sebastian, what is it? i'm counting matches

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

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

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.

what doing?

X left a box of spider plants near the curb over the weekend with “free” written neatly on the box. Someone finally took them yesterday but not before removing one plant / pot and leaving it behind as if some type of runt. Needless to say, she found the desertion of a single plant to be heresy. I simply pointed out that maybe her product labeling and directions needed to be more specific.

The weird news over the weekend was that a home that had been under construction down on the corner of the main streets near our house burned down early Sunday morning. I was actually headed out to pick up L. from her slumber party at 1:30am when I came upon it and called 911. By the time we got back it was gone; the firefighters finally wrapped up the fire part about 6 hours later and the investigation seemed to finish up yesterday.

I’ll try to dig up some Halloween photos…I know I’m delinquent.

t

explosion

Cloud Cult at the Black Cat in D.C. last night.

I’ve been waiting a very, very long time to see this band live – I think I may know just about every song they’ve ever done. I’ve seen some live video, particularly from their documentary No One Said It Would Be Easy, and the in-studio work at The Current a few years back and this more current offering from the new CD and their visit to KEXP in Seattle. It wasn’t long into my Cloud Cult time to see it grow to infatuation and the realization that I was on to something I’d enjoy for the rest of my life. The music is ethereal, bombastic at times, operatic often, and probably the most exciting and vibrant stuff I’ve even owned. I’ve missed them on at least two occasions here in D.C. – other agenda items – and wondered when my luck would change…I almost didn’t go last night: Monday and all, I had class from 6 to about 7:30, and I was tired. It would have been the biggest mistake to stay home.

The Black Cat is a venue that might hold 300-350 when sold out but was comfortably only loaded with about 150 for last night’s show. A perfect-sized crowd in a club that’s just about the limit of what I enjoy these days. As the band was getting everything in order just prior to kicking off, I wandered to my chosen standing square right in the middle of the floor and about 15 feet from the stage. The lights dropped and they opened with the last song, Unexplainable Stories, from their new CD Unexplainable Stories, which is a reprise (pre-prise?) of the last track on the same CD – it’s a slow, quiet-ish song that builds to an almost indistinguishable peak before fading to nothing. After that quick taste it was merely a few switches on the computer for Craig and off we went into fucking orbit. ORBIT. Nearly 80 minutes of floating amidst the sound, light, and (actual) painting that was on offer right before my eyes and ears. Standing mid-floor with the sound centered all around was simply perfection for me and for the first time in a long, long while I didn’t mind standing at a show. Any idea of being further away or standing under some peripheral lighting near the bar wouldn’t have crossed one’s mind; you were held right in place but every piece of the performance – empty glass in my hand be damned. It’s impossible to truly get the idea of what a live Cloud Cult show is all about. Even the documentary and live studio versions only give you about 10% of what’s going on with this band when they are in full flight on a dark night. Having five players all singing together, and often adding in the voices of the two painters, the trombone, the strings, the French horn, the xylophone, the effects, lights, fog, dreamy lyrics, the crazy drummer…it’s overwhelming while all the while giving you peace and comfort. You dance, you smile, you wonder. It was truly, truly amazing. I honestly feel like I’m done seeing shows now…

lordy, lordy, and lordy

Apparently, unbeknownest to me, there is a violent battle pitching apace concerning the serial comman in this country. I, for one, and for no real reason, am a serial comma guy. I'm real America. Let's just turn this debate over to Vampire Weekend - per Andrew Sullivan (you can follow a good bit of the debate at his site).

gpa

A discussion at work today devolved into whether or not Patrick Swayze was an A-list star. First all, and before we get too far down the hole, an important disclosure: I’m a big Swayze fan. My position on the A-list nomenclature is that someone would have to be on the shortlist of about 15 actors or actresses who are constantly banking big-time money for big-time movies over at least a five- or ten-year period. Swayze is a difficult bill of goods because just about everyone will bring up Ghost and Dirty Dancing, huge hits but both really surprises in the money department. By being successful in both movies I always felt that Swayze punched well above his class. I consider him the very peak of the B-list movie celebrity who endeared a lot of movie goers with those two rolls and for just a moment stood at the door of the A-list room He might even be considered the B-list king. Then again, at the very end of the discussion we suddenly remembered Point Break and for at least a moment reconsidered his place in the pecking order: alas, it didn’t change. Along with his successes you have to really consider what comes to mind when you really dig deep and think of Swayze’s career: Roadhouse, Outsiders, Red Dawn. And with those great movies, the case is closed.

I was going to serenade you with the events surrounding what is now know as the “Landlord & Dishwasher Service Call” episode but I don’t have the heart. I think you can probably figure out whether or not it was a result in the end.

My former F/A-18 pilot and co-worker was just stumped by the plane-on-a-conveyor belt-taking-off puzzle.

t

shooting j's

Over the last few months I’ve been trying to chase down some logic books – logician books, the science, not logic puzzles. Of course, I don’t mind a good logic puzzle. My luck had been middling with a few smaller paperbacks that I enjoyed but the mother lode escaped me; my Moby Dick, if you will. The problem is that I believe the world to be littered with vast textbooks on the subject that are undoubtedly dry and miserable (don’t even start on your thought that all logic is already dry and miserable). What I wanted was a guide to walk me through the process all the while being exciting and readable. This logic problem folds in nicely with my previous post on history in that we aren’t actually taught these things in school…either back in the 70s and 80s, or now. I went to some high quality public schools and aside from about two weeks of proofs and theorems in Geometry – and I hated that block of instruction – none of the real theory is offered through primary or secondary school. They also never really explain that “begs the question” is a logical fallacy and not something spouted by talking heads to mean a completely different idea. Well, I’ve found my white whale and it’s a two volume primer written by Paul Teller. Teller, who I believe teaches (or taught) at UC-Davis, has converted his course material to books that were originally published by Pearson Education. At some point they ceased printing and returned all rights to Mr. Teller and he’s been awesome enough to allow us to access it for free. I’ve already printed the first volume and am slowly working my way, two steps forward-one step back, through the meat of it all. I’m sure L. can’t wait until a few years hence when I gracefully bequest hot her a copy of A Modern Logic Primer. If you’d like to add it to your wish list then you might just find a copy under the tree at Christmas; I can already see that smile on your face.

I’ve drafted up a short Omaha primer for WonderTwin 2’s impending jaunt to my homeland. Bearing in mind that the city has ‘changed’ and grown since my youth – and my three-year tour in the early, mid -90s, the fact of the matter is the Omaha never really changes. There will still be drivers heading east on I-80 who can’t figure out which lane will take them downtown and which will shoot them off to Council Bluffs (they only changed the layout about 20 years ago). You’ll still be able to find a steakhouse that’ll serve you a hunk of meat with a side of manicotti. And the basketball hoop in my old driveway is still there – it may survive any disaster ever laid upon the world. If you look real close, and squint just so, you can see the ghost of my youth working on my turnaround jump shots and free throws on a cool summer’s eve in 1978.

I’ll let you go.

be forward, think backward

A bit more on the graphing calculator before I go.

I suddenly drew upon a revelatory process. Stick with me.

Bassinet >>>> Baby >>>> Garage sale / eBay / Craigslist

TI-83 >>>> ___________ >>>> ___________

See if you can fill in the blanks.

The more I thought about it the more I realized that a poor college graduate with a TI-83 in the boxes he's moving from his frat house might just want to get some cash. How would they do that? What could they sell?

Trust me when I say that you can type TI-83 into Craiglist anywhere in America and not be disappointed. I'm pretty sure that nothing has changed in the graphing world in the last ten years.

varying angles

The Eleven took yesterday off (and today…this didn’t work out) so that her can’s position could go through a pocket revision. I’ll put that into better terms: They were going to open up her shoulder area yesterday morning and reposition the ICD. This merry journey began on Tuesday at her first follow-up when she told them that it felt like that it might be slipping position a bit. She wanted to know if it might keep moving and cause troubles for both her and the device. This discussion got translated, a bit erroneously into “let’s pop you open on Thursday morning and fix that thing.” No one was looking forward to another trip into the twilight, re-positioning of the device, and a fresh start on her physical recovery. This may be the only time where ‘fresh start’ doesn’t indicate a good thing.

We checked into the hospital in the morning, got the paperwork in order, and were called back to the surgery prep area. The multiple questions, from multiple questioners, were answered. We spoke with the pre-op nurse, another nurse (the op nurse?), the Anesthesiologist, and had the IV started. Ready to go. Then the doctor comes in and the discussion starts to ramble through confusion: Is the move aesthetic? Is the device okay where it is? Is it bothering her? Marker is put on both her shoulders (one saying “no” on the good shoulder) to indicate where to move the thing. A bit more of a discussion and then the doctor leaves. (Pause.) New doctor enters. Come to find out he’s a more senior member of the practice and the head of cardiology at the hospital. He’s clearly been called over because there’s confusion on whether or not to proceed. He’s quite good; comforting and focused. He pretty quickly sorts out the concerns and isn’t much interested in proceeding. I think the term was, exactly, “I see no medical reason to do this.” Right. He heads out to gather up one more opinion. (At this break in the action, the OR nurse comes by and says, “Okay, are we ready to go?” To which we both sort of reply, “I think we’re holding off for a second.”) CardioHeadMan returns with practice founder who jiggles can (ICD, not his) and declares tomfoolery. Nurse comes back, removes IV, and we exit stage right. (Curtain.)

No new recovery period needed, no reentry required, recovery time will be a few months for the original, and no worries about infection nor whatnot. Happiness all around.

L. has taken to asking X. for temporary authority to direct G. in various ‘activities’. Authority has been denied.

L. told me last night that she needs a graphing calculator for Algebra. “Sure,” I say, “they probably run $30 or $40 so we’ll just grab one at the store.” Funny that. Apparently most types of calculators have come down to a cost of about nothing; not graphers. $130. Yikes. I think I’ll use it when she’s done so I at least get my money’s worth. I don’t think Euclid had a graphing calculator. I think he did his work in stone.

Am I confusing historical epochs?

t

100% manmade

If you’ve been around me on long drives or at holiday gatherings then you’ve heard at least part of this theory. It comes out when I have people trapped and they can’t comfortably escape from either a moving car or a room full of others, just as crazy, folks. For some reason it came up today while L. and I were driving to the Metro and may have followed on from some talk of Euclid and geometry and doing proofs in stone. What? They had paper in the days of Euclid? That will be much funnier in a bit.

I have this crazy position that American History, as taught in both our high schools and colleges (remember the classes American History to 1865 and American History after 1865 as core courses?), essentially goes like this:

Columbus
Pilgrams
Eli Whitney
The Civil War
Watergate

That’s it. Nothing more. If you try to draw a rudimentary timeline of what happened and how things tie together, based on what we actually teach, you’d find that a lot of Americans would nearly conflate Columbus as tour guide for the Mayflower. Seriously. If he wasn’t Julie the Cruise Director on the same voyage as the Pilgrims than it all happened within a few years of each other. How about if we look at it this way: Columbus = 1492, the Mayflower = 1620. Alright, students, give me a quick run down of what happened, here or worldwide, in that 128-year gapping hole of American learning. I’ll wait.

1513 – Ponce de Leon lands on the coast of Florida
1565 – St. Augustine Florida becomes the first European colony in North America
1607 – Jamestown, first English settlement in America, is established
(Whoa! Where are the Pilgrams?)
1619 – First representative assembly meets in Jamestown. First African slaves arrive.
1620 – Mayflower arrives

Worldwide?

1492 – The Moors conquered in Spain by Ferdinand’s troops
1497 – Vasco da Gama sails around Africa
1503 – Da Vinci paints the Mona Lisa
1509 – Michelangelo paints Sistine Chapel. Henry VIII ascends to English throne
1513 – Balboa sails the Pacific. Machiavelli writes The Prince
1519 – The Reformation starts in Switzerland. Mexico is conquered by Spain. Magellan sets out
1520 – Luther excommunicated
1527 – Rome attacked by troops of the Holy Roman Empire. End of the Italian Renaiassance
1535 – Reformation begins in England. Henry VIII makes himself head of Church of England after being excommunicated by the Pope

…and on and on.

Context.

The problem we have in history is too many dates and mindless trivia. I don’t care if you can give me the year the Mona Lisa was painted but you should have a ballpark figure based on other events. I don’t care if you know the exact dates of the American Civil War but you should say something like the mid-19th century. What we should also be able to do is recognize what’s happening around the world that affects, or affected, what happened here. I think that Henry VIII thing might be important.

And yes, I used Wikipedia.com….sue me. But, I’m a product of the system, I love history, I’ve read quite a bit (not so much American), and it’s all quite shallow even to me. When you don’t have any stuffing to prop open a space it simply collapses upon itself.

In the end, you wonder why Eli Whitney didn’t just bring a cotton gin over on the Mayflower with Columbus.

Dismissed.

swept back in

Okay, back in the saddle.

The house has settled down and we’re simply back with the ‘normal’ load: the Eleven, one boy and one girl. And two cats. X is back to near normal aside from the slower recovery required for her left shoulder. That’ll probably be another couple of weeks before she can lift, rotate, and carry on as normal. I’m very pleased to have my normal chick back. Thanks to everyone out there for driving around, helping out, and sending wishes and cards. We’re lucky the knucklehead is still with us after two years of that dodgy ticker.

The four adults headed into D.C. on Friday night to see a live performance of Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST3K for the hepcats) though they work under the title of Cinematic Titanic these days – copyright issues, I guess. The seats at Lisner aren’t the best for long sitting (a little over two hours) but the show was quite good; almost like sitting on a big couch back in 1994. I sort of considered us dorks for being so excited to see the crew live…I was wrong. I think we’re normal. Any MST3K get together is going to have a large pods ‘Trekkie’-like idolatry about the wandering about the place. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

For those who’ve been to the Hilltop you already have a visual for the next bit, for those that haven’t, here’s some background. The ‘Top is a fully wood-floored, single-level home. There’s a rug in our room, one rug in G’s, and one in the den (or “library” as east coast elitists might call it.) Other than those, the place is free-and-clear of material matter on the floors. We’ve had two vacuums (one tank that died and now an upright that does floors) since moving here about 2 ½ years ago but neither has tripped my trigger. How to most efficiently clean wood floors? I know that the fans are screaming ‘Swiffer’ at their monitors and I’d nearly give credit for that idea; but, I need you to think bigger, think better. Think one of those industrial janitorial shaggy brooms that the crazy janitor used to clean your high school classrooms and hallways. That’s right, I’m fully loaded now and the total coat was $23 at a commercial cleaning place (Daycon) right next to G.’s gong fu hut. I was waiting to pick him up a few Saturday’s ago and was eyeing the Daycon shop, as usual, wanting to head in for some commercial products; I love that sort of stuff. As I was envying (?) the place and the men that use it, I thoughtof my house, I thought of my cleaning, I thought of my sweeping. It hit me like a…well, like a sweeping thing. I wandered in and started a chat with the manager – you know, explaining my needs in the most manly way possible – and walked out with the long-handled pusher, the rack, and a blue-sky colored (washable) cover. Sweet. After a few weeks of simply sliding most things in the house to one side of the room, sweeping, sliding, and sweeping, I can report that this is the best device, ever. Don’t tell me you don’t remember trying out Janitor Watson’s shaggy push moppy/broomy thing back when you were in school. And, just as you remember it, that thing is just as maneuverable, gets all the edges, and doesn’t leave anything behind. I can’t decide if the inventor is my hero or if I’m my hero. It’s a fine line.

If you have a retractable cable keychain with about 100 keys on it that you can send me I promise I’ll wear it while working the sweeper.

sunrise

Well, well. All the girls have been re-herded to the house. L. arrived on Tuesday evening and is safely ensconced back in her room and at the New School.

X. also came home from the hospital on Tuesday afternoon – about 24 hours after her surgery. Truckloads of stuff rolled through my head while she was in the hospital: love, fear, anger. When they called me into the recovery area, after they were done cutting and tugging at her, I cried to finally see her again. She was frail, groggy, and googly-eyed as she came out of her twilight. She recognized me right away and asked me if they were done. Had it happened? I told her it was over and she was safe once again. She closed her eyes and slept for ten more minutes. Too many things to process when thinking about it all. For that, it’s said much better by her sister here and here.

She’s home. She’s still very sore but she’s recovering. Another few weeks and she’ll be (bionically) as good as new.

Days are back.

what's in style

I exported my blog over to Wordpress because I was getting a bit bored with my layout and was eyeing new styles. They have some cool stuff over there but the facts of the matter are that it would be tough to get everything aligned how I’d like it, I’m a bit impatient, and it’s actually a more rigid formatting process than Blogger. For now, I’ll keep everything going here with some shadow work elsewhere. Don’t fret; if I move it you’ll be notified. I don’t want 3 or 4 people to now have my blog.

L. is arriving here on Tuesday afternoon and will be launched back into school at precisely 9am on Wednesday morning. The New School is fine with her later arrival and we can configure everything so she’ll only need an extra English/Literature class over the next 2 ½ years.

Our days and nights are wet and cool. The Eleven is heading back down to Warm Springs on Saturday for a night in the cool country and soaks in the springs.

game of squash

I guess you have to pass through the actual first day of autumn before the squash is ready. If only we had a root cellar.

We'll be on the road to Dickerson, Maryland this afternoon to stock up from the greatest squash farmer / stand that I know of in these parts. Well, I haven't done any actual research between farmers but this falls into the "I've found what I want and I'm not moving along." If I were to work out the probability of finding a better squash guy (that's what The Eleven call him) then I'd have to do a bunch of 1*(-x) and various other things I don't understand when all I really want it a myriad of gourds. I'm not interested; and, for the small possible increase in quality or farming technique it's not worth it. If you happen to live out here in the area then I give my full recommendation to Comus Market (in this case, that picture above is actually the thing I'm blogging about). As I passed along via other media, I got a million way to cook squash and there's nothing nearly as versatile. You can thank me later.

I finally got around to getting my new lenses ordered and installed in my old frames. I appreciate that they call them progressive lenses vice bifocals; I don't feel as old and it matches my political leanings. Anyway, this takes a bit of getting used to since the sweet spot for normal (or in my case, horrid-yet-corrected far sight vision) is a fairly small portion of the glasses. If I use my peepers more than my head to see off-center then I get into the blurry area. Add in the typing or reading and using on the bottom portion and I feel like I'm some sort of Cosmonaut. I'm sure it will get better. I'm sure all the older folk think I'm just a kid complaining. And to them I say, true enough.

X and G. headed to the National Book Festival on the Mall this morning. Huge crowds as expected and longish lines for authors to sign books. The target, Suzanne Collins (of Gregor and Hunger Games fame), had a line that wasn't going to get through in the hour she'd allotted. At least there was a visual sighting.

Off to Maryland. We have our passports.

t

bad form, redux

I drove down to Rosslyn today after work to complete my VA forms. Granted, I can pick up my baby just up the street but that's irrelevant.

I get the correct form at the Registrar (it's the exact same form without the duplicate carbon underneath). I show her my form and ask, "Isn't this the same?" "Oh," she says, "yes. but it doesn't have the duplicate. Here, I'll just make a copy of yours." What? Moving along. I go down to financial services, sign in, and get directed to my advisor for the calculator form. I wait 15 minutes for him to get it all done, check my ID number, print it up, play slapass with the rest of the office, and then head back upstairs with all my ish in order. I hand it back into the Registrar and she's seems happy...until she gets to the calculator form which he's completed for only 1 credit, not 12, and it's not even my name and ID number. She opens the World Championship with this salvo, "What I need is for this form..." End. As she looks up at me I tell her that she is more than capable of walking down a flight of stairs and getting what she needs. I've done this all twice and there won't be a third chance. She stares at me like a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest whilst wondering why I'm not heading straight back downstairs. I let her know that it's her issue now and that I will come back if something actually needs to be signed by Friday to complete this process. She looks at me. I repeat the words: 'a c t u a l l y needs' to be signed. I tell her to let me know when it's all in order.

Case closed.

bad form

It was a mixed bag at Quiz Night: Our overall score wasn’t as strong as we’d like but we had fun and won a prize round when we aced all ten answers to “Famous People and Their Famous Mothers”. That’s a pretty embarrassing category to dominate considering we later answered “22” when asked how many claws a cat has. How a human (or group of humans) could talk themselves into 22 claws on four paws is completely beyond me. Are there any animals/mammals/walkie things that have more than five claws/toes on this earth? 22? “Yeah, great answer!” We were like really bad Family Feud contestants.

My school has a never-ending run of administration issues. The one that most affects me is the quarterly certification sent to the VA in order to keep my flow of money in place. What they were allegedly doing up until now was submitting our paperwork at the end of the third week every quarter (after the add/drop date). Depending on the break between quarters, this caused serious issues if you didn’t see a check for 50+ days. Of course, what they don’t understand is that if the government gives you too much money (or if you drop a class) they’d get their money back, one way or t’other. They had at least three or four critical points of failure in this certification chain with the most common being inept people. Late last week they sent out an e-mail introducing all the VA / GI Bill students to a great new process that will ensure there’s no gap in payment or certification. My first thought was: How nice. My second? They’ll fuck this up. The outcome from my first response didn’t come true; from my second? Well, here’s the story.

In order to expedite the process we will be delivering the required paperwork for the next quarter to the Registrar by the end of the current quarter. (We got the e-mail last Friday and the quarter officially ends this Friday.) Great, methinks, I have class on Saturday so I’ll just print out this “certification form”, fill it out, stop by the student financial aid section (required by the notice) and pick-up my financial plan (what was outlined) and have them sign, and then drop it off at the registrar – task done. Man, that was easy! Unfortunately, the registrar isn’t open on Saturday so I was left with two forms in hand and plan to call on Monday to see if I could e-mail my scanned (.pdf) forms or fax them the paperwork. What follows is a rudimentary transcript of the 9am phone call on Monday morning (the registrar being open at 7:45am):

Me: [dial and ringing].

Them: Hello? Doc.

Me: Is this the Registrar’s office?

Doc (apparently): Yes, why?

Me: Doc, how about you answer the phone with something akin to “AiW Registar, how may I help you?”

Doc: Oh. This isn’t my phone.

Me: I guess that’s a good excuse then.

Doc: I can help you with anything. What do you need?

Me: I have a GI Bill certification form and my student financial plan that needs to be delivered to your office. Since I’m in class at night I was wondering if I can either e-mail a .pdf file with the signed forms, or send them via fax.

Doc: Wait. What do you need?

(Writer’s embellishment: “Hey, wedge, what is your problem? Trust me when I say that my phone skills are impeccable. I speak slowly, I listen to you, I describe what you need, and you’ve got nothing to say but ‘Oops, I was lost after my last breath. I’m a dumbass.’”)

Me: I need to send some VA forms to your office.

Doc: That would be Vanessa who would help you.

Me: Okay. Great. Can I fax them down there for her or can I send them via e-mail?

Doc: See doesn’t come in until 10am.

Me: So? Why do I care about that? Do you have a fax? Can I e-mail them? Does your office accept forms via those methods?

Doc: Well, she handles all of that.

Me: Great. Can you give me her e-mail address?

Doc: Didn’t she send you an e-mail.

Me: Yes, she did. But I’m asking for her e-mail address because I don’t have it here.

Doc: It should be in the e-mail she sent.

Me: What is Vanessa’s e-mail address?

That went swimmingly. I typed Vanessa’s hard-won e-mail address into my correspondence and attached both required documents along with a brief background while making reference to her widely distributed, and well considered, e-mail. What I get back about an hour later is an e-mail from Vanessa letting me know that the included certification form was actually just a sample and not the actual letter that will be signed. Those letters are in her office. Second, the Financial Services section gave me the wrong data sheet and that I’ll need to stop back down there and get a different fuckity-fuckity form. See how this works? My response is a bit curt and includes three questions and a small diatribe: I have to come down to your office to pick up another form, go down to financial services and tell them I need a fuckity-fuckity form, and then walk back to your office with paper in hand. Those are the questions. The itsy-bitsy diatribe is this: have you spoken with financial planning to make sure they know what form it is that you want? That might have been something you could have coordinated before your first, and somewhat urgent, e-mail was sent to a bunch of people, who after all, have been in the military and who might expect checklist-like directions to actually work. She sent back that ‘yes’ was the answer to my questions and this little nugget of wisdom:

“…but as with anything new there can be kinks in the system.”

Listen, you ARE the system. There’s something wrong with you. How about you say this:

“I made a mistake in not ensuring the financial services office was up-to-speed on the new process. I’m going to head down there now, get the form I need for your certification, and take care of it from here. I’ll let you know when it’s done. We won’t have this issue in the future. Thanks for taking care of your paperwork so quickly.”

Why? Because that’s how you do it. Do I need her to stroke my ego? Nope. Do I need her to be competent? Yes. That’s what it boils down to in the end: know your job, understand your process, or don’t participate. Gumming up the system because you’re inept doesn’t actually help anyone.

I rest.

t

(If you're wondering about the picture, find the famous mother of a famous child.)

the birds

Sunday morning was gutter cleaning and bird blocking on The Hilltop. Ah, my youth spent on the roof of our duplex, once a year, cleaning the crap from the gutters; remembered. We borrowed an extension ladder from down the street because the big step ladder wasn’t even close enough to get the job done; it was on X’s list of things to accomplish before winter sets in. Honestly, about half of them needed cleaning and that was clear from our earthbound view during any given rainstorm this summer. The bird blocking was a matter of filling all the openings at the tops of our front porch pillars: sparrows had moved in and this seemed a better idea than getting X a shotgun which she felt firing multiple times into the nearby tree might do the trick. She has no love for the sparrows.

This all followed a Saturday that included my finish to the summer quarter at school and the annual Hilltop block party that raged through the evening. The party is always quite fun as the adults sit around eating and drinking while the eleventy-million block kids (led by the eldest present, G.) ravage the block with endless games that appear to involve no particular rules aside from screaming and running to-and-fro. This year’s focused almost exclusively on swords, shields, various helmets and breastplates. It’s funny to see G. as the biggest kid on the block since he’s always seemed quite a bit smaller than most kids – growing up will do that. It could also have to do with the volume of food he ate throughout the day. (He and his mother came to my final Garde Manger class to sample all the foods be prepared over the quarter and presented at the grand buffet.)

In breaking news, it seems likely that L. will be moving back here around / after the Holidays and be finishing her high school life (two-and-a-half years at that point) here in Northern Virginia. It’s a longer discussion than needs to be addressed here.

With my two-week school break we’ll be crashing Quiz Night at the pub over the next two Mondays (tonight included) but will the rust cause a slowing of my trivial mind?

There a loads of stories I’ve jotted down to pass along but they’ve all disappeared. I’ll give them a think.

Everything here is peachy.

t

honk honk

Traffic flow and jams came up the other week while I was listening to a podcast and it reminded me of a traffic TV special on BBC or ITV while I was living in England. They were working on the M25 orbital and talking about two main issues: traffic waves and lane jumping. The nuts-and-bolts were that the less space between cars the worst the ‘jam’ and, you don’t get anywhere faster in a jam by lane chasing/jumping. Over the years I’ve sort of followed what I learned on the show – and this area certainly allows for it – but I ran down a video of a guy describing the theories while driving. It’s pretty good stuff and might lead to some discussion amongst the crowd. (His Web site is here if you want to read anything else or watch traffic waves.)

Breaking Up a Traffic Jam! - Watch the best video clips here

I managed to ‘install’ the new board in the kitchen on Sunday. I had to move a few things this way and that in order to make enough room; needless to say, working on such a massive surfaces is quite nice. We had the entire clan over for an early birthday dinner: figs with crème fraiche and salmon to open, homemade tortellini with lemon and sage, stuffed red bell peppers, and homemade pie. There wasn’t much left behind after the onslaught.

It’s my final week of class with just one final and a buffet plating/service for the other; Nothing too much to worry about. I’ve taken a tour of a smaller, and older, culinary school nearby that I might transfer to after the Holidays. My current place, enjoyable for the most part, is getting way too overcrowded for the space they have. They’ve got 11 skills classes and 7 Intro to Baking and Pastry classes (both make-up the first step of new students) beginning next month. As a measure, when I started, and granted it was autumn, there were two skills classes and two B & P classes going on. I honestly don’t know where they’ll find the room since there are only four kitchens (or 3 ½ if you consider that one kitchen is only set-up for baking). Not only that, I think having 20-25 students per class is too many by half. The other school only has three kitchens but they run essentially the same courses with classes along the lines of 8-11 students. If I transfer it won’t be anything significant as far as upheaval, just a new place for my evenings.

We’re thinking of a trip to Warm Springs in about 10 days. That’s good thinking.

cut up to size

It was bout 75° on Sunday, and only a tad warmer yesterday, so all is good in the World.

As previously discussed, the cutting board (seen above with life-sized reference person) has been completed and delivered to the house. Corey brought it over last night after knocking it out over the weekend. I believe that unless someone can prove me wrong (with evidence), I have the largest privately-held cutting board in the civilized World. It is about 50 lbs, made purely from mahogany, and there’s an inlay pattern that’s hard to see in the picture. Very, very nice. I gave him pizza. Fair deal. (I’m actually going to pay for the wood.)

Our refrigerator has gone into a death spiral. It’s not dead yet but it’s only running at about 50° and the freezer is too hot by about the same ratio. Our landlord stopped by to take a look at it yesterday and immediately pointed out that he really had no idea how to fix or diagnose it: he did bring along a hammer and some pliers. A call is in today for a service visit but I suspect we won’t see anyone until later in the week. We’ve gone with the big cooler and ice blocks to keep the essentials cold. Funny, his refrigerator at home also died over the weekend so we’re investing the strangeness of it all.

My moral dilemma of the weekend is as follows. I swung by REI to buy a new Nalgene® water bottle since my six year-old version is about worn out and busted. While there I wandered over to the men’s section to peruse the clearance items and see if they had any shorts I could stock up on for next year – I’m pretty picky in the shorts department, if you’re inclined to ask. I ended up with the water bottle, a pair of shorts, a pair of pants, and a shirt. At the register I’m rung up (there was a slight sigh of frustration from the clerk whilst scanning the stuff). The total comes to something less than what I expected – each bit of clothing was about $30 and the bottle $10) – so I look at my receipt on the way out the door assuming something was marked down lower than the tag price. The first item is 2x the water bottle for $20, at which point I put together the sigh and second scanning of the bottle. I continue reading as I’m heading back to the counter when I’m struck: She was clearly looking for four lines of product on her screen and when there were only three she’d assumed a miss on the bottle. Of course, she’d missed one of the clothing items instead and now I have some massive ethicist issue on my hand. The line isn’t too long and I’ve basically gotten a pair of pants for the price of a water bottle, so, what to do? The quick math in my head says this: her register will be fine, the inventory will show a pair of pants missing and probably be written off as stolen, and one extra water bottle will be living on the rack o’ bottles. Do we go with the two-of-three aren’t bad outcomes so it’s okay, or not? One wonders. I won’t give you my answer.

Too rah.

spare change

There’s really no good way to run an experiment like this because there’ll always be suspicion on the receiving end. It seems like it would be better to just give away the card and then review the purchases or at least the location since without input from the spender you probably can’t see itemization. Maybe it seems like some human experiment gone wrong, or maybe right.

I’ve long held one belief about panhandlers on the street and I’ve added a second in the years I’ve lived with X (it was her input, honestly, that made so much sense). My first thing is this: if I give money to panhandler then I’ve done it by choice and it’s a gift. What they do with it is wholly their prerogative; it’s no business of mine. If I have concerns then I don’t give money. Pretty simple. The counterpoint to my position is always weighted by the expectations of others that I know, “Oh, they’ll just use it to buy liquor, cigarettes, or drugs.” Proof of that isn’t forthcoming from them after they make that statement because they assume it’s a given. Even if true, so what? The second belief, doctored in my head, is this: No one wants to be standing out on a hot/cold/rainy/snowy/shitty street begging for money. If by providing them with $10 they can gain some respite in time spent on the corner, or a day away from begging, then I’m all for it. Imagine a chance to have some time off from an endless hour-to-hour or day-to-day survival slog where you can simply either stop for a bit or grab something to eat. Imagine.

Maybe it’s rose-colored glasses. Maybe it’s progressive. Maybe it’s just something that makes a small slice a life a little better.

Do with it as you will.

what's the frequency, kenneth?

I don’t keep up with all the dalliances of a videophone company or communications law firm. I don’t have Silicon Daily on my morning reading list. I just hang around in the kitchen and eventually the news hits my brain (or in this case, the car.)

I don’t know if Apple has had its presser yet but word is that the music cloud idea may be on the agenda. For background on what exactly a music cloud is meant to be, pop over here and you can read or listen to the story. My first thought is this: aren’t we really just going back to radio? Actual radio? (“Hey man, I can totally listen to a mix of music on this little radio. Anywhere!) Clearly there are differences between a DJ choosing music for me and me sort of setting up what I want to hear but the last thing I want responsibility for is coming up with my playlist for the day – or hour – ahead of time…or right then. If I understand the basic premise of having all your music off on some server somewhere in the big blue correctly, I’m paying for the music but I don’t own it. I’m simply paying for access to the tunes and then…what? I get in the car with my iPhone and pull-up my ‘music’ app and then what? Pick songs? Open a playlist? What? Do I select a Cloud Cult album (see how I tied that in?) and hit play? I’m not much for being tethered to something for my music. Here’s how my music life works. I buy music, I put it on my iPod in artist playlists, I pick who I want to hear (I’m not much for one song by artist A, one song by artist B, etc.) and either shuffle or play the list straight through. If I want to set up a Pandora station that aligns with a certain artist or type of artist then I do, but I’ve even grown away from that. If I want actual ‘radio’ then I listen to the Current out of Minneapolis and let someone give me whatever music strikes them – the Current music, overall, strikes me. (This sort of reminds me of the e-reader/Kindle panel a few years ago where one panelist pointed out that having a Kindle was convenient: small size, light weight, you can read it anywhere. The comeback to that was that we already have that technology…it’s called a book.) Even if I forego the discussion about bandwidth, quality of sound, connectivity wherever I might be, etc. I’m not initially sold on this idea. What if I’m up in Leyden and want to listen to my music? As if that would be possible…

at the buzzer

While I was watching Game 7 of the NBA Finals, where the Lakers came back from a double-digit deficit to beat the Celtics, a few light bulbs flashed. The first was this, “Why am I watching an NBA game?” The second was “How come there’s only one really good player on the court?” Lastly, the coup de grace: if you’re making a push to comeback in a free flow sport (basketball, tennis, hockey, etc.) you better get over the hump the first time or you’re finished; the expended energy leaves nothing for a second run. And for the lead defender, you simply need to keep the top of the mountain free from challenge. In Game 7 you could see both sides of the battle with the Lakers clearly having the bit between their teeth and the Celtics defending the summit; it was enthralling stuff to watch. The Celtics are considerably older than the Lakers and throughout the fourth quarter you just knew that if they could survive the rush, and not fall behind by even 3 or 4 points, then they’d win. As the Lakers got within a few points, tied it a few times, and the Celtics fought back, it looked like they’d win the title. But, alas, the Lakers put their nose ahead by 3 or 4 and you knew the game was over: The Lakers had cleared the summit. If they’d been unable to put that small distance between themselves and the C’s then everything would have still been in play. This is a VERY long back story, I know, but the point is that you get one shot: over or you’re out.

What I realized this morning, after watching some interviews from the big rally in D.C. over the weekend, was this: The Republican party is trying to summit and they’re gambling on getting over-the-top in one push. That idea is a perfectly considered strategy if their current compromises weren’t taken into account. The compromise is twofold: the crop of tea party candidates and the pandering of the ‘moderate’ candidates in order to survive a challenge. What’s happened so far is that the party is putting forward (and the voters are supporting it) tea party candidates for the general election and we don’t really know how they’ll fare against Democrats or Independents when the voting public pulls the lever. All of these ‘upsets’ so far have been Republicans losing to Republicans.

The mid-terms will give the Republicans/Tea Party a significant increase in seats in Congress. Since the Civil War there are only three instances of the mid-term elections not taking seats from the President’s party: FDR in 1934, Clinton in 1998, and Bush in 2002. Add in that the country is quite split right now and there may be a bigger swing than normal. But, that swing won’t be 40 seats in the house. Same with the Senate – only twice has a swing of double digits been seen and that’s what would have to happen this year. It’ll be close in the end but voters across the board will probably give us the Dems with 52 seats in the Senate, plus two independents, and something like 225 to keep control of the House. I don’t want to see those seats lost but it’s the nature of the beast. At the same time, let’s go back to Game 7 of the NBA Finals and add in another damning fact.

If the Republicans don’t gain control of either end of the capitol, or both, then they’ll spend even more years in the wilderness. This is the one push they get and if they only get close, but don’t get a nose in front, then not only will they have to battle an Obama reelection campaign in 2012 they’ll have to fight their own past. Imagine they find themselves short in numbers after this election and a good number of those seats are filled by incumbent tea party members come 2012. How do you address that election? The party is going to need to rid themselves of the extreme incumbents they elected in this desperate 2010 election season whilst trying to also battle another massive surge of Democratic campaigning. Getting even this year will not be enough to prevent a slaughter in 2012 and I don’t see them getting there in two months time. It is the long view, isn’t it?

52 and 225. Mark it.

Up next, music clouds.

august nights and days

You kids keep it quiet out there!

It truly feels like the end of the summer as our nights have cooled and the days are grasping at heat straws.

Somehow on Sunday we ended up entwined in a full day of working around the house. X handled the gardening (she claimed it had been three weeks since gardening happened) and scrubbing of half the house. I scrubbed the other half and spent a good bit of the day in the kitchen doing bread, pizzas for dinner, Romesco sauce, and two dozen handmade éclairs for her workmates. As we were wrapping everything up we took delivery of a massive mahogany dining room table that Corey transported down from New England. (He built it years ago and brought it down to swap out with our mini 6-person table which he then took to N. Park Dr.) We were forced to call in reinforcements for the move being that apparently two dudes at 6’3” and 6’5” (“at a combined weight of nearly 500lbs!”) weren’t going to be able to move the behemoth on their own. No injuries, no damage.

I got the feeling last night that I wanted to wrap up August with a mishmash of music. Here you go.

Chuck Prophet (& The Mission Express) doing Let Freedom Ring!:



Brother Ali doing Fresh Air:



Mark Olson and Gary Louris doing Saturday Morning on Sunday Street:



Michael Franti and Spearhead doing Say Hey (I Love You):

timely? odds?

in session

I’m not a teacher. I have done quite a bit of instruction and training in the military and developed courseware while in the service and in civilian life; I have some idea on how information is absorbed. I have a very spotty academic record over my lifetime: strong in high school, horrible in college in the 1980s, very good in class work over the last decade. I’ve created a little ‘academic’ approach ideal that I gave to L. while she was here and passed along in less depth to some fellow (younger) students at AiW*.

What brings you this post is an e-mail about students and dropping out of school that was sent to Andrew Sullivan from a teacher/professor in California. Anything I might or could say about privilege (I had mine), economic standing, neighborhoods, family life, or learning issues would be mostly anecdotal and no doubt off base. My approach, which is mirrored in the professor’s grading process for remedial courses, is this: 70-80% of your grade is showing up. (I think 70% of life is simply showing up.) Those numbers aren’t necessarily a direct ratio to your can being in a chair, they are a combination of being present in mind and body. Trust me when I tell you that the number of students in my culinary program who routinely miss class is mindboggling: and this is an almost purely laboratory-based program. Also trust me when I tell you that my attending class record during my academic downfall was as bad, if not worse, than what I see now. I guess gray hair and wisdom help. Back to the percentages and what qualifies as “showing up”. Just for a few sentences I’m going to bypass how homework fits into this equation and address the time-and-place portion. If you’re in a class that will be meeting 30 times over a quarter (what I have right now) or 10 times in 10 weeks then your presence, the ‘attendance’ grade, can only be met by you having your sweet ass at class when it’s in session. The byproduct of that ‘attendance’ grade is that if you are there for every session of instruction, and you’re paying attention, you’ll learn the vast majority of what you need to know to pass nearly all of the assessments – and by passing I’m only talking about a number around 70%. With that 70% and your 100% attendance you’ll be just fine when a final grade is publish. (Consider a course where your grade is broken down this way: 25% from attendance and 75% from assessments [quizzes/exams]. If you have 100% attendance and a 70% average on assessments, you’re final grades is a 77.5%; that equates to a C+ on most standard grading scales.) When passing a course and moving along in an academic career is the goal than you’d be hard pressed to find a simpler method than simply showing up to class.

When homework is added to the equation then it simply becomes another cog in ‘showing up’ – a part of attendance. L. had some classes last semester that included one homework assignment every week, due on Fridays. Usually it was a ten problem/question worksheet but could have been a reading assignment that was the basis for classroom discussion (Oh! The attendance issue again). As those weekly chores were added to the grading scale there are severe penalties for not showing up: even at a 10% contribution to a final grade, if you only do half your homework then you’re dropping a half-grade from your final score by simply not showing up: turning in or doing that homework being part-and-parcel to being ‘in’ the class.

My point? Who knows, but it makes perfect sense to me. Why? Well, my Baking and Pastry class – when we are in the kitchen every class sessions – is 30 class dates over ten weeks. Our final grade is based on 2.5% for each class session: showing up, in the correct uniform, on time, and participating. That’s 75% of the final number and if you attend even 28 of those 30 classes (and get the aforementioned 70% on assessments) then you’re a lock for a B+ (87.5% - I won’t do the math again). Even with this knowledge from our syllabus and first night in class, at least half the class will end up with grades lower than what they think they deserve and will try to corner the instructor and ask why they didn’t get an A. And finally, any additional work you do beyond showing up, paying attention, and turning in your homework is simply a benefit and additional ammo if you are looking for a higher grade. Can you miss a class? Sure, but if you do, you’ll have to do twice as much work – based on that miss classes percentage – then you would have had to do if you’d simply showed up.

I’ve gone on long enough. If you got all the way to the end, and read the linked letter, then you’ve shown up and you get an A.

t

*AiW being the Art Institute of Washington. And, the shorter version of my speech is this: “Show up to class, dude.”

spinning angel

Something that I’m not well versed in is cake decorating. I should probably bring that down to a more basic level and say cake frosting – I’m not sure that decorating and frosting are the same things. We’re into cake week at school and I’ve done more buttercream icing prep than I already care to do: Italian buttercream, Swiss buttercream, buttercream buttercream. We’ve done three cakes to go with the buttercreams (and tonight’s ganache): high-yield yellow, orange chiffon, and carrot. Last night was the turn of the yellow with the Swiss buttercream: third-ing the cake and icing it back together in two rounds of mess – it visits the freezer in between sets. We got the full demo on the cake wheel from our instructor who can knock out a perfectly iced cake in about two minutes; we each had our previously baked stumps of cake and buttercream for experimentation. What an unholy mess we created at our team table (of four). You’ve goy spinning of cake plates, eyeballing measurements, dropping of icing, angles of the spatula, more angles of the spatula, keeping your elbow up, spinning of cake plates, scraping, edging, freezing, and repeating. Oddly enough, even with the mess the four of us did alright for a first go-round. Believe me, this was no Duncan Hines yellow cake with tub frosting slapped together for Little Jimmy’s 4th birthday party. Tonight we do the carrot cake and orange chiffon. I promise pictures.

I’ve been pining for a bigger cutting board at home and came across a couple at Eastern Market that craft beautiful handmade boards from Virginia trees. I mentioned this in passing at pizza night a few weeks ago and Corey immediately decided he’d just make me one – being a carpenter-type and all. After some interrogation about patterns, sizes, styles, etc. it appears he’s ready fashion a monster that goes about 55 (!) lbs., just in case anyone is thinking of stealing it. Along with that, or a weekend before, he’s transporting down their dining room table from the great North and installing it in our house whilst taking our 6-person miniature and using it at N. Park Dr. Apparently, and I’m not yet a witness to The Beast, it might seat 10-12 and weigh nigh on a quarter ton. I’ve been put on alert to have neighbors ready to carry this thing because there “ain’t no way two humans can do it.” This should be quite interesting.

I’ve just been called on a mission to stop by home with food for our guest to cook for he and G. tonight. I’ll be in class and X alerts me to her endless work evening. She tells me to get some ‘chops’ and potatoes and Peter will cook them right up for the two bachelors. “What kind of chops? Bone in?” I reply. To which her riposte was a subtle and to the point, “Fuck if I know.” Love that gal.

Adieu.

battles

I was going to kick off the day with some talk about empty Chinese apartments for sale but I’ve moved along. Apparently, there are about 200 million vacant.

Slate.com has done me a favor and posted a piece on Rep. Alan Grayson; aside from my mother and her dog, he may be the only thing I love about Florida. In fact, I think he might represent her down there in the 8th District. I have a longer history with Grayson than most after seeing him work a courtroom in the Custer Battles whistleblower/false claims case involving the CPA in Iraq. Grayson represented the whistleblower in the case and made quick and decisive work of Custer Battles. The Eleven had a ‘court date’ back in 2006 where we watched a portion of the trial – particularly a debate on, and then, the closing arguments – at the U.S. District Court in Alexandria. Grayson eventually showed up again in 2008 when running for the House in his adopted home state of Florida. Grayson’s a progressive Democrat who wrassled away the primarily Republican seat during the onslaught of the 2008 elections. Grayson is pretty much what I want to see in Washington from my side of the issues: I may not agree with everything he supports but I do support most of it. And, he just rolls in, kicks some teeth around, and moves on to the next issue. We’ve long wanted a Dem to show that ability and now we have him – hopefully for many, many years. You ask about his elitist background? Well, here it is…it might help. Man, I hate smart people who earn lots of money. Elitists. If you have a problem with his education and successes then I question your judgement.

Of course, the picture above is how we remember him when he ambled into the courtroom way back in 2006. I want him to go back to the beard and cowboy boots but I guess you have to tidy yourself up if you’re going to represent Walt Disney World.

half baked

I’d say that one-in-four or one-in-five of pizza nights don’t quite work out. Considering that this number translates to a once-a-month, and easily forgotten, failure it hasn’t caused too much misery on The Hilltop. The kids’ pizza is always fine because their bits are a standard set of meat and olives (and mushrooms, of late). The problem is with the weekly veggie offering that can end up as a mismatched mess, or more likely, too dry. What I’d been doing over the last month or so is to take things like stuffed peppers and enchiladas (separate weeks) and constructing them in pizza form. What I realized last night, while eating, was that I should have taken the idea a bit further and into this week. I went with baked eggplant (rosemary, s & p, smoked paprika) over pesto, mozzarella, mushrooms, and garlic. I topped it with a Jarlsberg-like cheese (I actually wanted a Gruyere but failed…) and olive oil: in the end it was way too dry. That kind of cheese with the breaded/baked eggplant didn’t work well – I should have gone the route of turning it into an eggplant parmesan pizza and doused it all with a nice red sauce. Lesson learned.

About a year ago we had the big protest on the Mall. I was working at the LOC on that Saturday and was humbled by the roar of stupidity. I know that sounds harsh but it should be. Riding in on the Metro that morning with that shopping bag of whackjobs may have been the most telling review of American in 2009 (and now 2010). Until now: I was wrong. Enjoy this from DCist.com.

t

hey snakeface! you the devil.

My blog-cation is over. Even though it wasn’t planned, nor announced, for some reason I didn’t have much to pass along during the blast of mid-August weather. Everything’s been quite well here, I’m through my mid-terms, and the final weekend of summer is on the horizon.

Let’s see if I can summarize my positions on the political events of our day.

Build a mosque wherever you please. It’s private ground, it’s a house of worship (a community center with a mosque in it, really) and that right is protected. Any further engagement is folly. If you really want to know why there’s nothing more to say on the matter I refer you to this educational video (please forward to the seven-minute mark): you don’t engage them.



Freedom of speech means you can say whatever you please without government interference. It doesn’t mean you can say whatever you please and not expect backlash from the market, your bosses, and people who don’t like you. A very simple concept.

I think that covers most of it. We can all relax now.

As August wraps up, and a three-day weekend is on the horizon, I’ll spend a portion of the week gathering up all my canning needs and getting ready to do tomatoes next weekend. Last year I ended up with about 25 quart jars from 50 lbs of tomatoes and that didn’t even get us close to riding out the winter. Then again, that took about 12 hours and I’m not sure I’m up for two full days of canning. If nothing else, I’ll manage at least as many as last summer. We’re also awaiting some fig bonanza that one of X’s coworkers has promised from his tree. We may need to drive down with a pile of egg cartons and pluck them ourselves: a fig jamboree on the horizon.

L. may have crossed into Canada by now for a month-long, get settled, and sort out living and school vacation. I believe they’ll make one more round-trip to Omaha in October to gather up remaining items. I’ll talk with her tonight and sort out status and location.

I’ll have some more updates after pizza night…

t

sing along

I have a lot of stuff rolling around in my head.

I have a dream of some project that will marry up some of my favorite songs to some of the art here in D.C. Consider it a podcast kind of thing that can be downloaded for viewing on your computer or added to your iPod for walking around town and thinking of me. It’s probably something that’s too big to get engaged in but I’m going to give it a try. It manifested itself while I was watching It Might Get Loud, a documentary with Jack White, The Edge, and Jimmy Page talking about guitar-ing. It’s a long(er) story of how it developed in my head and that’ll have to wait until I have a good go on the project.

We had dinner last Friday night at the Greek Taverna with the CorKat and enjoyed an outdoor table. They have a trellis (?) / deck cover that has wine grapes growing on it so I inquired about stealing a bunch to start a natural bread dough starter at home: just flour, water, and grapes. The grapes provide the local fungus that gives the starter its lift/yeast but you have to give it three or four days of growth to get it rolling. I’ve been feeding it each morning on the way out the door (30g of flour and 30ml of water) so I suddenly feel as if there’s a dog I must walk each day. I’ll give it another four or five days before making a first loaf and then work/feed it on and off to keep it alive and happy. (It can be refrigerated for two or three days at a time without feeding.) I’ll keep everyone updated because this is surely something that will slide you onto the edges of your seats.

I have my B & P midterm tonight and tomorrow with not much worry: brioche, biscuits, chocolate chip cookies, pie, and yeast rolls. We’ll prep everything tonight and bake tomorrow night. What’s that you say? No laminated breads? Correct. You can’t really ask four-week-in ‘bakers’ to rack out croissants and pastries at a mid-term. My team will do just fine. Did I tell you that we did ballotines and galatines in Garde Manger last week? Don’t see that everyday…

The homestead is still quiet, sans children, so our evenings are at peace.

I could open up a pile of rage at these days’ events but I’ll hold it in for now.

Who needs it?

t

hit run miss

Hit: Getting tickets to see the Avett Brothers in Baltimore in October.

Miss: Adopting some virus that knocked me out for about 36 hours from Tuesday night to early Thursday morning. X took care of me while I stayed home yesterday; temperature taking in the morning, water, tea, lots of ibuprofen on the counter.

Hit: Winning the Avett Brothers lottery after purchasing my tickets and getting bumped from eighth row, right side to front row, dead center.

Miss: Two nights of Baking and Pastry. Truth be told, I didn’t have a whole lot of interest in making apple pie on Tuesday night so I sort of bailed out; virus took me last night.

Hit: Two evenings of not doing much but The Eleven hanging around in a very quiet house with only our time invaded by two ‘cats’.

Miss: Our planned visitor who missed the flight in London and has rescheduled for a few weeks later.

Last Sunday night we had the cabal of visitors over for pizza night and my idea of a stuffed pepper pizza had mixed results (go figure?). This month’s Saveur has stuffed peppers on the cover – as if a Saveur with Greek food as the main topic wouldn’t attract – so I decided to do the roasted/stuffed peppers and actually put them on the pizza over a white sauce, olive oil, and about 2 lbs. of wilted spinach. I came across one of the smaller farm stands at Eastern Market on Sunday morning that was selling some beautiful red and green peppers so I pounced on about a dozen for my experiment. I know a bit about capsicum, I’m no expert, and these looked perfect for the job: I didn’t take pictures and I haven’t looked them up so simmer down. They were a good size, they smelled hot/sweetish, and I had a good feeling about them throughout the roasting/stuffing stage. By the way, once they were done – prior to the pizza being made – they were held until the last 6-8 minutes of pizza cooking time and then dramatically (?) placed onboard. What I ended up with was a pile of stuffed peppers that were too spicy for what I intended. The fix? X pointed out that if you just squeezed out the filling onto your slice and set aside the pepper guts then you got just the right amount of spice, all the stuffing, and your head didn’t explode. I immediately seized on this idea of giving the customer a colorful, spicy, and participatory pizza for their enjoyment. Problem solved. Tasty across all categories once my devilishly genius idea was set in motion…or discovered.

t