Xtreme English

And Welcome to Summer Tomato!

2012-01-29T19:38:00.000-05:00

My friend Linda just send me this link to Summer Tomato, a wonderful fresh food blog from San Francisco. This is one happy Sunday (or Sinday, as some folks have started to call it in FaceBook)! I love blogs from foodies who care about what and how you eat, and HOW MUCH IT COSTS!! Summer Tomato scores high on all counts. Holy crap!

My son arrived from Iowa a month ago, where he had worked for a grocery store on and off (5 years off for the Navy) since he was 14 years old. His jaw DROPPED the first time we took him to Whole Foods. For a treat, I bought a wonderful little rack of lamb--8 wee chops from New Zealand--for $19.95 a pound! He couldn't believe it. I could. I adore those racks of lamb with the itty bitty chops. I baste them with a recipe my then husband got from the man who owned the motel in Dickinson, ND. He got the recipe from his grandmother, who grew up 40 miles from Jerusalem. Basically, it's equal amounts of lemon juice, honey, oil, and garlic blended till it's creamy. You brush it on the lamb, and expose it to the heat (either a rotisserie or grill or frying pan or roasting pan) until you think it's done. (You can tell....trust yourself!) When it smells divine and looks like it's cooked, separate the little chops and bathe them with the rest of the lemon-oil-honey-garlic sauce, and, well, enjoy!! Goddess....this is one divine dish!!

Welcome to semiswede!

2012-01-29T15:54:00.001-05:00

I've found another great blog--semiswede! The author is Maia Brindley Nilsson, a fairly recent (2008) American immigrant to Sweden, where she is a "featured monthly writer for The Local, the Swedish news in English."

Swedish food was the stuff of my Catholic childhood lived in exile among mostly Scandinavian Lutherans--many of whom had cooks!! Imagine my delight when I spotted this headline among Nilsson's recent articles: "Ten soul-satisfying Swedish comfort foods"!!! And on the list? One of my all-time favorites--yellow pea soup!! Here's what Nilsson says:

"Ärtsoppa or yellow pea soup has been a Thursday tradition in Sweden since the Middle Ages when Sweden was largely Catholic and Friday was a day of fasting. Filling up on the hearty pork-filled soup was intended to get you through the next day’s fast.

Today the tradition is still going strong as evidenced by the profusion of plastic-cased tubes of pea soup in supermarkets year-round. If you really want to warm up you can chase it with a little warm punsch which became a popular addition to the pea soup tradition during the 1800s."

(You used to be able to get canned yellow pea soup wherever Habitant soup was sold. In the US, that would be close to the Canadian border, as Habitant was made in Montreal (I think--the label was partly in French, I remember that).

Yoga in the Art Gallery of Ontario

2012-01-23T20:14:00.008-05:00

When Debbie, Sally, and I visited Toronto in the early 1980s, the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) blew me away. The vast gallery on the second floor that held the mammoth Henry Moore sculptures was overpowering, and I could look in there only for short periods. Art museums have that effect on me, and that's why this article from the Toronto Star is so exciting. AGO now is offering yoga in this gallery. People, including some AGO staff, come early in the morning and practice among the larger than life figures as the sun rises. No music, no hot rooms--just yoga practitioners and their individual mats.

When I first saw the city of Toronto, I fell in love with it. The individual neighborhoods with their unique markets, the subway, the people--it was all so charming and civilized!! And best of all was the AGO. I saw my first Breughel paintings here, and of course, the Henry Moore sculptures. I've always wanted to live here, too. It feels welcoming to human beings, and it's not that far away. My favorite Canadian writer for years was Robertson Davies, and he was Master of Massey College at the University of Toronto. One of his most delightful books is High Spirits, a collection of ghost stories that he wrote himself for the Master's traditional address to the members of Massey College at its Christmas dinner. They seem so plausible in this humane, vibrant city. Toronto feels as if it's haunted by creative spirits.

Mature Landscaping: SC: The Trash Heap Has Spoken. Nyeh.

2012-01-22T21:44:00.001-05:00

Mature Landscaping: SC: The Trash Heap Has Spoken. Nyeh.: Click to hear Marjorie sing The Trash Heap Blues . Alternate lyrics available on request. South Carolina is a Cut-Off-Your-Nose-To-Spit...

They're sawREE...well, some of them are. Actually, the only one I know of. I had to share this cuz of the Paula Deen Do-nut Brunch Burger. Thanks, Nance. We needed to read this.

Everything You Wanted to Know About Coffee in Three Minutes

2012-01-22T21:31:00.000-05:00

Everything You Wanted to Know About Coffee in Three Minutes

Here's my dog....Name of "Runt"

2012-01-19T20:42:00.000-05:00

From the Swedish "ligger runt husen"--"lying around the house." He doesn't eat anything or chew my boots or pee on the floor. Very quiet but very companionable....If MurrMurrs can have Pootie, I can have Runt.

For Martha, December 16, 1936 - January 17, 2012

2012-01-18T01:22:00.003-05:00

"Radiant, intelligent" Martha
in the 1980s? (Note the glasses)

Back to the Future.....

2012-01-14T10:08:00.013-05:00

Well, I tried. I really did love the flipcard layout that's been on display here for the past week or almost. Problem was, I find the posts are only half of my blog. The other half is the sidebar content: the moon phases gadget, the crossword puzzle (hey, I really really like that--I do it over at least once or twice until i can score at least 5,000 points. It's not so much getting the clues right as it is TYPING them. gah....), the weather reports from places in my heart, the links to some of my favorite commentary, the "blogs i love," and so on. I find I don't want to live without these very handy shortcuts to my own state o' mind. Also, I really want to pay more attention to writing my own content. For the last six months or so, I've mainly just been reposting wonderful items from other persons & places. The bright folks at Democracy for California's inventive offshoot, Democracy for Bell, for example, have run especially entertaining videos that I've passed on here because I think my readers (yes, all six of you) (you, too, Diana) would like them.

So today, now that I've banished the flipcard layout, I'm thinking what I want this blog to be. In the beginning, I had the notion to talk about the English language itself--thus the subtitle "Love Notes to the English Language." As usual, life intervened, and I have gone far afield from linguistics in the almost six years I've been blogging. Never underestimate the power of the monkey mind!

Anyway, the lovely portrait of the Frenchie in the upper left corner is "Mr. Clunk,"* a multi-media collage by my dear friend Martha's daughter Gretchen. Gretchen, an art & design grad, made it partly out of candy wrappers--she really LOVES candy. The gold parts came mostly from Rolo wrappers. The big Mr. Clunk portrait is on display over Gretchen's fireplace. (M. Le Clunk is her dog.)

It seems fitting that he can serve as an icon of what can be done with almost nothing at all but some glue, paint, a canvas, candy wrappers, a lively mind, a skilled hand, and a vibrant approach to life. I don't lay claim to any of these qualities--not all the time, anyway. Still, it's all part of a piece. Or pieces.

*with permission by the artist, who owns all the copyrights.

Things to remember

2012-01-12T20:31:00.001-05:00

"The Joy of Books"

2012-01-11T10:20:00.001-05:00

(Humming to self) "There is nothing like a boooook! Nothing in the world! Bookstores hold happy times if you'll just loooook. Is there anything like a book?"
(Nothereisn't!)

"The Joy of Books" is a post from Open Culture

Ketchup Was a Vegetable

2012-01-11T08:32:00.003-05:00

Watched "Forks Over Knives" last night. It, and the book it's based on, has a message I needed to hear--again! "If it had eyes and a mom & dad, don't eat it." Eat fruit, vegetables, whole grain. When I stop eating vegan, that's when my weight and blood pressure begin to creep up. NO dairy. Goodbye, dear butter. Chocolate? Pillsbury's big biscuits in a can? Rye bread? I'm just not gonna think about it. I am going to fill my mind with visions of oranges, apples, grapes, plums (not sugar plums), tomatoes, green vegetables, purple vegetables, squash. Fabulous salads. Ripe, delicious fruits. I'm maybe about a third or even half of the way there now, but I can improve.

We are the world leader in medical costs per person, but we're far from healthy. We're getting grossly fat (obese is the word they use). Old Egyptian Proverb: "1/4 of what you eat supports you, the other 3/4 supports your doctor."

Time for a Commercial Break - Fellini

2012-01-10T14:50:00.002-05:00

First Snow of 2012: January 9

2012-01-09T17:32:00.000-05:00

It started snowing lightly late this afternoon....The flakes are getting bigger, and the lights are coming on. First snow of 2012. May I be allowed one Grinch-like wish: hope it's the last, too. One is enough.....

Honoring Lakota Women

2012-01-08T19:25:00.001-05:00

The song pays respect to the Lakota Woman and her contributions in strengthening the Lakota world.

Lakota Wia Kin, Nagiksapaye Niye On Etanyan , Wicingacaya Oyate Kin Han Yan Waciniyape

Lakota women , think wisely it's from you our children come from and are raised

The people are now depending on you

Dedicated to women of all Native Nations

http://youtu.be/dutnEqldyzk

The singer is our friend Janice Howe's aunt, Sissy Goodhouse. Here's Janice with Peggy (r), Sally (l), and Katie (front) on our back porch in Bismarck.

If you read nothing else today, read this from Digby

2012-01-01T19:01:00.000-05:00

Hullaballoo ("in the absence of passion, we are tender of our persons")

The best explanation yet of why right are as vicious as they are, and the left have to get over being so NICE and ACCOMMODATING!!

modern Durer paintings

2012-01-01T17:55:00.003-05:00

Those bright folks at DemocracyforBell have done it again. (Sent me some cool stuff!!)

http://www.freakingnews.com/Durer-Paintings-Pictures--2440-0.asp

My favorite? Between "baby in a man's hands" and "shroud of Turin"....(I also liked Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt as Mother and Child.)

For auld lang syne

2012-01-01T16:30:00.001-05:00

Thanks to Kay for this:

Happy New Year, y'all!! Can you imagine our governing body holding hands and singing? Let it be so!!

Meeting life head (hat) on.....

2012-01-01T09:33:00.000-05:00

Maybe my readers will remember the post about my friend Karen who got married for the first time at age 72 or so, and her wonderful wedding HAT? The name of her hat, purchased at an art fair on the campus of our alma mater, was "It's About Time." We all had a big laugh about that.

Alas, Karen died on December 28. She had surgery recently and never fully recovered. A trip back to the hospital after Christmas ended with her death. Her husband, Jim, was at her side.

I remember Karen from our days in the novitiate together at 1890 Randolph. I remember her bright eyes and wonderful smile and tender spirit, and she never lost those.

It's very sad that Karen and Jim had not even two whole years to be married. But it's not that she was never finally, really, honest-to-goodness happy until she reached the age of 72 and finally got married. Throughout her life, Karen had a great capacity to meet life with enthusiasm, whatever its twists and turns. As our former postulate mistress used to say, "It's all part of a piece."

Rest in peace, Karen. We'll miss the occasional editions of your poetry, lively e-mails, and warm spirit. We'll miss you.

Now to Uganda.....

2011-12-29T10:09:00.000-05:00

Amazing!!

'Tis Wren's Day!

2011-12-26T13:30:00.001-05:00

This is an Irish thing. First the video....thanks to Mike Peterson

Then from http://www.dingle-peninsula.ie/wren.html

The following article and photographs are reproduced with permission from the November/December 1997 issue of "Cara", the Aer Lingus on-board magazine.
The article is written by Peter Wood, who is originally from Co. Monaghan, with photography of the Dingle Wren by Christy McNamara, who is originally from Co. Clare. Peter and Christy have collaborated on a book entitled "The Living Note: The Heartbeat of Irish Music", published by O'Brien Press and Robert Rinehart.

On St. Stephen's Day, December 26th, crowds of people take to the roads in various parts of Ireland, dressed in motley clothing, wearing masks or straw suits and accompanied by musicians – remembering a festival with antecedents that long predate Christmas. The Wren – sometimes pronounced and written, wran – was once common all over Ireland. In some areas, the Wrenboys are called Mummers and the festival has a strong English influence, incorporating characters like St. George.
Birds have great prominence in Irish mythology. They were seen as intermediaries, in pre-Christian times, between this world and the next. The flight patterns of birds, like the wren, were used as auguries by the Druids. Indeed, some believe, the Gaelic word for wren – dreoilín – derives from two words, draoi ean, or Druid bird.
When, according to legend, the birds held a parliament, it was decided that whichever of them flew the highest would rule over all the others. The eagle soared higher than any, until it tired and the tiny wren emerged from its tail feathers and climbed far above it. Mysteriously, the wren has a reputation for treachery. A wren is said to have betrayed Irish soldiers fighting the Norsemen by beating its wings on their shields. The wren, too, is blamed for betraying St. Stephen, the first Christian martyr. This is the usual explanation why the wren is the hunted bird on St. Stephen's day. It has also been argued that the antipathy shown towards the bird dates from early Christian opposition to the Druidic rites that surrounded it. Today, the wren – as a feature of the event – survives only in the rhyme and in the name of the day, although, in former times, it was hunted and nailed to a pole at the head of the procession.In West Kerry, the focal point of the Wrenboys parade is a hobby horse. A pantomime-type horse with a wooden head, snapping jaws and a body made from cloth stretched across a timber frame, it is worn on the shoulders of one of the members of the Wren – who whirls and capers at the head of the parade. The horse, for social and military reasons, was of great importance in ancient Ireland. Horses could be both lucky and unlucky, and they had strong associations with the rights to kingship and with fertility. The horse was so important that its introduction to Ireland was credited to the god Lugh. The greatest of the Celtic gods, his name occurs across the continent in placenames like Lyon and Leiden. The cult of the horse was also opposed by the early Christians.The straw suits worn by the Wrenboys also have historical resonances, though more recent ones. In the 18th and 19th centuries, they were worn as disguises by the Whiteboys during Ireland's prolonged agrarian wars. The suit is woven in three parts: head, chest, and skirt. The straw of choice for the suits is that which comes from oats and, since there is little demand for oats, good straw is becoming increasingly difficult to find. In many cases, oats are grown specifically for the Wren.
The Wren, in common with many customs in rural Ireland, came close to extinction. From the twenties and thirties onward emigration took a great toll among those who would have taken part. There was strong clerical opposition – the money raised in the collections the Wrenboys took up went towards holding a ball in a local hotel or public house and naturally there was alcohol involved. The Church saw the Wren, as it saw the house dances that kept traditional music alive in those times, as an "occasion of sin."That the Wren survived at all was due to the efforts of a few individuals and small groups of people working in isolation. Nowadays, the Wren is enjoying a revival. Listowel, County Kerry, holds an annual competition. The legendary Wrens of the Dingle Peninsula are the focus of intense local competition. Dublin, too, has a festival, held on Sandymount Green. Whatever its provenance (there is a similar festival in Lerwick on Shetland, and its form finds echoes across Europe in the hobby horse, and the hunting of a small bird on one day of the year) the Wren in Ireland is not fixed in time. Like much else in Irish culture, the Wrenboys have adapted and changed. Their masks and costumes reflect change, and reflect too, perhaps, the current demonology of Irish society – long after her fall from power, former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher still figures prominently in the masks worn in many a Wren.
Fundamentally though, the Wren is a local event, reflecting the communities it springs from – whether in the North of the country, or Wexford, Woodford in Galway or the west of Kerry. Th Kerry writer and dramatist, Sigerson Clifford, was all his life a kind of exile in his own country from the town he loved, Cahirciveen. He's best remembered for his great ballad,The Boys of Barr na Straide, two lines of which formed his epitaph.
I'll take my sleep in those green fields,the place my life began,Where the boys of Barr na Straidewent hunting for the wren.For many people in more distant exile, the 26th of December holds a special resonance – the day the whistles, fifes and drums thunder like waves, rising in crescendos to drive the dark of winter away. Pagans and Christians forgotten, all the one now. "Up Sraid Eoin! We never died a winter yet," as they say on at least one street in Dingle town.

We Write E-mails.....

2011-12-26T10:15:00.001-05:00

Today's self-explanatory response to one of the (endless) email solicitations from XE's beloved progressive resources:

Why not run a lottery fund-raiser kind of thing for (NAME)? I kept wishing when I opened my email and saw "$70,000" in the subject line that it would be a chance to win that much from (NAME). If I did win, I'd gladly share half with you guys....

Kind regards, and Happy Monday (and NO, I am not going shopping),

(MY name), one of the 99.99%

May the Joy of the Season Touch Your Heart!!

2011-12-23T19:05:00.002-05:00

Getting Through the Holidays.....

2011-12-21T17:15:00.001-05:00

I got this today from the Feeney kid in West Palm. If you are offended by the suggestion that any of the disorders named are...disorders...well, you've been a good sport about this so far--especially since you're willing to claim me as a friend.

Happy Hollandaise!!

It feels like Sunday, somehow...and I'm feeling like celebrating.

2011-12-20T18:22:00.001-05:00

So here's a video on Ingmar Bergman, as seen through the eyes of Woody Allen. Ok, Ok...I LIKE Woody Allen, and I love his movies. And I adore Ingmar Bergman. And HIS movies.

Now, come on, don'tcha wonder???

2011-12-18T10:54:00.001-05:00

Personally, I am finding this HILARIOUS, considering who's running for president these days....

2011-12-12T14:22:00.000-05:00

Happy Monday! My faucet's fixed!! Have a nice laugh.....(and thanks to Democracyforbell.com, who found this first)

South Dakota Legislature To The Rescue

2011-12-11T08:31:00.000-05:00

South Dakota Legislature To The Rescue

I couldn't resist this post from last year on MurrMurrs. My goodness, but that woman can write, and hoo boy, is she funny! "Foremorons"--yup. We've all got some of those....

New-s

2011-12-11T08:04:00.001-05:00

Sunday a.m. is a good time to share wonderful new things. Yesterday I came upon a most excellent post in which the blogger celebrates her dear, departed sister. I laughed and cried at the same time, which hardly EVER happens. I laugh a lot, but I don't cry much at all. XE welcomes MurrMurrs to her "Blogs I Love" list....

And this morning good ole Sherwood shared some music he loves. I love it, too, and I'd never heard or even heard of them before. Quite wonderful. Red Molly Band! And here they are:

Had enough of politics and that??

2011-12-09T20:49:00.002-05:00

shabbat shalom

DemocracyforBell.com has the best stuff!

2011-12-08T20:41:00.000-05:00

DemocracyforCalifornia.com has spawned the lively DemocracyforBell.com. They seem to enjoy life along with all their hard work. This little whale seems to like the music!!

It's That Time Again!

2011-12-08T18:31:00.000-05:00

Time for the Snow Post: Diary of A Snow Shoveler...It's December 8, after all.

Diary Of A Snow Shoveler

December 8: 6:00 PM. It started to snow. The first snow of the season and the wife and I took our cocktails and sat for hours by the window watching the huge soft flakes drift down from heaven. It looked like a Grandma Moses print. So romantic we felt like newlyweds again. I love snow!

December 9: We woke to a beautiful blanket of crystal white snow covering every inch of the landscape. What a fantastic sight! Can there be a more lovely place in the Whole World? Moving here was the best idea I've ever had. Shoveled snow for the first time in years and felt like a boy again. I did both our driveway and the sidewalks. This afternoon the snowplow came along and covered up the sidewalks and closed in the driveway, so I got to shovel again. What a perfect life.

December 12: The sun has melted all our lovely snow. Such a disappointment. My neighbor tells me not to worry, we'll definitely have a white Christmas. No snow on Christmas would be awful! Bob says we'll have so much snow by the end of winter, that I'll never want to see snow again. l don't think that's possible. Bob is such a nice man I'm glad he's our neighbor.

December 14: Snow lovely snow! 8" last night. The temperature dropped to -20. The cold makes everything sparkle so. The wind took my breath away, but I warmed up by shoveling the driveway and sidewalks. This is the life! The snowplow came back this afternoon and buried everything again. l didn't realize I would have to do quite this much shoveling, but I'll certainly get back in shape this way. I wish l wouldn't huff and puff so.

December 15: 20 inches forecast. Sold my van and bought a 4x4 Blazer. Bought snow tires for the wife's car and 2 extra shovels. Stocked the freezer. The wife wants a wood stove in case the electricity goes out. I think that's silly. We aren't in Alaska, after all.

December 16: Ice storm this morning. Fell on my ass on the ice in the driveway putting down salt. Hurt like hell. The wife laughed for an hour, which I think was very cruel.

December 17: Still way below freezing. Roads are too icy to go anywhere. Electricity was off for 5 hours. I had to pile the blankets on to stay warm. Nothing to do but stare at the wife and try not to irritate her. Guess I should've bought a wood stove, but won't admit it to her. God I hate it when she's right. I can't believe I'm freezing to death in my own living room.

December 20: Electricity's back on, but had another 14" of damn snow last night. More shoveling. Took all day. Goddamn snowplow came by twice. Tried to find a neighbor kid to shovel, but they said they're too busy playing hockey. I think they're lying. Called the only hardware store around to see about buying a snow blower and they're out. Might have another shipment in March. I think they're lying. Bob says I have to shovel or the city will have it done and bill me. I think he's lying.

December 22: Bob was right about a white Christmas because 13 more inches of the white sh*t fell today, and it's so cold it probably won't melt till August. Took me 45 minutes to get all dressed up to go out to shovel and then I had to piss. By the time I got undressed, pissed and dressed again. I was too tired to shovel. Tried to hire Bob who has a plow on his truck for the rest of the winter; but he says he's too busy. I think the asshole is lying.

December 23: Only 2" of snow today. And it warmed up to 0. The wife wanted me to decorate the front of the house this morning. What is she nuts!!! Why didn't she tell me to do that a month ago? She says she did but I think she's lying.

December 24: 6". Snow packed so hard by snowplow, l broke the shovel. Thought I was having a heart attack. I know the son of a bitch who drives that snowplow hides around the corner and waits for me to finish shoveling and then he comes down the street at a 100 miles an hour and throws snow all over where I've just been! Tonight the wife wanted me to sing Christmas carols with her and open our presents, but I was busy watching for that goddamn snowplow.

December 25: Merry Christmas. 20 more inches of the !=3D@x@!x!x1 slop tonight. Snowed in. The idea of shoveling makes my blood boil. God I hate the snow! Then the snowplow driver came by asking for a donation and I hit him over the head with my shovel. The wife says I have a bad attitude. I think she's an idiot. If I have to watch "It's a Wonderful Life" one more time, I'm going to smack her big ass with the shovel.

December 26: Still snowed in. Why the hell did I ever move here? It was all HER idea. She's really getting on my nerves.

December 27: Temperature dropped to -30 and the pipes froze.

December 28: Warmed up to above -20. Still snowed in. THE B***H is driving me crazy!!!!!

December 29: 10 more inches. Bob says I have to shovel the roof or it could cave in. That's the silliest thing I ever heard. How dumb does he think I am?

December 30: Roof caved in. The snow plow driver is suing me for a million dollars. The wife went home to her mother. 9" predicted.

December 31: Set fire to what's left of the house. No more shoveling.

January 8: I feel so good. I just love those little white pills they keep giving me. Why am I tied to the bed?

-Author Unknown

Newt for Pope?? (repost from March 2011)

2011-12-05T08:10:00.001-05:00

News of the US is slow to arrive in Chez XE these days. Only this past week did I read that Newt Gingrich converted to Roman Catholicism two YEARS ago! How could Faux News--or the Huffington Post--miss that?? Newtie and wife #3, Callista, have been visiting various ecclesiastical venues to flog the film they produced about Pope John Paul's role in the collapse of communism in Poland. Surely they're also pushing the DVD for Newt's book Rediscovering God in America II: Our Heritage. (Bummer! Something else I've missed while blogging fearlessly for librulism. What was the first one in this series? Rediscovering God in America I: What a Surprise?) Since receiving this gem of news-gathering, however, I have been amusing myself with What This All Means for Newt's On-and-on-and-ongoing Career Ambitions. He's almost 70 and thrice married, hardly a prime background for a presidential candidate--"I knew Ron Reagan, and you, sir, are no Ron Reagan!"

There can be only one worthy deneuement here: Newt as Pope. Oh, I know. Newt is only a pew-crawling Catholic; he's not a priest, bishop, or more important, a cardinal. In the old days, however, nonpriests could be made cardinals (several), and if the nonpriest cardinal were then elected pope (there was one: Pope John XIX ), they ordained and consecrated him at the same time they made him Pope, ipso fatso. Also, there has never been a Pope John XX! Plus, Pope John XIX's brother and nephew were both popes, and, get this, both named BENEDICT--there ya go, Newtie! Doesn't this sound tailor made for you?

I keep thinking how natural Newt would look in the Pope's garb. The pointy hat (so well suited to his beady eyes), the pudge-flattering cassock with cape, the RED SHOES with matching socks. OMG...Ian Paisley will have a field day: "Auld Red Socks," indeed! I do tend to think of Newt as the AntiChrist. That's tailor made for him, too.

He'll have to do something about Callista (AND wife #2), though. He can't be having her (them) stand beside him when he blesses the faithful from the balcony of St. Peter's. They can stay inside and cook and clean with the nuns. They'll love that.

New Blogs....and Crossword Scoring

2011-12-03T08:37:00.001-05:00

Saturday seems like a good day to share goodies. Here are two blogs that I recently discovered (this morning, so they are new for me) and immediately slapped on the adjoining list of Blogs I Love:

The Absense of Alternatives

The Bloggess

Funny, smart, profane, just what I like. Welcome to my resources, ladies!

Also, I don't know if you've had a chance to try the crossword, also adjoining, but it's fun to see how much you can improve your score by doing it over. Most of the time I score in the 1000-3000 range on the first time through. But I have gotten it up to about 7,000 on a subsequent pass. Why do I do this? Because it's a great exercise in TYPING SKILLS. I'm always hitting the wrong key or erasing something that was right the first time. It's fun for me...just sayin.

2011-12-02T21:01:00.000-05:00

Home on the Metro. Looking out the window at the sunset.

R.I.P., Gene....

2011-12-01T18:37:00.000-05:00

My brother Gene died this morning. May he rest in peace. He was born on May 11, 1929, and died on my birthday, Dec 1, 2011. He was the youngest of my four brothers and the one I knew best. All my other brothers were gone to the Air Force in WWII by the time I was old enough to remember who they were.

Gene and I had polio at the same time in the summer of 1943. We caught it at Lake Cormorant, where we were visiting my parents' friends' cottage, and we got our milk straight from the cows. I might have been spared a worse case because I refused to drink the unpasteurized milk, which had a very strong taste. Gene was being the brave older brother and slugging his milk down with relish. As a consequence, he had a much worse case of polio than I did, and afterwards, he had to have surgery so he could stand up straight. He would have been my tallest brother, but after the polio, he was the shortest.

He was in the hospital much longer than I was, and he missed a lot of school. Finally, the telephone company rigged up a microphone in his classroom at school. He listened in on a radio at home and kept up with the others in his grade. He was very smart--as were/are all of my brothers--and he went on to get a degree in administrative engineering at NDAC (now NDSU), which was one of their most difficult offerings. It was like 3 or 4 engineering degrees in one--architectural, mechanical, electrical, et al.

We had our sibling rivalries as children--he was the youngest boy, very cute, and the pet pig before I came along and ruined his gig. I was a supreme example of the pesty younger sibling: I found all his love letters hidden in various places in his closet when he was in college and still at home. And one night, when I thought he wasn't home and was removing the radio from his bookcase so I could take it to my room, he burst out of the closet and scared me senseless. (He said afterward he felt bad because I got white as a sheet.) But he also taught me how to drive after my grandfather Dwyer died and we got a car, and he let me use his golf clubs.

Gene and his late wife, Helen, produced three beautiful children: Tom, a lawyer in California; Anne Dwyer Tranvik, a housewife in Minnesota; and Jim, a pilot for one of the major airlines.

He loved the woods, and when he retired, he moved near the coast of Oregon. He loved to bake his own bread--shades of our grandfather Redder, who was a baker in Germany before emigrating to Iowa. Rest in peace, Gene.

In paradisum deducant te angeli.
In tuo adventu, suscipiant te Martyres
et perducant te in Civitatem Sanctam Jerusalem
Chorus Angelorum te suscipiat,
et cum Lazaro, quondam paupere,
aeternam habeas requiem.

The Chinese Shops of Walmart in Georgetown Mall??

2011-11-30T20:38:00.000-05:00

Yesterday (I said this somewhere else on this blog, too) I had to renew my DC drivers license. As I've done for years, I went to the DC DMV office on the ground floor of the fancy "The Shops of Georgetown" mall on M St. NW, just past the intersection of M and Wisconsin. It's always been a great place to shop: J. Crew, Ralph Lauren, Comfort Shoes, F.A.O. Schwarz, Victoria's Secret, Brookstone. They even had a bookstore there maybe 10 years ago.

Yesterday, the place was almost empty. No, not because it was the Tuesday afternoon after the Thanksgiving shopping orgy. The eponymous shops were almost all empty and dark. Huh? Was it closing? Looked like it. Comfort Shoes was selling out the last of its shoes at $19/pair (or was that apiece??).

Of all the things I've read about or seen in DC the past couple of years, this was the scariest! I don't remember reading much about this in the WashPost. Or online. I contacted the blogger who writes Rebuilding Place in the Urban Space. What is going on with this? He replied:

Redev. process is underway. Not sure what they will do. It was held up for years in courts between two developer competitors. Someone else bought the mortgage.

For the most part, this "mall" doesn't work on the interior, because people go to Georgetown to be outside and walk the streets, not to spend time in a mall. Because it was unsuccessful, by default it became a place for independents, which is not how malls usually work.

The mall-ness is likely to be removed, in other words, the interior will be redeveloped into a conglomerated space.

Hmmm....well, what if WalMart were to take this over and open each of their departments as a SEPARATE SHOP? And if, as has been suggested, DC's
Chinatown is a lost cause. It's now mostly "Gallery Place" or the "Verizon Center" with its two pro basketball teams (the Wizards--men--and the Mystics--women) and the Capitols hockey team. WalMart has been running into flak in its move to open a big box store here in DC.

So....how about this? Let's let WalMart take over the EMPTY Shops of Georgetown mall, make each department a separate shop, and staff it with Chinese workers as befits a store that sells merchandise made mostly in China? They can call it the "Chinese Shops at WalMart in Georgetown Mall."

All of this has made me think that the so-called "slow/bad economy" is really the result of the 1% watching out for themselves and playing us like a flute.

Better get ready to enjoy fish heads and rice and other 3rd world delicacies. Goodbye to Clydes and oysters and hamburgers and french fries.

Tranquil Tuesday

2011-11-29T11:35:00.000-05:00

I am considering spending at least half of every other day each week out of doors. Far from my various computing devices, refrigerator, and toaster. Out among all trees and flowers and growing things (buildings, too, which here seem to be behaving like mushrooms, springing up overnight and multiplying), there to communicate with spirit to whom I belong. In the company of a little sketch pad and pencil. Or maybe just nothing....

See how it goes....

Meltdown Monday......

2011-11-28T18:58:00.000-05:00

I really lost it today. I took my weekend visitor down to K Street to wait for the bus to Annapolis. The schedule said the stop was at "16th St and K St NW, 12:27p." Fine.

We got to the bus stop, and there was indeed a sign post for the non-Metro buses going toward the Eastern Shore. The bus we were waiting for (which we had identified in a 2-hour session with the schedules last night) was not listed, but we decided to ask the various bus drivers if they knew where that particular Annapolis bus stopped. So far, so good.

Bus 1 to Annapolis arrived. Not the right one, and the driver (of the bus from a different, i.e., wrong, company) did not know where my friend's bus stopped other than to wave his hand and say "Here."

Bus 2 to Annapolis arrived. Again, not the right one, and again, other than to say "Here, I guess," the driver (from yet a third company) did not know where that particular bus would stop.

Bus 3 arrived. It was the right bus. It had the right number, was the right company, and was in the right place at...tada...12:27p, but the only reason it stopped was because there was a red light. I knocked on the glass, and the driver opened the door slightly. My friend, who has a strong South African accent and is deaf, proceeded to ask him if this was....blah blah blah...and yes, it was, but he set his mouth and shook his head "no" when I asked if he could help her put her BIG suitcase under the bus. He also shook his head when we asked if she could get on the bus.

I blew up. "Jesus H. Christ! This is HER BUS!!!" and at that point, my friend got out her schedule (the RED one, not the brown one) and showed it to him. He rolled his eyes and stormed off the bus. He yelled at me, "Don't you dare take the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ in vain!!" Then he tossed my friend's suitcase in the compartment under the bus and waved her on. He also had a few more choice words for me as he followed her up the steps. I smiled and said "Thank you, sir!"

I don't know what HIS problem was, and I don't think my friend appreciated my loss of composure, but what the eff....she was on the right bus, and she was on her way home, and I wandered off in search of a hotdog because I hadn't even had breakfast yet, and it was almost 1 p.m.

Jesus H. Christ, if you are paying attention, thanks for getting my friend on the right bus home. Amen.

Saturday Night Cuteness!

2011-11-26T21:07:00.000-05:00

Democracy for Bell, a spinoff of Democracy for California, has this tucked into the chat feature. Isn't this baby-dog combo cute as heck??

Here's Something New....

2011-11-24T12:06:00.000-05:00

Lori Skoog's blog always has such gorgeous photos of her farm and surrounding areas, and Lori's of course a dedicated horsewoman, writer, and artist. This fascinating video was on her blog post today:

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Wow....

2011-11-21T22:42:00.000-05:00

Maybe once or twice a year I come upon a blog that makes me want to get up and dance down the aisle of the bus or twirl around one of the poles in the aisle of the metro. I found TWO good ones this week, and it's only Monday already.

First is Nailing Jello to the Wall. I actually found that a year ago, but the author took a rather longish hiatus and I forgot about it. I'm happy to report that she's BACK!!

Second is Suburban Lesbian Housewife. Here's a sample (and the best thing written yet about Penn State):

How many children need to be raped before a University does something? Who could watch a child be raped and do nothing? Nothing at all?

I see something like that? I'm getting a baseball bat or the heaviest object near me and I'm stopping it. Then, I'm going to the police. But I do not wait and go to my boss.

If someone was murdered, would you wait to tell your boss? Or do you call 9-1-1?

What football program is more important than reporting directly to the police a crime?

My god, what is wrong with this country? Full disclosure: I am a football fan. Love watching, playing, and I've been a Penn State fan for years. My grandfather went there, left a large donation and there's some plaque by a pond on campus with his name on it. I have always respected the graduation rates of football players from Penn State.

Paterno knew for years. Years. Not a week, or a month, but long enough to have stopped the pain for many more victims. He could have stopped a predator.

But he didn't.

I'm suppose to sit here and shed a tear for him? I don't care what he did for how many years.

And then there's her post "Meet Baby." A smidgen of that:

Meet Baby
I know you all think I'm miserably depressed all the time, and mostly that's true but I do still know how to laugh.

While Zachary and Jake were away on a road trip, I sent them pictures on their phones. Any time I saw a "punch buggy" I sent it to Jake and said, Punch yourself.

He would promptly punch Zachary.

I had found Zachary's "Baby" in the Ogunquit house. It was a gift from a good friend of mine and Zachary did love Baby. That is, when he was a baby. Poor Baby ended up on top of the refrigerator, long forgotten. Until I got Baby, dusted her off and took her on adventures.

Meet Baby.

Now, Baby did get a little annoyed while sitting on the refrigerator for so long.

If you mess with Baby, she will give you the finger.

Baby likes cake.

There's more...more Baby, more astute political comments..Enjoy!

Saturday night blog reading...

2011-11-19T21:02:00.006-05:00

Emilie Johnson, whose blog displays her incredible photographs and writing, has a great post today: "Brecht."

A friend, Katelin Wilcox's, one woman show last night, performed at Theater Row on 42nd Street in the United Solo Fest left me thinking thinking thinking. She was stunning in a brilliantly written piece she herself wrote of the tale of Bertolt Brecht (1989-1956), or rather, the tale of his women. She switched between the roles of five fundamental women in the playwright's life - their love, losses and perspectives. These women each not only fueled Brecht's creativity, but were often the literal composers of his work, only eventually to be discarded. It was a feminist tale and one that, unfortunately, could be told countless times across history. One of the women, Elisabeth Hauptmann, literally wrote the piece that launched Brecht's career (The Threepenny Opera) and received next to no credit for having done so. If you look up the piece, she is still often listed, at best, as a 'collaborator' - when 80-90% of the writing was hers. The women in his life were writers, actors, creative forces who were stunted merely because they were women (Brecht seized the opportunity to make use of their force and these women often saw the 'collaboration' as the only way their voices could be heard, having been rejected from publishers and industry heads repeatedly).

The performance and its story were such a great illustrative response to anyone who asks, where were women in history? Artists, writers, thinkers, philosophers - they were there.

Where are all the women, indeed? It's always teed me off no end to look up the new videos on TED and see so few women (2 out of 15 on today's first page). Ditto re the Writer's Almanac, although today's featured writer is poet Sharon Olds, with a marvelous poem about her daughter. (Keep up the good work, Garrison. Remember, MORE WOMEN....or at least as many as the men.)

And thank you, Ms. Johnson, for blogging so all of us out here can see your spirit.

The Green Man!

2011-11-14T17:19:00.001-05:00

Got this from Jimmy Feeney this a.m. Oh, how wonderful! I wish I could do this. I wish I could dye my hair green, too.

Steve Martin's Contribution to Hymnology

2011-11-13T18:32:00.001-05:00

Yes, it's funny.....

Christians have their hymns and pages,
Hava Nagila’s for the Jews,
Baptists have the rock of ages,
Atheists just sing the blues.

Romantics play Claire de Lune,
Born agains sing He is risen,
But no one ever wrote a tune,
For godless existentialism.

For Atheists,
There’s no good news,
They’ll never sing a song of faith.

For atheists,
They have a rule,
The “he” is always lowercase.
The “he” is always lowercase.

Some folks sing a Bach cantata,
Lutherans get Christmas trees,
Atheist songs add up to nada,
But they do have Sundays free.

Pentecostalists sing they sing to heaven,
Coptics have the books of scrolls,
Numerologists can count to seven,
Atheists have rock and roll.

For Atheists,
There’s no good news,
They’ll never sing a song of Faith.

In their songs,
They have a rule,
The “he” is always lowercase.
The “he” is always lowercase.

Catholics dress up for Mass,
And listen to, Gregorian chants.

Atheists just take a pass,
Watch football in their underpants.
Watch football in their underpants.

Atheists, Atheists, Atheists,
Don’t have no songs!

Saturday Blogaround While Cooking....

2011-11-12T15:10:00.000-05:00

Ok, I have been up since 6:43am preparing dinner for four: roasted chicken, scalloped potatoes & onions, romaine lettuce with olive oil & lemon juice, sweet basil carrots (minus the basil...oops), and apple pie. I'm doing this for a friend and her partner, who will be entertaining the friend's former partner and her husband. (Oh, go ahead, raise your eyebrows....it's life here in the City of Satan, and I love it). Chop chop chop chop, stir stir stir stir.

The pie is done, ditto the potato dish and the carrots, and the chicken is in the oven with something I've never tried before: making herb butter and stuffing it under the skin. I must say the place smells divine!!! I expect the neighbors will be telling me this when I run into them in the hallway soon.

Meanwhile, however, I'm horsing around online and checking the blogs. You may enjoy this one in particular, too: Old Phat Stu, who had a fascinating post yesterday on ejection seats (as in pilots). Stu was a flight instructor for "going on three decades," and he knows his stuff. Stu also has a policy of using email for comments. So I'm sharing my email/comments to & from him with you. He lives far, far away.

My first question regarding his post was this:

But how could he be killed with all those precautionary restraints?  or did he pull the handle himself?  you know SO MUCH!  glory....

To which he replied:

Given that I was a flying instructor for nigh on three decades, Mary, it would be an embuggerance (q.v) if I did NOT Know how an ejection seat works.

All technical devices (and even social structures) only work as intended when a (perhaps implicit) set of assumptions are satisfied.
Part of doing risk analyses is identifying those assumptions ( aka drawing a risk tree) and checking they are satisfied.

For Fukushima these (should have) included simultaneous earthquake AND tsunami;
uncovering the cores and the dampening pools, loss of electricity for more than 3 days, running out of diesel fuel , etc etc.

For crossing the road it includes looking both ways first. We teach our kids specific instances like that one, but as a rule people are not taught how to do General risk assessment.

And I said:

As I read your note @technology and risk assessment, I am on the Metro going downtown to meet a friend to borrow a pie tin. An ordinary trip that usually takes abt 17 mins. And....tada....the train has stopped. A Metro employee walks through the cars shaking her head. Soon the train backs up to the platform, the doors open, and a bunch of people get on. Did the doors not open at that platform the first time? Now we're moving....and now we're stopped again. Does Metro do this to annoy us? It seems to be the law of technology these days that it always breaks down--whether it's a massive failure involving natural phenomena like Fukushima or just a Saturday morning glitch involving a worn-out switch. Ha. Soon I'll meet my friend, get the pie tin, and go back home to cook Sat. pm dinner--with apple pie. That I can do with my bare hands and my little red-handled knife (and the mostly risk-free assumption that the oven will work and the water in the sink will run).

And so on....then I asked him, since he's also a mathematician and so smart,

OK, so tell me. How do I pick a winning lottery number?

He says:

Buy ALL the tickets!!

Of course he's right. I'm still laughing.

Christmas begins at HOME this year!!

2011-11-10T12:04:00.000-05:00

Thanks to Darlene for sending this gem! I agree....forget the stuff at Walmart or Target. Most of us already have absolutely everything anyone could possibly need. Try this:

As the holidays approach, the giant non-U.S. factories are kicking into high gear to provide Americans with monstrous piles of cheaply produced goods--merchandise that has been produced at the expense of American labor. This year will be different. This year Americans will give the gift of genuine concern for other Americans. There is no longer an excuse that, at gift giving time, nothing can be found that is produced by American hands. Yes there is!

It's time to think outside the box, people. Who says a gift needs to fit in a shirt box, wrapped in Chinese produced wrapping paper?

Everyone -- yes EVERYONE gets their hair cut. How about gift certificates from your local American hair salon or barber?

Gym membership? It's appropriate for all ages who are thinking about some health improvement.

Who wouldn't appreciate getting their car detailed? Small, American owned detail shops and car washes would love to sell you a gift certificate or a book of gift certificates.

Are you one of those extravagant givers who think nothing of plonking down the Benjamins on a Chinese made flat-screen? Perhaps that grateful gift receiver would like his driveway sealed, or lawn mowed for the summer, or driveway plowed all winter, or games at the local golf course.

There are a bazillion owner-run restaurants -- all offering gift certificates. And, if your intended isn't the fancy eatery sort, what about a half dozen breakfasts at the local breakfast joint. Remember, folks this isn't about big National chains -- this is about supporting your home town Americans with their financial lives on the line to keep their doors open.

How many people couldn't use an oil change for their car, truck or motorcycle, done at a shop run by the American working guy?

Thinking about a heartfelt gift for mom? Mom would LOVE the services of a local cleaning lady for a day.

My computer could use a tune-up, and I KNOW I can find some young guy who is struggling to get his repair business up and running.

OK, you were looking for something more personal. Local crafts people spin their own wool and knit them into scarves. They make jewelry, and pottery and beautiful wooden boxes.

Plan your holiday outings at local, owner operated restaurants and leave your server a nice tip. And, how about going out to see a play or ballet at your hometown theatre?

Musicians need love too, so find a venue showcasing local bands.

Honestly, people, do you REALLY need to buy another ten thousand Chinese lights for the house? When you buy a five dollar string of light, about fifty cents stays in the community. If you have those kinds of bucks to burn, leave the mailperson, trash collector, or babysitter a nice BIG tip.

You see, Christmas is no longer about draining American pockets so that China can build another glittering city. Christmas is now about caring about US, encouraging American small businesses to keep plugging away to follow their dreams. And, when we care about other Americans, we care about our communities, and the benefits come back to us in ways we couldn't imagine. THIS is the new American Christmas tradition.

Forward this to everyone on your mailing list

-- post it to discussion groups

-- throw up a post on Craigslist for your city in the Rants and Raves section

-- send it to the editor of your local paper and radio stations, and TV news departments.

This is a revolution of caring about each other, and isn't that what Christmas is about?

Yes, you!!

2011-11-09T09:22:00.000-05:00

Thanks to http://www.comicstripoftheday.com/ for including this on Nov 5, 2011, and
for all his other wonderful posts.

Visualizing Bach: Alexander Chen’s Impossible Harp

2011-11-08T16:54:00.001-05:00

I love this piece, especially the Casals portion. The room is darkening, it's quiet and peaceful. Perfect for listening to music.

Visualizing Bach: Alexander Chen’s Impossible Harp

Yup....that's how it goes

2011-11-08T16:37:00.001-05:00

HEALTH MESSAGE (give me a break)
It's the tortoise life for me!
1. If walking/cycling is good for your health, the postman would be immortal.
2. A whale swims all day, only eats fish, drinks water, and is fat.
3. A rabbit runs and hops and only lives 15 years.
4. A tortoise doesn't run and does nothing, yet it lives for 450 years.
And you tell me to exercise?? I don't think so.
I'm retired. Go around me!

Wonderful post by Minnesota Matron

2011-11-01T23:34:00.000-04:00

Minnesota Matron's current post with sterling advice for Herman Cain came in over Google Reader this evening, and it's too good to keep for myself. I especially like the part where she says,

So The next time you have the bully pulpit, forget Congress, forget Wall Street, forget those angry bankers. Save that rage for the sex offenders and you have a sure-fire strategy for success.

You, Mr. Cain, are the Reform Candidate. Starting with yourself.

Hans Rosling Uses Ikea Props to Explain World of 7 Billion People

2011-11-01T09:41:00.001-04:00

This is another cool TED talk. With a few simple props from Ikea, it shows the relationship between the number of people on the planet and lifestyles. I found it quite interesting.

Hans Rosling Uses Ikea Props to Explain World of 7 Billion People

Natalie Goldberg on Finding Your Inner Sweetheart

2011-10-30T12:37:00.007-04:00

I found this last night while noodling around the web.

How to Flourish in Your Writing (Plus Three Writing Prompts)
By Natalie Goldberg
Author of
Writing Down the Bones,
Wild Mind,
Thunder and Lightning, and
Long Quiet Highway

An excellent way to feel fully free and really flourish in your writing is to develop a sweetheart inside you that encourages you and, most importantly, counteracts your monkey mind or inner editor or critic.

My sweetheart isn’t very complicated. As I write and hear from the critic—who says something along the lines of, “Nat, this is stupid, you are dumb, what you are writing makes no sense”—my sweetheart says something along the lines of, “It’s OK, Nat, keep going. Keep going. Like a swimmer, you’ve got to do those laps.”

Keep your sweetheart simple. I know how complicated a critic can be, but if the sweetheart gets complicated, too, then your two voices will start battling and arguing, which is a waste of your time. Don’t give the critic something to latch onto. Keep it simple; keep writing.

And of course, you have to be free to write the worst shit in America in order to write something good. It’s better to keep your hand moving for ten minutes or a half hour than think for a half hour and have three crossed out words. If you’ve read Wild Mind, you know what I always say: keep the hand moving, don’t think, lose control, say what you want to say not what you think you should say.

And use detail. It’s not a tree but a sycamore, not car but Cadillac, not a horse but a palomino. But listening to your sweetheart, do not chastise yourself if you write “city” as opposed to “New Mexico.” You can always come back a week later and define your city, specifying London or Omaha.

Always have great kindness for yourself. Look over your shoulder: there is no one there. No one cares if you write. It has to come from you, from your effort. There is no hierarchy in writing; you elbow your way into the lineage by your human effort. It is democratic and should be in the declaration of independence—the right to liberty, justice, the pursuit of happiness, and writing. Only human beings write. Clouds don’t, ants don’t.

It is your human right to know your own mind and write your own words. Let your life shine. Tell your dark and dirty, mysterious, bloody, real, and glorious story.

Tell your story of love and loneliness. Tell about the moon, the night you realized you were not going to be a doctor, the morning you had to admit you wanted to write more than anything. Tell how you are scared and what you love to eat, your first kiss and your last. As Jack Kerouac said: be submissive to everything, open, listening. Accept loss forever. Write in amazement of yourself. What about rain and no-rain and the street you live on? What about sickness and ice cream? And don’t forget what you lust for.

Let yourself be alive. This is your one true life. I don’t know about any other.

With your sweetheart in tow, use these three ten-minute writing prompts to write right here, right now:

1. Tell me everything you remember about third grade.
If you don’t remember anything begin by telling me that.

2. Give me memories of red, but don’t say the word red, use words that engender red in the mind, for instance, rose, fire, beets.

3. What do you regret?
Be specific.

Connect with Natalie:

Facebook
|
[Dear readers, click on that BAR in the preceding line, and it'll take you to Natalie Goldberg's Fan Page. Merci]
nataliegoldberg.com

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We didn't have "the green thing".....

2011-10-26T18:37:00.000-04:00

Darlene sent this! Lovely!

In the queue at the store, the cashier told an older woman that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags weren't good for the environment.

The woman apologized to him and explained, "We didn't have the green thing back in my day."

The clerk responded, "That's our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment."

He was right -- our generation didn't have the green thing in its day.

Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over. So they really were recycled. But we didn't have the green thing back in our day.

We walked up stairs, because we didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks. But she was right. We didn't have the green thing in our day.

Back then, we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throw-away kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling machine burning up 220 volts -- wind and solar power really did dry the clothes. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing. But that old lady is right; we didn't have the green thing back in our day.

Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Montana . In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used a wadded up old newspaper to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap. Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity. But she's right; we didn't have the green thing back then.

We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull. But we didn't have the green thing back then.

Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service. We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint.

But isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn't have the green thing back then?

Remember: Don't make old People mad.

We don't like being old in the first place, so it doesn't take much to tick us off.

First there was Hillary Rodham....

2011-10-26T10:26:00.000-04:00

Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton was once famous in her own right--when she was picked to address her graduating class at Wellesley College's 1969 commencement. She hadn't even met Bill yet, hadn't been First Lady, hadn't run for president yet, but the audience at Wellesley on the last day of May in 1969 gave her a 7-minute standing ovation when she was done. According to today's Writers Almanac, "Her speech made national headlines and she was interviewed on talk shows and featured in a Life magazine profile."

My old friend Jimmy sent me today's Writers Almanac because he said it was "an especially good issue." So I was curious and clicked the W.A. link I have on the right-hand side of XE--in "Blogs I Love." I don't read all of these blogs every day...I don't even eat breakfast every day. But I always read everything Jim sends because it's always to-the-point--the point of everything I care a lot about: liberal politics, good writing, humor. [Looking at watch--"I see my time is up...." Jim will get that!]

So without further ado, here is the link to young Ms. Rodham's 1969 speech. I especially liked the poem, written by Nancy Scheibner, with which our future and past First Lady concluded:

My entrance into the world of so-called "social problems"
Must be with quiet laughter, or not at all.
The hollow men of anger and bitterness
The bountiful ladies of righteous degradation
All must be left to a bygone age.
And the purpose of history is to provide a receptacle
For all those myths and oddments
Which oddly we have acquired
And from which we would become unburdened
To create a newer world
To transform the future into the present.
We have no need of false revolutions
In a world where categories tend to tyrannize our minds
And hang our wills up on narrow pegs.
It is well at every given moment to seek the limits in our lives.
And once those limits are understood
To understand that limitations no longer exist.
Earth could be fair. And you and I must be free
Not to save the world in a glorious crusade
Not to kill ourselves with a nameless gnawing pain
But to practice with all the skill of our being
The art of making possible.

well, it's tuesday....the new monday

2011-10-25T18:00:00.000-04:00

Ran into some links related to Pablo Picasso today, and found THIS one.....

West Virginia Farm Kid in the Marines....

2011-10-25T06:41:00.001-04:00

Thanks to Darlene for this one!

West Virginia FARM KID in Marines ( NOW IN SAN DIEGO FOR MARINE CORPS RECRUIT TRAINING)

Dear Ma and Pa,

I am well. Hope you are too. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before all of the places are filled.

I was restless at first because you get to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m. But I am getting so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot, and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay. It's practically nothing. Men got to shave but it is not so bad, there's warm water.

Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc., but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie and other regular food, but tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by two city boys that live on coffee. Their food, plus yours, holds you until noon when you get fed again. It's no wonder these city boys can't walk much.

We go on 'route marches,' which the platoon sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it's not my place to tell him different. A 'route march' is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks.

The sergeant is like a school teacher. He nags a lot. The Captain is like the school board. Majors and colonels just ride around and frown. They don't bother you none.

This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing.. I keep getting medals for shooting. I don't know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don't move, and it ain't shooting at you like the Higgett boys at home. All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don't even load your own cartridges They come in boxes.

We have what they call hand-to-hand combat training. You get to wrestle with them city boys. I have to be real careful though, they break real easy. It ain't like fighting with that ole bull at home. I'm about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake . I only beat him once.. He joined up the same time as me, but I'm only 5'6' and 130 pounds and he's 6'8' and near 300 pounds dry.

Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding in.

Your loving daughter,
Alice

More Musical Memories...

2011-10-22T11:29:00.000-04:00

One of the first nonclassical artists I fell in love with after leaving the convent was Tom Lehrer, although though it was several years later before I first heard one of his records. Here's one of my favorites: "The Masochism Tango." Seems appropriate in these days of political confusion, when people are voting FOR politicians who are out to destroy institutions dedicated to the deepest needs and interests of those same voters.

Remember Disco??

2011-10-17T19:22:00.000-04:00

Ronniecat's blog recently featured Sean Carman's "Reasons to Fear Canada." One of the reasons is that Canada "has never had a disco phase." I don't know why that would render Canada fearsome, but maybe it means their brains are still intact.

When XE was just a slip of a middle-aged girl and disco had come to the fore, she worked for a company that received promotional records from record companies. Being as she was the company's editor in charge of radio/print, the records often wound up on her desk. If nobody else wanted them, XE took them home. Her very favorite was a pink record with Dolly Parton singing "Baby, I'm Burnin"--a disco hit at the time. I've always been rather fond of it, despite not hearing it all that well. Maybe that's why.

Congressional Reform Act of 2011

2011-10-17T18:20:00.000-04:00

I've sent my 20 emails, but this is such a good idea, I hope my U.S. readers will copy and send it to 20 of their contacts.

Warren Buffet is asking each addressee to forward this email to a minimum of twenty people on their address list; in turn ask each of those to do likewise.

In three days, most people in The United States of America will have the message. This is one idea that really should be passed around.

Congressional Reform Act of 2011

1. No Tenure / No Pension.
A Congressman collects a salary while in office and receives no pay when they are out of office.

2. Congress (past, present &future) participates in Social Security.
All funds in the Congressional retirement fund move to the Social Security system immediately. All future funds flow into the Social Security system, and Congress participates with the American people. It may not be used for any other purpose.

3. Congress can purchase their own retirement plan, just as all Americans do.

4. Congress will no longer vote themselves a pay raise. Congressional pay will rise by the lower of CPI or 3%.

5. Congress loses their current health care system and participates in the same health care system as the American people.

6. Congress must equally abide by all laws they impose on the American people.

7. All contracts with past and present Congressmen are void effective 1/1/12. The American people did not make this contract with Congressmen. Congressmen made all these contracts for themselves. Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career. The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, so ours should serve their term(s), then go home and back to work.

If each person contacts a minimum of twenty people then it will only take three days for most people (in the U.S.) to receive the message. Maybe it is time.

THIS IS HOW YOU FIX CONGRESS!!!!!

If you agree with the above, pass it on. If not, just delete. You are one of my 20+.. Please keep it going..

"Patriotic Millionaires"

2011-10-09T09:39:00.002-04:00

Not all millionaires are creeps. Democracy for California hits it on the head this morning with this video, in which several of the small percent speak out on the benefits and uses of taxes:

http://www.democracyforcalifornia.com/blog/archives/003101.html

Please do check it out!

Steve Jobs Demos the First Macintosh in 1984

2011-10-06T08:59:00.000-04:00

Steve Jobs Demos the First Macintosh in 1984

I've loved Macs from the beginning. They're intuitive.

"When I Met My Muse" by William Stafford

2011-10-01T10:22:00.000-04:00

My friend Loraine is deep into writing and reading poetry these days, and this morning she sent me this:

*When I Met My Muse *

I glanced at her and took my glasses

off--they were still singing. They buzzed

like a locust on the coffee table and then

ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the

sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and

knew that nails up there took a new grip

on whatever they touched. "I am your own

way of looking at things," she said. "When

you allow me to live with you, every

glance at the world around you will be

a sort of salvation." And I took her hand.

*William Stafford*

There is not one book on or by William Stafford (1914-1993) in our public liberry!! Maybe that's why I've never heard of him before. That means it's time to buy a nother book before the KindleMonster eats them all!

Speaking of libraries, the big news on today's library website is that the Mayor of DC has found funding to keep the central library downtown OPEN ON SUNDAYS FROM 1-5 PM!!! That will continue the DC library's record since the early 70s of having at least one library branch open every day of the week!!! Yaay!! We can go downtown tmw (Sunday, Oct 2) and SHAKE HIS HAND in thanks!!

Autumn Crocus? updated

2011-09-28T19:38:00.003-04:00

There are such things, I've discovered this very rainy fall, when all sorts of things have sprouted from the lawns and fields.

Here's a pair I found growing near the Metro parking lot. They are about 3-4" tall. The little flowers are indeed blue, although most of the verifiable autumn crocuses are either red or lavender.
They are enchanting!

Sunday.....

2011-09-25T16:50:00.000-04:00

Today's exercise consisted of walking to this pool and waiting in the lobby for Cathy while she swam. The pool is about a mile from my place, but when Cathy caught up with me at the Metro Station where we were both getting off--me from Columbia Heights and she from Penn Quarter--I did not feel like walking back to pick up my suit. So we walked here together, and while she swam her laps, I sat and read a fabulous article by Janet Malcolm in this week's New Yorker. Malcolm accompanied Thomas Struth, a prominent German photographer, while he photographed the production line at the SolarWorld factory in Freiburg. Struth's photos are big and gorgeous, and many photographers long to have his eye and mind and heart.

What caught my eye here as I sat in the quiet, airy lobby were all the different qualities of light, especially the lights strung out overhead and reflected in the polished floor. Maybe I should PAINT this, eh?

Happy Sunday! And happy birthday to Sally and George! What a great blessing they've been!

NOW you're mad??

2011-09-21T14:54:00.003-04:00

> Interesting!!!!

> Now, since Obama's presidency, all of a sudden folks have gotten mad and
> want to "take America Back..."

> BACK TO WHAT/WHERE??? is my question.
>
> After The 8 Years Of The Bush/Cheney Disaster, Now You Get Mad?
>
> You didn't get mad when the Supreme Court stopped a legal recount and
> appointed a President.
>
> You didn't get mad when Cheney allowed Energy company officials to dictate
> Energy policy and push us to invade Iraq.
>
> You didn't get mad when a covert CIA operative got outed.
>
> You didn't get mad when the Patriot Act got passed.
>
> You didn't get mad when we illegally invaded a country that posed no threat
> to us.
>
> You didn't get mad when we spent over 800 billion (and counting) on said
> illegal war.
>
> You didn't get mad when Bush borrowed more money from foreign sources than
> the previous 42 Presidents combined.
>
> You didn't get mad when over 10 billion dollars in cash just disappeared in
> Iraq.
>
> You didn't get mad when you found out we were torturing people.
>
> You didn't get mad when Bush embraced trade and outsourcing policies that
> shipped 6 million American jobs out of the country.
>
> You didn't get mad when the government was illegally wiretapping Americans.
>
> You didn't get mad when we didn't catch Bin Laden.
>
> You didn't get mad when Bush rang up 10 trillion dollars in combined budget
> and current account deficits.
>
> You didn't get mad when you saw the horrible conditions at Walter Reed.
>
> You didn't get mad when we let a major US city, New Orleans, drown.
>
> You didn't get mad when we gave people who had more money than they could
> spend, the filthy rich, over a trillion dollars in tax breaks.
>
> You didn't get mad with the worst 8 years of job creations in several
> decades.
>
> You didn't get mad when over 200,000 US Citizens lost their lives because
> they had no health insurance.
>
> You didn't get mad when lack of oversight and regulations from the Bush
> Administration caused US Citizens to lose 12 trillion dollars in
> investments, retirement, and home values.
>
> You finally got mad when a black man was elected President and decided that
> people in America deserved the right to see a doctor if they are sick. Yes,
> illegal wars, lies, corruption, torture, job losses by the millions,
> stealing your tax dollars to make the rich richer, and the worst economic
> disaster since 1929 are all okay with you, but helping fellow Americans who
> are sick...Oh, Hell No!!
>
> PS. This one definitely needs to be circulated just for a reminder
> sake!!!!!

Albino Crow....sighted in Washington DC, September 20, 2011

2011-09-21T11:26:00.002-04:00

My friend Linda took these two photos of a mottled black & white crow sitting on a soccer goal at Gallaudet.

I jumped on the Google and found this entry, "Notes on some Albino birds in Maryland...," from

The Oölogist: for the student of birds, their nests and eggs, Volume 16, no. 9,

a book edited and published by Frank H. Lattin in 1899. The information covering the American Crow begins on the bottom rh column of p. 129 (below) and continues on the top lh of p. 130.

Albino crows do not have to be all white. They can range in color from solid light blue to mottled black & white, as the one above, or mottled black, brown, & white with a blue tinge in the white parts. The albino crows cited in the book lived in this area at the turn of the last century, but this is the first one Linda has ever seen. I've never seen one, period. Kinda cute.

Welcome to REBUILDING PLACE IN THE URBAN SPACE!!

2011-09-20T20:05:00.001-04:00

While writing a post last week, I wanted to find photos of some now disappeared examples of DC graffiti art. On the corner of 9th and Q Streets NW, an unknown tagger had created a bit of Paris on the walls of an abandoned building. The 9th Street side announced, "Bienvenue á Shaw: Slum Historique." The Q St éside contained "Café Putain Qui Pue" ("Toujours Fermé") and its neighbor, "Pâtisserie du Spéculateur Avid."

With some considerable searching, I lucked upon Richard Layman, a blogger who not only had the photos but also was quite willing and generous in allowing me to use them.

Since that post went up last week, I've been enjoying Mr. Layman's weekly email newsletter, "Rebuilding Place in the Urban Space," which is also the title of his blog. A paragraph under the blog title explains it all:

"A community’s physical form, rather than its land uses, is its most intrinsic and enduring characteristic." [Katz, EPA] This blog focuses on place and placemaking and all that makes it work--historic preservation, urban design, transportation, asset-based community development, arts & cultural development, commercial district revitalization, tourism & destination development, and quality of life advocacy--along with doses of civic engagement and good governance watchdogging.

Mr. Layman is far from an amateur blogger like me and many of my blogger friends. He is, as his blog also says,

an urban/commercial district revitalization and transportation/mobility advocate and consultant, based in Washington, DC.

Needless to say, I know ZIP about all of this, and that's why this blog is so fascinating. DC is going through the throes of a new city administration at a time when the economy is forcing many cuts in previous services. The economy is impacting what future planning there is for things like the Metro transportation system.

Two very practical things have struck me in my first reading of Mr. Layman's newsletter: That the imminent closing of the DC Public Library system's main branch downtown will leave people whose working hours coincide with the library's during the week without any library service on Sunday. Layman writes,

The 1-5pm Sunday period of library service at the Central Branch should be inviolate, because it is the only public library open (excepting college libraries, most but not all of which are open to the public) during that time in the entire city. Plus this library has a variety of special collections which provide additional service to residents.

The other item that struck me forcibly is that some of the plans in discussion now were drawn in 2006!!

This newsletter is more like a magazine with many well-researched and documented articles about things that should concern residents about their urban planning if only they knew about them. Even if you don't live in DC, you certainly can learn a lot from Mr. Layman's writing and thought processes.

Good Book! Good Man!

2011-09-17T09:01:00.002-04:00

I'm reading Lynne Olson's Citizens of London: The Americans Who Stood with Britain in its Darkest, Finest Hour. And I'm wondering why I've never before heard of John Gilbert Winant. Winant was the man who succeeded Joseph P. Kennedy in 1941 as American ambassador to Britain.

I'm having a good guess that one of the reasons why we don't hear anything about Winant now especially is that Winant was a *gasp* liberal Republican who was appointed by FDR as one of the three men to administer the new Social Security Act, passed by Congress in 1935 with bitter opposition by....guess who?....the Republicans!

That there seems to be not one single liberal Republican left on the planet is sad beyond imagining, but that the Republicans are STILL trying to deep six Social Security three-quarters of a century later is just business as usual. It's far from a surprise.

But that there actually was a man like Winant in our history is hugely encouraging. In 1942, when he was asked by Clement Atlee to help end the British coal miners' strike that was threatening to scuttle the war effort, he spoke these words to the assembled miners in the union hall:

What we want is not complicated. We have enough technical knowledge and organizing ability....We have enough courage. We must put it to use. When war is done, the drive for tanks must become a drive for houses. The drive for food to prevent the enemy from starving us must become a drive for food to satisfy the needs of all people in all countries. The drive for manpower in war must become a drive for employment to make freedom from want a living reality....Just as the peoples of democracy are united in a common objective today, so we are committed to a common objective tomorrow. We are committed to the establishment of the people's democracy.

We must always remember that it is the things of the spirit that in the end prevail. That caring counts. That where there is no vision, people perish. That hope and faith count, and that without charity there can be nothing good. That by daring to live dangerously, we are learning to live generously. And that by believing in the inherent goodness of man, we may...stride into the unknown with growing confidence."

Winant was a rich kid, who grew up in an old NY family on the Upper East Side of Manhattan and attended prep school in Concord, NH, at St. Paul's, whose rector stated "Our function is not to conform to the rich and prosperous world which surrounds us but rather, through its children, to convert it."

As an adult, Winant ran for governor of New Hampshire and won, despite his totally unimpressive speaking ability. In her book, Olson says he was "the youngest and most progressive governor in the country." Olson continues:

For Winant, 'every public policy was personal,' observed one historian. 'It was about people, sometimes specific individuals, and the effect of the policy on them.' The door to his capitol office was open to anybody who wanted to see him; on most days, the corridors of the statehouse were crowded with people wanting a few minutes of the governor's time. Not infrequently, Winant would use his own money to pay a medical bill, cover an educational expense, or help start a business for an impoverished state resident....During the Depression, he instructed the Concord police to allow transients to spend the night in the city jail, then feed them in the morning and send the bill to him. Walking to work, he would hand out all the money in his wallet to jobless men. Winant, said one friend, 'carried the Christian injunction, 'Give all thy goods to feed the poor,' further than any person I have ever known.'

Know any Republicans in public office like that? Me, neither.

They're killin art in DC....

2011-09-14T05:51:00.038-04:00

Prince of Petworth's lead story yesterday morning was "MPD Reports Major Graffiti Arrests."

Yeah, haul the taggers in and find them some useful, exhausting work. The current graffiti I've seen are pug ugly. The "artists" scrawl on borderline-condition buildings with little intent other than drawing attention to themselves. Splotches on eyesores. You can see a lot of it from the Metro whenever you ride the red line from Silver Spring to Union Station. They're not at all like Banksy.

The headline, however, reminded me of an earlier PoP post on DC graffiti's glorious Café "Putain qui Pue" ("Toujours Fermé"--Always Closed) on the corner of 9th and Q Sts NW in the Shaw neighborhood. (To see the photo click the link at the beginning of this paragraph.)

The free-lance muralist made the walls of that vacant building look like a little bit of Paris. Right next to the Café was Pâtisserie du Spéculateur Avid--the Greedy Speculator Bakery. (Note the little blue sign high on the wall between the door and the window.)

Photo copyright Richard Layman

And on the other wall facing 9th Street was the cheery Bienvenue á Shaw: Slum Historique--Welcome to Shaw: Historic Slum. Now THAT was art! And it was funny, too. No wonder they painted over it.

Photo copyright Richard Layman

Alas, nobody paid a bit of attention to the bunny!!

Photo copyright Richard Layman

Update: Richard Layman, who blogs at Rebuilding Place in the Urban Space, swiftly and graciously granted me permission to use his photos of the last items. Please also check out the URLs in the comments (for which XE is grateful to Leslie Parsley, who found them in the first place).

We get email.....

2011-09-12T07:11:00.000-04:00

Just for perspective's sake....

Seniors WAKE UP!

Remember, not only did you contribute to Social Security, but your employer did too. It totaled 15% of your income before taxes. If you averaged only 30K per year over your working life, that’s close to $220,500 ! If you calculate the future value of $4,500 per year (yours & your employer’s contribution) at a simple 5% (less than what the govt. pays on the money that it borrows), after 49 years of working (me) you'd have $892,919.98. If you took out only 3% per year, you receive $26,787.60 per year and it would last better than 30 years, and that’s with no interest paid on that final amount on deposit! If you bought an annuity and it paid 4% per year, you'd have a lifetime income of $2,976.40 per month.

The folks in Washington have pulled off a bigger Ponzi scheme than Bernie Madoff ever had.

Entitlement? I paid cash for my social security "insurance"!!!! Insurance is what they called it, but if any insurance company handled your money the way the US government did, the State regulators would shut it down and the executives would be charged with fraud.

Just because they "borrowed" (STOLE) our money from the SS insurance fund , doesn't make my benefits some kind of charity or handout !!! We paid for our SS insurance !!! And it was not a choice. The government should not have the choice not to pay our seniors. It’s just plain wrong, wrong, wrong! Why do we let them do these things to us and our earned security in our old age???

But our Congress takes very good care of itself! Oh yeah!!! Congressional benefits include: Free health care, Outrageous retirement packages, 67 paid holidays, 3 weeks paid vacation a year, unlimited paid sick days.

And they have the nerve to call my retirement “ entitlements“ !!! They are robbers and thieves preying

on the weak and old citizens of the US.

YEAH, OK, SO WHEN DO WE GET ANGRY ENOUGH TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT?????

Thanks for this gem from Jim Feeney & Tom Savageau....

Bye, Rock Creek Free Press--I'll miss you!

2011-09-11T04:56:00.000-04:00

Rock Creek Free Press (RCFP), a local newspaper distributed via paid subscription and free from vending boxes in the DC metro area, has printed its final issue this September. If you open the preceding link to its online edition, you can download a more legible .pdf copy of RCFP's "Tenth Anniversary 9/11 Special Edition."

Matt Sullivan, RCFP's editor and publisher, is a former computer industry worker. Sullivan finally got tired of working with machines and opened his own skylight installation business to support his family and the RCFP. For the past five years Sullivan, who lives in Bethesda, MD, has spent roughly three weeks out of every month on the skylight business and the remaining 4th week on the newspaper. Sullivan and volunteers distributed RCFP's first issue of 5000 copies free at D.C.'s huge antiwar rally on January 27, 2007. Sullivan jumped right into the fray in the first paragraph of an article top right under the banner:

In a world where the “paper of record”
can print one article after another touting
imagined WMDs while it beats the drum
for war; where the primary news outlet
of the nations capitol acts as the stenographer
of administration propaganda; the
launch of a newspaper not afraid to print
the truth is big news.

Virtually every month since then, the RCFP has gone after the multitude of illusions and falsehoods spewing from the Big Important Newspapers and served up thoughtful articles on

9/11 truth
Loss of constitutional rights
Vaccine dangers
Government corruption

The big Wall Street-approved rags continue to tout the case for #1 Wall Street, #2 the War, and #3 Ike's "military-industrial complex" in general. Good luck to us if that's all we can read or hear about. Where else will we be able to "Read the Stories Others Fear to Print"?? Dang! I'm going to miss the Rock Creek Free Press!

My Writer of the Year

2011-09-05T21:17:00.001-04:00

Every now and then I find a writer who simply astonishes and delights me with her or his craft and intelligence. I confess it's more often HER, and sure enough, this time it's Emma Donoghue, an Irish novelist, short story writer, playwright, and literary historian who lives in Canada. If I may borrow from her website, here are some of the comments made about her in the media:

‘Donoghue’s great strength – apart from her storytelling gift – is her emotional intelligence.’ – IRISH INDEPENDENT (2010)

‘A thorough, intelligent researcher… a disarming, often funny historian.’ – SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE (2010)

‘Donoghue is one of those rare writers who seems to be able to work on any register, any tone, any atmosphere, and make it her own.’ – OBSERVER (2007)

‘Her touch is so light and exuberantly inventive, her insight at once so forensic and intimate, her people so ordinary even in their oddities.’ – GUARDIAN (2007)

‘A mind that can excavate characters and lives far, far beyond her own front fence.’ – GLOBE AND MAIL (2007)

‘Donoghue has the born storyteller’s knack for sketching a personality and pulling readers into a plot in just a few pages… All-encompassing talent.’ – KIRKUS (2006)

‘Already a prolific novelist… Emma Donoghue is distinguished by her generous sympathy for her characters, sinuous prose and an imaginative range that may soon rival that of A.S. Byatt or Margaret Atwood.’ – PUBLISHERS WEEKLY (2004)

‘Has an extraordinary talent for turning exhaustive research into plausible characters and narratives; she presents a vibrant world seething with repressed feeling and class tensions.’ – PUBLISHERS WEEKLY (2004)

‘Her informed imaginings combined with her sheer cleverness and elegance as a writer breathe vivid life into real characters who heretofore resided in the footnotes of history.’ – IRISH TIMES (2002)

‘Every now and again, a writer comes along with a fully loaded brain and a nature so fanciful that she simply must spin out truly original and transporting stuff… Eccentric, untethered genius.’ – SEATTLE TIMES (2002)

‘Profoundly entertaining and intelligent.’ – ELLE (2000)

I'm reading her book Landing (Harcourt, 2008) for the 6th time. It's relatively light-hearted and not one of her more famous and darker novels (including Room or Slammerkin), but I can't get enough of her sentences.

We get email.....

2011-09-01T17:12:00.000-04:00

Today's winning email is from former Rep. Alan Grayson.

Dear Mary,

Yesterday, the Commission on Wartime Contracting released its final report.

The Commission reported that between $31 billion and $62 billion of the tax money spent on contractors in Iraq and Afghanistan has been wasted. It also said that between $10 billion and $19 billion of what contractors billed and received was fraudulent. In fact, $360 million of our tax dollars went straight to . . . the Taliban.

Wow. Who could have imagined that?

Well . . . me.

When I saw that the Bush Administration was doing nothing about fraud in Iraq, I revived a law going back to the Civil War that allowed whistleblowers to bring lawsuits in the name of the U.S. Government. I filed case after case, which were promptly greeted by the Bush Administration with gag orders – gag orders that they kept in place for years. They didn’t want any more bad news coming out of Iraq.

So I went on CNN, spoke to the New York Times and the Washington Post, and told America whatever I could say without violating those gag orders. And when the Bush Administration finally let one case out from under those gag orders – and declined to prosecute it – I took that case to trial, and won a $14 million judgment. It was the third-largest judgment for whistleblowers in the 143-year history of that law.

Those contractors built bases without hooking up the plumbing. A general testified that when he went there, he felt like throwing up.

The Wall Street Journal reported in a front-page article that I was “waging a one-man war against contractor fraud in Iraq.” The national organization Taxpayers Against Fraud named me “Lawyer of the Year.” And people started to think, “what is going on over there?”

In Congress, I spoke out against the wars, and I voted against the wars. I wrote and introduced The War is Making You Poor Act, HR 5353. My bill pointed out that you could:

Require the Pentagon to fund the wars from its own budget of over $500 billion, not supplemental appropriations;
Take all the money that would save and eliminate taxes on everyone’s first $35,000 of income, $70,000 for married couples; and
Still have over $10 billion a year left over, to cut the federal deficit.

OpenCongress’s unscientific poll showed 91% in favor of HR 5353.

After I left Congress in January, I took up the work against contractor fraud in Iraq again. And I won an $8.7 million settlement from DynCorp and the Sandi Group. The defendants paid our attorney’s fees last Friday.

Here’s some simple arithmetic. We’ve budgeted $159.3 billion for the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan this year, through next month. (The true cost is much more, but let’s leave that aside.) That’s:

$159,300,000,000.00.

You could take all that money and create 5,310,000 jobs here in America paying $30,000 a year, rebuilding our bridges, our roads, our schools, instead of the ones in Iraq and Afghanistan. That would immediately lower the unemployment rate from 9 percent to 5.5 percent, and get money flowing in our communities again.

Now, that’s a job program. I’ll put that up against whatever President Obama proposes next week.

The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have killed more than 8,000 Americans, and who-knows-how-many Iraqis and Afghans. War has destroyed our economy, just as the war in Afghanistan destroyed the Soviet economy. According to the calculations of Nobel Prize-winner Professor Joseph Stiglitz, the war in Iraq alone has cost us around 8% of our $50 trillion national net worth, all of the wealth that America built up over two centuries. Over $13,000 for every single American, young and old.

We’ve taken our inheritance, and dumped it into a wood chipper.

My father served in the U.S. Army during World War II. He told me once that one of the most common questions that men of his generation heard was, “what did you do in the war?” Maybe our children will ask us, “what did you do against the war?”

That’s a question I can answer.

Courage,

Alan Grayson

Round and Round We Go!!

2011-08-30T22:22:00.003-04:00

Look at Dominic go! He's almost walking!! Meanwhile, Elaine, the dog, just wants to chew her bone in peace!!

Dominic is Rachael's boy, Cathy's first grandson!! He's about a year, I think....Can't say for sure, he's growing so fast!!

Update on Mostly Nothing....

2011-08-30T19:25:00.000-04:00

I have a spider bite! On the inside elbow of my left arm, which always is crooked under my head when I sleep. It could have been worse: it could have bit me on the nose. But small favors, eh? And I went to my second part-time job today to clean an apartment. I have always said, "The work is the reward," and in this case, that's abundantly true. Cleaning is one hell of a workout! I have no need to buy a gym membership. I sweat more, lift more, and stretch more, and in the end, THEY PAY ME!! Uff da! (In case I haven't explained this at least 50 times in my blog writhings, that's an old Norwegian expression (possibly Swedish, too) pronounced "OOF dah." It means about what it sounds like: "Oof!" or "Whew!" or "Oh, my goodness!!" I grew up in ND surrounded by Scandinavians, and I learned to say "Uff da" from my schoolmates in the first grade.)

As I wrote to a friend in Germany early this aft, from the site of my employment, "All that's left is vacuuming (done last to catch all the grit dislodged by dusting and washing mirrors, countertops, and windows, leaving a note for my employers to buy more furniture polish, and then hiking to the bank to deposit my check!!!") That's the other good thing about cleaning: your wages are Cash on the Barrelhead!! Money in your pocket when you leave the place.

And you think retirement is just traveling and embroidering drool bibs and painting mountain scenes on small mirrors? Not by half!!

Welcome to INFORMED COMMENT!

2011-08-26T12:57:00.000-04:00

I love finding good sources online. Informed Comment, Thoughts on the Middle East, History and Religion, is written by Professor Juan Cole. His biography is in the "About" section of his website/blog, but I'll post it here so you get some idea of his knowledge and insight:

Juan Cole is Richard P. Mitchell Collegiate Professor of History at the University of Michigan. For three decades, he has sought to put the relationship of the West and the Muslim world in historical context. His most recent book is Engaging the Muslim World (Palgrave Macmillan, March, 2009) and he also recently authored Napoleon’s Egypt: Invading the Middle East (Palgrave Macmillan, 2007). He has been a regular guest on PBS’s Lehrer News Hour, and has also appeared on ABC Nightly News, Nightline, the Today Show, Charlie Rose, Anderson Cooper 360, Countdown with Keith Olbermann, Rachel Maddow, the Colbert Report, Democracy Now! and many others. He has given many radio and press interviews. He has written widely about Egypt, Iran, Iraq, and South Asia. He has commented extensively on al-Qaeda and the Taliban, the Iraq War, the politics of Pakistan and Afghanistan, and Iranian domestic struggles and foreign affairs. He has a regular column at Truthdig. He continues to study and write about contemporary Islamic movements, whether mainstream or radical, whether Sunni and Salafi or Shi`ite. Cole commands Arabic, Persian and Urdu and reads some Turkish, knows both Middle Eastern and South Asian Islam. He lived in various parts of the Muslim world for nearly 10 years, and continues to travel widely there.

When I read his current post, "Top Ten Myths about the Libya War," I especially loved the first paragraph, last sentence:

The Libyan Revolution has largely succeeded, and this is a moment of celebration, not only for Libyans but for a youth generation in the Arab world that has pursued a political opening across the region. The secret of the uprising’s final days of success lay in a popular revolt in the working-class districts of the capital, which did most of the hard work of throwing off the rule of secret police and military cliques. It succeeded so well that when revolutionary brigades entered the city from the west, many encountered little or no resistance, and they walked right into the center of the capital. Muammar Qaddafi was in hiding as I went to press, and three of his sons were in custody. Saif al-Islam Qaddafi had apparently been the de facto ruler of the country in recent years, so his capture signaled a checkmate. (Checkmate is a corruption of the Persian “shah maat,” the “king is confounded,” since chess came west from India via Iran). Checkmate.

This particular sentence is not world-shaking analysis, but I loved finding out about chess coming from India via Iran, and that "Checkmate" comes from the Persian "shah maat"!! 70 years in school, and I'm just finding this out!

To take your mind off the hurricane and (cough) earthquake.....

2011-08-25T14:11:00.000-04:00

Last night at the play (The Sydney Theater Company's "Uncle Vanya"...FABULOUS), I sat next to a woman who had just moved here from Southern California, and we had a good laugh about DC's recent "earthquake." (Are you done laughing yet, Sherwood?)

Anyway, I found this today, and it's certainly VERY interesting. Especially since it confirms what I've always suspected--that food processors' adding high fructose corn syrup to nearly EVERYTHING--has added to our weight problems.

It'll take your mind off the news. It should be in the news, but of course, when one of the major donors to US political candidates is the producer of high fructose corn syrup, you can imagine how far that will get.

************************************************************************************

MUSHROOM UPDATE:

P.S. This is what the fairy ring looked like yesterday morning. That would be day
three or day four. A number of them have detached from their stems and flipped
gill-side up. Wonder what they'll look like after Hurricane Irene dumps her rain on them?
All the books say fairy rings disappear without a trace after 5 days. Wanna place a bet?

Fairy Ring, Continued...Day Three

2011-08-22T11:41:00.001-04:00

Remember that old salesman joke? "Two weeks ago, I cudn't even spel salesman, and now I ARE one!" Two weeks ago, I was living the old humdrum existence, and now I know lots more about fairy rings than I ever imagined possible, thanks to my curious readers and this lovely link:

http://www.mushroom-appreciation.com/fairy-rings.html

This morning, most questions of the day continued to be about the mushrooms: Are they all poisonous? Are they all the same?

I checked the above link and found this:

Almost any type of ground-fruiting mushroom could theoretically grow in a fairy ring, but it's generally accepted that 60 or so species make this pattern.

The most well known is the fairy ring mushroom or scotch bonnet (Marasmius oreades). This edible species causes the grass to grow and become greener, and is famous for fruiting in fairy rings.

Some other species you may recognize are:
Amanita muscaria (the poisonous toadstool)

Amanita phalloides (the poisonous death cap)

Calvatia cyathiformis (the edible purple-spored puffball)

Chlorophyllum molybdites (the poisonous green-spored parasol)**

Clitocybe nuda (the edible wood blewit)

Tricholoma matsutake (the famous edible matsutake mushroom)

This list is far from exhaustive, but I hope you notice something important. Both edible and poisonous mushrooms produce fairy rings!

For this reason, it's important to never use ring formation as a tool for mushroom identification.

**OUR mushroom, the one featured in these photos. They don't look green...the green spores are found when you turn the mushroom cap over and look in the gills (the ribs of the parasol). Even if they have only ONE green spore or none, they're still poisonous!

Another phenomenon that bears mentioning is that fairy rings don't always produce mushrooms. If you have a ring of a darker shade of green in your lawn, or a circular bald patch, that's a fairy ring! It's caused by the underground network of the fungus. Only when the soil and moisture conditions are right, does the network produce a mushroom.

I suspect so many people have never seen the ring of mushrooms is because many lawn services have poisoned absolutely anything that disturbs the growth of precious green grass. Fairy rings, as you might imagine, are hell on lawns.

I love it, also, that the first one I've seen out here is in Takoma Park, MD, which is a peaceable community of, as Mad Cabbie said t'other day, "old hippies and young progressive lefties." Mad also said "there's a place for everyone in TP." That this welcoming, open attitude also extends to fairy rings fills my retired old heart with joy!!

This might answer Joared's recent question, too: "What's their significance for those in whose yard they appear?" I don't know what folklore says, but to me a fairy ring in your yard means you're living in tune with nature! Lucky you!! Whenever it rains, I love to say "The Rain Kachina has come to bless the day" (along with, "Oh sh*t, I forgot my umbrella!"). So if I ever see a fairy ring on our lawn (which would irritate Charles the lawn man no end), I'll be spouting, "The fairies have come to bless the lawn and dance on it!!

Fairy Ring, Continued...Day Two

2011-08-21T18:32:00.000-04:00

The mushrooms have expanded and flattened! The whole thing should disappear without a trace after five days, and this is day two. (Actually, it's the second day I've seen it in existence, and I could be wrong.) (hah)

Sherwood had a sensible comment on the relationship between the mushrooms' edibility and the nature of the fairies.

After Fenella from Rooks Nest said she feared the fairies would be "mean" because they constructed the ring out of poisonous mushrooms, Sherwood reminded us of the greater danger and malevolent intent behind edible materials--as in Hansel and Gretel, in which the witch's house was made out of gingerbread!!

I never thought of that. Thank you, Sherwood, for reminding us of the danger of sweets. We 'mericans have not gotten overweight eating foods that cause projectile vomiting!

Fairy Ring!! On Carroll Avenue, Takoma Park, MD August 20, 2011

2011-08-20T12:37:00.000-04:00

BFF, despite having grown up in Bal'mer and seen mushrooms of many colors (orange, spotted) when it rained, has never before seen a fairy ring until this very morning! I haven't seen one since I left the Midwest. This one was right near the center of town--a block down and across the street from the Farmers Market area.

Folklore says that fairy rings (also called fairy circles, elf rings, elf circles, or pixie rings) appear when a fairy or elf has visited!! The rings disappear without a trace after five days or so, but if you hang around, you might get to spot an elf or fairy and catch it when it visits the ring!! Other stories say fairies and elves dance in the circles. People are warned, too, not to step into the circle! The Celts recommended running around the circle 9 times to avoid being pulled in.

The mushrooms are only one part of the underground network of fungi. Many fairy rings have no mushrooms at all, but are simply rings of darker green grass or no grass at all. Much depends on the rainfall and soil type.

France has a fairy ring that is 700 years old! England has another famous ancient ring.

Many different mushrooms form fairy rings, but the mushroom here, chlorophyllum molybdites, the green spored lepiota, is very common in North American fairy rings. It is also very poisonous. Deaths from eating these mushrooms, which look very much like the edible and delicious lepiota rhacodes, are rare, but several days of projectile vomiting and diarrhea might have you wishing for the end.

Digby Hits One Out of the Park

2011-08-17T19:14:00.000-04:00

Here's a great post from Hullaballoo!! My favorite part is the last part:

Finally, let's think about the way the President frames the Democrats in this argument as the wives who have reluctantly agreed to give up their frilly little dresses and the Republicans as the stern husbands who nevertheless insist that they get to keep their golf clubs. Ok, daddy's a prick who won't pitch in. But he's also the Man of the House, who the little lady Democrats are pouting about not being fair --- but giving in to in the end. Because he's in charge.

Let's just say it's not a very appealing image.

I hate to make tooo big a deal out of this. It's just a passing comment in a long speech. But this family metaphor is destructive enough without attaching a whole boatload of additional sexist and classist freight to it. Obama and his political advisors have always had a bit of a tin ear when it comes to this sort of thing and they need to get a handle on it if they don't want to appear to be totally out of touch out there. This metaphor should go into the garbage bin immediately.

Tin Ears don't belong to Obama alone, however. There's this paragraph just preceding these:

Michelle Obama is an accomplished woman and the mere idea of her having to answer to her husband for her spending on "shoes and dresses" rubs me the wrong way. I'm sure he would explain that this is supposed to be a mutual kitchen table budget discussion, but the whole thing is so freighted with sexist 1950s stereotypes that what comes to mind is a Dagwood strip rather than anything recognizable in 2011. It reminds me of Bush saying that he sent Laura early to Crawford to "sweep off the porch." Or more recently, Rick Perry apologizing for his wrinkled shirt and saying not to blame his wife. I wish all of them would stop.

Going Back to School? Buy American! Caution

2011-08-17T09:21:00.004-04:00

Wandering around the web this ayem, I came across a nifty website for people who want to buy American! You can search online for Made-in-USA items in such diverse categories as Art, Automotive, Bicycles, Books, Business, Camping, Clothing, Collectibles, Computers, Crafts, Education, Electronics, Food, Gifts, Hardware, Health, Hobbies, Home, Industrial, Kids, Kitchen, Music, Pets, Services, Sports, Tools, Toys, Women, Miscellaneous.

I checked out bicycles just for fun, and the category includes not only bicycles themselves but also bike products and services.

If you can get past the "patriot" b.s., you can actually find stuff you need and want to buy that's made right here in the U.S. of A. If your company makes something here in the US, you can submit your website, too.

Just sayin......

*Caution* I've been looking through all the categories, and I'm finding lots of right-wing stuff. Check out "Education" and tell me what you think. I may take this down.

The Iowa "Poll": Lest We Be Led Astray by Media Hysterics....

2011-08-15T17:21:00.003-04:00

Well, according to the ever-yellow journalists in our media, the antic Michele Bachmann (that's one "l" in the first name and two "n"s in the last name) from Minnesota's 6th Congressional District might just as well take a quick trip to DC and measure the White House family quarters for drapes. She "won" the Iowa "Poll."

BUT as this article reminds us, "...the 'straw poll' is not a poll at all—and it's certainly not scientific."

It's an all-day fundraiser at Iowa State University for Republicans on August 13, and any Iowa resident or student of any political affiliation or party with the price of a ticket ($30) can get inside the circus tent and vote for the candidate of their choice. Bachmann can't claim to be the choice of rank-and-file Iowans if they allowed Democrats and anyone else to vote and muddy the picture.

Just between us, I don't know what happened to T-Paw--his pals can rent buses and zip down highway 35-W to Ames just as easily as Bachmann's backers can, if not with votes, then with money to buy more tickets for those who can vote, but I'm pretty glad he's out of the picture. He might think he would have made a great president, but we NEED public schools and Medicare & Medicaid and all the other things that have made us (until recently) competitive.

Linda's Guide to Investing in 2011!

2011-08-11T21:53:00.000-04:00

If you had purchased $1,000 of shares in Delta Airlines one year ago, you would have $49.00 today!

If you purchased $1,000 of shares in AIG, you would have $33.00.

If you purchased $1,000 of shares in Lehman brothers, you would have $0.00 today.

However, if you purchased $1,000 worth of beer, drank all the beer, and turned in the aluminum cans for recycling, you would have $214.00.

Thus the best current investment plan is to drink heavily & recycle.

It is called the 401-Keg Plan

(Thanks, Linda!! Sounds like a winner to me! Do they pay us to bring back aluminum cans here in DC?)

O frabjous day! Callooh!! Callay!!

2011-08-09T14:14:00.000-04:00

Waiting for the table!

(She chortled as she dashed out to greet the FedEx guy).....Did I say I was settling in to my new abode?

WELL!!! Mr. FedEx just delivered a CASE OF SPANISH RED WINES. The sender is none other than my old St. Mary's Cathedral classmate Jimmy. Needless to say, when I arrived there after spending four years at the public school near our house, Jimmy was the smartest and most desirable pupil in Sister Hillary's classroom. What's more, he continued exuding his charm and brilliance all through high school and college. He married the beautiful Sandy, a foreign student (from Moorhead), and together they raised a bunch of lively kids. Jim wound up owning a manufacturing plant in Rhode Island and being a rock solid member of the Democratic Party. Jim got his interest in politics early, serving as a page for Senator William Langer, R-ND, whose career was instructive in many ways. Langer was a legend for good and not so good, depending on which side of the aisle his fellow legislators sat, but North Dakota's farmers loved him and voted for him anyway. "Colorful" seems too feeble to describe him, as evidenced in this article from the U.S. Senate Art and History:

North Dakota Republican William Langer had a colorful political career for decades before he entered the United States Senate. From 1916 to 1920, he served as the state's attorney general, fiercely enforcing Prohibition. During those years, he had led a posse against illegal liquor stores, commandeered telephone lines during a vice raid, censured 275 North Dakota schools for failing to display the American flag, been blamed for the suicide of a former attorney general, and escaped impeachment by one vote. His unorthodox methods, Langer conceded, "tended to make feelings rather bitter." A vigorous champion of the North Dakota farmers, Langer enjoyed immense popularity and in 1932 won the governorship. In 1934, following conviction on charges of political corruption, he was removed from office, but after a reversal on appeal and two new trials, he was exonerated and again elected governor. In 1940 Langer won a seat in the United States Senate.

I value Jim and Sandy's opinions of the current meshugaas in Washington. They are probably the most well-read people I know, devouring many newspapers and magazine articles on the state of the United States. They read it all, both the rabid stuff from the right wing rags and items from liberal sources. Jim has learned the value of "know your enemy."

I'm just tickled pink to get such a gift from such a generous, wonderful friend. Not too many years ago, Jim battled cancer that was predicted to wipe him out in a few short weeks or months. (Fortunately, one of his doctors in Boston, Dr. Atul Gawande, disagreed with the diagnosis AND prognosis.) But while Jim and Dr. Gawande were battling for his life, Jim made a list of what was most important to him. After Sandy, his children, and his birth family, he wrote "old friends." I'm certainly one of the luckiest of these, though hardly the oldest. Cough.

Many thanks, Jim! I can't believe all these lovely bottles of Rioja!

Settling In....

2011-08-09T12:36:00.000-04:00

Empty boxes are gone from living room. My beautiful favorite rug is cleaned and will arrive tomorrow. Thanks be that nobody else wanted it--not even as a gift. Having a nice, big dog bite out of the end will do that for a rug. "Ewww....what happened??"

The rug man said "It's been repaired, and that's how it got the hole." Sorry, rug man. I have a picture, somewhere, of the very dog--a golden retriever with a low tolerance for inactivity. When his Georgetown masters left him alone a bit too often, he started gnawing on the rug.

Thus, I got the rug with the bite out of it at a neighborhood moving sale for a song--"How High the Moon"--and a dance--"The Masochism Tango." Surely you remember that ballad by Tom Lehrer?

I know too well
I'm underneath your spell,
So, darling, if you smell
Something burning....
It's my heart!!

Yes, I paid too much, but I couldn't help myself. It's got flowers on it. And the rug man told me the pattern is called "French flowers." Cool.

And yes, I voted for Ronald Reagan, too. Once. This is humiliating confessions week at Xtreme English.

Over and out to lunch....

Keys!

2011-08-03T22:30:00.003-04:00

Was it Barbara Ehrenreich who said you're not really homeless as long as you have KEYS?? I got a bunch of nice new (as in different) keys this past week when I moved to the Takoma district in DC.* The famous Takoma Park, Maryland, is right across the street. Takoma Park, MD, is the former world headquarters of the Seventh Day Adventist Church and the hometown of Goldie Hawn! Home to many activists, it is also a nuclear free zone and affectionately called "The People's Republic of Takoma Park." Not to be overshadowed by its Maryland cousin, Takoma DC boasts a Carnegie Library, which also was the first library in the District of Columbia. The Washington Opera now practices in the former Seventh Day Adventist publishing building just on the edge of downtown. The building also houses a number of art studios.

I'm liking it here, but uff da! Enough with the moving!! If it weren't for my grandson Sam, his mom my daughter Sally, my friend Marteal's son, Julian, my neighbor Barbara, my housemate Donna, and my longtime companion and inseparable coworker, Cathy, I'd still be up a creek. They all worked long and hard. Julian came after work one night and hauled many boxes down to the main floor so Sam et al. didn't have to do it the following day after their 5 hour drive from NJ: "You and my mom and your books!!" he puffed. Ah, but there's nothing like those teenage athletes (Sam, lacrosse; Julian, football)! The legs! The backs! The biceps!! The lungs!!

I ate my hot dogs tonight speared on a chopstick because my entire set of stainless steel flatware disappeared, along with my second-level corkscrew (numero uno vanished almost immediately), and the five remaining pieces (salad plates) of my parents' first set of dishes. Ah well. My Irish friend Andrew always says you can't be attached to your possessions when you live in a city. I agree.

Anyway. It's very comfy in this apt, although there is not much furniture at the mo: seating for five (six if you count the hassock), bed for one, a highboy (or, as they call it east of here, "chesterdraws"), and a desk that I bought for $20 on the sidewalk in front of the stationery store on Connecticut Ave at its going-out-of-business sale at least 10 years ago. We've had lots more furniture than that over the years, but as I get older, it's just easier to give furniture away than to move it. It can be replaced by visits to the fabulous local yard sales throughout the summer.

So now it's nest rebuilding time again. It's also book sorting time for the first time ever. Categorizing. Alphabetizing within categories, etc. It's slow going--I keep stopping to READ!

*Wikipedia says Takoma DC is "also Takoma Park." Don't THINK so! The longtime Takoma DC residents in this building are very clear that Takoma Park is across the street!

The Heroines of Norway

2011-08-03T12:43:00.000-04:00

http://talkaboutequality.wordpress.com/2011/08/01/if-a-married-lesbian-couple-saves-40-teens-from-the-norway-massacre-and-no-one-writes-about-it-did-it-really-happen/

Friends

2011-07-19T21:21:00.000-04:00

Here are Sally, our friend Janice Howe, Peggy, and Katie (front row) smiling in the afternoon sun on our back porch in Bismarck. (Don't know where Tom is...maybe taking a nap--he'd be about two?) Peggy looks to be about 7 (the missing teeth are always a giveaway for 7-year-olds), so Sally would be 6, and Katie about 4. Janice lived down the road from our place, and sometimes she'd get off the school bus with the kids after school. They'd hang out together until I gave her a ride home. Other days, Sally and Peggy would get off the bus at Janice's and play. One time Sally came home wide-eyed after hearing the folks at Janice's talk about "Rimrock Rosie," the western ND version of Big Foot. Rimrock Rosie was reputed to live on the high ground east of town. Brrrrr!!! Janice's family always told amazing stories!!

Janice lives in South Dakota at Crow Creek, where she's planning her wedding next month. Best wishes, Janice! I'm so glad I found your photo after all these months of searching. I guess it really does pay to move to another dwelling, even though moving is a big pain! I hope your wedding day is as beautiful as you are.

We Are No Different, Part II

2011-07-17T22:49:00.000-04:00

It's like a tree. A tree (well, one kind) starts out as an acorn, then a seedling, then a very young skinny tree, then a bigger tree, then bigger & bigger until it gets old and falls over or is chopped down.

Everybody looks at it and thinks "tree."

But what if all the while the tree is struggling to be a tree? Like, "Omigod, acorns? I have to produce acorns? Every year???"

We Are No Different

2011-07-16T21:56:00.003-04:00

We can all deal with babies and puppies and kittens and baby trees and things like that. We can watch them grow and enjoy their pleasure in meeting life's challenges as they come along: the first smile, the first step, the first dog bone they have to really CHEW. We don't seem to be able to deal with ourselves in the same way. That is, we are always trying to FORCE ourselves to grow or improve or be something LOTS BETTER than who we are at THIS given moment.

Maybe it doesn't have to BE that way. Maybe we can just trust that we'll grow into whatever we're supposed to be without our standing by with a switch to make sure we get it right! I mean, we don't need to DO or BE something special if "special" means different.

I'm going to stick my neck out here and say maybe we're as good as we're going to get. If we're an apple, say, we can always get riper or sweeter or redder, but we can't be a PEAR. If we're an apple from day one, the die is cast. Forget about being a pear or a pumpkin or a pork chop. (yum.....you notice how OFTEN I blog about food? Just plain old FOOD!)

Anyway, hope you liked the recipe for Pullet Surprise in the preceding blog! It's one of my better ones, despite the fact that I haven't made it since we all lived together on 3rd Ave N. in Iowa. Maybe I'll make it this week for my pal Cathy, who has been working extra hard on two websites in preparation for next year's teaching. I think she will love it.

Pullet Surprise....Updated

2011-07-16T21:37:00.002-04:00

OK, I'm going from raw foods to a chicken casserole that I can't QUITE remember the recipe for (I sent all my cookbooks to oldest daughter) in two days on this blog. The chicken casserole recipe was passed on to me at my first genuine place of employment, Frank N. Magid Associates, in Marion, IA. The recipe came in a company cookbook and was submitted by J., one of the coding women. The coding women mostly did not HAVE to work, being married to mostly rich fellows. J. of the recipe lived in a big house with an indoor swimming pool AND an outdoor one and a dear, sweet old black lab named Fiona. The recipe is to die for. Really good. Here's what I remember of it.

Cut up two chickens into 14 pieces each. Dust each peace with flour, salt & pepper, and set aside.

Next, heat some oil REALLY HOT in a chicken fryer-size pan and fry the chicken pieces until they're golden. Remove to a bowl. Next add a little more oil to the same pan, keeping it HOT, and saute 3 large chopped onions. When the onions begin to turn color, add 3 TABLESPOONS of chili powder. Stir it around, then add the chicken pieces back to the pan. Turn and press the chicken into the onions and chili powder to make sure the chicken is well coated with the chili powder. Let it saute a little more while you prepare a baking pan big enough to hold the chicken and onions.

Heat the oven to 300F, scrape the contents of the chicken-fryer pan into a 9x13" baking dish,
and add about 1-2 cups of golden raisins and maybe a whole small (8 oz) carton of half&half or cream. Now's the time to add more salt & pepper if you want. Bake for maybe 30 minutes or so, making sure the cream doesn't boil over. Cook until a nice skin forms, and the chicken pieces are clearly done.

I don't know what you serve it ON. I just liked the chicken & onions & raisins by themselves.

All Midwestern recipes end with "ENJOY!!" So just go ahead and do it. Enjoy! It's dang good!

Update: You can make the oven hotter, and cook the casserole longer, but watch to make sure the cream doesn't curdle or separate. Cook it how you like it--until it smells fab and looks well done.

New Book of the Week

2011-07-15T20:59:00.002-04:00

My home library, now dedicated to preserving actual BOOKS against the e-future, grew today. The new addition, purchased against the time when there will not BE any books, is Raw Food for Everyone, by Alissa Cohen. If you think a life spent eating uncooked food would be grim, you haven't seen this particular book. What drew me was the table of contents! It goes from basic information on raw food (why to eat it, what foods and equipment to buy, "Fruits and Vegetables: Where the Magic Happens") to RECIPES!!

The chapter on fruits & veg even has a good word to say for bananas! Bananas are always with us and often maligned because they are "tropical" or "fattening" or too green to eat when they arrive at our local grocery. (Bananas do ripen after they are picked. I leave mine in a bag until the skin develops the good yellow color with brown flecks.)

Cohen states unequivocally, regarding bananas: "A raw food enthusiast's best friend. Available year-round at reasonable prices, a couple of bananas stave off hunger when there's nothing else at hand."

If you've ever tried eating just raw food, you will appreciate that great good sense. Some days, especially the ones on which you're dying for a cheeseburger or french fries, and you're far away from your own kitchen and its supplies, you can almost always find a banana somewhere close by: at food carts or local bodegas & 7elevens. Better than a candy bar!

Moving down into the recipes, I fell in love with the recipe for a smoothie called "Popeye," and I haven't even tried it. Cohen says, "You won't believe how delicious these two ingredients are together." I believe!

3 cups packed spinach leaves
3 bananas
1 cup ice

I'm seeing all kinds of ways to get in my 5-7 fruits and vegetables each day, and with this new book to inspire me, a lot of them will be raw.

The book's beautiful design and clear, impeccable printing also make me very happy. Think of the hours of human labor the purchase price supported.

Let's Hear It for Locally Owned Bookstores!!

2011-07-13T21:33:00.000-04:00

I absolutely don't understand why people are buying those horble e-reader things. Borders is gone, Barnes & Noble is going. Are the people who own stock in these places so hungry for profit that they'll kill bookstores to make it?? Or are people so old and feeble they can't carry a big book? (Fine...read a small one on the bus or metro.) Dear, locally owned Kramerbooks & After Words is still here and still on its feet (I hope). I'm going to patronize their cafe more often. When I worked at the Mt. Vernon General, it did not have a liquor license. The owner said he didn't want one because he couldn't stand drunks. But he also said that a restaurant makes its money selling liquor, not food. (This was shortly before they went out of business.) Maybe Kramerbooks is thriving because of its cafe (which has a liquor license)? People go there to buy books, eat, and drink, in that order. I'm going to start buying books there every week. And I'm going to eat there once a week, too--the food is GREAT! And have a shot of Auld Frothingslosh. Sounds like a recipe for happiness to me! I will never get too old to carry my own book and read it. That's what backpacks are for.

Early Summer in ND

2011-07-11T20:19:00.000-04:00

Fun to remember that we once were all so very young. Dear little Katie had been bald as an egg, as were all of her siblings until they reached the age of about 18 months, but there is a little wisp of blonde hair growing on the top of her head. So she must be a year and a half, maybe a little more. The Chinese Elm has new leaves, so it must have been about May or even June. It never got reliably warm there until August. And then it started getting cold again. This photo was taken in the side yard where the kids played on their swing set and in the sand box. I was cutting my own hair in those days, too. When you live out of town, and the roads are icy, and there's no way to get to a beauty parlor, you learn how to cut your own!

Fran Lebowitz's Diet List

2011-07-10T19:22:00.002-04:00

Want to diet the Fran Lebowitz way? Choose your meals from these foods!! These and more are found in "Fran Lebowitz High Stress Diet & Exercise"program from the Fran Lebowitz Reader.

Fish
Chicken
Duck
Turkey
Beef
Lamb
Fruits
Vegetables
Honey
Eggs
Sugar
Maple Syrup
Bread
Rice
Pasta
Cereal
Cheese
Butter
Milk
Cream
Coffee
Tea
Wine
Beer
Scotch
Cookies
Candy
Cake
Pie
Ice cream

I'm sure I've scrambled her listing and left out many important foods, but you get the drift.

Remember Fran's timeless advice: "Food is an important part of a well balanced diet."

Happy Birthday, Sam! Canada, too!

2011-07-01T10:36:00.070-04:00

When Sam & Co. lived in Massachusetts, Sam's favorite occupation was kneeling behind the vacuum cleaner so the warm air could rearrange his curls. Joe thought this was VERY FUNNY!

Happy Birthday, Sam. You've brought so much joy to our lives!! Joe, too.
You were beautiful kids, and now you're beautiful young men.

Joe

Sam

Word has come to XE from one of her favorite bloggers in the frozen north that July 1 is Canada's birthday, too. The Duke & Duchess of Cambridge are up there helping everyone celebrate. Have fun, eh??

PARSLEY'S PICS: Four Brave Men

2011-06-26T19:52:00.000-04:00

Ms. Parsley has an excellent post on the NY vote for gay marriage. Hooray for these four BRAVE guys--especially Mr. McDonald, who stated his case so well!!

PARSLEY'S PICS: Four Brave Men: "As everyone in the whole wide world should know by now, last night the New York Senate approved the same-sex marriage law by a vote of 3..."

One more by Royko....

2011-06-25T20:37:00.003-04:00

Until yesterday's post, many of XE's readers had never before heard of Chicago's great Mike Royko (r.i.p.). Here's a column he wrote the year before my son was born:

August 16, 1967

Picasso and the Cultural Rebirth of Chicago

Mayor Daley walked to the white piece of ribbon and put his hand on it. He was about to give it a pull when the photographers yelled for him to wait. He stood there for a minute and gave them that familiar blend of scowl and smile.
It was good that he waited. This was a moment to think about, to savor what was about to happen. In just a moment, with a snap of the mayor's wrist, Chicago history would be changed. That's no small occurrence·the cultural rebirth of a big city.
Out there in the neighborhoods and the suburbs, things probably seemed just the same. People worried about the old things·would they move in and would we move out? Or would we move in and would they move out?
But downtown, the leaders of culture and influence were gathered for a historical event and it was reaching a climax with Mayor Daley standing there ready to pull a ribbon.
Thousands waited in and around the Civic Center plaza. They had listened to the speeches about the Picasso thing. They had heard how it was going to change Chicago's image.
They had heard three clergymen·a priest, a rabbi, and a Protestant minister·offer eloquent prayers. That's probably a record for a work by Picasso, a dedicated atheist.
And now the mayor was standing there, ready to pull the ribbon.
You could tell it was a big event by the seating. In the first row on the speakers platform was a lady poet. In the second row was Alderman Tom Keane. And in the third row was P. J. Cullerton, the assessor. When Keane and Cullerton sit behind a lady poet, things are changing.
The only alderman in the front row was Tom Rosenberg. And he was there only because it was a cultural event and he is chairman of the City Council's Culture Committee, which is in charge of preventing aldermen from spitting, swearing, and snoring during meetings.
The whole thing had been somber and serious. The Chicago Symphony Orchestra had played classical music. It hadn't played even one chorus of "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow."
Chief Judge John Boyle had said the Picasso would become more famous than the Art Institute's lions. Boyle has vision.
Someone from the National Council of Arts said it was paying tribute to Mayor Daley. This brought an interested gleam in the eyes of a few ward committeemen.
William Hartmann, the man who thought of the whole thing, told of Picasso's respect for Mayor Daley. Whenever Hartmann went to see Picasso, the artist asked:
"Is Mayor Daley still mayor of Chicago?"
When Hartmann said this, Mayor Daley bounced up and down in his chair, he laughed so hard. So did a few Republicans in the cheap seats, but they didn't laugh the same way.
After the ceremony, it came to that final moment the mayor standing there holding the white ribbon.
Then he pulled.
There was a gasp as the light blue covering fell away in several pieces. But it was caused by the basic American fascination for any mechanical feat that goes off as planned.
In an instant the Picasso stood there unveiled for all to see.

The Picasso sculpture

A few people applauded. But at best, it was a smattering of applause. Most of the throng was silent.
They had hoped, you see, that it would be what they had heard it would be.
A woman, maybe. A beautiful soaring woman. That is what many art experts and enthusiasts had promised. They had said that we should wait that we should not believe what we saw in the pictures.
If it was a woman, then art experts should put away their books and spend more time in girlie joints.
The silence grew. Then people turned and looked at each other. Some shrugged. Some smiled. Some just stood there, frowning or blank-faced.
Most just turned and walked away. The weakest pinch-hitter on the Cubs receives more cheers.
They had wanted to be moved by it. They wouldn't have stood there if they didn't want to believe what they had been told that it would be a fine thing.
But anyone who didn't have a closed mind·which means thinking that anything with the name Picasso connected must be wonderful could see that it was nothing but a big, homely metal thing.
That is all there is to it. Some soaring lines, yes. Interesting design, I'm sure. But the fact is, it has a long stupid face and looks like some giant insect that is about to eat a smaller, weaker insect. It has eyes that are pitiless, cold, mean.
But why not? Everybody said it had the spirit of Chicago. And from thousands of miles away, accidentally or on purpose, Picasso captured it.
Up there in that ugly face is the spirit of Al Capone, the Summerdale scandal cops, the settlers who took the Indians but good.
Its eyes are like the eyes of every slum owner who made a buck off the small and weak. And of every building inspector who took a wad from a slum owner to make it all possible.
It has the look of the dope pusher and of the syndicate technician as he looks for just the right wire to splice the bomb to.
Any bigtime real estate operator will be able to look into the face of the Picasso and see the spirit that makes the city's rebuilding possible and profitable.
It has the look of the big corporate executive who comes face to face with the reality of how much water pollution his company is responsible for and then thinks of the profit and loss and of his salary.
It is all there in that Picasso thing the I Will spirit. The I will get you before you will get me spirit.
Picasso has never been here, they say. You'd think he's been riding the L all his life.

Copyright notice: Excerpted from One More Time: The Best of Mike Royko by Mike Royko, published by the University of Chicago Press. ¿ 1999 by the University of Chicago. All rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of U.S. copyright law, and it may be archived and redistributed in electronic form, provided that this entire notice, including copyright information, is carried and provided that the University of Chicago Press is notified and no fee is charged for access. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the consent of the University of Chicago Press.

If you've been to Chicago in the last 40 or so years, you may have seen this. I think it looks just like a baboon. I love Royko's "It is all there in that Picasso thing the I Will spirit. The I will get you before you get me spirit."

Royko, we miss you!

2011-06-24T08:19:00.052-04:00

During my morning meditation, the first event in my daily spirichal regimen, I was trying to remember the name of that great Chicago columnist who could skewer politicians and big name artists to a fare-thee-well. Was it Royko? I looked it up in the Google, as George W. Bush might say if he were making any sense at all. Yep. It was Mike Royko (1932-1997), who wrote his commentaries for the Chicago Tribune and won a Pulitzer Prize when he was 40.

The reason I was trying to think of his name was because he wrote a column one time about his way of grocery shopping. Royko had a firm rule about grocery shopping: never buy more groceries until you've eaten all the ones you've already bought. If Royko ran out of milk, he finished his box of corn flakes with water. No more bread? Just open the tuna and eat it right out of the can with a fork. That sort of thing.

Why did I need to do research on Royko and his grocery-shopping rule practically on awakening? Because, after a good night's sleep, I finally remembered what that small dishwasher-sized appliance was in this one condo I looked at recently. Despite its size and placement (under the counter), it is not a dishwasher. It's the refrigerator! Thus my thoughts on grocery buying strategies.

This condo also does not have a bathtub. I need a bathtub to keep in top shape. And do you think I noticed this tublessness when I visited the place with an eye to moving in there? Nope. I was enchanted by the cupboards (pardon me, cabinets) which my companion loved because they reminded her of her mother's. Actually, I hate cabinets, but they are good for storing books behind doors to keep the dust off. The only downside here might be their absorption of odors and humidity, but I have a feeling there would not be much actual cooking in this kitchen, so it would not be a problem.

Anyway, here's one of Mike Royko's columns, though not the one on his shopping rules. You can see why he won a Pulitzer at an age when most people are finally getting out of grad school. What a writer! Where are his replacements on the national scene?

March 19, 1991 Ticket to Good Life Punched with Pain
The police chief of Los Angeles is being widely condemned because of the now-famous videotaped flogging of a traffic offender.
But Chief Daryl Gates, while refusing to resign, suggests that the brutal beating might have been an uplifting act that could bring long-range positive results for the beating victim.
As the chief put it at a press conference Monday:
"We regret what took place. I hope he [Rodney King, the beating victim] gets his life straightened out. Perhaps this will be the vehicle to move him down the road to a good life instead of the life he's been involved in for such a long time."
I hadn't thought of it that way, but there could be something in what Chief Gates says.
There's no doubt that King, 25, hasn't been an exemplary citizen, although he's no John Dillinger. When the police stopped him for speeding, he was on parole for using a tire iron to threaten and rob a grocer.
But as Chief Gates said, the experience of being beaten, kicked, and shot with an electric stun gun might be what it takes to "move him down the road to a good life."
Who knows, in a few years when all of this is forgotten, a reporter might drive out to a nice house in a California suburb and find a peaceful Rodney King pushing a mower across his lawn.
The reporter might ask: "Mr. King, what is it that moved you down the road to a good life?"
"That's a good question," Mr. King might reply, "and I'll be glad to explain it to you. You'll have to excuse me if I wobble and drool a bit; my face has nerve damage and my coordination hasn't been the same since they damaged my brain."
"Of course."
"But to get back to your question. I think it was after L.A.'s finest hit me about fifty or fifty-five times with their clubs. As you recall, some of the fillings flew out of my teeth and one of my eye sockets sort of exploded."
"Must have been a tad uncomfortable."
"Yes. And at that point, I'm pretty sure that those nine skull fractures and internal injuries had already occurred, my cheekbone was fractured, one of my legs was broken, and I had this burning sensation from being zapped with that electric stun gun. I was feeling kind of low."
"That's to be expected."
"Right. But as I was lying there, and they were getting in a few final kicks, and then sort of hog-tying my hands to my legs and dragging me along the ground, I said to myself: 'Why not try to look at the bright side?'"
"And did you?"
"Yes. I thought: 'Well, one of my legs isn't broken; one of my eye sockets isn't fractured; one of my cheekbones isn't broken. And although my skull is fractured, my head remains attached to my body; and while fillings have popped out of my teeth, I still have the teeth.' And I said to myself: 'Half a body is better than none.'"
"Very inspiring."
"Thank you. And I had a chance to think about why the police were treating me that way. It was their way of telling me that speeding is an act of antisocial behavior and I had been very bad, bad, bad."
"You have unusual insight."
"I try. And I thought that if only I had led the life of a model citizen, this wouldn't have happened to me. Let's face it. The L.A. police never fracture the skull of the president of the chamber of commerce, the chief antler in the Loyal Order of Moose, or the head of the PTA. No, it was my past history of antisocial behavior that brought it on."
"But they had no way of knowing you were on parole."
"Yes, but I'm sure they could guess just by the look of me. Be honest, I don't look at all like the head of the PTA, do I?"
"True."
"Then, later, when Police Chief Gates said that the beating, although regrettable, could be the vehicle that would get me on the road to the good life, everything became clear. I realized that the beating would turn my life around and be a one-way ticket to the good life."
"The chief's words inspired you?"
"Not exactly. To be honest Chief Gates' words convinced me that he had to be as dumb an S.O.B. as ever opened his mouth at a press conference."
"But you said he helped you to a good life."
"That's right, he did."
"How?"
"When I took his police department to court, that jury awarded me a couple of million in damages, and I've been leading the good life ever since."
"I don't think that's what the chief had in mind."
"I don't think that chief had anything in mind."

Copyright notice: Excerpted from One More Time: The Best of Mike Royko by Mike Royko, published by the University of Chicago Press. 1999 by the University of Chicago. All rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of U.S. copyright law, and it may be archived and redistributed in electronic form, provided that this entire notice, including copyright information, is carried and provided that the University of Chicago Press is notified and no fee is charged for access. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the consent of the University of Chicago Press.

March 19, 1991 *Ticket to Good Life Punched with Pain* The police chief of Los Angeles is being widely condemned because of the now-famous videotaped flogging of a traffic offender. But Chief Daryl Gates, while refusing to resign, suggests that the brutal beating might have been an uplifting act that could bring long-range positive results for the beating victim. As the chief put it at a press conference Monday: "We regret what took place. I hope he [Rodney King, the beating victim] gets his life straightened out. Perhaps this will be the vehicle to move him down the road to a good life instead of the life he's been involved in for such a long time." I hadn't thought of it that way, but there could be something in what Chief Gates says. There's no doubt that King, 25, hasn't been an exemplary citizen, although he's no John Dillinger. When the police stopped him for speeding, he was on parole for using a tire iron to threaten and rob a grocer. But as Chief Gates said, the experience of being beaten, kicked, and shot with an electric stun gun might be what it takes to "move him down the road to a good life." Who knows, in a few years when all of this is forgotten, a reporter might drive out to a nice house in a California suburb and find a peaceful Rodney King pushing a mower across his lawn. The reporter might ask: "Mr. King, what is it that moved you down the road to a good life?" "That's a good question," Mr. King might reply, "and I'll be glad to explain it to you. You'll have to excuse me if I wobble and drool a bit; my face has nerve damage and my coordination hasn't been the same since they damaged my brain." "Of course." "But to get back to your question. I think it was after L.A.'s finest hit me about fifty or fifty-five times with their clubs. As you recall, some of the fillings flew out of my teeth and one of my eye sockets sort of exploded." "Must have been a tad uncomfortable." "Yes. And at that point, I'm pretty sure that those nine skull fractures and internal injuries had already occurred, my cheekbone was fractured, one of my legs was broken, and I had this burning sensation from being zapped with that electric stun gun. I was feeling kind of low." "That's to be expected." "Right. But as I was lying there, and they were getting in a few final kicks, and then sort of hog-tying my hands to my legs and dragging me along the ground, I said to myself: 'Why not try to look at the bright side?'" "And did you?" "Yes. I thought: 'Well, one of my legs isn't broken; one of my eye sockets isn't fractured; one of my cheekbones isn't broken. And although my skull is fractured, my head remains attached to my body; and while fillings have popped out of my teeth, I still have the teeth.' And I said to myself: 'Half a body is better than none.'" "Very inspiring." "Thank you. And I had a chance to think about why the police were treating me that way. It was their way of telling me that speeding is an act of antisocial behavior and I had been very bad, bad, bad." "You have unusual insight." "I try. And I thought that if only I had led the life of a model citizen, this wouldn't have happened to me. Let's face it. The L.A. police never fracture the skull of the president of the chamber of commerce, the chief antler in the Loyal Order of Moose, or the head of the PTA. No, it was my past history of antisocial behavior that brought it on." "But they had no way of knowing you were on parole." "Yes, but I'm sure they could guess just by the look of me. Be honest, I don't look at all like the head of the PTA, do I?" "True." "Then, later, when Police Chief Gates said that the beating, although regrettable, could be the vehicle that would get me on the road to the good life, everything became clear. I realized that the beating would turn my life around and be a one-way ticket to the good life." "The chief's words inspired you?" "Not exactly. To be honest Chief Gates' words convinced me that he had to be as dumb an S.O.B. as ever opened his mouth at a press conference." "But you said he helped you to a good life." "That's right, he did." "How?" "When I took his police department to court, that jury awarded me a couple of million in damages, and I've been leading the good life ever since." "I don't think that's what the chief had in mind." "I don't think that chief had anything in mind."
Copyright notice: Excerpted from One More Time: The Best of Mike Royko by Mike Royko, published by the University of Chicago Press. 1999 by the University of Chicago. All rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of U.S. copyright law, and it may be archived and redistributed in electronic form, provided that this entire notice, including copyright information, is carried and provided that the University of Chicago Press is notified and no fee is charged for access. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the consent of the University of Chicago Press.