the end is nigh

I’m on the theatre a bit of late and this piece in the NYTimes once again piqued my interest. The main article is all well-and-good but the three or so pages of comments are more interesting. We you read, even in the abbreviated encounters with the contributors, are the smallest of insight into people’s lives. I’ve always held the view that live performance, whether rock n’ roll or on the stage, is the purest form of bonding between people; not only between performers and audience but between the audience members themselves. Everyone leaves the theatre in discussion about what they just saw and how it may have injected some new tangle of life in them. The ‘performance’ is more grand than reading – something different and just as special – because when we’re sitting in our seats we see the same thing and our mind’s eye is no longer the prime motivator behind our visions of a story. Whether I’m watching opera, drama, comedy, improv, or a musical, I rarely forget that every moment of the performance is given as a personal gift to me. They are showing me the perfection of their art; and I get to take it home and let if wave in and out of my mind.

I don’t know that I can think back to a play that changed my life. I well remember my first big production was Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat back in the early 1980s in Chicago. My aunt and uncle had tickets and we all drove into the city for the show; I remember my prius and post feelings: first, I didn’t much want to be dragged to a theatre to watch a play. Second, I was amazed at how much I enjoy it. Maybe that’s a “change life” moment but I consider it more as exposure and not genesis, per se. I saw a few shows while living in England but the process work of picking dates, getting tickets, and heading to London was outweighed the enjoyment of the show. Moving to the D.C. area in 2006 would probably merit more consideration in ‘life changing’ theatre than the others. I hadn’t been here too long before WonderTwin 2 hooked us up with tickets to The Tempest at Keegan one Sunday afternoon. Once you live in a vibrant theatre city you realize, if you care much about it, that going to shows isn’t much different than heading to the movies: there are loads of companies and shows running year round. After The Tempest I started looking and organizing the scene in D.C. and subscribing to the Washington National Opera, Woolly Mammoth, and Keegan, while keeping an eye out for bigger shows and other theatre’s play lists. Of all those that we, or I, have attended a few stand out over the last three years (A Streetcar..., aside): The Hostage at the Keegan and Lost in Yonkers at the DCJCC Theatre J. The Hostage stands out because it moved effortlessly between comedy, drama, and musical with all the actors and actresses capable of each style. I find the idea of a multi-talented song-and-dance-and comedy trooper quite romantic. Lost in came to me as what I think of as a perfect ‘play’ (I guess Neil Simon knows his stuff), or what I’d imagine as a perfectly developed stage piece.

Just as with the comments in the Times’ article, I think that we don’t necessarily equate our most important event of any sort directly to quality; oftentimes, the timing in our lives is far more powerful. I can only imagine living in NYC as a child and going to see Annie of Oliver on Broadway when young. Even if you became a live-long lover of theatre there’d never be another that held as strong as a childhood event. I find it an interesting exercise to think back and not necessarily draft a list of best but to gather a group of most impressive.

See? I am staying away from lists.

Happy New Year.

t

and all i wanted was a BB gun

My holiday story involved my laptop. I know, how spiritual. About two or three months ago the left-side of the my MacBook experienced what we call white wine v. power cord connection-hole-area. The initial symptom was not good: no power at all - dead, dead computer with no battery nor AC operation. After a day or so the juice managed to sort itself out and it finally powered up but only worked via AC power; no battery charging. I took it to the Apple store about a week later; they popped it open, and then called me at work to tell me that it appeared exposure to liquid had occurred and it wasn't covered under the one-year warranty (I'll admit that the wine issue was not revealed at initial drop-off). But, for a one-time fee of $750 they could send it back to the plant and get it repaired. Awesome! A one-time $750 fee. That's really nice...only charging me once. I declined and decided to ride it out a bit longer before finally calling a computer repair place in Arlington that we'd used in the past for X's Vaio. I dropped it off a few weeks ago, alerting him to the liquid and the overall problems, paid the $100 up front for labor, and was told he'd order the module power/battery thingy and see if swapping it out would fix the problem. If that worked I'd pay another $125 and have a laptop with a future. After a week he called and said that, unfortunately, the new module hadn't fixed the issue so I was out the door for $100 in labor which was fine by me. Over the last few days I've been using the MacBook with the power cord and rueing the brilliant/not brilliant magnetic connection that pops right off if the cord or computer gets tugged. It's brilliant in that it would protect your computer crashing to a floor; it's not brilliant when any little nudge immediately powers down the unit. The final bit of this saga is what happened last night. With the boys out of the house we were sitting around doing what we do - X reading a fashion mag, me typing something or other on the computer - when I glanced up to the corner of the screen and instead of seeing an "x" declaring no battery power, charge, or connection, I see a 58% charged number. What the what? After another 20 minutes the battery was fully charged and everything is completely operational now. It's a truly miraculous story; I think I have a regenerative, living, computer. What are the odds? I must have passed along some karma over the last week or so; maybe paying all my local merchants in cash and saving them credit/debit card fees has come back to me full circle. Maybe not.

We've had rain and 40+ degrees over the last 24 hours and it's melted away most of the snow that was piled about the area. I'll push off the remaining slush from the driveway this afternoon.

We're doing roasted chicken, mashed, brussel sprouts (on the panini grill), turnip soup, and gravy for second Christmas tomorrow night. If you're in the neighborhood, stop by.

t

not a list

Kiva.com - WonderTwin #2 turned me on to this organization far later than she should have; I somehow blame jealousy, or something. The lowdown is this: you're making micro loans that are paid back in full and you then redistribute the funds to another business or withdrawal them, as you choose. If you don't know about micro loans then take a bit of time to read about Muhammad Yunus and microfinancing. You'd be hard-pressed to find something so easy yet so rewarding. Easy peasy.

The Avett Brothers - I've posted about them a load this year and they're worth it. Their music is easily the best discovery of the year and their place in my huge-ish music collection is well assured. It's Americana, through-and-through, and it's simply amazing stuff. Their album, I and Love and You, was the best I bought all year.

One Day / Matisyahu - I'm a sucker for bombastic anthemic music and this is the best reggae/hadistic Jew bombastic song of the year. You write a hook like this and I'll be your friend forever. I can't embed the version I'd like to but here it is over at his youtube channel. If you dig around you can watch the even bigger, bombastic-ier original - great, great song.

Cate Blanchett - Well, I love me some Cate; always have, always will. Getting a chance to see her in A Streetcar Name Desire was a treat. Here's an interview (roll down and select your media) she gave to Diane Rehm while in-residence for the three-week run here in D.C. She's exactly what I thought she'd be if I could have drawn a picture. The combination of her acting and the fantastic show at the Kennedy Center was almost enough to make you give up theatre; you won't see better.

The Waco Brothers @ Iota - Easily my show of the year. A great band, a great bar, and a sunny Saturday afternoon. I'd been waiting years to see them and they didn't disappoint. They are pure cow/rock punk and led by the imcomparable Jon Langford.

January 20, 2009 - I'm not the impatient sort. What a fucking day. Here we are a year in and there are things I'd like to happen faster but Barack Obama is doing exactly what I expected from him as we walked the streets of NoVA campaigning for him last year. Eleven months and people are yelling and screaming - on both sides. Simmer the fuck down. Time. Time. Time. Beep, beep.

Ta-nehisi Coates - TnC writes (blogs) for the Atlantic and he's taken over as my favorite blogger (from his compatriot at the Atlantic, Andrew Sullivan). TnC doesn't process anything like the volume of entries or followers, but his framing of some great debates is stunning. I read his book about growing up in West Baltimore, A Beautiful Struggle, and it gave me pause on life and how I'm where I am and why others are where they are. Real deep, right? I love his stuff and his comments from readers show a real depth of honest discussion.

How American Health Care Killed My Father - Another Atlantic number here; this piece was written by David Goldhill and is the single, best take on healthcare that I've read. I gave it to a conservative I work with and he was surprised when I told him that this is exactly the way I want it to be. It makes so much sense - but it would take real dedication and time to implement - it's almost funny. Great, great stuff.

Christmas Shoes - We happened to be fortunate enough to be at Lisner when they recorded Patton Oswalt's latest (he's a native of NoVa), and he was great. This animation was created by some whackjob with too much time on his hands. Oswalt and Eddie Izzard have, for too many years, been my favorite comedians and now you can have a piece. It's a bit harsh, don't play it on speakers if any easily offended are around, but play it loud...

(Addendum: I want to add in Brian Regan here under 'comedy'. This guy can do the cleanest and more gut-wrenching comedy in the World. Trust me...dig around a bit and watch some of his skits from a few years ago at the Improv. I'm just going to give you a taste with his Pop Tarts piece - a good laugh over the Holiday is crucial.)

My family - We aren't the call every day sort of family - well, I'm not the call every day sort of person - and time wanders away sometimes. It doesn't mean I don't think about them often and know that there's a part of all of them that carries me through my days. I guess I have to trust that they know that. To bring it full circle; as the Avetts say:

"Always remember, there is nothing worth sharing
like the love that let us share our name."

My dearest - I won't get too mushy here but I think I might have the coolest chick in the World. Another year has slipped by, I feel like I'm getting old, and here I have the most amazing, beautiful, loveliest, smartest, funniest, (sexiest) and dopiest girl you could possibly imagine. I love her, deeply.

Oh, shut up.

love peace.

As Bill Walton says, "Your life, your lunch, your choice."

t

cooking

I meant to add a bit about an article in the New Yorker that ran on about stoves. Yes, stoves. As only they can do, the title and quick blurb gets you thinking, "that might be interesting"; a trap that got me totally caught up about four years ago when they did a two-part series on freight trains. This one is Hearth Surgery by Burkhead Bilger and it addresses the massive health issues surrounding wood-burning stoves used to cook around the World (you can read an abstract here: a subscription is required to read the entire article, digitally). The amount of engineering involved in creating a device that doesn't kill yet allows various cultures to cook three-times-a-day is staggering. Talk about a group that walks this Earth in the shadows, yet are trying to help nearly three billion people; it's truly an issue that seems nearly unsolvable. I'm slackjawed that I can fire up a safe, functional cooking device so easily yet the issue is so massive beyond our shores. I'll print a few copies and mail them out if anyone is interested.

holiday double foot

Prior to - or at the point of conception - of our blizzard, we attended a get together thrown by some parents from H.'s school last evening. I think the primary catch was parents of 8th graders so X was invited, and I, by proxy; I let them know that mine will be there next semester and they were quite grateful to know another girl would be showing up - apparently the gals are horribly outnumbered. The host/hostess house was something to behold. I don't know a spark plug from a Holley double-pumper carb any more than I can tell you square footage of a house but I'll guess this place had to be about 5,332 square ft (okay, I looked it up in the tax assessment). It's a beautiful place full of loads of art, massive rooms, at least three fireplaces that we could see, and a massive kitchen. Based on some Google mapping there's a pool that Michael Phelps could train in out back. As X was saying on the way home, when you find yourself 'hanging' around staffers, lobbyists, and some pretty elite folks you begin to wonder how this all happened. The highlight of the place was the Christmas decorations in the house. I've never in my life - nor have you unless you've been to Winsdor Castle - seen anything like it. There was more moving carousals, massive trees, camels, massive trees, a collection of at least 30 8" diameter snow globes, massive trees, and more decorations than we could even store in our house if we moved out. It was stunning and I so wish I had my camera to run some undercover youtube video. All that any of us could imagine was that there was some massive lazy susan mounted under the house that allowed one holiday/seasonal decoration kit at a time to be out. We then started wondering what would be the empty placeholder after Valentines and before the 4th of July; one guest pondered that maybe it was 'Spring'. I'm still a bit stunned by it all. We did have a wonderful time but it failed my house test which is that if I can't clean it myself then it's too big.

It looks like we'll top off tomorrow morning at about two feet of snow. We scurried out very early this morning - in only 8" of snow - to grab a few things at the store and mail some Christmas items. We got stuck twice: once in the near flat parking lot of the grocery and then as we parked in front of the house; even by Midwest standards this is a humdinger.

Maybe I'll send some pictures in the morning. My camera is in the car and I have no desire to stomp out in 3-4 foot drifts.

We're fine. Lots of food, wine, and coffee and no one's power has gone out yet. Oh, we also have a cord of firewood on the porch.

Love to all.

t

some fill in

I think I've decided there will be no "best of" lists this year - at least not in a one-t0-ten configuration. I have some recommendations that I'll throw out but it'll merely be here-and-there stuff. I'm thinking about it, stand easy.

As of this typing (during this typing?) I've pulled up Let It Be by the Replacements. I read a piece in Slate today about how a few months ago, October, marked the 25th anniversary of its release. I'm gobsmacked that it's been that long but if I dig deep and think about passing along my college transcript in order to get into cooking school a few months back, it makes more sense: 25 years, wow. I'm equally amazed that it's only sold about 250k units...ever. When you have a band that holds the pinnacle of '80s bar band lore a mere quarter-mil seems pathetic. I never really knew how great their sway was beyond the Twin Cities musicdome that included Husker Du, Run Westy Run, early Jayhawks, Soul Asylum, The Suburbs, Urban Gorillas, and the like. This, by the way of addition from me, is a great album. Getting old...

The kids devoured their weekly offering of salmon, rice, and broccoli with homemade cheese sauce. X came home and downed her mushroom and sun-dried tomato risotto...as if it magically materialized; is this what I've created? Is this what it's like to run a restaurant with folk coming and going? Maybe I should rethink this whole idea.

We've got a winter storm warning, granted it's a D.C. storm warning, for tomorrow night and through Saturday. I'm planning on doing the Eastern Market one more time for Christmas shopping Saturday AM; a brilliant snow would be fantastic. I'll send pictures.

t

it's math...or not.

I've been meaning to bring this up for eons but I always forget. The morning traffic reports that I hear on WAMU in D.C. always report morning traffic in this manner: "I-95 from the Beltway to the 14th St. bridge is taking about 19 minutes; that's 14 minutes than normal." Normal what? I've driven that fur piece of road any number of times on weekends or late evenings and it's a good four or five miles. Is 'normal' what it would take me to get from one end t'other at 1am on Tuesday when I can drive 60mph? Methinks that is the case. If I'm some K St. lawyer sitting on I-95 every weekday morning at 8am there is never a time when I'd consider five minutes to be normal. Normal is 19 minutes. If it's more than that what I want to hear is this, "I-95 from the Beltway to the 14th St. bridge is taking about 75 minutes because some jackhole in a HUMMER rubbed the barrier, careened right, and crushed a fucking Prius. That's 59 minutes more than normal. Now back to Steve Inskeep."

Along with my banking issues we are in the midst of swap to AT&T since The Hilltop falls into the fair service area for our old service. Of course, there's no easy way to move from bank-to-bank or cell service-to-cell service without death-and-destruction crossing your mind. Maybe if you added in an attempt at sorting out amalgam vs. composite filling within my dental insurance you could make my head explode.

My pal Buzz was working out in Denver this week and realized, belatedly (as Buzz is), that the Caps are in Denver tonight but he's flying out today. You can't teach kids anything.

I'm on hold with AT&T since my (and L.'s) new phones will dial out but not accept calls. Wish me luck; I'm going in...

love to all,

t

dorks and dates

Based upon X's report from dropping off the boys on Friday night there's no way I can properly relate the degree of fantasy cooldom on exhibit at the Anime Pavilion. I'm not making that name up. They had a fantastic time playing Magic - the Gathering - with the adults and then returning the next morning for some more dueling. I'd say it's the rough equivalent of me finding an arcade when I was 13; total focus. If you imagine comic book shops, Dungeons and Dragons, and indie record stores, then simply blend that all together, you have a winner.

After dinner last night we exited, stage left, and headed to Woolly Mammoth to see Too Much Light Makes Baby Go Blind - 30 plays in 60 minutes. I'm a huge fan of Woolly as a structure and the company, as a whole. Too Much is actually a visiting show by the Neo-Futurists out of Chicago (much like the soon-to-be returning Second City and their Barack Stars in February) but the theatre is perfect for just about any production that'll I'll glom onto. The Neos are smooth in their ability to complete all thirty self-penned plays in a random order determined only by the audience yelling a number upon hearing the cue - 'curtain'. As they told us before the show began, we'll get some things right away and others we'll laugh about in two years; and it's true - I've mysteriously been able to recreate in my mind nearly all 30 vignettes. It's quality theatre by a group of horribly talented actors.

Nothing but rain and cold today as I bundled up and headed to Eastern Market for Christmas shopping and then on to Dupont Circle for a winter's farmers market. The rain and cold kept a number of vendors away from Eastern this morning - and customers - but I had a great time, nonetheless. As I was awaiting the stalls to get configured I wandered into Capitol Hill Books with my coffee (from the grand Peregrine Coffee) and grabbed a few volumes. The first thing I came across on the "new arrivals" shelf was Spice by Jack Turner; who doesn't want to read an annotated history of the spice trade? No one, that's who. I'll eventually be well-versed in any spice questions that might arise at Quiz Night. I didn't get much Christmas shopping done but I did end up with a beautifully hand-turned maple, french-style rolling pin. The farmers market gave me the Jerusalem artichokes and cauliflower that ended up in some type homemade red sauce, parmesan-gouda, and fresh ricotta lasagne. These things happen...

I'll leave you for the day, or night.

t

into a dark hole, out of a dark hole

Most of our snow disappeared over the last few days and that worked out well for woodstacking activities. X ordered a cord of firewood yesterday and it greeted us upon my arrival home from work. The boys and I managed to get about three-quarters the way through the drive-to-porch wood stacking so there’s not much left for today or tomorrow. We only worked for 40 minutes – with varying levels of “this is going to take forever” ringing about The Hilltop – before we headed inside so I could make dinner (salmon steaks, rice, and broccoli with homemade cheese sauce for them). As I was washing my hands I asked H. if he had change for a $20 bill, which he did, and I paid both $10 for the 2/3-hour worth of work. I think the surprise of getting paid – I think of stacking wood as a little more than normal work – seemed to salve their misery of work. Of course, they immediately wanted to know when we might do the rest; work suddenly not seeming so bad. The problem now is that I think they “owe” someone make-up work and I believe I’ve been told that finishing the woodstacking is going to said make up, payment be damned. I’ve been clued in to not tell them they won’t be getting any money until after they finish. I’m not sure I’m overly interested in this soon-to-be endless debate.

Part of the reason money has become an issue for them is they’ve discovered a Friday Night Magic club/tournament in Falls Church which may or may not involved buy-ins or card purchases. Magic – The Gathering (as all true players refer to it) is a fantasy card game that involves something about monsters, fairies, lands, weapons, evolution, booster cards, blah, blah, and blah. I have no idea how it’s played since fantasy isn’t anything that interests me but the boys are literally shaking in anticipation of being a part of it all. I’m sure they’ll have a blast even if the 9:15pm starting time will lead to sleepy Saturday mornings.

I've finally bitten the bullet and started to change banks from USAA, or as I call them, "The Devil", to a local bank. USAA has a bit of a monopoly on military and retired military and they really suck as far a pure banking goes. The insurances and whatnot seem better but who knows; if I die maybe we'll have that answer. I despise them like I despise all huge banks that are making more money on fees and jackassery than actual banking. Fuck 'em all.

Nice ending, eh?

Love

t

train a comin'

There’s some talk about the intertubes that the purchase of NBC by Comcast may spell the end of Hulu.com, which is a joint venture between ABC and NBC, at least as we know it. Maybe it evaporates into the ether or maybe they start to charge for me to watch TV shows on-line. I’d have a problem if it completely disappeared because we use it quite a bit, but I don’t, on very general terms, have an issue with a process that asks me to pay for what I watch. The ‘very general part’ is an assumption that since I’m not paying for broadcast TV now I wouldn’t want to have to pay for those shows in the future. What’s most interesting about this oncoming change is that it’s one more example of an industry that relies on technology but either doesn’t understand it, or simply refuses to see the future.

Here’s what we know will happen in the next few years: television will available on-line for a nominal (or free) cost. Television will be in homes via either cable, satellite, and/or broadband streaming over the internet. People will not be watching TV at set times every night in order to watch their favorite TV shows – it will all be on-demand, all the time. TV that is steamed via broadband will be available in quality that allows us to watch it on the actual TVs in our houses. My point is this: do you believe that any of those things won’t happen? Not a chance. In my mind, as I’ve pointed out in endless conversations, is that we know where we will be in three years’ time – and we have actual events to back this up (music, newspapers, books) – so why do the ‘leaders of industry’ refuse to either learn or lead? If I were to say to you that in three years time the stock market will be down 45% and bonds will be up 15% from where they are now, what would you do? I know that seems a simplistic point-of-view but it’s perfectly valid. Within that example, what the TV industry is doing right now is trying to buy a bunch of stocks under some misguided illusion that they can will them higher. What they are doing in the real world is trying to sort a way to maximize profits while continuing to operate using decades-old rules and restrictions as a prop.

My favorite example of this methodology is the easiest, and earliest, story: music. If you really rack your brain and think back two decades you’ll remember the historical timeline: the move from LPs to 8-tracks to cassettes to CD (and the horrible digital disc) to on-line delivery. There was never a point, particularly once we’d digitized the process where any one thought that time would stand still. During CD adolescence there was the gnashing of teeth and limitations on ‘recordable’ blank discs; you couldn’t buy a machine that would record. Even though we knew that recordable data sources were going to happen the fight went on and on. Then we had internet distribution and the industry simply dug in its heels, prosecuted people, yelled and screamed about profits, and then, effectively, went under. What they wanted to do was limit access, maximize profits, and fuck the customer. What a forward thinking company, Apple, did was figure out a way to simply be a conduit for the goods, at a reasonable price, and reap the rewards. iTunes does nothing but take the money, move the music, and kill on the bottom line. Why? They actually thought ahead and figured that you can be a part of the revolution or you can sit on your ass and cry. Good riddance EMI, Atlantic, Sony Music, et al – enjoy your days a non-entities.

If, for now, we set aside newspapers and magazines, book publishing is the next to fall. Not because the written (or electronic) work isn’t viable anymore but because the group of smarty-pants refuse to see the future. We may think that they see it with the Kindle and Nook but both of those products are delivery products, Amazon and Barnes and Noble, respectively, that are stomping the life from the publishers, and rightly so. What the publishers are trying to do is continue to charge $20-$24 for a new book that costs nothing to publish or deliver; they have no idea that we once again know the end result of the dream and it’s not in buying stocks…again. The publishers will continue to battle this until the last breath leaves their collective body and, in the end, they will also be irrelevant. They have a chance to continue as a business but the model has to change – the tipping point is here.

TV, both delivery and content, is clearly on the same path. I’ll look into my crystal ball and say, with certainty, where the content will be in the end. I will also say that I know what the delivery and content holders will try to do over the next few years. I will also say, with certainty, I know the final result.

What’s funny about all of this is that that I’m not averse to paying for music, books, or TV. I’ve paid for every song in my vast collection, I’ll buy books for a reasonable price, and I’d pay for ala carte TV. The funny thing is that they tried to not allow it for music, they are doing the same for books, and TV is only following suit.

Smartest guys in the room; that’s funny every time I hear it.

What now, bitches?

T

just a saturday

Apropos of nothing, or maybe something, I snapped a few shots on this Saturday. You get Lemon as she sits on her throne eyeing the snow; a lot more snow than we expected, and the real keeper - the box. X is going through her closet, and believe me, it looks like something exploded all over our bedroom. She dragged some empty boxes into the room earlier, pen in hand, and this is what I found. I worry.

love to all,

t

season's first

We've got our first snow on The Hilltop this morning. Before everyone settles in for the cold - and sometimes snowy - winter we always find the first snow romantic. Suckers.

quarter up

I'm a day behind on this, and X didn't find the story very interesting, but I'll pass it along, regardless. If you hail from the the Plains, Great Midwest, or varying portions of I-95 and Pennsylvania then you know from Skee Ball. We aren't talking about Chuckie Cheese or little kids-disco-light 'Skee Ball'; this is bowling alley, old-time arcade, and midway Skee Ball. I remember long ago when my brother and his friend (Dave or Dan?) played an entire day of Skee Ball at Peony Park in Omaha so they'd have enough tickets to buy eight, stemmed Budweiser glasses - that was big time, but that's not the point.

On my way home from the Caps game on Thursday night there was a couple sitting in the seat in front of me on the Metro and she pulls out her iPhone and starts to play electronic Skee Ball. (If you've ridden the Metro you know that anything going on in the seat in front of you is perfectly visible, especially when they are drunk and gabbing about their iPhone.) She'd only been playing Skee Ball for a few seconds before I knew she wasn't from any of the areas listed above. She's rolling her balls up the middle of the run...as if that's the professional method. I was tempted to remove my headphones and set her straight: in Skee Ball, if you want to properly impress the crowd, you'll need to bank your shots mid-bumper and then sit back and tally tickets. If you want to hang anything near 350-400 points you'll never get there going straight. It was almost unbearable.

Then again, maybe she didn't care.

t

hey, what's this thing do?

A panel of experts, appointed by the federal government, recently changed its recommendation and said that such routine mammograms should begin at age 50 rather than at age 40.

Off to a horrible beginning. I read, and listened to, quite a load of commentary over the last few weeks that addressed this recommendation. At first, I was a bit confused on why they’d recommend waiting on routine exams but the more I heard, from both sides, the more it made sense. What’s vital is that this is merely a recommendation, with some strong supporting data, but it doesn’t hold the rule of law or stop you and your doctor from doing what’s best for you. Like many other recommendations made by various independent and professional groups, we don’t need to open up this can of misery where the Senate will now begin to “debate” and “amend” every fucking piece of health and it’s place in the bill – I will give you a paycheck if the Republicans don’t next propose an amendment saying that “the four out of five dentists recommending Crest” are full of shit and that any health care reform package must not include any reference to brushing and/or flossing. This was a huge mistake on the Democrats part and something that sits astride Harry Reid’s narrow and incapable shoulders

I can’t believe this stuff. Like we need these knock-a-looks to be so far down in the weeds.

“I put forth an amendment requiring that all insurance companies participating in the exchange provided coverage for non-hurty band-aids for all children.”

bothered in sleep

I’ve been babbling at X for at least the last year about racism, crazy folk, where we’re going in this life, and my despair on issues from wars to the New Haven F.D. Supreme Court case, and myriad other pins that clutter my wee brain. Now, I can steal what I think is the most dead-on explanation of what I’ve been feeling but been unable to articulate. What’s been eating at me is what I see as some form of deductive logic from our daily lives; when in truth, or at least in my view, how we react in life is more a inductive logic gleaned by simply walking our days; we take specific instances and infer that event upon a greater population. We don’t, even if we think we do, live our lives by some utopian belief that everyone is nice, everyone is happy, and that everyone treats us all the same. We know that’s not true and we know, from our daily frustrations, that it’s not how people live. The minority of encounters in our life draw the darkest marks and it's those instances where it turns on us and the ugliness rises so that we shudder and hide. Nevermind. Here's the explanation.

I also want to pass along a great piece, Daddies Win!, from Roger Angell in the last New Yorker. Unfortunately, you need a subscription to read it on-line - I guess if you get the New Yorker you've already read it, if not...do. If you don't have access, and you like reading the highest quality journalism, find someone to print it for you. I've given up on baseball, for the most part, but his summary of the Yankees' playoff run is simply stunning. Great stuff.

That's my cat, sleeping. She puts me at peace.

So does this...



Love to all.

T

blowing in the wind

Over the weekend I was cornered, or called over to the coffee table, to answer for my opinion on Global Warming. I was apparently next-in-line after X had addressed this same query; I attempted a deft escape by replying that we basically believe the same thing and, well, essentially…ditto. That didn’t seem to bat away my inquisitor so I decided to simply break out my big gun-theory created for just this moment: us. What I find most potent about this ideal is that is anchors itself in common sense and simply reaches out and touches our lives. Instead of interpreting and analyzing scientific data, and in place of the skewing of numbers to our own needs or yelling at each other (or using phrases like “Drill, baby, drill!”) why not just look at our house and our life and contemplate behaviors. If you think about your daily life and its influence on what’s immediately around you then you’ll know there are simple changes available. Let’s say you’re at the market and you load all your groceries in shitty little plastic bags. Why? First of all, they are horrible for carrying anything. Second, do you like the idea, or vision, of all those bags floating about your neighborhood and hanging in trees and shrubbery? Probably not. We can go out and buy reusable bags for next to nothing and eliminate that problem. What about when you leave the house and turn the heat (or A/C) off for the day; what’s crazy about that? You save some money and don’t burn up fuel. Maybe you decide to ride a bus, ride the Metro, or walk from here to there. Maybe you decide to buy a smaller car because you’re tired of paying $120 to fill up your truck or van. Who knows? There are loads of things that sit within your own circle that will do all of us some good without even contemplating the larger circle beyond your neighborhood or city. If you think about spending less money, cleaning up your life and home, and trying – even just a bit – to cut back on the obvious stuff then we’re halfway home.

We import about 30% of our oil from countries we seem to label, somewhat blindly, as “terrorists”; most of our imported oil actually comes from Canada and Mexico. If instead of fighting a huge tapestry of ‘eliminating oil usage at all costs’, we started in the backyard and worked toward a 15, 20, or 25% reduction then we’d be well on our way. A small piece in our house, where we cut back by 20%, isn’t at all painful and if we all make a similar decision it’d be better all about the place.

Maybe in ten years we’ll won’t be debating reduction in petroleum usage but celebrating new and renewable sources. What’s weird about global warming is that it’s not actually an argument, is it? It’s not a battle between armies massed against each other, really. Just the common sense around your life and home is a good enough start.

Granted, my answer while sitting on the coffee table wasn’t quite as detail but the gist was the same.

At that point, I excused myself and made a cup of tea.

crafty vegetables

The Eleven got up early-ish yesterday and spent Black Friday doing something much more interesting than even contemplating stores and malls: we drove about southern Vermont visiting artist studios around the Putney area. We'd done the tour over Thanksgiving weekend in 2005 and it was high on my list this year. Putney, and the surrounding woods, is surrounded by what must be hundreds of beautiful studios and artists who create every type of art you can imagine. Yesterday we narrowed down our list to six or seven that included pottery, tiles, quilting, Japanese woodworking, bookbinding and prints, and a spinnery. With a loads of rain in the morning the studios weren't overly crowded so we were able to stay warm by diving into studios warmed by wood-burning stoves.

This morning I headed into Brattleboro to gather some root vegetables at the Winter Farmers Market. The holy grail was a Gilfeather turnip that I was clued in on at Thanksgiving dinner at Ellen's. She made an unbelievable turnip soup and discussion rounded back to exactly what type of turnip was the genesis of the dish. This led to some ooh-ing and aah-ing by the locals as they spoke in hushed tones of the heirloom Gilfeather turnips. I have no way of knowing whether it was Ellen or the turnip (that would be a great book name: Ellen or the Turnip) but I'll have some idea when I make soup next week from the five-pound Gilfeather that's safely ensconced in the car. I also grabbed loads of massive parsnips for roasting, what appears to be a five-to-seven-pound bag of organic hardstem garlic, red and golden beets, and three pounds of beautiful Jerusalem artichokes. All will travel well back to Northern Virginia and end their service in soups, gratins, and myriad roasting pans.

There's a short story about Laurel, a small goat, and I from a visit to Vermont a few years back. Maybe I'll jot it down, have Laurel add to and edit it, and then pass it along. Either way, the above is another Vermont picture; it's the barn next door that plays a central role in the Laurel and the Goat tale.

We're loading up the car this afternoon and will drive halfway home this afternoon. We'll be back on The Hilltop pretty early Sunday afternoon.

t

happy day

We've made our way to the North, arriving yesterday evening, after doing half days up from the D.C. area. The clan'll head over to the hostess' digs shortly but we wanted to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving from The Hilltop - on the road. Here are few snaps of southern Vermont on Thanksgiving afternoon.

Love to all.

t

pumpkin hunting

While I was letting Pumpkin out the front door about a month ago I heard a scrabble-scrabble sound coming from the porch, the left of the door. (Our front porch is big-ish and runs an L-shape around the front and side of the house.) Pumpkin was doing his usual worrying about crossing the door threshold as I stuck my head out the door and took a look for the squirrel that was no doubt making the noise. Sure enough, he was standing about seven feet from the door and peering back over his shoulder toward the door; he wasn't much concerned with me or the cat. As Pumpkin hopped through the door he headed towards the squirrel who'd slowly started to move across the porch toward the steps. My impression after this encounter was that all the small forest animals of The Hilltop have long been aware of Pumpkin's lack of claws and somewhat slow-motion life; they have few worries. (Not that cats hunt-and-kill squirrels although 'twere it Lemon the Ready coming out the door that squirrel might've died of heart failure.)

Sometime later that week H. told his mother the yard-as-story history of the squirrel family that lives in the trees of our back hill. Apparently, the 'couple' has some kids - I think the number is three - running about and the mother squirrel is something of a battleax - my word added to H.'s description. The father squirrel, as relayed by H., spends as much time as possible at the neighborhood pub, bowling alley, or generally anywhere he doesn't to listen to the kvetching of his lovely squirrel wife. Fortunately, we've got loads of trees and a good perimeter that provides him safe distances from his homestead without forcing him across other squirrel nations' borders.

About a week after the first Pumpkin / door event I was again letting him out in the morning and when I opened the door this time the same squirrel was at the door, as if he'd knocked or hit the doorbell, up on his haunches, and clearly waiting for Pumpkin to come outside. The opening of the door didn't distress him one bit - nor did I - as he was waiting for old Land Squid to come outside. By the time Pumpkin traveled the last five fee to the door the squirrel had moved off a few feet and again hopping very slowly toward the stairs. The cat carefully leapt over the threshold and started to follow the squirrel down the porch. I guess that as my laughter at this strange friendship subsided I remembered how many times I'd seen Pumpkin slink around the slide of the house, down the garden path, 'hunting' whatever it is a cat like him could hunt, I realized that cat and squirrel spend a good part of their days playing some sort of hide-and-seek with each other. They both benefit, with Pumpkin getting a chance to 'catch' something, and squirrel spending his days ignoring his responsibilities and earning a piece of mind.

Even our cats have been turned to strange creatures...

(untitled)

"The true culprits are those who mislead public opinion and take advantage of the people's ignorance to raise disquieting rumours and sound the alarm bell, inciting the country and, consequently, other countries into enmity. The real culprits are those who by interest of inclination, declaring constantly that war is inevitable, end by making it so, asserting that they are powerless to prevent it. The real culprits are those who sacrifice the general interest to their own personal interest which they so little understand, and who hold up to their country a sterile policy of conflict and reprisals. In reality, there is no salvation, no way out either for small states or for great countries except by union or conciliation."

Baron d'Estournelles de Constant
Introduction to
The International Commision to Inquire into
Causes and Conduct of the Balkan Wars, 1912-1913.

politics

This is a bit that's gotten funnier since the day we watched it. It's an entire episode but all I'm interested in passing along is the James Carville bit that starts at the 7-minute mark.

"You ain't tall; you just clever."

Brilliant.

thunderbirds are go

It looks like L. will be moving here in January for her next semester of school, and hopefully, the summer of 2010. We're sorting details, schools, bedrooms, etc. but it's all a very exciting prospect. I'll have more details, as if those are needed, in the near future.

X. decided while out-and-about over the weekend that she was meant to create a desk/computer/work corner in the living room. The area was already set with a table, computer, chair, and whatnot but she decided - at the store - that what it really needed to be was a corner full of a memory-foam pad, nice linens, pillows, and other accouterments required by queen-like entities. What we have now is a removed table and a floor-based semi-harem looking area where she can sit on the floor or kneel whilst doing whatever it is she does in that corner. My very first input/question was this: what are the odds, do you think, of both cats and both of your children deciding that your pillow carnavale is the best place in the World to sit, nap, sleep, or just mill about? She feigned surprise that any of those four would even contemplate entering her castle. Sure...that hope will work out just fine. Pumpkin spends time curled up in the wall-corner beneath the bookshelves so that he's protected from any "death from above". Of course, she was correct on Lemon; Lemon would just as soon die than spend any time in or near her competition. Lemon looks at the entire configuration in disgust - as well she should.

We've got a jaunt to Vermont next week. We'll leave here on Tuesday night and drive halfway with the finish on Wednesday morning. The plan is to avoid the I-95 traffic and run the left/right-hook through Pennsylvania and New York State (see you various 80s interstates). I'll keep everyone posted from the road. X's cousins are hosting Thanksgiving and I'm working that day merely as a sous and then fully running the day-after-Thanksgiving festivities and cooking. Interesting...

wrapping the weekend

While working - nay, manning - the LOC information desk yesterday I had one of those special moments. A gentleman and his girlfriend came to the desk and asked to see "the instruments"; we have a collection of violins and cellos on exhibit in the Whitthall Pavilion. They include all the great instruments of the day: Stradivarius, a Crisler donation, and about a half-dozen other pieces. The Whitthall isn't something that folks wander through as a matter of course being that it's a room off a downstairs hallway, but in my 20 months at the LOC I've had maybe 20 folks who've come to specifically see the instruments. The Library also pulls them out quite often for concerts in the Coolidge Auditorium by traveling players. Anyway, once I got the key from the supervisor we headed downstairs for a quick look and I find out that this gentlemen is the guitarist for Pete Seeger and has been building violins by hand for over 40 years. You will rarely in your life witness such happiness as I saw when he caught a glance of the instruments; there may have been tears in his eyes. His girlfriend, who'd found about the exhibit on-line, was all smiles to see just how happy he was to come across all of this on their visit to D.C. (they came down from NYC). I had the benefit of getting a nice, in-depth explanation of the shapes and design of violins - something I found horribly interesting. After about 45 minutes of joy they headed out with plans to come back to the City - the next time I told them to call ahead and speak with the musical instruments librarian; they are perfectly happy to actually pull out the pieces and let folks examine and hold them. It was wonderful to see them head out on the 1st St. NW so happy.

I'm watching the Sunday night NFL game on-line; Colts v. Pats. If the fans of each team (or haters of each team) can throw out that bias, watching these two teams is what football is all about. Both of them are so well-coached and so much fun to watch that I think they may be the only teams across sport that I'll watch and not have a rooting involvement. Brady and Manning are really something like heavyweights going at it. Great stuff.

It's looking more and more like L. will end up here in January. Details are being sorted but if it works out I hope she'll be here until the end of the summer...updates to follow.

rave party

Neither of us had seen A Streetcar Named Desire in any form (film, stage, or read on parchment) prior to last night's show; we both had a passing familiarity with the DuBois sisters and Stanley Kowalski. One of the finer points put forth by X, as we rode the Metro home, was that there's no real need to see it in any other iteration; the quality last night laid a perfect vision for how the characters should be brought to life. I know that seems unfair to say being that we have nothing to judge it against but follow along with her reasoning. Blanche and Stanley must be horribly difficult characters to bring to life without going overboard. Both show sides of personality that change drastically depending on who they are with or what state of mind they are experiencing; both could also be overacted, and no doubt have over the years, and that would make the 3:15 show almost unwatchable. Even though we expected Blanchett to be good she was better than imagined. About halfway through the first act I was also convinced that Joel Edgerton, as Stanley, was the equal of Cate. I thought he perfectly played the myriad of emotional personalities one would expect from the character - without going into hysterics. I'm going to guess, perhaps against all sense, that Brando overacted. (WaPo review here)

The show was our first time in the Eisenhower Theatre at the Kennedy Center and I must say I was quite pleased. The seats are very nice, there's loads of leg room (for a theatre), the acoustics were excellent, and the temp just right. I know, these seem like small things but they all bother me if the don't fall into place - at least rudimentarily.

The Library has been slow for the most part today. Not a lot of tourists as everyone is saving up travel time for Thanksgiving and Christmas. The weather, overcast with light rain, is probably keeping some of the locals away.

We have a dinner get together tonight with folks only 'known' as other parents of students at H's school; always an interesting mission when you don't actually know anyone via interaction. We'll see how the roasted vegetable, puttanesca sauce, and pesto lasagna goes over as our pot luck entree. If nothing else, it'll be the heaviest dish by weight.

desirous

I'm running around a bit today getting errands done, cooking pizzas for tonight's dinner and a veg lasagna for some New School parents get together tomorrow night, all while getting ironed and ready for the The Eleven's date at the Kennedy Center tonight. I managed some very nice seats for Cate Blanchett in A Streetcar Named Desire; it was long planned and in early for seats to the soldout run. The reviews have been great and I'll add my wholly amateur input tomorrow morning from my seat at the Library of Congress information desk.

All's well here aside from the endless rain.

t

I wore headgear...but only while sleeping.

Sometimes I'll just link; I know it's lazyish but what the heck. I've said or done just about every single one of these - not necessarily in a car but probably...sort of...

replaceable

Just in case you think, for one minute, that a place in this place is secure, consider this: I chucked both my immersion blender and the full-sized blender into the bin over the last week. I had an old Proctor-Silex immersion blender and I'll say one thing for it, and one thing only; it's the best immersion blender on Earth. You don't need crappy attachments, bowls/glasses to blend in, or any other junk to be happy - get the Proctor-Silex. That's it up above - a newer version than my decade old gem - get it. Trust me. (My impatience on purchasing will be evident, momentarily.) It's also plastic so it's good for teflon; and it's one piece. Don't buy into the two-peice construction myth. Think about it this way: I can give you something that is one piece or something that's two piece. What do you want? Aside from a hot bikini it's the greatest mystery of life. The important trait of the P-S, or any other immersion, is the size and placement of the openings. After mine finally busted after the eleventy-billionth batch of soup I headed to Target (source of my previous purchase) but they didn't stock it any more so I grabbed what I'll dubbed the piece-of-shit Oster immersion. Absolute junk. The holes were too small to puree anything so you had to do the dreaded 'tilt'. Granted, after a few tilts go bad and you have hot soup all over the stove and your sweater you get a little better but it's such a pain. Eventually, after about a month it melted and met it's potential - the garbage. After my dearest very subtly requested split-pea soup for dinner I realized I was in the shite with no blender. (The full-size, and not doubt related, blender hit the trash after I attempted to round out a batch of romesco last weekend - seriously, it was rotor blade carnage about The Hilltop.) I couldn't find a new P-S so I went with the Cuisinart which has a better opening system around the base (blender base), is one piece, and plastic vice metal construction. It worked much better this evening than the trash Oster but it's not the same. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to order a new gold standard online, mostly due to laziness, but I'll keep you updated on my findings. Is this more than you needed to know?

I'm into the new Radney Foster offering as I type - probably the closest thing to real country that I listen to these days; and Radney's good.

Peace.

t

warn, fate, eat

So, I’m sitting at my nemesis light this morning, first in line to turn right from lane 2, and I hear screaming sirens and see the flashing lights of an ambulance crossing from right-to-left in front of us. The left turn arrow kicks on at about this point and the guy in that turning lane hits the gas and off he goes. For some reason, I honk my horn at him hoping to get his attention so he’ll stop and not get t-boned by an emergency vehicle. I immediately realized that if mindless driver guy doesn’t hear – or respect – the sirens then my horn is useless. I consider it a self-critiquing moment.

I nabbed my gal last night and took her to see Mariza at Lisner Auditorium in D.C. Mariza is one of the leading lights in the Fado world and she put on a lovely show. You know you’re enjoying it when you go through a 1:45-minute set and don’t understand a word (aside from her lovely version of Smile toward the end). As you’d expect from someone of her caliber, she had a fantastic band with her (Portuguese guitar player*, acoustic guitar, acoustic bass, percussionist, and sometime keyboard/trumpet player). The stage set, with everyone but her seated in a broad semi-circle, grew on me as the show moved along – the players all get a bit insider joke-y as the show went on and were clearly enjoying themselves. The percussionist and Portuguese guitar player, in particular, stood out for me. Mariza was engaging throughout with the between-song dialogue beautifully weaved in when needed. One of the last songs they performed – just her, and the two guitarists, sans amplification – was brilliant. She introduced it as a taste of how she (and they, no doubt) started out playing in tavernas of Lisboa. We were in the fourth row so close enough to fully enjoy the singing and playing. I should be able to give her voice a full review but my skills in that area are questionable. She sounded brilliant to my amateur ears and I guess that’s good enough.

I’m not sure what to make of this – I don’t want to influence folks too much – but, not only is the ‘happening’ perfectly normal in the world but the comments are priceless. Should I be worried that I don’t see death as such a problem that I can laugh at comments? I certainly would have stayed to watch the outcome. I guess there’s some warning required but it’s not gruesome or bloody.

T

* both the guitar, a Portuguese guitar, and the player, a Portuguese player, apply here.

mug shots

Here are few mugs from the last week; before they become stale. The first two are from the piano recital last Sunday. Why is it that recitals are, more often than not, held in a church? As if being 12 and trying to play some damn song isn't bad enough, they make you do it in a church. Believe me, I remember it well.

We decided that G. managed to break the land-speed record in his playing of Go Tell Aunt Rhody. Both boys were actually very good and I took everyone for gelato afterwards. Well, I took myself for gelato for my suffering and they happened to be in the car.

On Halloween we hosted the ulpan for Mavis' birthday party. It was smallish but fun. Between Mavis, G, H, Q, and Aida it worked out well; after the party part everyone headed out to The Hilltop for the candy grab.

Here's the birthday girl. Shhh, no need to ooh-and-aahs...she already knows she's cute and it's, quite frankly, embarrassing. I've had some good looking daughters in my life - I know from cute. Nice frock.

I only give you this last one to demonstrate how I am king of my castle. The cats aren't allowed in our room; this is all based mostly upon their initial arrival when I wasn't sure I wouldn't be allergic to them. The rule has remained in force simply because I don't really want cats all over our lovely bed. This is how we seem to find them of late; my domain (and bed) is clearly in jeopardy. Neither of them have an ounce of respect for me.

I need soldiers....

bang bang

I’ve already hit on the Avett Brothers recently but I realized this morning, while listening to their live performance of Murder in the City from the Newport Jazz Festival, that they’ve created something very close to my perfect song. Not only is it powerful but what they’ve created for me falls into the exact same box that holds another three-minute wonder: the box with Guitar Town by Steve Earle. This little box o’ mine holds these specific examples because both are preciously simple, musically, and lyrically stunning. Both are short with no filler and the songs led me deeper into other offerings by the artist. (It didn’t hear Guitar Town until about 1989 or 1990 while I was in Athens; by then Earle already released Exit 0 and Copperhead Road.) I don’t know that I’d call either song my all-time favorite because I’d have to include Someday, Someway and Wagon Wheel, but both are in the top 10. The difference between Murder / Guitar and Someday / Wagon has more to do with the arc of the careers: both Crenshaw and the Old Crows had just given us their first albums. The true power of both is that they draw you into the story behind those that wrote them. If I haven’t posted Murder in the City before, here it is:



Last night as we were finishing up with The Daily Show, X told me had two questions she needed answered. “All right,” I said, “fire away, I’m ready.” Question number one was: “Should I have bangs or not?”; question number two, “How often do you think about death?” My answers were “no” and “twice a year.” She felt the twice a year was a bit specific; I thought the bangs question was weird because I told her I’d never really seen her with bangs so there’s no reason to think I’d desire change. She told me she’s wore bangs ever since she’s known me. I told her, in my head, that she’s a whack-a-doodle. Bangs? I don’t think so.

There’s been a rash of birthdays over the last week that are being sorted of being addressed over the coming weekend. We’ve invited WonderTwin 2 over for dinner so that’s kind of covered. As for G., well, he had a family-ish party on Tuesday night (I was working the election so I didn’t attend) and a friends-come-over party on Sunday. On Wednesday night, after he finished his dinner of perfectly prepared salmon steak, he stop spinning around mindlessly in the living room, turns to me, and asks, “Todd, did you get me something for my birthday?” Hmm, let’s see if I can parse that innocent little question.

t

taking a stand

The other night, I think it may have been before heading out for Quiz Night, G. began a question thusly, “So. If Laurel moves here in the spring does that mean…”. There was actually a pause at this point and my mind quickly filled in any number of issues that might arise if another child ended up in the house: he’d lose his bedroom, he’d have to play nice with someone other than his brother, maybe he’d have fewer chores to do, his personal space and growth might be stunted; any of a number of childhood issues might bubble to the surface. The finish to his sentence of concern was, “…I won’t get to have orange juice with pulp in it?” Right, that’s exactly what I was thinking. I told him that since Laurel likes no pulp and he likes pulp, I would make the sacrifice and have both types available. In my mind the addendum to my answer was, “if this was the great concern of the day then the day wasn’t too bad.”

X has another four days of work at her current firm in D.C. before moving to what she calls a “boutique” firm on the 16th of the month. She’s decided to move on after just over a year and has been hired by a smaller operation that’ll make her work day much happier. (I didn’t spill the beans a few entries ago; I wanted next of kin notified first.)

Even though I reported it earlier I'll reiterate that I think we're moving quickly to winter here. We need to order a cord of wood and get it settled on the porch - fires galore.

More later....when there're more interesting nuggets.

mary

Over the last few months we've taken to watching The Mary Tyler Moore Show on Hulu.com. I vividly remember watching it during its original run (1970-77) but it must have been the later seasons when I was 10- or 11-years-old. Having moved from the Cities down to Omaha in the summer of 1972, my family has some midwestern connection to Mary and her crew. I don't know if this was a strictly midwestern ideal but I suspect most flyover state families felt a pretty strong connection. What's so great about the show is that every character is perfectly cast. I'd forgotten just how great Ted Knight/Baxter was while melding the huge ego of an anchorman with his employment at the fifth-rated local news station. Mary and Lou Grant have the perfect chemistry between not only employee and boss but the '70s relationship between men and women. And Mary...she's seems much hotter than when I was eyeing her, pre-puberty. Great TV. (In the season we're watching Georgette and Ted aren't married yet and Cloris Leachman and Betty White hasn't even shown up yet.) The final piece of this TV puzzle was the opening theme for the show. It apparently changed three times over the years - same song, different styles - and the episodes we're watching have the second version (third season) which I couldn't find on YouTube. Regardless, if you're old enough to remember the show, this will strike a chord:



I headed into D.C. this morning to gather some more hip cards to send to L. each week. There's a great place, Pulp, that stocks a huge selection of cards created by anyone other than Hallmark or the other junky companies. It's a pretty hip 14th St. NW storefront that both she and I enjoy. It's also right next store to a cool kitchen store; as if I need that.

I'm about halfway through my second viewing of Band of Brothers. The first time I watched was also on DVD while living in a tent in Qatar. I didn't know much about it at the time - living overseas and all - but ended up watching the entire set in a 24-hour period. This viewing only confirms my opinion that it may be the best TV ever made.

Another week on the horizon. I'll be working the Virginia elections all day Tuesday so it'll be a long one.

net prophet

One of my favorite rockers, Chuck Prophet, has a new album out this week: Let Freedom Ring! Chuck holds a special place in my heart after first seeing him hop up on stage at the Fillmore in San Francisco during my first Lucinda Williams show. Chuck joined the band, and guitarist Doug Pettibone in particular, on stage for an absolutely killer version of Joy. After the set I saw Chuck sitting on a bench in the upper lobby, all by himself, munching on an apple. After that, I found me some Chuck Prophet music. It wasn't long after that he came to Reno to play the Hacienda with his Mission Express - a simply stunning show. After that night he headed to Europe and I sent X to see him at the Borderline in what amounted to a virtual date (we each have pictures of us with Chuck at our respective shows.) The new CD was recorded in Mexico City and actually draws him away from the multi-layered stuff he's been doing for the last five years and deposits him right back into the heart of rock n' roll. Sweet stuff; he'll be here at Iota next month and we'll move our virtual date to a real date.

I was greeted at the mailbox today by both my acceptance letter to cooking school and my VA certification that will pay for the whole shebang - very good news.

The Eleven will do another Caps game tomorrow night - some sort of hockey date.

(Picture from my seats)

H. is working on his science homework and as an eighth-grader he's doing the somewhat standardized science-y homework that entails the writing down of experimental details. I remember so very well my 9th grade biology teacher, Mr. Kelp, hammering away at our science notebooks and assignments. Back then, in Omaha, our methodology was strictly this: Purpose, Equipment, Procedure, Data, Conclusion. Nothing more, nothing less. If you forgot one area then you were in for a world of hurt. Purpose. Equipment. Procedure. Data. Conclusion. Bang.

Our quiz results were once again right at the tenth-place of about 45 teams. I think X, who I badmouthed in an earlier post, might be right on your position in the 'Quiz World'. You are what your record says and you'll never win if you aren't right there from the get-go. Of course, this comes from a woman who spent seven years in England winning every week; well, glomming onto an already established winning team by shaking her moneymaker - no shame.

I had a great time at the Verizon Center last night as the Caps came from behind and beat Philly, 4-2. They fell behind 2-0 and then roared back in the last 30 minutes to win. When they beat the badass stormtroopers it's much more exciting then a struggling win versus the non-rivals. I'd rather see last night's game than a 4-goal night by AO versus a less worrisome rival.

No further details on my school or L. ending up here in January...I'm withholding nothing.

t