old crazy

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

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

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



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



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

pulling us along

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

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

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

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

lost treasure

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

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

redux and then off you go

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

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

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

small bear near river

with hat and sweater stolen from bigger bear.

just duckie

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

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

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

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

take it, leave it, maybe take it

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

sebastian, what is it? i'm counting matches

Updates from the weekend; not necessarily timely.

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

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

Consider yourselves summarized.

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

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

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

Lovely.

(professional wedding photos: here)

progressive

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

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

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

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

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

rearranging deck chairs

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

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

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

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

On to other stuff.

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

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

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

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

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

what doing?

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

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

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

t

explosion

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

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

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