current events

There was a lovely in-studio performance on Augie March photo at the top and then select listen (128k mp3) to launch it in iTunes and listen to the three-song set. They’ve been around the block for some time (they’re Australian, that’s a block…) but their music is new to me. After a bit of the interview between songs it became obvious why I’d switched on to the sound, it was right there, he said it – Big Star. There’s some Big Star, some Americana , a twist of Belle and Sebastian, and a pinch of lovely pop going on throughout. They’d come to the station in the morning after a late night at the Varsity Theatre in Dinkytown and hit the road afterwards to head west in a van that could probably be best described as shitty - the live of a minor touring band. That’s commitment. You can disregard all that blabbing and just enjoy the music.

X has been a-lookin’ for a bicycle of late. Wandering into bike shops leads to three basic effects:

1. You will always find yourself drawn to the most expensive bike.

2. You find out there’s way too much you don’t know actually understand about bikes.

3. You decide to shop some more. See #1 and #2.

At the first shop she found a beautiful 2007 Specialized TriCross that cost a pretty (very pretty) penny. It was the most expensive of the bikes suited to her needs. We didn’t understand much about bikes – there’s a lot to know. She decided to shop some more. After a few stops on Wednesday evening (REI and a horrible shop in Falls Church) she had more bikes swimming in her head but no bike at home. This morning she calls en route to Dr. Sam (the chiropractor) and tells me about a few other makes and models she’s found on-line. Since I want nothing but more bike goobley-gook in my head I do a little research and find another local shop that carries the Specialized TriCross she adores. As an aside, the TriCross is in the same utopian part of her mind that was occupied by Georgetown Law three years ago: nice, pretty, expensive, and the only real option – even as one flitters around comparing other suitors. Once her mind is made up it’s a done deal. She’ll smile sweetly at George Mason Law or some Bianchi bike but it’s merely a sham. Anyway, the local shop has the older 2006 TriCross still advertised on-line so I give them a call on the off chance they have them in stock. The very nice woman at the shop here in Vienna tip-types into the computer and tells me that, unfortunately (or not!), there’s only one left in the company inventory (there are four stores in N. Virginia). I learn it’s at the shop out in Ashburn and it’s a 56cm frame. I say Bingo! X is out near Ashburn as we speak and her size for the TriCross is…a 56cm. You see, Dr. Sam (the chiropractor) has his office out near Dulles which is just down the road from Ashburn…and that’s about 30 miles from where we live. There’s only one bike, it’s the right size, it’s 30 miles away, and she’s wandering around out yonder.

She now has a very nice bicycle in the back of the van and is homeward bound. I’m happy she has a bike; I’m most impressed with my work. Up top.

T.

fan club

While listening to the Car Talk podcast this morning there was a question concerning a broken vent fan control on some caller’s car. The details or the call aren’t so important but the answer that outlined how the fan functions was enlightening – and is surely related to my ongoing wonder about why house fans, and their ilk, always turn on first to high (first click), followed by various mid-settings, and eventually all the way over to low. It seems to me, if I followed along correctly, that current to fan motors flows first through a resistor that controls the amount of power; or what I call fan-chopping-spinning-speed. I’m guessing that when the initial current blasts through the motor it’s easier to have the resistor wide-open and allowing maximum speed on first click, hence the high setting. From that point we ramp down the power (increasing the resistance?) as we flip to the lower settings. It doesn’t make sense to have the resistor begin at its highest level (low setting) and then amp up (lowest level/high setting) as the knob rolls through its gears/settings. There may also be some type or size of motor that requires this configuration – I think the big floor models might have motors that can handle the initial avalanche of current. Go ahead and call me crazy; either for the entry or for my lack of mechanical engineering knowledge.

Did we know there was a flavor industry and flavor scientists? I think they are members of groups like the Flavor and Extract Manufacturers Association (FEMA). It came up during a discussion about the possible link between microwave popcorn fumes and pulmonary cancer. Apparently, FEMA is the “…oldest and largest national association of the flavor industry.” There are more?

T.

sick and tired

X was sick last week; I’m sick this week. I don’t take kindly to her statements that somehow say “I managed to go to law school while sick yet you decide to stay at home and recover.” Actually, that is exactly what she said. I think law school is much more important.

A few weeks back X gave me four kid’s serial books to use as wampum for the boys – but what they’ve become is some version of the Lost Ark for G. I swear I saw him wandering around the house the other day wearing a fedora and carrying a bullwhip ready for adventure. I broke out two of them on the drive to the Aquarium last week and explained that their mother has given me four to use as ‘well-done’ markers, or garlic, or crosses, or wooden stakes, or silver bullets…whatever. They quickly did the math (!) and figured there must be two leftovers hidden somewhere in the house. (I immediately moved them from the upper reaches of my bookshelf to the trunk of the car. Ha! they’ll never find them.) G. has often wondered aloud about the house, saying things like “did we do anything good to get the books?”; or, “is there anything else good we can have?” (this being after they’d been given a new computer game); and, the always helpful, “where the hell are the damn books!” He didn’t say that last one but I can see it everyday in his eyes.

Corey and I decided to spend an afternoon away from the WonderTwins. We headed to the bar to watch football, drink beer, and hang around with the other ball-and-chain parolees. Wait, that wasn’t it. We went shopping at a spice store and came right back home; I know, you’re thinking testosterone. The problem with leaving the twins unsupervised is they end up nattering at each other and hatching uncited, and unresearched, dinner plans. Around 5pm we find out about the soup, smoked fish, salad, and dessert plan for the evening. I managed to talk X down from the ledge, delay the dinner until 6:30pm., and scurry out the door for more fish and necessities. A little story about perception. Kt felt there was plenty of fish available for five adult dinners with enough left over for fish tacos the following night. Corey believed there were only three small pieces meant to feed the two of them one night. X told me the two of them were daft and I needed to step in for inspection of fish status and put forth the ultimate decision. This is my life. If someone needs beating up, get Corey. Woodworking? Corey. Car repair? Corey. Figuring out if there’s enough tilapia for dinner? I’m coming off the bench. I got more fish – and cut in line at the register just to prove my manhood…that vegan I knocked out of the way never had a chance…picture earth shoes flying through the air. Bang!

The Larry Brown books are quite good.

More later.

T.

stop now if you don't want my angst; transition

I almost let this one go but the news today from Southwest Airlines reinforces what X calls my moral judgment.

I’m going to edit the profanity that was laced throughout the initial entry; here’s what we get from yesterday.

It’s called public transit for a reason, seriously. A few things that came up today on my usual northern Virginia / greater D.C. commute. The 401 was crowded this morning, lots of folks standing, yet we had some guy that I’ve dubbed Larry sitting in the outside seat of a two-seat bench. The window seat’s empty and Larry isn’t some guy going 399lbs. who needs two seats – Larry is a hateful person. Larry has direct descendants on Southwest flights: it’s always that couple sitting in the aisle and window seats during the boarding zone A cattle call. Even if you’re part of the A or B boarding they’ll sit there pretending they don’t know each other; as if two emptied-eyed, baseball cap wearing hucks from Kansas City simply ended up, by chance, in the same row. I hate them. Back to Larry. Larry apparently has a divine right to two seats even if some other rider doesn’t feel the need to tell him to either move over or stand up. You know what Larry? Even if you have two seats you’ve got a hundred people who think you’re an ass…and they think you suck. You can go through your simple life thinking you’ve pulled some kind of amazing feat…it’s a fine line between feat and jackassery.

Riding the Orange Line home this afternoon I noticed Larry’s cousin all laid back in my car. He had his headphones on while he kicked back and stretched his feet out on the elderly/handicapped seats in front of him. It doesn’t matter so much that the seats are reserved for anyone, it’s more a configuration I’m describing, but why is it that anyone thinks putting their crappy, stinky shoes up on a seat is okay? Why? If you want to rest your feet on your mother’s couch while you watch Dancing with the Stars, feel free. If you are somewhere that ain’t kin…knock it off. I can see Larry and his cousin, Larry, arguing over the last Miller Lite.

The city is full of doors that are triggered by pads that automatically open the door(s) for handicapped people. (I can’t get much deeper into peeves so I might as well continue.) If you aren’t handicapped, but simply too lazy to actually open a door, then stop with the auto-door function. Those things have a useful life and you’re burning up gears, oil, and maintenance time through your ease. Since I’m on this idea…if I’m ahead of you and between the auto-doors do not activate the doors from behind me and pitch the next door into me as I reach to open it. Look! I’m opening an effing door.

And finally, if someone is running for the train and you’ve decided that you can’t make it, or don’t care to make it, get out of the way. Even with the iPod playing you know full well there are people running for every Metro train in D.C. Without the iPod…you can hear them running. Move out of the way – it ain’t your world.

I quit.

That was a huge whine.

T.

verse chorus

A little music and book talk to open the day. As so often happens with me, I end up rolling down the highway with a little nugget that piqued my interest. I remember reading Bill Gates’s book a number of years ago and ending up with a copy of Solo Faces by James Salter and a mountain climbing anthology; one of which had been brought up by Gates. From there I ended up reading some Jon Krakauer articles and eventually all his books – now I’m waiting on release of the movie Into the Wild (directed by Sean Penn) which is based on one of his second book. This chain-of-events has been going on for something like twelve years.

This week’s entry ramp was a link to a song/video by Brent Best (Slobberbone, Drams) that appears on a tribute CD of sorts. The project drew together a group of musicians, primarily from Mississippi , who wrote songs either based on or directly from the writings of author Larry Brown. I knew nothing of Brown. He died in 2004 and had been a great friend with a bevy of great musicians…and apparently a very good writer. I don’t have the full story on all the songs – I’ll download them tonight – and I haven’t yet read his work. I’m off to the library tonight to grab one of his novels and a collection of his other stories. I’m always amazed at how we fall in line with artists (authors, musicians, etc.) whose work we enjoy. If Brent Best is writing a song for a tribute project than the subject of said tribute is clearly going to be someone I dig. I’ll let you know the results. The song and video, titled Robert Cole, is a cracker.

As The Eleven sat chatting around the dinner table the other night I confessed my absolute lack of house plant knowledge. The point of this mea culpa was to clarify my inability to actually take care of everyone’s houseplants while they cavort in New England every summer. I generally get directions that I might understand and then pretty much water all the plants when the dirt gets dry: that’s my entire skill set, dry dirt = water. X, playing the role of my confessor, tried to appease my angst by passing along tips that included how fast the water flows through the pot, how clay pots allow more water to escape but ceramic pots hold water, the well known fact that it’s almost impossible to kill a spider plant, and myriad other plant and/or garden-based trivia. When she finished I pointed out that this flood of information hit my brain the same way it would hit her mind if I suddenly began describing the Nebraska football counter trey play. It’s not that either of us can’t comprehend either subject – it’s just that neither of us care. I did learn that mushrooms growing in a plant pot isn’t really a good sign.

A woman being interviewed on NPR just used one of my most despised words: redouble. It always seemed to me that you’d first have double your efforts and if that doesn’t work then you can redouble, which is actually four times the effort you initially put forth, right? What happened to tripling your efforts?

That's Brent Best with his newest band, The Drams, he's second from the right.

The gent in the second photo is Larry Brown.

Kisses to all.

T

what is it sebastian? I'm sorting matches

I don’t know that I’ve ever before mistakenly returned one of my DVDs in place of a rental, hard to know in hindsight. I do know that on Sunday evening I grabbed three DVDs to return to my local; one was late, two were on-time, if you care. I took a good long look at the three movie covers with a certainty unlike any other: Brother Bear II (boys’ movie), Miss Potter (X), Music and Lyrics (the Eleven). Unfortunately, it wasn’t actually Music and Lyrics in my hand but another movie that X has recently purchased at Target – here’s where it gets funny and wherein my defense is held.

As you sit at your computer reading my ramblings, I’ll like you to imagine the following movies, their plots, the acting, and etc.:

Music and Lyrics, Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, Bridget Jones’s Diary, Love Actually, About a Boy, Notting Hill, Nine Months, Four Weddings and a Funeral, The Englishman Who Went Up a Mountain, Two Weeks Notice, or Mickey Blue Eyes

Even if you haven’t seen all of them you can play along. If you’ve seen only one of the films then I ask you to suspend your disbelief one more time, for just a second, and transfer Hugh Grant from the one movie you know…and place his character in any of the other movies. Exactly the same movie, trust me. It just like when you hear a DJ announce the first spin of a new Neil Diamond song on the radio and you’re wondering just what it will sound like. Well, it’ll sound like every other Neil Diamond song. Do you know why it’s so easy to start a Neil Diamond tribute ‘band’? You only have to don some sequins and learn one song. Sorry about that. What happened in the DVD return event was that I grabbed her newly purchased Love Actually instead of Music and Lyrics – it seemed like right movie, it felt like the right movie. I realized the error of my ways last night and X took the right DVD back this afternoon and explained the situation to the store manager (who, by the way, is a really good guy). He gave a nod of understanding as X explained the confused Hugh Grant syndrome that her ‘boyfriend’ is trying to overcome. It was sometime during this rambling explanation, probably about the time she said Hugh Grant, that Don started nodding in empathy. He’s seen it all. He’s a profession DVD purveyor. He understands the Hugh Grant vortex. I think it happens all the time – they probably have a checklist at the video store:

1. Are you holding a returned Hugh Grant DVD with no Blockbuster sticker/ code? Go to step #2.

2. Is it a modern movie setting with a loveable flop-top?
Yes go to #5.
No to #3.

3. Is it an older English-y movie setting with a loveable flop-top?
Yes go to #6.
No go to # 4.

4. It must be a copy of Extreme Measures. No worries – no one will return to claim his action movie repertoire. If it's not a copy of Extreme Measures, go to step #9.

5. Check our stock of the following, if it’s one of these, go to step #7.

Music and Lyrics
Bridget Jones: Edge of Reason
Bridget Jones’s Diary
Love Actually
About a Boy
Notting Hill
Nine Months
Four Weddings and a Funeral
The Englishman Who…
Two Weeks Notice
Mickey Blue Eyes

6. Check our stock of the following, if it’s one of these, go to step #8.

Remains of the Day
Sense and Sensibility
Restoration
Sirens
Lady and the Highwayman
Impromptu

7. Hugh Grant film was rented by a girl/girlfriend/wife and returned in haste or confusion by the significant other. She’ll be back. Checklist complete.

8. Hugh Grant film was rented by a girl/girlfriend/wife and returned in haste or confusion by the significant other. He’ll be back – it’s not so embarrassing to watch these films. Hey, it’s kind of like history and whatnot. Checklist complete.

9. Make sure it’s not a non-Blockbuster DVD starring Renee Zellweger (her movies are also the same). If it is, and it probably is, go to #10.

10. Leave it in the stockroom box with other copies of Extreme Measures, the early Cusack collection, the Zellweger whiny movies, and the Sandra Bulluck cute girl repeat-role movies. We donate them to charity. Checklist complete.

Good evening.

T.

a boy and his cup

The boys were piled into the car Saturday morning and driven out to Maryland. The first stop was to pick-up Sue who’d invited everyone on a visit to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. This isn’t about the aquarium. I decided to stop at Murky Coffee in Clarendon for a cup of brain juice. We all have little lessons we learn in life and then promptly forget (is that a lesson? is it learned?). This lesson will be called the “white shirt and to-go coffee cup”. The four leading indicators for this little nugget of misery are the following: a too full cup of coffee, the cup seam-to-lid hole location, a belief in ‘spill proof’ drinking silos, and being in a car en route to somewhere other than a short errand – someplace like an aquarium 60 miles away. Two of the four were clearly in play (belief and miles) so klaxons should have been sounding in my little head…yet, the human mind refuses to suspend belief or even contemplate that a spill proof cup might not be spill proof. I was almost in the red before I even got up a head of steam. My large house brew was too full before I sidled over to the milksugarcinnamonmagic bar but I still managed to get just enough milk and sugar into my paper cup so that a meniscus formed on top – that’s three indicators for you playing at home. I grab a sippy lip, slap that baby on top (very carefully), and click down over a steaming, overfilled cup of Panama Boquete Hacienda La Esmeralda Especial. I’m out the door before you know it, skipping to the car, singing some Roger Miller, and imagining myself a smart boy. We pull out of the parking lot, squirm around a corner, and start the drive up a lovely boulevard north of Clarendon. I’ve got some music playing, the windows are down, the breezes are blowing, the boys are doing games in the backseat, and my coffee is calling my name. Ah…a nice sip of quality coffee from my perfectly mixed cup. Why does my chest feel hot? Funny. Another sip of my coffee. Why do my legs feel hot? Dammit. I’m censoring that response. My trust has been violated. The spill proof cup, with the perfectly aligned cup seam, steam, overfilled liquid, and sippy hole configuration, has done me in again. I pull over on the leafy damn boulevard (it’s not so lovely now) and pull out a bottle of water and some napkins to clean my clothing. The quick-ish response does prevent me from driving home to change clothes but I’m absolutely infuriated for the next ten miles. This one will stick with me for at least a week – I won’t be fooled, don’t even try. No guarantees after October because there’s clearly a pattern: the other dozen times this has happened in my life haven’t remained as strong warnings in my head, Hell, I can’t even remember to duck when walking through our apartment in order to avoid smashing my head on the monkey-bar that’s installed in the dining room doorway. A little hot coffee isn’t any big deal, right? Whack. Ouch!

T.

step in the booth, pull a lever

This afternoon was fraught with choices. None of the decisions were life altering but I was flummoxed by both.

The first choice I had to made was dealing with single-track operations on the Metro's Orange Line out Dunn Loring way. At the top of the stairs (and escalators) was a handwritten sign that read "All TraINs OperTinG ON the VIEnna side of THe plAtform". I'm including my rendition of the Dunn Loring-Merrifield Metro station below. The titles to the outside of each track are what the trains are labeled on the lead-car placards. I'll tell you that 'the Vienna side' makes little sense because it's not like the north or south side - Vienna is merely a destination, which if you care is off the bottom of the map. Don't concern yourself with the direction of travel for each train because it won't matter. So, you're heading down the stairs, you've read the sign, and you're wondering which track to stand near - go ahead and answer for yourself. We'll come back to this conumdrum later.


My barbers (Wilson Blvd. Barbers) are moving to a place in Westover come October. Until then, they are splitting time between the current place and the new place (run by a Greek or Moroccan guy). One barber is at Wilson Blvd. and one is over at Westover. I called Farraj today to see if Habib was working Westover since that location always has fewer people. I was told he was so I show up about 5pm and it's Farraj, not Habib, manning the chair. That has nothing to do with the voting mechnism...I digress. I'm in the shop and there are two barbers working: Gerard, a member of the current staff at the shop; and Farraj, who I want to cut my hair. They are both finishing up the guys-in-seats at about the same time - the problem is that the first chair cleared is the chair the next guy takes and I'm the second waiter. If Farraj finishes first, what to do? I don't want Gerard doing my 'do. I'm very tense. As Farraj starts to finish up the neck shave I sense he's up to some "additional trimming and grooming" in order to stall so he finishes second and I get my cut from him - I am a regular afterall. Sure enough, they finish mere seconds apart - Farraj just in second. Whew! Disaster averted. The hair looks good for those tracking at home.

As an aside, I asked X last night if she's ever come across a fan with first click that is the lowest setting (i.e. 1 of 3, or lo of lo-med-high). She hemmed, she hawed, and I threw out a very confident "there are none in this or any other world" judgment. If you know of any that have an opening click of lo, I'd like to know. If not, why is this? I'll generally eliminate anyone from the discussion that happens to also know the width in inches of standard gauge railroad.

The answer to the Metro question is the right-side track. I think the sign was wrong.

Love to all.

T.

h-e-double toothpicks

Sen. Obama was strong in the Senate hearings today. Aside from the fact that he felt the need to spell A-S-S instead of saying the word, he spoke well. He didn’t rehash the same questions and blather that most of the panel put forth – he hit the main issue: at what point, or at which benchmarks, do you see the U.S. deciding to withdraw. I like Gen. Petraeus and his testimony (both days) as a whole has been straightforward. I don’t much care for the graphs and charts he presented because numbers can be wholly manufactured to fit any situation. The problem with what Petraeus faces is the limits on what he can or cannot do on a battlefield; affecting strategic thinking. In the greater view, the strategic planning (nation-building, withdrawal, more/less troops) is held strictly by the President and his administration. The tactical issues (Al Anbar, sectarian violence in neighborhoods, prosecuting foreign and insurgent fighters) fall directly to Petraeus. In the areas where he has enough troops due to the surge (Al Anbar) there may be some progress, such as “sitting on the [sectarian] fault lines”, as Petreaus testified. The general is doing the job he’s been tasked to accomplish but the fact is that the job (strategically) cannot be accomplished with troops. Both the ambassador and the general readily admit that the only way for Iraq, and this war, to succeed is via political rock breaking. And that’s the rub: he’s a military man doing a military man’s job well but fighting a futile mission. The greatest fault in the entire vignette is that Petraeus refuses to make any determination or estimate on how long it would take to complete his mission: securing the entire country in order to allow the political process to gain a foothold. As the author of the Army’s counterinsurgency manual he knows in his heart just how long and how many troops it would take to quell the violence and allow politics in Iraq to become a factor. If he can’t answer that question with any level of fidelity then we’re simply toiling down the same endless path. I disagree with him on this fact – providing an idea of a timeline wouldn’t be debilitating to U.S. force in Iraq.

The idea of having Ambassador Crocker present at the hearings was misinformed. His comments and strength of knowledge about the military affairs, which is the point of these hearings, were unhelpful. I know he can’t really do his job (strategic/political) until Petraeus can do his.

I think moveon.org needs to back off.

Here’s my suggestion for future House and Senate hearings. The chairperson can open the proceedings with the following:

“The entire committee, and our country, thanks you for being here and for your service to your country. Now that I’ve passed along those comments for the committee, and the American people, the next member that utters anything about thanks or service will be summarily kicked in the A-S-S.”

T.

crush crush

A broken postal (or UPS) delivery driver crawled home from N. Park Dr. on Friday afternoon. He admitted that ‘our’ delivery had done in him – he was calling it a day. We first heard the normal delivery knock on the door and a then massive thump on the lanai. It turns out that X has ordered four massive buckwheat husk pillows for the kibbutz inhabitants. She apparently grew weary of the dusty old pillows what normal people sleep on every night…comfortably. The first new pillow test came Friday evening when she managed to wrangle her husk-a-low into the largest pillow case we own – barely. Come Saturday morning the die had been cast and the remaining feather/foam/soft/comfy/sleepy pillows were brusquely torn from under the restful heads of sleepy children (and boyfriends), stripped of cases, and cast to the dark corners of the Earth: husk-a-lows around! It should be pointed out that she decided the fully stuffed version needed some husks removed so that a head could actually make a dent in the harvest vastness. We proceeded to remove a gallon Ziploc bag amount from each and therefore finalize her evil plot for full compliance. (The four Ziplocs of husks are stored under the bed and might appear as some type of drug stash.) Since H. was off at a slumber party-thing on Saturday night it was up to G. and I to serve as lab rats for the sleep tank. I think G. was suspicious but managed to hold his tongue for fear of a 30-pound pillow upside his head. I, being a good test subject, fluffed my silo of grain and promptly fell a-slumber, happily. The only problem I encountered was the inability to get an arm out from under the sheer mass of my ‘pillow’ whilst trying to rollover in the middle of the night. I also had a strange dream that involved squirrels rustling about my head…who knows? With the test results accurately compiled Sunday morning, the old pillows were kicked about one more time and victory declared. H. had his first husk-a-low experience as he lay his head down to sleep last night. We got home from the Mavis Staples show about thirty minutes after they boys went to bed and X wandered in to kiss them good night (such a nice mother). H. looked up and said “This pillow is horrible!” to which his mother replied, “Don’t be silly. Pull your blanket up, I’m cold.”

Consider yourselves warned.

T.

miscellany

Lots of things; little of nothing.

I managed a batch of roasted vegetable lasagna with a basil oil sauce last night. As with much involving veg, it ended up being more work than one expects. Damn good, nonetheless. The Eleven headed over to the farmers market in Clarendon this morning - same vendors as DuPont Circle on Sundays - and grabbed some peachs, peppers, sorel, mushrooms, tomatoes, and basil. The leader of the pack was a $20 pile of fresh porcini that needed a'cookin'. They ended up sauteed in olive oil over a pile of polenta (resting on broiled bottom of roquefort) with fresh greens and an heirloom tomato. Very nice. I'll need to so some research on just what one is to do with sorel. Half the massive peaches ended up in a double-crust peach and blueberry pie. You can't go wrong with huge white peaches...even if you try.

I'm off in the early morning for my first game in the Fall Ultimate season. A new rec team that's captained by some 22-year old punk. We played his team twice over the Summer and he's really good. He was a punk over the Summer but now I'm on his team...love him! Last season I dubbed him Samberg - primarily because he looks just like SNL's Andy Samberg. If you haven't seen Samberg's funniest work (not the Ultimate version, the SNL version) here it is. It'll be a fun season as I try to get better (shape, skills, etc.) before next Summer.

Nebraska struggled today and they've got #1 USC in Lincoln next Saturday. I don't like Coach Bill Callahan, and as much as I want them to do well, they'll get hammered. USC 31 Nebraska 14.

X has decided to publish in the Environmental Law Reporter (January issue). I played a bit of the pro/con issue with her - hopefully not too persuasive - and she sent the e-mail confirming her decision this evening. It's impossible for me to imagine writing an article that's so timely that it would warrant this kind of decision. Her passion as she wrote, her worry that it wasn't quite good enough have been shattered (the worry) by the acceptance she's recieved. I'm very proud of her...and I'm simply the cook!

I sent out a few links last week for lake/waterfront cabins in Quebec. There are those who've deemed the Great White North as next Summer's destination of choice. No response...one can only try.

The Eleven are off to Rockville, Maryland tomorrow night for the (my) much anticipated Mavis Staples show (third row). I sense some worry in her eyes; as if I'd lasso her into something she wouldn't enjoy. What? Me?

Love to all.

T.

higher math

I saw a man at the 401 bus stop wearing a black pirate-y eye patch. Eye patches (2) have now drawn even with unicycle sightings in the Paddle. The patch wearer was, of course, smoking a cig.

The Eleven and the boys decided that Thursday nights would be filled with pizza and movies this semester. X doesn’t get home until about 9pm from classes so a homemade deep dish followed by a DVD or trip to the theatre seem like a good idea. It kicked off last night with the three of us heading over to Ballston to see Transformers. My knowledge of Transformers falls on the spectrum very near my knowledge of heels on women’s shoes (kitten?), and Pokemon. On the way home H. decided to pass along some additional information about other Transformer generations…ahhhh! I decided the equivalent for him would me passing along this little dissertation on mathematics after watching him do his long-division homework:

Me: “That was some good math. After that you’ll learn that the method of separation of variables will yield particular solutions…”

Henry: “Wait. I don’t know anything about that.”

Me: “I know, but this is right after long division. Those partial solutions of a linear partial differential equation on very simple domains such as rectangles may satisfy initial or boundary conditions. Isn’t that cool?"

Henry: [eyes rolling back in his head] “But that’s way more than I want to know.”

Me: “Okay, but, because any superposition of solutions of a linear PDE is again a solution, the particular solutions may then be combined to obtain more general solutions. You see?”

Henry: [falls from his chair to the floor]

Me: “Henry? Anyway, if the domain is finite or periodic, an infinite sum of solutions such as a Fourier series is appropriate, but an integral of solutions such as a Fourier integral is generally required for infinite domains. It’s very cool.”

Henry: [mumbling from the floor] “What does that have to do with Optimus Prime?”

It’s not really Henry. X will no doubt testify that I’m guilty of not using enough yes and no answers if I feel there should be more to a story.

One clerkship interview has been offered from West Virginia for X’s application process (see our Sunday). She’s also received two offers for publication of her environmental paper on Atlantic tuna fishing, very impressive. Of course, I’m published many times a month.

The Stranger had a hilarious reader input concerning the Sen. Craig issue. I’ve got nothing much to say about the tomfoolery so I’ll just leave to others. The comments below the picture made me laugh on a Friday…and that’s good enough.

T.

take it elsewhere

I was listening to Kojo Nnamdi show again today. His second hour on Thursday is open for callers to set the agenda. As with every Thursday there is a rash of moronic callers with some bone to pick. As you’d expect from my leanings, most of these chuckletons are white conservatives living in the greater D.C. area. (P.S. Kojo is on 12 -2 pm Eastern time daily on WAMU. You can listen on-line at www.wamu.org.) The massive issue here Northern Virginia are day workers. A day worker center was opened a few months ago in Herndon that provided a shelter and basic traffic flow security for laborers. What we hear every week on the show are people who are mentally unable to separate day laborers from illegal aliens. Are there illegal aliens working as day laborers? Certainly. Are there legal workers at the day laborer centers? Yes. In fact, Kojo brought up that the fact his sons worked as day laborers one summer to earn money; and, shock and surprise, they are U.S. citizens. What about those Americans that work as contractors and sub-contractors that deal in cash so they don’t have to pay taxes? That’s illegal, right? Shall we crack down on that activity? I guess we could if we could find the non-white purveyors of these illegal doings. The entire debate is based on two facts: first, there are illegal immigrants in America and second, they are Hispanic/Latino. That’s the endpoint for every conservative debate and the algebra means that we should deport, discriminate, and punish every Hispanic in America – problem fixed. We can debate who is responsible for immigration reform (the Federal Government) but we cannot continue to use the “all those day laborers look illegal to me” - that phrase gets trotted out every week on the show. If anyone believes that the playing field in America is even – and that everyone can simply fill out an application and get a job and get paid – is in denial. It all makes me fume.