and didn’t want any coffee in it…ever. So, instead of simply saying that she didn’t like the mug – and we didn’t get into any detail in that area because I was laughing too hard – she was attempting to hide it “where I wouldn’t find it.” This is reminiscent of her pointing out a few years back that she didn’t care for shitake mushrooms (after three years of my using them), and last month where she said she didn’t want hummus ever again. I caught me a good one.

reset

2011-08-28T17:58:00.005-04:00

Pizza night has slowed over the summer; not happenings, just folks. We have only four last week and four this week (swapping out one kid for another). 'Tis fig season, finally, so we've gone with a white sauce with: figs, heavily smoked salmon, rosemary, and feta - all a gamble. L. is staying true to her bacon, pepperoni, and cream cheese.

I'm now officially working another job - for career ideas, not money - on the weekends. I'll be working a pastry-baking line position at a strongly considered place in Arlington. With the school quarter nearly over, and being off next quarter - I'll be swapping my weekends for being home during the week in the evenings, at least for three months. There will be further evaluation after the New Year.

The house situation has turned. As expected (at least on my part), the sane member of our landlord's house has essentially called in and canceled the whole sordid 60-day notice affair. That means we aren't under a time constraint, though we'll keep looking, and we can actually consider this house as an option.

We've been hit with the remnants of Irene and a pretty good earthquake this week, but we've survived with no damage or worry.

what what

2011-08-27T18:20:00.003-04:00

I haven't been here for awhile. I pop in to get back on track and there's some racy picture of Katy Perry and her tits. Strange.

Okay, quick-and-dirty update, not in chronological or order of importance:

We got 60-day notice to move. We are looking to buy. Deadline: October 15th.

I have a new job. Very nice, challenging. Cutting into my blogging.

School is going well-ish, but getting bored. Have an instructor who's horrid.

Looks like I may take a pastry/baking weekend gig at a good restaurant in Arlington.
Finally saw Kasey Chambers in concert last month.

L and I saw Cate Blanchett and Hugo Weaving in Uncle Vanya at Kennedy Center last night.

L went to Victoria for about a month, but is home now: had fun.

Boys are in Wisconsin, back later next week.

Life, for all its shit, is good.

I actually love everyone.

tits up

2011-07-12T21:07:00.004-04:00

Here you have it. What may be the single worst set of lyrics I've ever heard. Believe me when I say this, I've listening to Friday by Rebecca Black too many times to not know; Katy Perry, are you serious? Even if you aren't, these are horrible. To hear them sung, as I did while driving and switching stations (I'm rarely off NPR). Good. Lord.

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag
Drifting through the wind
Wanting to start again

Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin
Like a house of cards
One blow from caving in

Do you ever feel already buried deep
Six feet under scream
But no one seems to hear a thing

Do you know that there's still a chance for you
Cause there's a spark in you

You just gotta ignite the light
And let it shine
Just own the night
Like the Fourth of July

Cause baby you're a firework
Come on show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Baby you're a firework
Come on let your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
You're gunna leave 'em fallin' down-own-own

You don't have to feel like a waste of space
You're original, cannot be replaced
If you only knew what the future holds
After a hurricane comes a rainbow

Maybe you're reason why all the doors are closed
So you could open one that leads you to the perfect road
Like a lightning bolt, your heart will blow
And when it's time, you'll know

You just gotta ignite the light
And let it shine
Just own the night
Like the Fourth of July

Cause baby you're a firework
Come on show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Baby you're a firework
Come on let your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
You're gonna leave 'em all in awe-awe-awe"

Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
It's always been inside of you, you, you
And now it's time to let it through

Cause baby you're a firework
Come on show 'em what your worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Baby you're a firework
Come on slet your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
You're gonna leave 'em all in awe-awe-awe

Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon

And, for you're enjoyment. Apparently, Katy is know for her tits, and based on this, at least she has that going for her.

Katy Perry - Firework (Official Music Video) by ChaOko_01

I went and saw Kasey Chambers over the weekend. I don't have time for a longish review here, but I may get to it. Needless to say, she's the opposite of Ms. Perry on the scale of...well, everything. Even though her husband, Shane, wasn't on this tour, there's still a great story about singing this duet with him. Go Australia!

a trail of rage and melody

2011-07-06T17:16:00.004-04:00

Everyone survived the long 4th of July weekend. We bought some fireworks that are still sitting on the porch because our streetmates busted out some (barely) "legal" fireworks and put on quite a show. L and I spent the early darkness sitting in lawn chairs in the street while watching, considering legal action, and applauding the show.

I decided to go autobiogs at the bookstore last weekend. It started with Hitch-22 (the memoirs of Christopher Hitchens), and moved onto See a Little Light by Bob Mould. Mould is one of the true geniuses/chameleons of the music business. He survived the blast furnace of his first band, Husker Du; went more harmonic with Sugar, and now does some great solo work along with DJing 'rave' nights (of a sort) across the U.S. At 50, he's produced a massive catalog of high quality work. He's a first vote hall of fame guy.

We believe the boys to still be alive in the midst of their second week of adventure camp up in Vermont. We'll know for sure when they show up on a plane Saturday evening.

The rest of the summer's horizon is pretty clear: vacations are done, heat and humidity are fully in place.

I'm settling in at the new job and enjoying a change of pace. My commute is now the other way - into D.C. - but the Metro and buses are doing me just fine.

I wanted to post this yesterday, but never go to it. David Brooks apparently woke-up with a pea in his mattress. Or, the Republicans. Nice call out on his part. I'm on the messenger.

"Over the past few years, [the GOP} has been infected by a faction that is more of a psychological protest than a practical, governing alternative."

"The members of this movement do not accept the legitimacy of scholars and intellectual authorities."

"The members of this movement have no sense of moral decency."

Thanks, David.

oh, my!

2011-07-01T14:38:00.005-04:00

She's back after eight years. We'll see her the first week of August at Strathmore. If this is any indication of the rest of the album, this will be a very, fine summer.

where's my dough? and, where's my dough?

2011-06-29T14:54:00.001-04:00

Jesus loves Wikileaks

That is the most interesting bumper sticker I saw on the road during vacation. I have no idea how to interpret it, but there you go.

For the most part (more on that later), we had a gas in Maine. Old Orchard Beach is a “kitztchy” (L’s word) throw back to the 1950s; updated to a more tattoo’d and rebellious teen and family crowd for the 2010s. It was an easy place to let the kids wander whilst eating ice cream, exploring, crowd watching, and (for G., especially) diving endlessly into breaking ocean waves. As for the adults, we relaxed endlessly while taking turns making sure kids didn’t get washed out to sea. We did most of our cooking at home, but did go out opening night for some fried clams and fish. Friday night included an adult outing for a ‘fancy’ dinner at Fore St. in Portland. If I could design a restaurant room and style – this is it. Big open room, lots of windows, 33 tables, cooking area right in the dining area…most excellent. They need to work on their non-meat (or fish) options, that would mean including some since they really had what might be classified as zero, but the preparation and dining was a solid A.

One the way home on Saturday (it was only the 51 in the car; X flew back and the boys were dropped off at camp), I discovered that my local bank, who I really like, had cut off my debit card due to suspicious activity. That suspicious activity was…me. In Maine. About 600 miles away. They did process three or four transactions on Friday, and then, bam…shutdown. We didn’t find this out until Saturday around 2p while attempting to buy lunch at Rein’s Deli in Connecticut. Being a local, they all close at noon on Saturday and there is no 800 number or 24-hour line to confirm the charge and get the card turned back on, and they don’t open again until Monday at 9a. Not good. Luckily, L. is a money hound and had $62 in her wallet (I had nothing) so we were able to get one more tank of gas and blast all 630 miles to the house. (We had a pre-paid hotel via Expedia for that night but food and whatnot would have been an issue.) Needless to say, the bank got a call, we straighten out the suspicious charge, and I asked them to always have my cell as contact before leaving me stranding somewhere in central New York state.

I introduced L. to Micucci’s in Portland, but more importantly to Stephen Lanzalotta who bakes bread and pizza in a corner of the store/warehouse. Even though X claims to have had bread this good somewhere in Italy, he makes the best bread I’ve ever had and if you don’t like that – fight’s on! We must have stopped in three times to stock up with luna bread, a few slices of pizza (un-fucking-believable), and focaccia.

I also had a lovely hour or so in an actual music shop in Portland, which is sort of like 7 hours in dog years, or Todd years. I miss CD store so much; I get it where I can. Speaking of hauls, I suggest some Tourista by Josh Rouse if you’re looking for some Spanish and Spanish-infused pop to relax with on a summer day with the windows open.

New job this week. Getting all the administration settled and will get to it full-time next week.

nothing much of much

2011-06-21T18:43:00.002-04:00

One more bit on Fermor, from Hitchens. There is one potent literary combo.

We're all settled and sitting about Maine for the week - weather a I can deal with on the heat scale.

Very interesting to be unemployed for a week.

T

walk on

2011-06-15T13:25:00.003-04:00

I don’t remember how I first came across Patrick Leigh Fermor. If I had to place a bet, I think it was when I stumbled across a book, Ill Met by Midnight, in the only English-language bookstore in Chania, Crete. It must have been around 1996, or so. After a little research, I discovered A Time of Gifts and Between the Woods and the Water – his two volumes relating his walk across Europe just prior to WWII (and which were impossible to find stateside until about five years ago). I was completely enthralled. I don’t know if it was time and place, being on Crete a lot back in those days, or some strange dream of being an agent of the Empire that caught my attention. Regardless of how it happened, he became a heroic figure for me. And, he was born 50 years, to the day, before I was. He did lots. I just drive to work.

Fermor died this week in England, at 96. I always imagined I’d stumble across him someday in Greece. As if that would happen.

lean just a bit, kids. it'll miss us...

2011-06-13T14:37:00.001-04:00

There’s ongoing sarcasm on The Hilltop when it comes to self-diagnosing via the Internet. The latest episode was X trying to Google© her way into figuring out what’s wrong with her left shoulder. Of course, the result of this was someone pointing out to her that there’s no reason to internet your way to health when you have Dr. Sam available to give you a professional, and correct, consultation. Why the obsession with figuring this stuff out on your own? Then again, she also researched how to get the family of raccoons out of our roof/attic. That was more successful. I guess I’m good with raccoons, not so much with health…or weather. (By the way, to get raccoons out all you need is some Led Zeppelin and a 100-watt light bulb.)

We had some quick, powerful storms roll through over the weekend – I think it all happened while I was at a play on Sunday (more on that later). I find out today, from someone I’ll call “Brian”, that there were serious tornado warnings up in the Baltimore area - the kind of stuff where the radio and emergency broadcast system are telling everyone to take shelter. (“Brian” was in Baltimore.) Fortunately, he took a look at the radar picture on his smart phone and correctly ‘assessed’ (on a 2”x4” screen) that they were a safe distance from disaster. This is also one of those times when your certificate from fifth-grade weather class doesn’t actually gain you AMS certification. If something bad had happened, and we’re glad it didn’t, the interview with “Brian” and the local news reporter, begun shortly after the house was spun off towards Kansas, would have been pure gold.

The 51 took in The 25^th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee at Keegan on Sunday. It was a romping good time and L. participated on stage as one of the four volunteer spellers. She hung around with cast and crew for about the first 30 minutes of the show, while correctly spelling the two words they allowed for each contestant before eventually having to get them off the stage via an impossible-to-spell word. The last volunteer, when it was his time to go, was given his killer word, which he ended up spelling correctly. Quite funny. As he went to sit back down on the stage with the actors, the “proctor” called him back up immediately. “Yes, Mr. Ed. It’s your turn again, already.” I think he only said two letters for whatever word he was given before getting the bell for a wrong spelling, and was promptly escorted from the stage.

We are in the midst of getting ready for vacation. This also entails X sorting, buying, and packing up and endless checklist of items for the boys’ camp. They’ll be doing their first camp for the two week following our week in Maine. My checklist in the old days simply included: sleeping bag and OFF! This camp requires a sub-contract from REI and four pages of stuff.

Oh, and some kid executed a hit-and-run on Galactica on Saturday afternoon. Fortunately, two people got the license plate and his father was promptly notified by D.C. Police that his car was involved in said hit-and-run. Dad was none too happy and immediately offered up his insurance to pay for repairs. And, I suspect, is still in the process of teaching his progeny some lessons. Both the driver and rear passenger doors are inoperable so we’ll probably be with a rental care for our journey up north.

hairspray

2011-06-09T19:32:00.003-04:00

L. has her prom tomorrow - the New School does an all H.S. prom - so I asked her if she wanted a hair do' to get ready. She consented, quicker than I thought, and we headed to my barber shop today for a quick clip. I know what you're saying to your screen (and the letter you are composing), "Why are you taking that lovely girl to your barber shop? Have you seen your hair?" Well, I respond with this: she's been there before and all she really wants is to get the ends trimmed; nothing more, nothing less. Unfortunately, my last remaining barber was off today (mark that down), and there were about 10 people waiting. After placing a call to my girlfriend/salon guidance counselor at work, we ended up at an actual salon in McLean. Wow. Wow. Nice place, lots of lovely women getting the hair done, lots of wine flowing, moody music, and an array of stylists that allowed me to create a sitcom in my head during the hour I was waiting for L to get her hair done. There were two male stylists who looked like they had spent most of the 1990s (or the last five years if they were too young back then) studying and perfecting the Michael Madsen downward grimace, look up, too cool guy persona. Even the clothes fit the character. The most important area of interest is that L's hair looks fabulous. The fact that I somehow managed to accidentally get her into a salon chair paid dividends. She's ready to go for tomorrow night. I'll post a few pictures as her and her friends get ready over here tomorrow - whilst eating homemade burgers and fries.

Seven days until vacation. Oh, and a new job. I'm moving the last Monday in June to a new company here in the area. Details to follow.

olden rock band

2011-06-07T14:06:00.000-04:00

oy yay!

2011-06-07T13:43:00.004-04:00

We had a big swearing-in with the Virginia Supreme Court yesterday. Well, X did, I just sat in the guest section and tried to lean into as many ‘swearing in’ home photos as possible. I’ll probably end up in about two dozen mantelpiece photos of Johnny or Diane getting sworn into the bar of this court and the courts of the Commonwealth. The ceremony was nice, short, and sweet with about 200 lawyers joining the ranks of the bona fide.

We drove down to Richmond on Sunday afternoon, did a bit of shopping, and then checked in at The Jefferson downtown. As far as high-end hotels go – excellent. The lobby is more than grand with massive furniture and everything you’d expect at the top hotel in a southern capital, aside from guys named Boss yelling out things like, “I will not be to the Senate floor until 3 o’clock. I’m at the Jefferson. Unless I get that four-lane road to Minniville, you will not be seeing your new dock.” (Try reading that with a more southern, gentlemanly accent.) Dinner was at Lemaire (in the hotel) on Sunday night. Brilliant food. Garden out back for fresh ingredients. Excellent service. Big room, nice space, no music, quiet but not library like. Also, the bar within the restaurant is beautifully appointed (Hendricks and tonics). I opened with the beer battered blue prawns presented with a great tomato and jalapeno sauce (seemed more a chipotle to me…), easily an A. X had the special: fried green tomatoes with a shrimp succotash made with fresh veg from the back garden. Aside from being a bit over-peppered, it rated well. I had the halibut for an entrée and X pulled the fettuccini; again, both were beautifully presented and without any missteps. As with any fancy dinner, we look to bread and coffee as the first/final measure: the first thing they give you, the last thing out the door. Both were very good. (We sort of split a peanut butter cheesecake/chocolate dessert.) For wine, it was a Santorini (Greece) dry white that about knocked both of us on our collective arses. Very tasty; very strong. (I just did some research and its 13.7% alcohol; versus a Chateau Ste. Michelle Riesling, that’s popular on the Hilltop these days, at about 12%.)

The shopping and funky side(s) of Richmond were impressive. There’s an an area out west, Carytown, that has about eight blocks of unique (and locally-owned) shops that managed to pry loads of cash from our bank accounts. Our lunch at Can Can in Carytown yesterday was superb: the roasted pepper and gruyere quiche, beet salad, frites, and ice tea – all exceptional. Hard to know about the rest of the lunch/dinner menu since we were limited to the mid-afternoon café menu.

We are already planning another trip down with the whole clan in late summer or early fall. I think we also found our new couch. Items that get Richmond props: good bookstores, good coffee, good food, nice shops (no chains in town, for the most part), nice hotel, short drive. Top marks all around.

I’ll leave you be.

(The kids survived our absence.)
(The cats survived our absence.)

herding cats

2011-06-03T13:31:00.002-04:00

The end is near; or, the crazy has set in.

Over the last few months, Pumpkin has taken to only drinking running water at the bathroom sink. We’re not sure what drove him this direction, but he only seems to want running water and has banished the bowl, well, aside from his strange habit of drinking stagnant water from plant base dishes. The problem in the heat of summer and I want to make sure he’s drinking enough and he can’t/won’t drink unless it’s from the faucet; he’s out of luck during the day. After listening to an episode of the Animal House on NPR, I learned that cats suffer kidney problems most often and hydration is very important – not only water, but with food. In order to remedy my concerns – and his peccadilloes – I’ve bought them wet food for evening meals and….a moving water drinking dish. The problem now is that both cats are bugging out: Lemon doesn’t want to get near it, Pumpkin will dabble nearby. And, it makes some noise while moving the water so neither is too sure about that event. So, we have the moving water dish AND the old, standard water dish nearby. These are top drawer cats.

This is my life:

L. is working on her registration for school next year and the course offerings are so cool. I’ll post a selection of her courses once they are finalized. As with us all, her junior year will be the hardest. We’ve gotten her into a year-long Honors English/Literature class, she’s going to move into French for two years (from German), and some serious History and World Studies courses are on tap.

I’m digging around from a ride to NYC at the end of the summer; L wants to head up for a weekend and wander Manhattan. I was thinking of the Acela Express, but it’s much more expensive than I thought, and certainly more than flying JetBlue into JFK. We could take the regular Amtrak (I really want to train up) and make the schedule work out fine. The next step will be sorting out a place to stay: I’m contemplating both the Pod Hotel and the military hotel in Manhattan.

Two weeks until vacation. Keep count with me.

haircut 100

2011-06-02T15:02:00.003-04:00

There was an interesting review of the new Steve Earle CD on MusicHeads this week. The actual musical review isn’t so important, as is something David Campbell pointed out when thinking/hoping about your favorite artists: you always want each offering to match the high point of their career and how it tied into your life. Unfortunately, it never lasts. In Earle’s case, he’s had three different musical careers: before incarceration, after incarceration (but prior to 2004), and the current run. For me, his post incarceration albums (I Feel Alright, El Corazon, The Mountain, Transcendental Blues, and Jerusalem) were the best run of his career. Since 2004, there’s some stuff I like, some I don’t. Same with Lucinda Williams; she had a brilliant run (Car Wheels, Essence, World Without Tears), but her last three have done little for me. Springsteen up to 1980. The (first four) Slobberbone albums. Yet, I keep hitting the lever expecting some return to the magic that first got me hooked. It never happens. We’d be better if we could let go of the artists and keep the time, or that part of our life, intact. Maybe I should simply pare down all the great stuff from each artist into one playlist and let the remainder slip away.

Speaking of slipping away, one of my two barbers has moved on to a shop he’s opening in Annapolis. Too far for my blood, but it was a good five-year run. I at least have one left at the old shop so all’s not lost. I hate losing barbers. (Have you seen my hair? Not everyone can make me looks this good.) If you live in Annapolis, his new place will be called Capistrano and it’s apparently right downtown.

I just came across this:

This is the best the USDA can do? I’m glad that what they’ve decided as their campaign is a plate that signifies kids should keep all their food separate and compartmentalized. And, the milk goes in a cup. Honestly, I don’t know what campaign would work, so maybe I should zip it, but we’ve decided that eating colors is the only real answer. If it’s colorful, eat it. If not, stay away. The do win with the last of the seven bullet points: drink water.

We are on the road for part of one more weekend. We’ll be down in Richmond on Sunday, and overnight until Monday, for an event. I think we’re staying in a nice hotel – I’ll try to act civilized. I may be forced to have pizza prepped for the heathens before we leave on Sunday morning. I think they can manage heating and eating.

going up

2011-06-01T15:11:00.002-04:00

It seems like we get more than our share of teeter-totter events around this area. Maybe it’s the Beltway and the politics that bring out the disobedience in the youth, maybe not. Over the weekend we had our second round of silent dancers doing a memorial (I think the last occurrence was a few years back at the Lincoln Memorial). I’m mixed on the idea: silent dancing vs. interfering with others? The debate seems to be multi-faceted in that it’s hard to sort out whether the issue with police is really about protest, or a lack of a permit to protest. Maybe those are the same thing. I guess that if you’re silent, and not blocking or inhibiting anything, you shouldn’t need a permit. You can read the two posts at dcist.com (here and here). If push came to shove, I have no problem with silent dancing. If I were doing a tango or a waltz, that’d be okay, wouldn’t it?

One more thing for everyone to discuss. I have major issues with our slow and crappy elevators at school. Primarily: people who get on at floor 6, push the button for 7, and we already have 8 and 9 activated. Dude, fucking walk. Go to 8 and walk down a flight of stairs. That way you won’t even have to walk up the flight of stairs you should have walked up before pissing me off. Or, 8 of us get on at the ground floor and the first three floors selected are 6, 8, and 9. Some dude getting in with us hits 7 – and I punch him in the face. This doesn’t matter, does it? Of course, I work on the 12^th floor so stopping at every, single floor is beyond painful.

stay on target

2011-05-31T15:13:00.003-04:00

Another wedding weekend come and gone.

We left at about 11:30p Thursday night and zipped up I-95 with no traffic inhibiting our progress – we even took the GW Bridge through Manhattan at 4am. Although, even at that hour, you have to tighten up the game after getting through the toll booth, and blast across the island with trucks and locals hauling ass all around your personal escape module. It was just like shooting womp rats back home. We arrived at the Lodge in western Mass at about 7:30a, where I proceeded on a journey to napland for about three hours.

I dropped L. off in Brattleboro about noon – she’s a regular at Amy’s , the bead shop, and various bookstores - and then headed to Dummerston to get ready for the rehearsal and follow-on dinner. Everyone had a fine evening and it was quite nice to meet all the family and friends of the groom. The wedding was Saturday afternoon with the reception following just over the mountain in Dummerston proper. The weather fully cooperated for an outdoor event as clouds moved in to temper the heat, and the breeze kept everyone a bit cooler. The reception was a lovely, early evening affair that ran later as the Wonder Twins and bride kept everyone alive and kicking. After these few weeks, I’ve decided that weddings aren’t so bad, as long as no one makes further fun of my Virginia plantation hat and summer sport coat. You know who you are.

We drove back Sunday to beat the Holiday traffic and only had a slight delay in the Bronx as we tried to get onto the GW going west. Nothing significant, but certainly enlightening into how New Yorkers drive.

When we were leaving in the dark of night on Thursday, Lemon positioned herself at the bottom of the driveway, precisely in full view of my side view mirror. This was no accident. She knew we were leaving and she meant to make herself very clear in the unhappiness department. I’d never seen anything like it before, but I shouldn’t really be surprised. She also waited about 24 hours between our return home and her first appearance in the house. She can be a tad difficult.

We have three weeks and counting before a proper, weeklong, vacation at Old Orchard Beach in Maine. This is the second venture beyond the safe confines of Stowe (the first being Magog, Quebec) so the judges will be out in full force.

ramblin' man

2011-05-24T14:05:00.004-04:00

I spent Friday and Saturday nights sleeping on couches: one at the groom’s place (the night before the wedding), the other at my sister’s. When you’re young, getting the couch is often like winning the lottery – usually, you and your friends are battling over one couch on offer and the rest of the apartment floor. Of course, it was only me involved so no winning ticket was require, but, in case you weren’t aware, couch sleeping isn’t quite as comfy when you’re older.

The entire wedding shindig was top drawer. From rehearsal to reception everything was beautifully planned and managed. As I told my friends, I’ll go a 1,000 miles for a couple of free dinners and four hours of open bar over two nights. Aside from the formal ceremony, the rehearsal dinner stood out as a chance to meet friends and family while enjoying a fantastic meal at Rainbow on Nicollet. For the first time in nearly 20 years, we all had a chance to spend time with each and see how our lives have changed.

About a dozen attendees ended up at the show on Friday night – including the bride/groom – which ended up being another great social event. I’m only guessing, but I suspect that both were ready for some mindless activity that didn’t involve checklists, planning, and worrying. I was pleased to see them get a chance to decompress before the big day. They managed a respectable bedtime while I ended up eating White Castle (not my plan or execution) and gabbing until 4:30am. Fortunately, by 9am everyone was up and about, and in good spirits, for a round of corn pancakes at (my) legendary Maria’s Café. A corn pancake with a few eggs over easy and a dash of cotija cheese can bring anyone back from the depths of the underslept.

After a bit of the reception on Saturday night, I bid farewell and headed over to Anne’s place for the evening and Sunday AM brunch/fast. We caught up over some wine and then hit the bed (or couch). By mid-morning we joined Anne’s comrades for at Whitey’s in NE Minneapolis before I hit the train for the airport.

How was transit, you ask? I did take light rail to and from the airport and the Hiawatha line is really nice: great trains, timely schedule, and the fare – for rush hour times – is a flat $2.25. On the way in I rode up to the Franklin St. station and caught the #2 bus west to the Van Dusen Mansion for the rehearsal. The MTA bus system is adequate, but not great. I never feel like you should have 30-minute bus waits, in the heart of a city, on a weekday. Even with that, the routes are strong and the cost (bus-wise) is about what we pay here in D.C. Anne was going to take me to the airport after breakfast on Sunday until I realized that dropping me off at Target Field (about three blocks from where we were) for the light rail was a much better option: 25 minutes later and I’m checking in at the airport. I’d love to see them expand service from downtown to the western suburbs, but I suspect that’s a pipe dream. (They are building a line between MSP and StP, and I see there’s talk of building a line SW to Eden Prairie.)

The flight back was fine – Delta, and all – and I feel like I’m nearly caught up on sleep; only to ready the entire clan for another wedding up in Vermont this weekend.

circle

2011-05-19T20:22:00.005-04:00

I'm off to the Twin Cities tomorrow afternoon. A mere 30 years after meeting my best high school friend, I'm on a plane for his wedding. I don't remember the exact circumstance of our first meeting, but I vaguely recall being in Mr. Choate's Spanish class at Valley View Jr. High School. Eventually, we became four as Jeff, Todd (the other Todd), Soren (groom), and I became fast friends and thrived through high school. Those youthful days of studying hard, air guitar, Foos-ball, the Tubes, road trips, and dreaming of futures are very, very special to me. You never really get past those most powerful moments of relationships. It's easy to recall some of both the great and stupid things we did together. Amongst the four of us, the other three will always seem greater than I...in a good way. I got to take a little piece of each of them with me as I wandered far away and did different things. For the first time in 18 years (?), we'll all be together in one place - I'm a little nervous. Mostly for the worry of discussion and my attempts to tell what I've been up to over that very long period my life. In the end, it'll be a wonderful get together.

And with the celebration comes Slobberbone. To get more specific, Soren and I were college roommates for two years at Iowa. For two years he wandered the cut-out bins of the local records shops. For those years, and beyond, he was always the one who found the great music, brought it home, wrote up top ten lists, and passed on all the legwork that he so enjoyed. Back in the early 2000s he reported on Slobberbone. I can still remember reading his top ten list that year and wondering about this band with the unfortunate name. I've seen them a half-dozen times on two continents and every, single time I drink too many beers, yell at the band, and generally behave as you would at a show by the mighty Slobberbone. Every, single show (even with new friends and wives), made me think of Soren with his cut-out LPs in 1983.

Funny thing. Slobberbone disbanded in about 2005 (?) and I flew to Minneapolis to see the farewell show with Soren and his sister at the 400 Club. Wouldn't you guess, after six years they are back on the wagon and playing at the 7th St. Entry of First Avenue tomorrow night - before the hitchin' ceremony - odds? So, I'll disappear for the weekend - after just coming back. But, rest assured that at some point tomorrow night, maybe around 11p (CDT), we'll be listening to Brent Best and the boys belt out Engine Joe. And we'll be smiling until the clock rolls over.

I once read a set of liner notes about the Gear Daddies (another all-time favorite), that put forth this idea: there are better bands in this World. There are more talented bands in this World. But, I will never love another band quite like I love the Gear Daddies.

For me, that's Slobberbone.

Nothing. Better.

See you on the other side.

the other todd

2011-05-19T12:49:00.002-04:00

On a hippy-er note.

I love some Todd Snider.

I have all his stuff – his bobblehead is on my desk – and he never ceases to please me. Way back when, when country music latched on to him, and tried to make him a star, he looked like this:

Even though Viva Satellite was a bit too country rock for me, something said there was more to the Snider story. There was. Since then, he’s moved to a musical neighborhood in which he’s more comfortable (neighbors with John Prine, Robert Earl Keen, and Ramblin’ Jack Elliot), and his songwriting has been stellar.

The first time I saw him live, in Reno (actually, The Nugget in next door Sparks), it was during the very short period of time every year that he gets together with his band, The Nervous Wrecks, plugs it in, and blows the doors of the place. It was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen. (Apparently, this is a strictly Nugget stop on the annual tour, I never see other dates with a band.) The Wrecks, at least the version I saw, included greats Will Kimbrough and Dave Zollo filling the sound. The second time I saw him was a solo show/date with X at the Birchmere in Alexandria. He couldn’t be more different in his two iterations – the solo, storyteller being more the norm – when it’s just him you get at least a half-dozen, between song stories that will make you laugh the rest of the night. He’s a truly engaging performer who everyone should experience at least once. Or not.

You’re not my brother’s hero. You’re mine.

used car salesman

2011-05-19T10:59:00.004-04:00

George Will once wrote a book called Men At Work. It’s an amazing piece of work that viewed four aspects of Major League Baseball – hitting, fielding, pitching, managing – by following around four participants for an entire season: Hershiser, LaRussa, Ripken Jr., and Boggs. Maybe that was the starting point of his ‘genius’ fascade, and now, for some reason, loads of people think of Will as some savant of politics because he wears a bowtie, has glasses, and doesn’t seem to be much of a screamer. In reality, Will is comedic, at best, when it comes to politics. A prime example (another one?) of his blind worship is his commentary in today’s WaPo.

California is a big, hot financial mess. As they try to work their way through a $26B shortfall, Jerry Brown – not perfect, by any stretch – has made it clear that he will cut spending, and he has, but they will have to increase or extend some current taxes to find the center. What has happened so far? Brown and the legislature have cut spending by up to $14B, more than half way there, and now he needs to work the revenue side in order to get further down the path of remedy. But, will the Republicans consider it? No. Could George Will look honestly into the issue and come up with a balanced review? Not a chance. You can pop over and read Will’s position on prison guards, municipal employees, tax-loving liberals, and his left-short analysis on 1980 schools vs. prison spending. Holding Will up as any sort of deep thinker is reach. Anyone could figure out what movement there has been made on California’s economic issue by simply using the Internet (here and here). Will won’t do that; he’ll just ape the same weak positions that pervade the Republican party. If George would like to stop by the house, we can have dinner and talk. It won’t be a long conversation.

one more trot

2011-05-17T15:05:00.003-04:00

I was only 10 when Harmon Killebrew retired. We moved to The Cities (Edina, home of the cake eaters) when I was very young (maybe 3 or 4), and then on to Omaha in the summer of 1972, when I was 7. The things I remember most about my time in Edina were: a kid starting to latch onto sports (the Vikings have stuck with me), Harmon Killebrew, mosquitos, the neighbors on our street, Southdale Mall, being a horrid ice skater, and breaking my arm. Oh, and Miss Mary’s afterschool care (macaroni-and-cheese and/or Spaghetti-ohs from a can for snacks, naps on quilts, etc.)

For some reason, the Twins never took with me even though Killebrew, Carew, and Oliva were there early in my sport-following life. Maybe it was due to my future disdain for the American League – it wasn’t long after 1972 that I became a Cubs’ fan, no doubt during some visiting to Chicago. But, I still remember Killebrew, as much for how that name would stick in a 7 year-old’s head as for the massive number of home runs he hit in his career. As with many players, in all sport back then, their personality was more tied to the city in which they played than it was to a national audience. I always feel like I’ve kept some connection to the Twin Cities, and I always sneak a peak at the Twins in the standings.

Killebrew died today after a long battle with cancer. That photo above? That looks like a baseball player.

no shit

2011-05-16T13:06:00.003-04:00

I remember being in the “talented-and-gifted” program, it was called TAG, are Rockbrook elementary school back in my day. I’m not sure how it happened, but it primarily involved being able to go on field trips throughout the year with the other TAG kids: ice cream plants and potato chip factories – nothing Earth-shattering or academic. I vaguely suspect it was like being on fire patrol (red belts) or safety patrol (white belts): if you raised your hand, you were in. As far as I know, there wasn’t any testing involved and it certainly couldn’t have been based on academic achievement. I think the grading rubric (how did that word become so popular?) at my elementary school involved Pass, Fail, Tried, Trouble. There’s your No Child Left Behind testing spectrum from the early to mid-1970s.

What brings this up is an Andrew Sullivan post on the T-and-G crowd which I suspect is much larger these days, but still based roughly on the same hand-raising or self-selecting process. Clearly, there was no improvement in my academic future because I got little gift bags of potato chips at the end of my tour at Lay’s. Of course, this whole talent-and-gifted idea is wholly separate from actual academic achievement (Honors, AP, and etc.) I’m pretty amazed that anything like this still even exists in elementary and middle school – did I need a survey to tell me that a year-and-a-half of exposure to mindless field trips doesn’t equate to a student being better off?

I don’t even want to head on Megan McCardle’s issue with talented-and-gifted programs – which she has somehow conflated into a public v. private v. voucher school discussion. I will tip my hand on that issue and say that I think vouchers are a horrible idea. Details? To come. (Full disclosure: my high schooler is in private school, but not via a voucher program.)

p.s. While digging for a picture, I came up an Amazon review for potato chips. Who writes a review for potat

pre-drinking

2011-05-13T13:05:00.003-04:00

“I’ll just take her out to our favorite Thai place and then go home and we can watch a movie. I have The Hangover from Netflix.”

“The Hangover? You’re going to watch The Hangover for your anniversary? That’s not really anniversary material. Or, for that matter, material for any sane person over the age of 28.”

“Well, I have Patton, also.”

“Patton?”

“It won the Academy Award for Best Picture.”

“Yeah, it did.”

This is a snippet of a conversation involving the first anniversary of an unnamed work compatriot. I guess if Patton is your fallback for a romantic anniversary, I got nothing more to teach you, Daniel-san.

This was the first week that I was in the kitchen for my class/school restaurant. We don’t have a massive menu so getting everything straight isn’t horribly difficult. What takes time is sorting out priorities, prep, plating, and kitchen movements. We have a very small class so even when we are all there (five) we’re pretty busy. (The lunch/afternoon/restaurant class has something like 10 or 12 in the kitchen.) Last night – only our second – two didn’t show: one who is gone on a weekly basis with some sort of ailment (she missed two of three days this week), and one I wouldn’t have expected to miss, but who apparently had a ‘bad day’. Luckily, all the prep was mostly done the day before, so we survived. The real kicker, as far as time is concerned, is that we still produce an equal amount of dishes, and overall mess, whether we are 3 or 5. It takes a good, long piece to clean the entire place with only three of us there. I tell you this for no particular reason. Well, I tell you this so you’ll glean some idea of how much I hate people who don’t show. That’s all.

don't put that in your mouth!

2011-05-10T15:16:00.003-04:00

I listened to Kojo oversee the airwaves today while his guests had a pitched battle about dollar bill vs. the dollar coin. If you’re wondering about my inclinations, I’m a dollar-coin guy and a rid-us-of-the-penny dude. There doesn’t appear, nor has there ever, to be any valid reason for disagreement. Not necessarily as an issue with me, but with commoncents (see how I did that? Sneaky). The point of this babbling isn’t to get into a deep discussion on currency and the Bureau of Engraving; the point is about polling and results.

One of the lobbyists for the dollar-coin industry (it exists) pointed out that survey results will always have a built-in percent, he claims 20%, who are opposed to anything you might ask. (As an aside, the lobbyist works for the numismatic folk. Not a word you get blogged at you on a daily basis.) Of course, I immediately started pondering all the polling numbers that no doubt include that 20% of disagreers. I’m probably one them for many questions. The kicker is that they know from the Canadian dollar-coin debate: those that ‘opposed’ the change wouldn’t even consider going back to a bill. They returned to those polled about two years after the change, and they were much than happier with new coins. Maybe there was a new 20% within that group who opposed the questioning…or something else floating out about the universe. I’ve decided that I’m immediately eliminating 20 points from all those polls that disagree with my position. Fair enough.

(P.S. I think I should remind everyone that the coin issue of “weight in my pocket” has zero effect on me – my man bag remedies that issue. I don’t carry anything in my pockets.)

what's what

2011-05-09T13:06:00.002-04:00

All right. Trying again to get back into it.

This is a time of year where my quality sports unfold: the Champions League closing stages, the F1 season is in full swing, NHL playoffs, and the World Snooker Championship wraps the first weekend in May. John Higgins won his fourth title last week in a stunning final frame. For me, nothing gets better than the two-week run at the Crucible Theatre in Sheffield. Enjoy:

I think I’m prepared for the two weddings this month: one in Minneapolis and one in Vermont. I think shoes are the only item remaining on the list.

The Minneapolis event is for my best friend from high school (and two-year college roommate). All of the get- togethers look great; I’m flying in Friday and using mass transit (both light rail and bus) to get in and around The Cities. After years of using mass transit for travel, it’s second nature to pull up information, get timetables, order fare cards, and slip/slide around cities. I’m looking forward to my second experience on the rail in Minneapolis. If memory serves, the Hiawatha line from the airport into downtown is quite nice.

X gardened all weekend; I cooked and did some cleaning. Our new bookshelves appear to be on the verge of shelving books.

I have two stories from the weekend that I’m contemplating providing to my myriad readers. Most of the audience has heard them already, but it might be enlightening to others. One is funny; the other a bit sad. Give me another day or two to decide.
For L’s birthday dinner last night we continued with the normal pizza night, while she and I made a poor attempt (mostly my poor, her attempt) at a chocolate orange cake. Fortunately, Corey also brought over a massive chocolate pudding so we had strong back up. She went to Eastern Market during the day to walk her rabbit trail of happiness and came back with a new, handmade, t-shirt design. She was quite happy to pocket her loads of cash from across the Hilltop, and the country.

The Eleven joined the newlyweds for a garden walk and tea at Hillwood Estate in the afternoon: perfect weather for the gardens. We had alleged tea at the ‘tea room’, but they are in dire need of an actual chef doing actual cooking of tea –time treats. That portion of the visit, though enjoyable, left quite a bit to be desired in the food/tea arena.

You’ve been as updated as you can be…for now.

taxing

2011-04-18T14:20:00.001-04:00

Taxes are done, across the board.

I had a discussion a number of years ago with a co-worker: she was dating someone, it was pretty serious, and she was telling us about how he wanted her to attend his church with him. Being an atheist, she had absolutely zero interest in going to his church, an ultra-conservative version, much less any church. His response was to offer a different, less conservative option. Her response was to this attempt at compromise was to dig her heels in at her current position. The point of the story, and the discussion we had, was compromise, and what it means. It isn’t about religion – that’s just my real-life analogy. If two parties start out at point A and point Z, and the holder of point Z offers point O or point M as a compromise, then your sitting powerfully on point A isn’t participatory. You aren’t compromising, or even discussing the option, you’re just sitting on point A. I think about this often while listening to the political rumblings from inside the Beltway.

On Saturday I took in The Agony and Ecstasy of Steve Jobs at Woolly Mammoth in D.C. Mike Daisey has written a number of one-man monologues that I’ve missed in the past: I promised myself to make sure this one didn’t slip by. Daisey is a brilliant perfomer who takes you on winding journeys over nearly two hours of information and irritation. He spent a month in China last year (?) gathering information about Apple’s (and, truthfully, probably every other computer company’s) labor habits. Of course, it’s easy to pose Apple as your foil since the company, and Jobs, cry out for harassment. The piece is interleaved stories of Apple’s marketing / geekdom strategy (the funny bits), and the issues in Chinese factories (disturbing). Daisey flawlessly combines the two into a strong finished product. I certainly won’t miss any of the future shows as they invariably arrive in D.C.

In my desire to re-hash older entries, I’ve latched onto an Andrew Sullivan gripe that’s right up my alley. If you remember this, then you wouldn’t doubt my attachment to this idea. Of course, it’s the same herd of folks that obsess over their smart phones: at concerts, while talking to you, on the toilet, and etc. Yes, I understand that some jobs require constant contact, but most of them don’t – put it down, walk away.

I’m back in class tonight. I promise I’ll try to suffer in silence through the mindless, useless guidance from my ‘instructor’. That was pleasant enough, right?

T

p.s. The World Snooker Championships kicked off this week. I know, you’re as excited as I am…

new season

2011-04-09T20:29:00.003-04:00

moth effect

2011-04-07T15:48:00.002-04:00

For this first portion, The Moth, I’ll give you a very stern warning in a minute or so. I came to the The Moth a few weeks ago after a recommendation from radio. The process of storytelling is something I care quite a bit about. I love listening to those that can tell a tale, especially about real life, that puts you right in the midst of what’s happening in people’s lives. They post each week, maintaining five at any given moment, for free at iTunes. The majority of them are funny and quirky, but the story by Anthony Griffith, which is still up, is absolutely stunning. I’d say listen to the other four that are up right now, and enjoy nice 15-minute breaks in your day. As for Griffith’s, be warned that it is extremely emotional. You might want to be alone; I was walking home from the bus station and trying to not fall down from pain. Great stuff, all around.

Moving along.

I’ve been assigned as ‘front of house’ for the first half of my quarter in the school restaurant. I’ll be dolled up and ready to take orders, serve from the right, and try not to mess up who gets what dish.

I’m thinking of gnocchi for tonight. Kids and potatoes.

gang load

2011-04-06T15:23:00.004-04:00

I haven’t scanned the Internet in order to figure out this new senatorial “Gang of Six”. Before I do, let me explain a few things.

This is Gang of Four:

This is Gangs of New York:

This is the gang from one of my favorite movies, Bottle Rocket:

A bunch of senators hanging about the lush Hart Senate Office Building is not a gang. I can’t even imagine the meeting where these stiffs sat around trying to give birth to some creative, 24-hour news channel, moniker.

“Right. We need a name for this effort, guys.”
(PowerPoint is brought up, sticky notes handed out to everyone for brainstorming)

“First and foremost, there are no bad ideas. Remember, we are a Six Sigma / ISO 9000-certified Congress.”

“How about, ‘the Half Dozen’?”

“Not nearly strong enough, ‘the Dirty Half Dozen’?”

“Wait a minute! ‘Saxby and the Crapos’!”

“Shut up, Saxby. Why does your name get to be the lead? How about ‘The Kent Conrads’?”

“Really, Kent? That’s your idea?”

“Alright, knock it off. If y’all keep going on like this…no gang!”

“Sorry, Dick. Now that I think about it, earlier today ol’ Tommy Coburn was telling me that we really look like some kind of gang. Now you say ‘gang’ – maybe there’s something to this…”

“Let’s be a gang. Maybe we can be the ‘Gang of Threes’ since there are three of us from each party.”

“Warner, you’re an idiot. Clearly, we should be the ‘Gang of Two’. Two parties: One Gang!”

(Chambliss writes down that catchy, ‘new’ campaign slogan.)

“Frankly, Dick, I don’t like either name. Maybe we should recess and figure this out after we take some time off and sign some papers.”

“Excellent, meeting adjourned. Oh, wait. One more thing: you don’t talk about the gang.”

I don’t know. After hearing about this gang this morning, I heard part of an interview with some Tennessee congressman. When asked if he would consider tax increases in order to help alleviate the deficit, he said: “Well, that’s a 'what if' question. There’s no way for me to know.”

Hey, Congressman, if I punch you in the face, would it hurt? Or, is there no way for you to comment on that ‘what if’.

** The members are: Saxby Chambliss, Mark Warner, Tom Coburn, Mike Crapo, Kent Conrad, and Dick Durbin.

thor's hammer avoided

2011-04-01T14:45:00.003-04:00

There’s a new play on at Theater J here in D.C.: Photograph 51. It’s the story of Rosalind Franklin and her place in the discovery of DNA. Well, her place, her life (I think), and probably the lack of fame she received during her lifetime. Of course, I immediately knew that I need to see it. Don’t judge me.

For those that know me, and eat waffles (could be one-in-the-same, or different people), I’ve become obsessed with the maker of my waffle irons. Vitantonio Manufacturing is/was based in the Cleveland area as early as the in the early 1900s (probably before that…), and made loads of awesome stuff: waffle irons, pizzelle makers, cheese graters, pasta machines, food strainers, etc. All the older stuff, from pre-1960, is fantastic for collecting and cooking (I think I just bought my sixth or seventh waffle iron). At some point, they either sold the company name, or someone else took over, and the products post-my birth don’t seem nearly as high quality, or interesting. Based on the limited research I’ve done, apparently the family split at some point, one side bought out the other, who then started some crap company called Villaware. It failed. I think Vitantonio ended up going under during that same period. Is this too much information?

We took the golden wagon in for a safety inspection ($16) and dropped about $800; living the life of the rich-and-famous.

I have a story that revolved around FedEx and me discussing addresses and delivery options out in British Columbia. It was lovely. I don’t have the heart to recreate right now because I just had an e-mail exchange with the Dean at my school, who irritates me to no end. Fortunately, my co-worker put the kibosh on my body slam e-mail before I hit send. Sometimes, cooler minds prevail.

I’ve had one week off before starting the next quarter. I’ll be working in the kitchen and dining room at the school’s restaurant for the next eleven weeks. I’ll try to bring my smiley face for those nights when I’m on wait staff duty.

school's out for the weekend

2011-03-11T15:00:00.001-05:00

While digging around TED.com on an assignment, I came across this gem from Salman Khan. I have issues with schools, which is well tracked somewhere in all this blather, and this is one of the best ideas I’ve ever seen. If nothing else, the idea of flipping the classroom is simply genius. If we took the opportunity to seize this ideal, and implement it, I think we’d see a marked improvement in learning. The more you roll this around in your brain after watching the video, the more the puzzle seems to fit together.

I finally saw Waiting for Superman the other day, speaking of education, and it provided what I expected: a dim view of how we educate, or spend money to educate kids; and, a dramatic ending that brought home just how lost we are. It’s been out long enough so I won’t worry about spoiler alerts: you are hoping against hope that the kids in the movie, who are involved in lotteries to attend better public/charter schools, hear their name called. We aren’t talking about acceptance to private schools, money, loans, grants, and etc.: lotteries that we support for kids to attend public schools. Better public schools. If that isn’t the definition of a lost system, I don’t know what is…

The weekend has been packed and is sitting by the front door. The clans (minus Corey and the two smallest) are all going to see Finn McCool, performed by Dizzy Miss Lizzie’s Roadside Revue, at Woolly Mammoth tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got a gig as a parent tour guide for the open house L.’s school on Sunday afternoon, the North Park clan needs foods since the hunter/gather is gone this weekend, and I suspect there’s more spring cleaning on-deck for the house. I’ll settle for a Caps’ game on TV tonight as my peace before the rush.

Let me close with this about unions and the uproar heard far-and-wide: There isn’t actually a positions that unions are good or unions are bad. Each of the unions has its own purpose, and to intimate either extreme is shallow. That’s that.

clearing out the house

2011-03-04T14:50:00.002-05:00

I was adding a dinner party invite to our Google calendar this morning and I noticed this nugget sitting in the middle of Wednesday evening: Futon Person. That’s it; a complete entry.

I’ve spoke of the New School, where L. is at, in the past. From the first time The Eleven walked in about three years ago, I hoped I could go back in time and spend four years of H.S. there. I’d love to teach there if I had the skill set. A few weeks ago I was talking about Annapolis with a co-worker (Academy grad), and planning a visit, and as he drew a map he described the triangle that includes the Academy, some other corner, and St. John’s College. I’d never heard of St. John’s – at least this one – but the description sounded fantastic. Wow. If I were younger, and much more dedicated to college than I was in 1983 (and I am now), this would be the place. Simply amazing. Take a look. Now I have a H.S. and college in mind for my time-machine travels.

My company completed our move last weekend so we’ve settled in the new place (it is quite nice) over this first week. I’ve split driving and riding the bus this week, but the bus will be the long-term plan. It’s cheaper, takes longer, but ensures I can avoid any traffic flare ups.

About two weeks left in my current quarter at school, a short break, and then back into cooking classes. I’ll be working in the school’s restaurant Monday – Wednesday evenings. Half my time in the kitchen, half of my time spent in the front of the house. That should go well…

sorting laundry

2011-02-23T09:28:00.006-05:00

Alright, I'm going to stick to my state in an attempt to not offend anyone.

I've been following the protests in the upper Midwest and the Plains for about a week. I'm not in horribly deep, but I can see the battle lines even if I haven't done all the research. As a lib-Dem I have allegiance to one side. With that in the open, let's take a look at Virginia voting in the last two elections.

In 2008, with the Presidential election on tap, the voter turnout in my state was about 77%, or nearly 3.7 million Virginia voters. In the 2010 elections, sans Obama, the voter turnout was 45%, or about 2.3 million voters. (In our 2009 election cycle, which included the gubernatorial race, under 2 million Virginians showed.)

Here's the deal. If we don't vote, or vote in a manner that is reactionary to events that can take years, not months, to solve, then this is what we get. Boatloads of state houses, and even more state legislatures, controlled by Republicans. Unfortunately, we made our own bed.

The lack of interest in non-Presidential elections, where our local governments - and our daily lives - are up for grabs, we tend to tune out. And suddenly, it's too late.

The drop in the percentage of young voters, Democratic voters who were too afraid to stand-up, and moderates who once cared, but suddenly didn't in 2010, put us squarely where we are right now.

What's being done in Wisconsin, Ohio, Indiana, etc. can be undone. But, it won't be undone until people pay attention to their own backyards.

Sounds harsh. Probably is.

That old saying, "if you don't vote you can't complain", which you hoped had grown up and moved away, just settled back into your basement.

hail!

2011-02-21T16:44:00.003-05:00

Being that I’m President of The Hilltop – full authority resides with the Chairman of the Board, whom I won’t name – it’s time for my Presidents’ Day message.

Friday night took me to DAR Constitution Hall to take in the Avett Brothers show. As expected, it was an amazing show that highlighted everything great about the band. The brothers (Seth and Scott) opened by going with a bit of a bluegrass set-up: a single, high pick-up mic (?), one guitar, and two voices. That single, quiet, duet (Murder in the City) was a bold choice for a houseful of fans riled up for the opening of and expected high-energy show…it couldn’t have been a better choice. First, it highlighted the perfect harmonies that DNA allows and they’ve mastered. Second, it showcases Scott’s unbelievably strong voice (“Did you swallow an amplifier?” – NPR) as he moves far away from the mic and controls his sound perfectly through not only distance, but also via direction of projection. After the simmered us all down, the rest-ish of the band (cello and bass) hit the stage as they started to rip through nearly two hours of impeccable showmanship (they also have a drummer, Smiley, who shows up for about half the songs). Scott plays guitar, banjo, harmonica, keyboards, and a standup bass drum/cymbal while singing lead on most songs and harmony on others. Seth plays guitar and keyboards while singing lead and harmonies. The constant movement throughout the show, the clear pleasure of playing for all of us, and the talent on display is stunning. What you get with these guys is a feeling like you get at few shows: warmth and vision of what they believe comes from music. Much like Cloud Cult, what they push through the amplifiers is some serum that can make all the ills of your day disappear, if only for the time you have together. As I’ve said many times, I’m not impressed by bands that feel they need to push for two hours or more – very few have the strength of catalog that can hold my interest for that long. The Avetts hit at about 1:55, including a three-song encore, that actually left me wanting more, and that’s a rare thing. I don’t know what the future holds for the band; will they become so big that they outgrow smaller venues? (DAR holds right at 3,700 in a quaint hall). What I tend to believe about bands that I love, especially when new CDs arrive or shows are attended, is that they must surely explode to worldwide fame and tens of thousands will pack the big arenas. What usually happens is that they peak at about the 9:30 Club-level (capacity:1,200) and never grow to stadium-rock levels. I suspect the Avetts are playing at the max level of venue size right now – even with the Grammys turn last week, their music and style doesn’t lead to huge, huge shows (not including big festival stages).

X has wrapped up her studies and hit the road this afternoon for her Bar Exam – we get her back on Wednesday evening. I have little doubt she’ll due just fine and we’ll know for sure in April.

G. had two strange questions yesterday. The first came when he called me from a friend’s house and asked, “Has anything happened at home?” Strange. “What do you mean?”, I said. “Nothing, I just wanted to know if anything has happened at home.” Weird-o. What? Did he set some trap that would spring upon me at my return? Did you know something about aliens landing? He followed that up last nigh with this, at about 9pm, “Todd, do I have school tomorrow?” Well, it’s Presidents’ Day and even I have the day off, L. has the day off, your Mom has he day off. No, you don’t have school. “Are you sure?” Fine. I went on-line and checked with the District, and sure enough, they have school as a make-up for their fourth (pathetic) snow day. From this point forward, they have to make up every other snow day. Don’t ask me how that works; that’s just the way it is. I half expected a question today about whether or not he has two feet.

Speaking of snow days, it looks like we have some inches (and I'm talking pathetic D.C. inches) coming this evening. I sense a school delay. I hope I don't have to feed them....

t

womens

2011-02-18T16:38:00.003-05:00

We are sitting on the Hilltop's front porch - it's 75 degrees out and I've dragged X from her study cave to get fresh air while studying - and I say to her, "You know, I don't think I'll ever be cool again." She chortled and snuffed.

I'm not sure how to take this...

aside from my blog's sleepy winter

2011-02-18T14:38:00.000-05:00

This is funny, primarily because it’s completely true. Denial isn’t just a…nevermind

I’m off to see the Avett Brothers in D.C. tonight. I’ve misfired on their shows a few times so this feels a bit like a Cloud Cult situation.

I’ve set my waypoints for the weekend and they primarily involve feeding and watering X while she finishes her studies. About 100 hours and she’ll be done with it all.

I have surprisingly little to banter about. It’s been that kind of winter.

spicy review

2011-02-14T15:56:00.002-05:00

Time for a wrap.

X is still studying for the Bar but is within about 10 days of having the entire mess behind her. She’ll be testing next Tuesday and Wednesday down yonder.

We all headed to the Farrah Olivia portion of Kora for dinner on Saturday night and were pretty disappointed, at least The Eleven was. If I held up his restaurant at the old location as a 100, I gave this iteration an 85; X gave it an 80 as were driving home. Her stance was solid since one of her four courses was completely off. Pure math on that one. Of course, there’s no way this idea of hosting nights in a largish room inside his brother’s restaurant was going to work well from the get-go. From just a logistical point of view, I don’t know how they separate the kitchen for work even though I tried to peek and catch a glimpse of what was happening in there. Second, Kora isn’t a good restaurant by any stretch of the imagination so weaving something fabulous within it presents all sorts of issues. I’ll give you a few examples. The bathrooms aren’t very nice. Seems petty but when you’re dropping $100 per person then there are some expectations. The bread, though good, was served in the crappy Kora metal baskets with big placemat-sized crinkly paper with maps of Italy on them. The dishware, though it appears to be the same set from Farrah Olivia, wasn’t presented with nearly the detail (or the staff didn’t know how to serve) as the old place. Lots of finger prints on the edges and overall they just weren’t up to shiny snuff. The wait staff was questionable, at best. I know it’s probably impossible to get his old crew back but our section of tables (four) had one waiter and he struggled to keep up….severely. And finally, I held my bitter, pointy tongue to this point…I gotta hit the hostess. I know how catty this sounds, but they are sharing the hostess between the two ‘restaurants’ and her Saturday night apparel was shocking. I need to really sort out the right vocab here – cover your ears or eyes if you are easily offended: she had on some sort of cat-like print skirt that pretty much enabled me to date, to the day, the last time she had a Brazilian. I didn’t need mirrors on my shoes or pretend to drop some change in order to catch a look. Considering that she spent every other step yanking down on the skirt as she walked might explain something. What I found completely strange about the entire ‘skirt’ situation was that as we were leaving, and the hostess station was vacated, she had changed from her ‘skirt’ into a pair of jeans…on a Saturday night. At the hold place, I believe his wife acted as manager/owner/hostess and it was a pleasant, high-end experience; this was more Lady GaGa. Or S*&*chy Spice (that might have been offside) Overall, the food was familiar as Morou’s but it was off a by some margin. C. said he didn’t see him in the kitchen when he peeked so we have no confirmation of his presence. The more I think about the night the lower my score goes – it’s probably more of a 75 by now. Hopefully, there will be a new place soon because there are two serious strikes in the books: the first being the claim that he was ‘cooking’ at Kora and now this misfire in his ‘relaunch’. All of us have Cedar easily jumping to the top of our favorite list.

L. and I saw a fantastic show, The Cripple of Inishmaan, at the Kennedy Center on Saturday afternoon. I’d bought through the half-price booth in D.C. and we ended up in the front row, stage right, which is generally too close for my taste, such a snob. But, upon further review a bit of slumping down made it easier and I had about seven feet of legroom which easily overrides our proximity issue. Every stinking one of the cast members was memorable, exceptional, and dreamy. Perfectly delivered lines with impeccable timing and character-ly enclosed. I’d say it’s probably the best show I’ve seen outside of Streetcar and Lost in Yonkers. Quite pleasing.

** If you’re a North Parker, stop reading.

We had pizza last night that was solid but not quite perfect. The problem was that I was wearing a skirt that was way too short – oh, never mind, that’s another story. The problem was that I tried to build up from my initial idea of Gorgonzola dolce and didn’t quite make it to the summit. I came up with spinach, leeks, garlic, sun-dried tomatoes, Kalamata olives, and a parmesan/gouda white sauce the roast pine nuts. The taste of the cheese didn’t really come through but not because of the other ingredients – the whole thing just feel steps short from my goal. The only other time I started with the Gorgonzola I was able to move on to fresh figs and then have the entire thing come just right.
Right. I’m blabbing.

I’ll leave.

t

** There are no guests at Pizza Night until after the Bar Exam. Time restraints and whatnot.

2011-02-08T15:31:00.002-05:00

The only things I really believe about people – here, now, and gone – is this: you leave behind your best and then hope it was good enough. I also believe that what you do in your life is reflected upon you every single day. Craig Minowa put forth the idea we put energy out into the World, good or bad, and that energy never dissipates. It’s there, always. I don’t know what to call my dreams.

A very good man is dying from pancreatic cancer this week. We worked together for nearly 20 years in the Air Force and he was, by far, one of the most interesting, positive, and loved of the hundreds I encountered. Amongst my career’s worth of comrades, the outpouring of hope and memories has been emotionally draining. We probably all imagined that he’d be around forever – showing up to work in our various cities and getting together for dinner. No one imagined that short of a 44th birthday he’d be gone. He fought so hard but it was a battle he couldn’t overcome.

To John, my friend, peace and love.

Saintex

why thank you, sir!

2011-02-08T14:17:00.003-05:00

Okay, this is mostly a crazy, old man entry. X has heard this position on multiple occasions but I doubt that I’ve graced your screens with my inanity. (I was going to say insanity but chose to dropped a letter.)

I hold a few interwoven ideas on handicapped-accessible doors; you know, the ones that are equipped with push panels that open lobby doors or sets of doors. My first weave, and it isn’t due to any mechanical skills or knowledge on my part, is that all the wires, buttons, and circuits have a limited life. Maybe there are 10,000 pushes in it before it malfunctions. I know, it’s not important, really. My second strand is wondering about how lazy we are – those of us that aren’t handicapped – that we feel the need to use the push plate in the first place. Opening a door is too much work? Just this morning there was someone entering the building about 20 paces in front of me (not handicapped, I know him or her) who hit the plate to open the outer door, waited for it to open, walked through, and hit the plate for the inner door…which didn’t work. He actually walked back from the door, hit it again, and again, before realizing that he’d have to use his hands to enter the dojo. I found it comical and disconcerting. Reminds me of this…forward to the 3:00 mark and enjoy a three or four minutes.

2011-02-07T14:22:00.005-05:00

Time is flying by.

We’ve begun the ‘bar review and flashcard’ process on The Hilltop. I’m once again in the midst of learning about life estates and fee simple stuff. Of course, I’m in it purely for the enjoyment factor – I think X is more serious.

L. and I headed into D.C. on Saturday morning for the orchid exhibit at the Museum of Natural History. The crowds were sparse, as we hoped, so we were able to take in the four small rooms with little interference. It is amazing was a cold, February morning will do for comfort levels in the Smithsonian. We hit a bookstore later and then lunch before she headed off her own way (to the National Building Museum and the Freer Gallery) while I headed into Black Watch at the Sidney Harman Hall (my birthday gift from X). Black Watch is a play on tour by the National Theatre of Scotland and takes place during a deployment of the Black Watch to Iraq. There’s obviously a bit more history in play throughout the show but the heart of it is the path that leads Scottish boys/men to the Black Watch and the deep connection they have to their fellow members; an impressive show. And, the Harman Hall is a spectacular place for a production.

We managed pizza night last night and most stayed for about the first half of the Super Bowl. I ended up watching most of the game since X was off to Dulles later in the evening to fetch G., who arrived about 8:30pm from his week in England.

After we all wander through this week we’ll have another big go on Saturday as L. and I see a show as Kennedy Center in the afternoon and then the North Park/Hilltop crowd return to the return of Farrah Olivia for dinner. High hopes.

shoppers' delight

2011-01-31T13:00:00.002-05:00

We wandered beyond the Beltway on Saturday. The original plan called for a quick trip to a salon to pick-up some potions and elixirs and turned into some all day march that ended up including Target, Nordstrom Rack, and Wegmans . Wegmans was the most interesting layover of the day. I’d never been but the Easterners who call Wegmans ‘home’ swear it’s the greatest grocery store in the World. My initial response is this: it’s not. It is a very good store but a lot of the hubbub centers on the massive (a third of the store) food hall that has some great looking grab-and-go meals. They have an interesting gardening section that enthralled X. The grocery portion was pretty good with solid prices. But, as far a pure product is concerned, it can’t compare with Central Market (in Texas), Byerly’s (in The Cities), Waitrose (in England). I’d even say that the original Wild Oats (prior to the Whole Foods merger) was better on the ingredient hierarchy for me. Not that we didn’t enjoy the visit but I wouldn’t drive that far just to hit Wegmans.

Everyone came to the The Hilltop last night for an extended (food) pizza night. Corey brought borscht and dessert (crème brulee) and X made a great endive salad so we all ended up eating way too much. Not that anyone was really complaining. He also brought over the finished, handmade, table that runs behind our couch. Very, very nice. I pointed out that any attempt by me to make a table would not turn out even looking like a table – I have no skills.

L. made it back from Omaha yesterday and one boy has been sent off to England for the week. We had about two days sans children. Dare to dream.

More weather hitting over the next few days.

ol'd

2011-01-19T15:41:00.002-05:00

Here’s how very little I get out, particularly to ‘eating’ places. I was early for class last night and hadn’t eaten much of a lunch so I decided to forage for some food before settling in for three-and-a-half hours of math. I spied a Chop’t across the street and knowing what little I do about lunch places decided that my limited knowledge (they do salads) would suffice. Not so. I had no idea which end of the bar to order from (I was the only customer at that point so there was no herd guidance), once I ordered my Caesar with shrimp I was asked – or the product was addressed whilst chopp’ting happened – if ‘this’ was okay, I was queried on dressing type (Caesar?), once again shown a bowl of chop’t with ‘dressed’ lettuce and asked again if ‘this’ was okay, and eventually paid. I didn’t mess up on the paying part – at the correct end of the bar. I was vaguely imagining a massive lunch crowd of macchiato-drinkers-transformed-to-salad-eaters who ramble on and on with things like “Give me a double-mesclun and romaine combo base with unsalted, dried, lite Caes, and a half-tom crown.” What? I would have been the crazy old man in the mix just trying to figure out whether or not it’s appropriate to mix my mesclun with eruca sative while still having enough charm to curse the damn kids. Salad. Who knew?

Does anyone else have an issue with ‘hallmark’ cards at work? I find it unnerving when someone hands me a manila folder with a card inside and whispers, “Can you sign this and then bring it back to my desk?” Sign what? For whom? I have to look at the card, read some mini-paragraphs, figure out who it’s for, what it’s for, and then come up with something? That’s a lot of pressure for someone I don’t have much connection to. Maybe I’m cranky; maybe I’m right.

I’m getting revved up again.

the return

2011-01-18T14:55:00.000-05:00

Alrighty then.

The few weeks after the Holidays is always a sort of mash-up of not caring much about day-to-day events since the ‘big push’ is over and, trying to simply settle in for the long(er), dark(er) reach of winter. All’s well on The Hilltop, it’s just slow……

X is in the midst of her Barbri review course (M-F nights, 6-10pm) for her Virginia Bar Exam next month and I’m back in school (Tu-Th nights, 6-9:30pm) so time seems to be flying by with only the occasional holler from some teenager claiming to be both hungry and apparently unable to make toast. You know how they are.

My New Year’s resolutions are myriad but the basic tenor is not to be online in the evenings: Consider it a combo of doing more interesting stuff. X has been chuckling at my newly found reading time. By the way, I just finished Matterhorn by Karl Marlantes and it was spectacular. It’s a Vietnam War novel that probably isn’t up just about anyone’s alley that would be reading this blog, but if you can handle it then dig in.

The kids are no doubt sitting around the house today – snow/ice day school cancellation – making food and mopping the floors.

I’ll gather my thoughts and update everyone some more tomorrow.

saurkraut

2010-12-31T10:28:00.002-05:00

I don’t even know what to say about Charles Krauthammer. I roll over to the WaPo and read him occasionally to see what tripe he’s dragged up from his black soul. I love how people say “Krauthammer is a smart guy” as if that’s some justification for being a soulless and ignorant mouthpiece for the lost conservative movement in America. Kraut’s latest diatribe is against Medicare paying for end-of-life counseling for people who want it. Here’s the text of the section that Krauthammer links to but won’t extract in his piece because he rolls the same way as all shallow debaters: link but don’t show the information because most conservative Americans are too lazy to actually click and read something.

(vii) Voluntary advance care planning (as defined in paragraph (a) of this section) upon agreement with the individual.

(viii) Any other element determined appropriate through the national coverage determination process. Voluntary advance care planning means, for purposes of this section, verbal or written information regarding the following areas:

(i) An individual’s ability to prepare an advance directive in the case where an injury or illness causes the individual to be unable to make health care decisions.

(ii) Whether or not the physician is willing to follow the individual’s wishes as expressed in an advance directive.

Here’s what Chuck has to say about it:

“Most people don't remember Obamacare's notorious Section 1233, mandating government payments for end-of-life counseling. It aroused so much anxiety as a possible first slippery step on the road to state-mandated late-life rationing that the Senate never included it in the final health-care law.” (emphasis added)

What we need more of in this country is late-life planning: What do you desire if you are in a horrible accident? What medical care do you want if you are comatose and brain dead? Who do you want to make medical decisions for you if you can’t? This is something that has long been championed by conservatives as long as it wasn’t proposed by a Democrat. This is the type of planning that allows you to decide what you want. If you’re on Medicare, and want advice, you can get it. If you don’t, then don’t. It’s a pretty simple concept.

Krauthammer, of course, simply recycles bullshit from wherever he can find it. Death panels equal late-life planning? You’re a really smart guy.

lack of effort

2010-12-29T13:00:00.000-05:00

We finally made it home after two extra days stranded in the Vermont wilderness. Well, it wasn’t wilderness, per se, but according to Delta Air Lines it was.

Our Sunday flight was canceled due to the incoming storm – of which they notified us of (the canceled flight) via phone messages at about 8am. Their phones lines couldn’t handle any load (“call back later!”) and the Web site was useless. Once we got through hours later they had already rebooked us on the same flight on Monday. Insert snow/blizzard joke here. They again canceled Monday’s flight (at about 12:30pm on a 6pm departure out of Hartford) but just shuttered up at that point and did nothing. No messages, no e-mails, no phone lines, no Web site. We finally got through about 8pm and were told we were rebooked on Thursday. X told them to give us our money back, which they did in order to probably save their lives, and we rented a car one-way from Hartford to D.C. for yesterday. 14 travel hours. The NJ Turnpike was mayhem, as was the Tappen Zee Bridge, so we had to bail on that route and take the back(er) roads to get home with great help from the Gandolf Positioning System (GPS) and Getting Home Route Assistance Center. If you’re keeping track at home we transited eight states over 515 miles at an average moving speed of 42mph: Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia. Tired and rumpled we slept.

Christmas, on the other hand, was wonderful.

Three kids are at home. Two adults are at work.

I’m tired.

More later.

trickery

2010-12-17T14:08:00.004-05:00

I'm not a fan of Ken Cuccinelli primarily because I think he's a blind politician masquerading as an intelligently-designed being. I guess you could claim that as a state's attorney general he's isn't a politician but in Virginia it's an elected office. As someone who is allegedly a lawyer representing the best interests of his state it might behoove him to be something other then an AG that spews against "liberals".

The health care insurance mandate, in which you will pay a fine via federal taxes for not having health care insurance, seems to be the single toothpick that Cuccinelli (and to be fair, a bunch of other states' attorneys general) is using to support his hatred of the health care reform bill. Two judges have so far ruled that the bill is constitutional and one has ruled that only the mandate is unconstitutional. One of the greatest contributors to society that the internet provides is the ability of readers to contribute well-formed ideas that are often impossible for others to verbalize. In the great debate on the constitutionality of the individual mandate it hasn't been presented better than this reader's input (at andrewsullivan.com)

What keeps getting lost in the discussion about the so-called "mandate" is that it is simply a tax penalty for people who don't purchase insurance. If that form of incentive is unconstitutional, as some are arguing, then the intellectual impasse that you immediately run into is that incentives in the form of tax breaks are also unconstitutional. Tax breaks for specific economic activities are functionally and mathematically indistinguishable from tax penalties for failing to engage in specific activities.

For example, [Wisconsin Congressman Paul] Ryan's health-care proposal, much-loved by many self-professed conservatives, centers around tax vouchers that individuals can use to purchase health insurance -- i.e., tax breaks for buying insurance. But that is equivalent to imposing a tax penalty on everyone who doesn't purchase health insurance. Would the current "mandate", therefore, suddenly become constitutional if Congress simply raised taxes on everyone (something it surely has the power to do), and then gave a tax break to everyone who gets insurance, which would have exactly the same effect as the current bill? For that matter, what about tax breaks for all sorts of specific purchases, from houses to health care, that have been in the tax code for years?

Thanks, Mr. (or Ms.) Reader.

listening and reading

2010-12-16T15:11:00.002-05:00

There’s a regular guest/segment on the Kojo Nnamdi show on WAMU that’s always my favorite of the month: Shaping the City with Roger Lewis. You can get the podcasts of just that show or segment free at iTunes. Lewis is an architect/professor and the shows about D.C – and cities, in general – are always enthralling. You may call me a dork; you may not.

There was a time not so long ago that I’d sit around reading slip opinions from the Supremes. (I know this is adding weights to my dorkness from above.) Andrew Cohan has published his list of must reads in law for 2010. I think I’ve already read at least parts of them but I think I might take the time to sit down and work through them more detail.

We have our first snow of the year coming down in the Metro area and you can safely assume the D.C.-area drivers will make the road a living hell. I’m heading out. I’m sure the stores won’t be crowded.

todd mile zone

2010-12-15T15:06:00.002-05:00

I cranked up the iPhone this morning to check on the current weather – cold – and was greeted by a full-screen picture of Kim Kardashian in a bikini. You might ask…

We were reading last night; I, The Disappearing Spoon, X, some fashion mag, and she suddenly said, “Who are the Kardashians?” As if. I quickly let her know there was dad (attorney, deceased), mom (I know nothing about her), step-dad (Bruce Jenner), Khloe (married to Lamar Odom), Kim (dates athletes), and Kourtney (no idea). I also passed along that they are famous in a Paris Hilton way but without as much money, and that Kim is primarily famous for her ass. She was a little confused so I pulled up some Kim/Ass shots on the iPhone to give her a sample. That was the last thing before I clicked it to sleep. There’s your explanation. I’m not sure if this makes me look better or worse.

I baked some potato/wheat bread last night – came out so-so – and suddenly decided that I want to have a home proofing box for baking. If pushed, I’d say that about 100% of people who start baking seriously at home immediately think they need a proof box. What I’ve found – and I’m not way serious yet – is that most people simply jury rig their own contraption of sorts with plastic and pans of water. As with any hobby, once you get started you suddenly realize you need a million high- (or low-) tech items.

I’ve never made a New Year’s resolution (or a list) but am contemplating giving the oft-maligned process a go. I think refining it to something functional and doable might make all the difference.

my 15 minutes

2010-12-14T15:33:00.003-05:00

Here's the final frame of the 2010 UK Championship from the weekend. Best of 19, tied at 9-9, John Higgins had trailed 9-5 after 14 frames.

My pal, Buzz, and I saw these two legends a number of times at the World Championships in Sheffield. We saw Higgins win the first of his three World Titles in 1998, and Williams win his first (of two) in 2000. I won 60 pounds on the latter match. Great, great stuff. I miss snooker, oh, I miss it.

Enjoy

“…die on this hill.”

2010-12-14T14:30:00.001-05:00

I hate stealing from TnC at The Atlantic but I can’t help it. This comment arrived from a reader in response to a post on testing and standards, especially in relation to the new NYC public school administration. Not being a college professor doesn’t mean I don’t understand what he (?) is seeing. As an older student who happens to sit in class with a nice cross-section of 18-24 year-olds I’m exposed to what systems (whether public, private, or home) have spit out into the world of post-secondary education. If you want to follow along – and it’s a great discussion – here’s the post and comment section. Search for “D_e_x” to hit the first comment and you can follow from there. Here is the first comment in its entirety:

I'm up at the front of the classroom while my students take their final exam for Entrepreneurship 300. A fundamental goal in all my classes is that students learn how to critically analyze real problems applying theory and using fact-based arguments. Rightly or wrongly, I have chosen to die on this hill. They have to write executive summaries, properly formatted, using dense, precise language. Less than 5% of my students arrive in the classroom with that ability*, but ~2/3 of them leave knowing how to do so. It's teachable, but not without a lot of tough lessons and many tantrums by kids who have been failed by their families, their communities, and their schools (incidentally, I find the same thing with home- and private-school kids). Most of my colleagues have one or both of the following problems with the idea: (1) they're too lazy to bother; and (2) they think of students as sub-human and incapable of learning high-level skills. It makes me sad.

*As we are an open enrollment college, ~1/3 of our students leave after their first semester, many of them simply unequipped for college. I routinely have students who write at a fourth grade level.

Edited to add: I should point out that it's testable, too. People claim that it isn't, but it is.

In a lot of ways it summarizes what sits front-and-center when I think about education. It can be done. It is hard. We’re not ready to commit fully to the operation.

post paid

2010-12-13T15:52:00.001-05:00

It’s well worth your time. It was worth my time and it’s something that I’ve been pondering – in one form or another – since Thanksgiving.

My own perception of my world is oftentimes completely different than the world I actually see; within my daily life and bounds. It’s not an external issue, it’s internal; something ticking away that makes me wonder where I’m going. The entire exercise isn’t too distant from the prisoner’s dilemma that we play with our future selves.

There’s a Quiz Night on the horizon, or at least over in Clarendon, tonight. Our last effort in November was horrific so we need redemption. Please, redemption. I’ll pass along results, time permitting.

working for free

2010-12-13T12:16:00.000-05:00

Well, I’ve had both bakeries that I was interested in for my externship fall by the wayside; a bit disappointing. But, I have a good chance of staging at some point next month with my dream chef – fingers crossed. I’m also set to hit a small European/French café this week with a goal of pushing for an externship there next quarter. If that falls through then I’ll just hold off until the summer term and try to work something then.

Just a single class left this term (Wednesday) and then I’m off until January 10th. I think there might be some plans between now and then, including a few Quiz Nights.

Just about the entire clutch Wonder Twin-inspired members headed to Woolly Mammoth on Saturday for Second City’s A Girl’s Guide to Washington Politics. Afterwards it was a fancy-ish dinner at Cedar (compliments of Corey). It was an impressive meal that topped, by everyone's account, our outing at the much higher-rated 2941 a few months back. I had a stunning squash soup, an excellent fluke, and a hazelnut chocolate dessert that was exceptional. The most important, and defining, aspect of a great restaurant for us is this: great bread to open and great coffee to finish. Cedar hit on all cylinders.

once again. repeat. and again.

2010-12-07T14:52:00.002-05:00

We had a discussion about net neutrality the other night. X played the role of expert and I played the role of me. First of all, ‘net neutrality’ is a horrible catchphrase for this issue but I can’t do much about that etymology. As far as I can sort out, there’s not a sane way around the content vs. network provider battle where the network provider comes out on top. If we believe that once we are ‘online’ then we should have unlimited access to the internet then the content providers win this battle. The prime players in the current battle are Comcast and Netflix (let them stand-in for any combination you choose, as X does) and the areas debated involve Netflix streamers using more of the transmission space than others: Comcast feels they should either be paid more by Netflix or the customers, or should be able to throttle high-use data/customers. The basic premise of net neutrality is that the backbone (means of information movement) doesn’t have the right to limit, control, or alter data delivery. Of course, Comcast built the network and set it up for triple play connectivity (internet, phone, and cable) into our homes but now can see the writing on the wall where we all cancel our cable (the phone is nearly gone) and only have internet for all our communication needs. They, unfortunately, have loads of infrastructure and costs invested and want to continue delivery dominance at the prices they desire.

It seems the only out here is for Comcast to decide on a price they feel meets their need for internet delivery and simply charge that number to every customer. From that point forward they are playing the market game that’s controlled by the existing demand and consumer forces. The final part of this freedom mystery is that, as always, we know how this will end. We know the final result will be that all of our needs will eventually – sooner rather than later – be met via the internet. There’s no way to stop it, whether Comcast likes that or not, and we’ve been down the road before: music, books, movies, etc. Just because you control the means of transmission or production doesn’t mean you’ll have it forever: you had a nice run now move on. I’d guess that we fought this exact same battle when the printing press and movable type became the norm five centuries ago. Same battles, different technologies.

I’m almost done with my autumn quarter – just two more classes after tonight – and will then have about three weeks off before kicking off again in January.

L. got her PSAT scored back, she’s smart enough.

It’s cold and the fireplace is now operational on a nearly full-time basis in the evenings.

Our cats are still lumps of uselessness.

All is well.

five minutes for fighting

2010-12-06T16:08:00.002-05:00

Has it really been two weeks? We can call it a holiday break.

L. and I went to the Caps’ game on Saturday night and sat in the third row from the ice: it’s a whole new game when you’re essentially eye-to-eye with NHL players. The size, speed, and physicality of the game is amazing from up close. It’s not the best place to sit if you want to see the entire ice and watch plays develop but it’s a view that worth having a few times in your life. Overall it was a busy Saturday and a slower Sunday.

I finally wrapped up The Tiger by John Vaillant and can’t recommend it enough if you read non-fiction / adventure. I think X will be happy to not have to listen to my tiger talk any more. I believe the rights to the story have been sold for a film but there’s no way they won’t screw up the feel of the story. Read the book, skip the movie.

I want to take a little time to rant on politics and the economy but I’m at a crossroads on the extensions of both tax cuts and unemployment benefits. Neither has a significant effect on me directly, and I’m not quite sure on Obama’s longer view for now so I have to be careful. What I find strange is the memory of a campaign cycle that was all about cutting the deficit and reducing debt yet here we are ready to keep revenue down and increase spending – seems strange, right? My direction, as if queried, would be the let all the Bush-era tax cuts expire and extend unemployment benefits until jobs start coming back. (Being a lagging indicator – the last thing that arrives in a recession and the last to come back – the jobs aren’t there and probably won’t be for quite a bit.) The extension money is small potatoes compared to the hundreds of billions (for high earners. The number is more like $3.7 trillion over ten years if they all expire) in lost revenue that the tax cut extension would eliminated. I don’t much buy into the trickle down economics bullshit from the Reagan years. I don’t much by into the Bush idea of just continuing our lives as if no sacrifice is needed. If the Republicans dropped the “we won’t do anything until the tax cuts are addressed” in front of me I would have simply punched Mitch McConnell in the head and told him that was fine by me. Let them expire. We’ll do nothing. But, like I said, I don’t know the President’s long view on this compromise.

It was only a small venting.

old crazy

2010-11-23T13:05:00.001-05:00

I have a few thoughts on sport. Not sport on TV or in person, but life sport.

I remember very little about my days playing little league baseball. Then again, I stopped playing at a young age and stuck more to basketball. I remember my basketball playing days (they don’t call it little league; it was the South Southwest Omaha YMCA grouping). Our team won the ‘state championship’ for fifth- and sixth-graders at the big tournament in Lincoln. That was memorable more for the weekend trip, playing on the road, and being in the Final Four. The games themselves don’t stand out. Practice at myriad Omaha area elementary schools on cold and damp weeknights (usually something like Tuesday and Thursday) don’t stand out. If pressed, I can probably bring forth a half-dozen real memories from those years of youth organized basketball. What I do remember of my youth and sport is the hours upon hours I spent playing pick-up basketball at YMCAs, churches, my drive way, and my friends’ houses. I remember me and the neighbors playing hours of a made-up baseball in the front yard: pitcher, hitter, one fielder. A whiffle bat, a yellow Trac-ball, and a fence. Once you fielded the ball you had to hit one of the first three fence planks (1st base/only base) to get the runner out before he tagged it. Repeat. This was far more exciting than any organized stuff I ever played. I remember my greatest pick-up games like they were yesterday. I remember playing Pepper in the front yard for hours.

Here’s the deal, and my crazy talking: get rid of organized sports for kids. Keep the fields, keep them nice, and let them play – just without our getting the way. If they want to play, they will. The practice and sorting of rules amongst themselves is far more of a life lesson than schedules on Excel spreadsheets, bad umpiring/referees, and overbearing parents. Open spaces and open minds. The thought of little league stuff these days just turns my stomach. Why can’t it be like this?

And why can’t we let kids make the teams – or sort the hopefuls and others. It works.

I think I might give you some time to digest this craziness before I continue on with my “let all track-and-field athletes dope all they want” position. That may be too much for one day.

pulling us along

2010-11-22T14:39:00.001-05:00

We had what can only be dubbed a clan over for pizza night. With H. back home for the week there were 10 in all and the oven racks were on task for maximum production. Everyone seemed happy enough by the time the food disappeared – or, at least reduced in size so that leftovers were available for the WonderTwins’ lunches.

After the N. Park Dr. folks headed home we played about an hour of Charades (how Americana, are we?) with the highlight being my giving H. the test of “Grandpa”. He began some crazy dance that was apparently intended to sync us all together via Pitch Penny but was wholly unable to herd the cats in any direction. After a few more minutes of gesticulating, his mother finally piped-up loud-and-proud with “someone who’s sort of in charge of something?” Truer words….

I only have one night in class this week so preparations can continue apace for hosting Thanksgiving at the house this week. X found four more high-quality chairs (see my previous) so we should be able to just about get everyone around the table for festivities. Of course, why the kids aren’t being sent to a card table masquerading as an eating table is beyond me.

In case you’re wondering, H. is about two inches taller and now sounds like Leon Redbone.

lost treasure

2010-11-18T18:48:00.003-05:00

I was flipping through my cellphone photos - about 98 of 122 picture are of my cat, am I an old, crazy woman? - and stumbled upon this classic. This the the parking garage near both the DCJCC and the Keegan Theatre in NW DC. You will, of course, stop because you figure it's some sort of parking area in which you aren't welcome.

Feel free to tell me who doesn't qualify to park here.

redux and then off you go

2010-11-18T12:23:00.006-05:00

I've been waiting for Cloud Cult to return to Minneapolis and a review of the homecoming.

Here it is from the City Pages; written far better than I could.

And, a new in-studio performance at The Current with Mark Wheat intro-ing them. All my favorite stuff in one place.

small bear near river

2010-11-17T15:34:00.002-05:00

with hat and sweater stolen from bigger bear.

just duckie

2010-11-17T15:15:00.005-05:00

In preparation for Duckgatta 2011, "The Maine Campaign", we present the newly acquired entry from Nut Enterprises: Nut II.

Nut II is a model 2029 duck produced in Taiwan and purchased from his previous owner on November 14th, 2010 in Washington D.C.

Nut II will spend this winter and spring in training in both open and closed water environments under the technical guidance of retired champion, Nut I. Training will be accomplished at Nut Enterprise's Northern Virginia headquarters.

Training will be closed to the public and Enterprise affairs will be updated aperiodically.

take it, leave it, maybe take it

2010-11-16T21:23:00.002-05:00

I have a love/hate relationship with Arcade Fire. I bought Funeral back in 2004 and enjoyed it for a number of months before growing away from them. Zip for me and the band over the last five years even as they exploded in 2007 with their second album. The music was good and I'm not sure what to pick at if asked to explain my distance. But it's there: no desire to see them live and no concerns about whether or not they put out another album. The funny part is that often they'll be compared to Cloud Cult in the bombastic and orchestral areas but it goes wanting when I try to see the similarities. Regardless, I bought the new album a few months ago when they were again sprung upon us as the saviors of indie music. I still don't know. I like the energy but they seem like such hipsters to me and that somehow pushes me away. I know, it's unfair. The only people who don't want to be hipsters, in whatever mold, are nobody. Here they are doing my favorite song from the newest CD.

sebastian, what is it? i'm counting matches

2010-11-16T12:16:00.006-05:00

Updates from the weekend; not necessarily timely.

It was absolutely perfect weather for a few outings. I stocked Galactica with well-fed minions (homemade biscuits and gravy) on Saturday morning for a swing by Litteri in D.C. for Italian stock – olive oil, tomatoes, espresso, pepperoni – and subs from the deli for the kids’ picnic. After that is was to the National Arboretum for a stroll around the Asian Collection set in a valley that runs down to the Anacostia River. The kids devoured lunch while we walked (somehow G. ate an entire 12” sandwich on his own) and The Eleven has brie and cranberry baguettes at the river to finish the walk. It was our first visit to that portion of the Arboretum and it certainly fulfilled the 'day out' plan that’d been rattling around in my head. We also swung back through downtown for frozen yogurt on the way home…a bit of overkill, don’t you think? By the time we got home it was simply of matter of getting the fire going and doing nothing for the rest of the evening.

Three of us headed to Eastern Market on Sunday morning to kick-off Holiday shopping, or at least the browsing preamble. We were early enough for crepes before the line got too long and managed to haul home what appears to be a 10-lb cabbage. I can see the question rolling around in your head, “Who needs a 10-lb cabbage?” That’s exactly the response I was looking for; it’s living on the front porch with the rest of the squash.

Consider yourselves summarized.

We did Quiz Night last night and it was pure horror. Easily the worst performance of all time. Ghastly. And other adjectives and adverbs.

The weather had turned to rain. I have school for three days. It’s not quite as nice.

I want to pass along a photo from the summer’s wedding in England that the WonderTwins attended. One of their dear friends got married in what appears to be a ceremony stripped from a period-piece English drama. I’m not sure I’ve seen a more storybook wedding, even as I giggle while trying to sport Helena Bonham Carter or Daniel Day-Lewis. Anyway, if you wonder how they look when cleaned up and as attendants, now you know.

Lovely.

(professional wedding photos: here)

progressive

2010-11-12T16:23:00.001-05:00

True colors show when I consider museums and admission prices, particularly in a nation’s capital. There was quite a bit of debate in England during Blair’s run but I think he actually managed to get admission to most of the country’s museums eliminated. They are already talking about reinstating charges in this economic abyss and it’s also raising its head here in D.C. The Smithsonian’s budget number for 2011 is about $800m. None of the Institute’s venues charge admission – even if the Udvar-Hazy does charge for parking – and it should be as close to sacrosanct as anything in budgets. In the grand scheme of things it’s not a lot of cost, budget-wise, to keep the Smithsonian free; and, in the end, that was the point of the gift in the first place.

Here’s a down-and-dirty on management for those that feel like management classes and other such junk is valuable. I’m dispensing it down from repetitive lists, bullets, charts, books, and thousands of dollars in tuition:

See what’s wrong
Figure out how to fix it
Fix it
See that it stays fixed

You can thank me later for four lines that essentially give you an MBA in management. Oh, and don’t punch anyone in the face.

We’re off to the National Arboretum for a walk and picnic tomorrow. Meet us there.

rearranging deck chairs

2010-11-10T14:13:00.004-05:00

X pointed out this morning that we need more chairs for both Thanksgiving and general-use dining functions around the Hilltop’s massive table. Her exact words, while sipping coffee at the bar, were something like “finding solid, quality-made chairs for a reasonable price ain’t easy.” I decided then and there that I could include that tidbit within the grumpy fatherly advice given to children as they depart the nest (X added the last two):

1. Don’t get involved with crazy women.
2. Good quality dining table chairs are hard to find.
3. Don’t ever buy a piano.
4. Don’t ever buy a boat.

Of course, this led to me falling into my grumpy old father imitation (?):

“I don’t give a crap about your wife; I don’t have to talk to her. I don’t have to get in your damn boat or move your stupid piano. But, I do have to come over to your house for holidays because your mother will make me. I won’t sit in crappy chairs while eating overcooked turkey so get some goddamned good chairs. And, don’t ask me for any more money.”

On to other stuff.

Joel Klein is following Michelle Rhee as “school chancellors out the door” in urban east coast cities (but for different reasons). I’m bothered by Rhee leaving even if I’m not a DC resident because I think letting her finish the job (five years) would have been the better option but politics intervened. Klein has been in NYC for eight years which is a pretty amazing run. I don’t have fully formed opinions and evidence for charter schools, something Klein fully supported and Rhee seemed to sort of support, but it seems as if both of them were quite willing to take on the unions and bust some heads – nice turn of “union and head-busting” phraseology, isn’t it. I’ve lost count of the number of philippics turned while talking about education out loud and in my crazy head. It’s easy to look at Fairfax county or the district of my youth and make assumptions about the quality of education. I think we’re usually wrong to even consider either of those as the underpinning of the system as a whole. Shouldn’t we always consider the weakest link as the issue at hand? Even if you take that weakest link’s issues and apply them to the stronger links you’ll still see the same problems. Those problems? Mediocre actual skills and results, middling test scores, and grading that is focused on pushing kids to the next level, not learning them to the next level. I’ll let it go for now…I’m pretty pessimistic. I have an analogy to make between education and offshore drilling, if you can believe that, but I’ll hold it for another day.

(Here’s a harsh review of Rhee’s tenure in D.C. Read at will. Here’s a look at Klein’s in NYC.)

I’ve started about book, The Tiger, that has me massively enthralled. I’m taking it bit-by-bit because I’m quite keen on the writing and the story. Here’s a review from the Seattle Times and here’s the piece from NPR that got me interested (you can listen to the audio portion). I’m looking at Lemon in a new light…

Finally, one last yarn. X was given control of taking any important calls at work for a colleague at work who’ll be out of the office for a few days. The real request is for her to simply ‘handle’ the calls and ease the minds of callers – don’t actually try to solve any issues; issues to be solved will be handled by the master upon his return. She’s to just be nice and make them feel as if their concerns and feelings are being stoked. I passed along to her that you can really learn a lot from Roadhouse. In fact, just about every life lesson might be encapsulated in this fine film.

Be nice. You don’t decide to do anything…I’ll let you know.