Lexington Avenue at 77th. This is the upper East Side. Think "Seinfeld." Think New Yorker magazine. You have to be rich to live here. Not recently rich, but raised rich, and so rich that everyone else you know is rich and you rarely rub elbows with anyone who isn't. Except the servants and the shopkeepers, many of whom are white Europeans--Irish building contractors, Swedish au pairs, and Southern European shopkeepers.
Anticipating my visit to New York, and wanting to blend in, I'd purchased a bright fuchsia Perlina purse with fashionable white stitching and silver strap buckles. For the past few days, I've been puzzled, since all the women in mid-town and on the upper West Side are carrying serviceable black purses. Stepping out of the subway at 77th, I realized my purse had found its home: I saw pink bags, lime bags, and mango bags--just like in the catalogs!--and every woman had a purse with long straps so it could be carried on her shoulder, leaving her hands free to tote multiple designer shopping bags.
Ray's Pizza has an little outpost on the upper East Side and I stopped in for a slice of plain Neapolitan pizza. As I was sitting there nibbling, a very young couple came in pushing two babies in a vehicle that I guess could be called a doublewide stroller. Both doors of the restaurant had to be opened to get it inside. I realized I was looking at one of the $2,000 European baby carriages I'd read about in the Wall Street Journal.
I headed back to the subway, trying not to stare at women in pastel tweed suits and pointy-toed high heels, men wearing $400 chinos, and beautifully dressed children trotting dutifully along with their nannies. But then I saw something even more eye-catching. Standing at the corner beside me as we waited for the light, was a Satmar. A young man in his 20s, he was wearing a brown fur hat the size and shape of a small merry-go-round, a mid-calf-length shiny satin overcoat, knickers, white stockings, and black formal shoes. And, of course, payess.
This being the self-absorbed East Side, none of the locals even looked up from their cafe au lait and brioche as he strode across Lexington, hat flapping, and headed down 77th toward Central Park. That was perhaps the most New Yorker moment of all, for what would New Yorker be without the cartoons?
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Friday, April 15, 2005
Reunions
50 turns out to be a good age for attending reunions. Those of us with wrinkles and graying hair look happier than the ones with the face-lifts and dye jobs. Our memories are still sharp enough to recognize faces, come up with names, and recall choice anecdotes. Grudges, if there were any, seem to have had a much shorter shelf life. So, at the first get-together tonight it was all handshakes, hugs, and enthusiastic reminiscences. Apparently some 70 members of our class are expected to show up for the dinner party at a classmate's West End Avenue home tomorrow night.
This evening's cocktail party in the Low Library rotunda followed the annual alumni association's awards ceremony. The first award, to an earnest, prize-winning social issues reporter from the New York Daily News, was bestowed by her husband, an editor from the New York Times. The second, to the Associated Press foreign correspondent who has covered Rome and the Vatican for some 20 years, was awarded by a retired foreign correspondent who reminded us that once upon a time the American news networks had maintained substantive foreign bureaus. The third award went to one of the creators of the TV documentary, a man who retired mid-career to become an acclaimed journalism instructor at the University of Southern California. The final award went to my classmate Tom Rosensteil, who is credited for leading the movement to bring journalism into the 21st century through the Project for Excellence in Journalism. Check out Tom's book, Warp Speed: America in the Age of Mixed Media.
This evening's cocktail party in the Low Library rotunda followed the annual alumni association's awards ceremony. The first award, to an earnest, prize-winning social issues reporter from the New York Daily News, was bestowed by her husband, an editor from the New York Times. The second, to the Associated Press foreign correspondent who has covered Rome and the Vatican for some 20 years, was awarded by a retired foreign correspondent who reminded us that once upon a time the American news networks had maintained substantive foreign bureaus. The third award went to one of the creators of the TV documentary, a man who retired mid-career to become an acclaimed journalism instructor at the University of Southern California. The final award went to my classmate Tom Rosensteil, who is credited for leading the movement to bring journalism into the 21st century through the Project for Excellence in Journalism. Check out Tom's book, Warp Speed: America in the Age of Mixed Media.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
New York soul food
The plane trip to Newark was uneventful. The travel agent I was seated next to got bumped into first class, giving us an extra seat in our row of three, which always makes traveling nicer. Got the Super Shuttle from Newark right to the hotel in Times Square for $20, and was in my room trying out the broadband connection by 6 p.m. Hotel 41 at Times Square is next to "Rent" on 41st Street, just off 7th Avenue, and across the street from the stage door of "The Lion King." There was a huge sale tonight at Macy's so I headed down there and stopped along the way for a quick bite at the Jerusalem 2, an ultra-kosher Israeli cafeteria in the garment district, Broadway near 37th. The pita bread is baked on the premises and, as is often the way with traditional Jewish cuisine, is a little heavy but very tasty. I had the baba ganoush plate with falafel, a salad of chopped tomato, cucumbers and onion, and pita. Most of the diners in the place were orthodox families and couples who work in the garment district. All the men were wearing yarmulkes (kipput) and all the woman had long-sleeved sweaters, and most wore skirts. One group of young men sitting in the back had brought chess boards with them. The couple next to me seemed to be on an informal date. The food was vivid tasting and truly delicious, with nice crunchy crust on the falafel. I felt right at home in the place, which is awfully nice when you are traveling.
Shopping at Macy's was a trip. It's the original Macy's, on 34th Street, and when you get up to the third floor, the escalators are the old wooden ones, with slats. The petites section was vast, and I got to try on DKNY petite clothing, which I don't think I'd encountered before. Lots of stuff was 50% off, so the store was pretty much a madhouse. It was too much for me after a long day of traveling, so I walked back up to Times Square, remembering all that I like about New York. This is not, of course, the New York I knew in 1980, but a much cleaner, friendly post 9/11 city. Biggest shock: Finding a Washington Mutual Bank one block from the hotel.
Shopping at Macy's was a trip. It's the original Macy's, on 34th Street, and when you get up to the third floor, the escalators are the old wooden ones, with slats. The petites section was vast, and I got to try on DKNY petite clothing, which I don't think I'd encountered before. Lots of stuff was 50% off, so the store was pretty much a madhouse. It was too much for me after a long day of traveling, so I walked back up to Times Square, remembering all that I like about New York. This is not, of course, the New York I knew in 1980, but a much cleaner, friendly post 9/11 city. Biggest shock: Finding a Washington Mutual Bank one block from the hotel.
Off to New York
I'm off to New York for a few days for my Columbia J-School reunion. I have an hour to hang out while waiting for my Continental flight from Seattle to Newark and, having found seat near an electrical outlet, am charging the PowerBook. And wishing I had a 12" PowerBook for travel. (I wonder when someone will come out with 12" travel screens for people who want to travel with a Mac mini?)
A super-sized genial young loudmouth in de rigeur black polo shirt and black jeans is sitting across from me in the waiting area, bellowing into his cell phone about contracts, installing Microsoft security patches, and the need to talk with Accounts Payable. His name is JASON. His cellphone has an earphone, but too bad it can't have some kind of mouth device as well. Like an electronic gag.
I'd thought this would be the opportunity to use my Boingo wifi account, but, though Boingo recognized the robust signal from the terminal's Wayport wifi hotspot, it wasn't able to connect me. And it somehow blocked access to the WayPort sign-in process. So I ended up signing on through the Cingular wifi network.
This past month, Macworld magazine ran a great article on traveling with a laptop. Adam Engst, Joe Kissell, and some other technorati listed the equipment they pack. I picked up quite a few tips, though I haven't implemented any of them yet. Incidentally, did you know that most computer hardware manufacturers never use the word "laptop" in their marketing materials? That's in case you put what they prefer to call a "portable" on your lap and your lap gets toasted.
What folks are doing in the waiting area: Drinking fruit juice; reading a book; eating grapefruit sections; drinking water; staring at the morning news show on the overhead TV (6); sleeping while listening to an iPod shuffle; listening to an iPod mini; listening to an unidentified MP3 player; fiddling with a digital camera; yakking on a cell phone (3); typing on a laptop (me). Interestingly, for a workday morning, not a single person is reading a newspaper.
What people are wearing: athletic shoes (many), 3" high heel dress pumps (1 older woman), walking shoes (several), flip flops (the man with the iPod shuffle). Jeans (nearly everyone, including the woman in high heels and the man with flip flops) and chinos.
About 30 teenagers clutching large whipped cream-topped Starbucks drinks have just entered the waiting area for our flight, raising the noise level by several decibels. They are accompanied by three teachers, one of whom sounds like he might be the school football coach. This promises to be a livelier than usual flight.
Please, don't let one of my seatmates be JASON. We're boarding.
A super-sized genial young loudmouth in de rigeur black polo shirt and black jeans is sitting across from me in the waiting area, bellowing into his cell phone about contracts, installing Microsoft security patches, and the need to talk with Accounts Payable. His name is JASON. His cellphone has an earphone, but too bad it can't have some kind of mouth device as well. Like an electronic gag.
I'd thought this would be the opportunity to use my Boingo wifi account, but, though Boingo recognized the robust signal from the terminal's Wayport wifi hotspot, it wasn't able to connect me. And it somehow blocked access to the WayPort sign-in process. So I ended up signing on through the Cingular wifi network.
This past month, Macworld magazine ran a great article on traveling with a laptop. Adam Engst, Joe Kissell, and some other technorati listed the equipment they pack. I picked up quite a few tips, though I haven't implemented any of them yet. Incidentally, did you know that most computer hardware manufacturers never use the word "laptop" in their marketing materials? That's in case you put what they prefer to call a "portable" on your lap and your lap gets toasted.
What folks are doing in the waiting area: Drinking fruit juice; reading a book; eating grapefruit sections; drinking water; staring at the morning news show on the overhead TV (6); sleeping while listening to an iPod shuffle; listening to an iPod mini; listening to an unidentified MP3 player; fiddling with a digital camera; yakking on a cell phone (3); typing on a laptop (me). Interestingly, for a workday morning, not a single person is reading a newspaper.
What people are wearing: athletic shoes (many), 3" high heel dress pumps (1 older woman), walking shoes (several), flip flops (the man with the iPod shuffle). Jeans (nearly everyone, including the woman in high heels and the man with flip flops) and chinos.
About 30 teenagers clutching large whipped cream-topped Starbucks drinks have just entered the waiting area for our flight, raising the noise level by several decibels. They are accompanied by three teachers, one of whom sounds like he might be the school football coach. This promises to be a livelier than usual flight.
Please, don't let one of my seatmates be JASON. We're boarding.
Monday, April 11, 2005
The winner
The new blog Don't Ask Me; I'm Making This Up As I Go Along raises a good point about Commander Riker and the Star Trek: Next Generation poker games.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Rock the house
Last night I judged a national high school journalism contest. The category was Reviewing, and the contest was rather clever: The organizers hired an up-and-coming indie rock band and had them perform for the 110 student journalists. The students had 70 minutes to write the reviews. Then the judges--an assortment of working journalists, high school teachers, and college journalism students--sat down and evaluated the pieces. I'd imagined we'd discover the next Cameron Crowe, but it didn't happen. Most of the pieces were well-written formal essays or nice feature articles, but only two qualified as actual "reviews" with a strong, critical voice and well-supported opinions. And, predictably, both of them were humorous and negative (that being the easiest type of review to write).
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Soggy shuffle
A friend of mine who shall remain nameless emailed to report that he'd washed his iPod shuffle (twice) and it had survived the washing machine...sort of. A Google search revealed that he is not alone. iPods have been washed, and they have survived. Does this qualify as a meme?
Considering what one pays for the Whirlpool Duet and Maytag Nepture, perhaps high-end washers should come with a pre-wash scan for electronic devices.
Considering what one pays for the Whirlpool Duet and Maytag Nepture, perhaps high-end washers should come with a pre-wash scan for electronic devices.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
More tales of the cat door
Betaille is afraid of her new, raccoon-proof, automated cat door and won't come in the basement.
I think it's the whirring sound that did it. As the cat wearing the magnet approaches the door (that would be Betaille), the door raises up magically (think: a reverse guillotine) with a little whirring sound. It stays open about 20 seconds, and then comes down.
I carried Betaille up to the door, and her magnet triggered it. It whirred and opened. I tried to push her through, but she began flailing around. When I released her, she fled.
I went inside and turned off the motor, propped the door open, put a big bowl of food just inside the door, and left things that way all day. But she didn't venture in. This evening I removed the wood I'd had blocking the door and switched on the automatic features again. All was fine until I turned on the nearby clothes dryer. It triggered the new cat door, so that the door began going up and down in a 20-second cycle. Betaille sat outside in her heated box, staring at this performance with an expression of incredulity and disgust.
Fetching the cat door directions and a screwdriver, I adjusted the cat door to decrease its sensitivity to magnets and clothes dryers. It quit whirring. But now I have a vision of the raccoon down there tonight, waving a big piece of metal in front of the door...
I think it's the whirring sound that did it. As the cat wearing the magnet approaches the door (that would be Betaille), the door raises up magically (think: a reverse guillotine) with a little whirring sound. It stays open about 20 seconds, and then comes down.
I carried Betaille up to the door, and her magnet triggered it. It whirred and opened. I tried to push her through, but she began flailing around. When I released her, she fled.
I went inside and turned off the motor, propped the door open, put a big bowl of food just inside the door, and left things that way all day. But she didn't venture in. This evening I removed the wood I'd had blocking the door and switched on the automatic features again. All was fine until I turned on the nearby clothes dryer. It triggered the new cat door, so that the door began going up and down in a 20-second cycle. Betaille sat outside in her heated box, staring at this performance with an expression of incredulity and disgust.
Fetching the cat door directions and a screwdriver, I adjusted the cat door to decrease its sensitivity to magnets and clothes dryers. It quit whirring. But now I have a vision of the raccoon down there tonight, waving a big piece of metal in front of the door...
Monday, April 04, 2005
Hardware nirvana
Imagine an operation the size of Home Depot with the ambiance and expertise of the old-time local hardware store. That would be Ballard Hardware, housed in an old, multi-story brick building just off Leary Way in Ballard. While the store's name, painted atop the building in old-fashioned factory style, is visible at a distance, Ballard Hardware doesn't have much street presence. Its brick walls face Leary Way and Ballard Avenue, and its small storefront faces its parking lot (and Ballard Sheet Metal). If you visit Ballard much, chances are you've driven by and not noticed it.
I can spend hours in a hardware store, and have several favorites in Seattle, including the Greenwood Hardware and Glass (True Value) on Greenwood, the Stone Way Hardware (True Value) on Stone Way North, Tweedy and Popp Hardware (Ace) on N. 45th St. in Wallingford, and Maple Leaf Hardware (Ace) on Roosevelt. For lumber, I won't consider anything but Limback in Ballard.
Although I've known about Ballard Hardware for years, I've been timid about going there. This is serious hardware, and most of it is behind the counter--you need to ask one of the staff to fetch it from the multi-story warehouse. Which means I need the vocabulary to describe a particulary machine screw or a drill attachment I'm sure must exist, but which I've never seen.
Today I went there, in my hand a piece of plastic that needed to be re-attached to a suitcase with a couple of machine screws. The original screws were missing, and I had no idea what to ask for except "screws that fit this." I stepped into a high-ceiled main floor full of beautiful hardware (neon-colored extension cords!). Everyone in there was male, except for a cashier.
After skulking around the aisles and realizing that even the extra-long 1/8" drill bit I wanted was behind the counter, I went up to the front and waited for a hardware guru. Ballard Hardware does not have lines. You just stand there and exude awareness of your place in the order. When my turn came, I started with the screws, handing the plastic piece with the screw housings to to fellow behind the counter. He vanished, and returned shortly with two little bolt-ended screws attached to the piece. Then I asked for the drill bit. He told me to wait, and went out the front door, heading for their basement warehouse area. And he came back with the drill bit. I was delighted, and chatted a little with him as he wrote up my ($8) receipt to take over to the cashier. Turns out he's an alt-rock musician, and just produced an EP.
I was thrilled that I'd gone to one of the world's most serious hardware shrines, had been taken seriously, and had obtained some obscure hardware items that would have had them the shaking their heads at the smaller hardware stores (or, in the case of the big chains, scratching their heads and rolling their eyes). We are so fortunate to have Ballard Hardware right in the neighborhood!
I can spend hours in a hardware store, and have several favorites in Seattle, including the Greenwood Hardware and Glass (True Value) on Greenwood, the Stone Way Hardware (True Value) on Stone Way North, Tweedy and Popp Hardware (Ace) on N. 45th St. in Wallingford, and Maple Leaf Hardware (Ace) on Roosevelt. For lumber, I won't consider anything but Limback in Ballard.
Although I've known about Ballard Hardware for years, I've been timid about going there. This is serious hardware, and most of it is behind the counter--you need to ask one of the staff to fetch it from the multi-story warehouse. Which means I need the vocabulary to describe a particulary machine screw or a drill attachment I'm sure must exist, but which I've never seen.
Today I went there, in my hand a piece of plastic that needed to be re-attached to a suitcase with a couple of machine screws. The original screws were missing, and I had no idea what to ask for except "screws that fit this." I stepped into a high-ceiled main floor full of beautiful hardware (neon-colored extension cords!). Everyone in there was male, except for a cashier.
After skulking around the aisles and realizing that even the extra-long 1/8" drill bit I wanted was behind the counter, I went up to the front and waited for a hardware guru. Ballard Hardware does not have lines. You just stand there and exude awareness of your place in the order. When my turn came, I started with the screws, handing the plastic piece with the screw housings to to fellow behind the counter. He vanished, and returned shortly with two little bolt-ended screws attached to the piece. Then I asked for the drill bit. He told me to wait, and went out the front door, heading for their basement warehouse area. And he came back with the drill bit. I was delighted, and chatted a little with him as he wrote up my ($8) receipt to take over to the cashier. Turns out he's an alt-rock musician, and just produced an EP.
I was thrilled that I'd gone to one of the world's most serious hardware shrines, had been taken seriously, and had obtained some obscure hardware items that would have had them the shaking their heads at the smaller hardware stores (or, in the case of the big chains, scratching their heads and rolling their eyes). We are so fortunate to have Ballard Hardware right in the neighborhood!
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Monday Madness
Catching up with the a recent diversion from Monday Madness. Fill out this survey in your own blog, and leave a comment at Monday Madness. (Scroll down if you want to see my answers.)
How Many........
1. ...computer-related gadgets do you own?
2. ...pictures on your living room walls?
3. ...magnets on your refrigerator?
4. ...reference books in your bookshelves?
5. ...boxes of cereal in your cupboards?
6. ...lamps in your house?
7. ...times a week do you shop for groceries?
8. ...magazines do you subscribe to?
9. ...tv programs do you watch on a regular basis?
10. ...items on your bathroom counter that don't really need to be there?
How Many........
1. ...computer-related gadgets do you own?
More than a dozen. Lots more than dozen.
2. ...pictures on your living room walls?
Just one (an oil painting by a Russian I met at a crafts fair).
3. ...magnets on your refrigerator?
None. It's stainless steel refrigerator door, and therefore not magnetic.
4. ...reference books in your bookshelves?
Well over 100. Perhaps more than 200 if you count my gardening and crafts reference books and Zorg's reference books. Argggh.
5. ...boxes of cereal in your cupboards?
Eight, but that includes hot cereals like grits and Zoom.
6. ...lamps in your house?
Eleven; fourteen if you include nightlights.
7. ...times a week do you shop for groceries?
Three. I'd prefer to do it every day, the way I did when I lived in Italy.
8. ...magazines do you subscribe to?
Ten or 12.
9. ...tv programs do you watch on a regular basis?
Hmmmm. On a regular basis? Two. And those are via TiVO.
10. ...items on your bathroom counter that don't really need to be there?
None. I am really aggressive about counter clutter. Keep stuff in the cabinets!
How Many........
1. ...computer-related gadgets do you own?
2. ...pictures on your living room walls?
3. ...magnets on your refrigerator?
4. ...reference books in your bookshelves?
5. ...boxes of cereal in your cupboards?
6. ...lamps in your house?
7. ...times a week do you shop for groceries?
8. ...magazines do you subscribe to?
9. ...tv programs do you watch on a regular basis?
10. ...items on your bathroom counter that don't really need to be there?
How Many........
1. ...computer-related gadgets do you own?
More than a dozen. Lots more than dozen.
2. ...pictures on your living room walls?
Just one (an oil painting by a Russian I met at a crafts fair).
3. ...magnets on your refrigerator?
None. It's stainless steel refrigerator door, and therefore not magnetic.
4. ...reference books in your bookshelves?
Well over 100. Perhaps more than 200 if you count my gardening and crafts reference books and Zorg's reference books. Argggh.
5. ...boxes of cereal in your cupboards?
Eight, but that includes hot cereals like grits and Zoom.
6. ...lamps in your house?
Eleven; fourteen if you include nightlights.
7. ...times a week do you shop for groceries?
Three. I'd prefer to do it every day, the way I did when I lived in Italy.
8. ...magazines do you subscribe to?
Ten or 12.
9. ...tv programs do you watch on a regular basis?
Hmmmm. On a regular basis? Two. And those are via TiVO.
10. ...items on your bathroom counter that don't really need to be there?
None. I am really aggressive about counter clutter. Keep stuff in the cabinets!
Catblogging
Kaylee: Here she invited us to do the Friday catblogging, and she's posting it a day late. Sheesh!
Zoe: Hey, it's probably because of her tendonitis. That's why we were invited to do the catblogging in the first place, remember?
Kaylee: I thought it was because we're cats.
Zoe: We're CATS?
Kaylee: Let's get to the blogging.
Zoe: OK. It's been a great week. Towels, still hot from the dryer, got piled on the diningroom table and we got to them before they could be compressed into those unappealing little rectangular layers.
Kaylee: I beg to differ. That big 20" monitor Sheba's been napping on for four years vanished from the office and was replaced by a 23" flat monitor. Sheba had to knock the PowerBook off the iCurve and walk all over the screen, then chew on the powercord of the new monitor, before they did anything about it. They've replaced the 20" monitor perch with a basket covered with a faux fur throw rug. It's not as warm, but at least we can see out the window again.
Zoe: A new flavor of Fancy Feast, flaked fish and shrimp, has appeared on the menu. It's excellent. No more of that insipid Turkey Feast.
Kaylee: On behalf of Betaille, I have to report that they still haven't installed the new cat door in the basement, so she is without access to basement at night. As a result, she has been forced to take shelter in the house with Sheba and us a couple time in the past week.
Zoe: And it's been so much fun hiding behind the curtains and leaping out at her.
Kaylee: I think we've reached the word limit for blog entries.
Zoe: There's a word limit?
Kaylee: Look! It's a piece of dental floss! Go for it.
CRASH.
Zoe: Hey, it's probably because of her tendonitis. That's why we were invited to do the catblogging in the first place, remember?
Kaylee: I thought it was because we're cats.
Zoe: We're CATS?
Kaylee: Let's get to the blogging.
Zoe: OK. It's been a great week. Towels, still hot from the dryer, got piled on the diningroom table and we got to them before they could be compressed into those unappealing little rectangular layers.
Kaylee: I beg to differ. That big 20" monitor Sheba's been napping on for four years vanished from the office and was replaced by a 23" flat monitor. Sheba had to knock the PowerBook off the iCurve and walk all over the screen, then chew on the powercord of the new monitor, before they did anything about it. They've replaced the 20" monitor perch with a basket covered with a faux fur throw rug. It's not as warm, but at least we can see out the window again.
Zoe: A new flavor of Fancy Feast, flaked fish and shrimp, has appeared on the menu. It's excellent. No more of that insipid Turkey Feast.
Kaylee: On behalf of Betaille, I have to report that they still haven't installed the new cat door in the basement, so she is without access to basement at night. As a result, she has been forced to take shelter in the house with Sheba and us a couple time in the past week.
Zoe: And it's been so much fun hiding behind the curtains and leaping out at her.
Kaylee: I think we've reached the word limit for blog entries.
Zoe: There's a word limit?
Kaylee: Look! It's a piece of dental floss! Go for it.
CRASH.
Monday, March 28, 2005
The Zorg on the move
Zorg has moved his blog from Blogspot to Typepad, where he has chosen a very attractive template. Check it out.
NOTE: This is only a test move. Continue to follow Zorg's musings here.
NOTE: This is only a test move. Continue to follow Zorg's musings here.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Peep! Peep! Peep!
Spring traditions at the Shady Rest West:
1. The neon-red tulips I try every year to eradicate from the bed of pale-pink tulips reappear.
2. Sunny weekdays inspire thoughts of weekend gardening projects; weekends are relentlessly wet and miserable.
3. A Bartell's bag filled with boxes of original (yellow chicks) Peeps turns up mysteriously on the front porch the week before Easter.
1. The neon-red tulips I try every year to eradicate from the bed of pale-pink tulips reappear.
2. Sunny weekdays inspire thoughts of weekend gardening projects; weekends are relentlessly wet and miserable.
3. A Bartell's bag filled with boxes of original (yellow chicks) Peeps turns up mysteriously on the front porch the week before Easter.
Friday, March 25, 2005
New York, New York
Zorg's back from New York; my turn in mid-April. Hoping to contribute to Overheard in New York while I'm there.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
While the cat's away
All the cats are here, but Zorg's on a business trip. That means it's time for me to invoke the family tradition of eating things the absent spouse dislikes.
At least, that's my family tradition. My father was an ergonomics engineer for the early manned space flights, and was often out of town for research meetings. When he traveled, my mother served cheese omelettes or grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner (these did not qualify as "dinner" in my dad's view). Or she took me out for dinner at the S&W cafeteria at Seven Corners (cafeterias were also "not dinner" for my dad, who thus missed out on the S&W's delicious spoonbread--sort of a grits souffle). On the very infrequent occasions when my mother was out of town, my dad took me to Chicken in a Basket or Shakey's pizza in Annandale. (Spoonbread? Chicken in a Basket? Yeah, in the 1960s Northern Virginia was still The South.)
So what's on the menu at the Shady Rest West in Zorg's absence? Tonight it was pork chops (I keep a stash of them in the freezer) pan broiled in white wine with flame raisins, apples, and minced shallots. The apples were less than exciting, but the reduced sauce was good.
Tomorrow night I'm going out to Dragonfish downtown. (Weeknight dinners downtown are not Zorg's thing.) I ate there a few weeks ago with friends before a silent movie at the Paramount, and am going back to try it again. It's contemporary Pan Asian cuisine, but it's the only Seattle restaurant I know that manages that old-fashioned atmosphere of a downtown neighborhood nightspot: friendly, elegant and intimate. Lots of people dining alone but in a relaxed way, with a cocktail and a book, and a few boths with small parties getting together after work. Utterly unhurried, with engaging waitstaff. Food's good, sake is great.
At least, that's my family tradition. My father was an ergonomics engineer for the early manned space flights, and was often out of town for research meetings. When he traveled, my mother served cheese omelettes or grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner (these did not qualify as "dinner" in my dad's view). Or she took me out for dinner at the S&W cafeteria at Seven Corners (cafeterias were also "not dinner" for my dad, who thus missed out on the S&W's delicious spoonbread--sort of a grits souffle). On the very infrequent occasions when my mother was out of town, my dad took me to Chicken in a Basket or Shakey's pizza in Annandale. (Spoonbread? Chicken in a Basket? Yeah, in the 1960s Northern Virginia was still The South.)
So what's on the menu at the Shady Rest West in Zorg's absence? Tonight it was pork chops (I keep a stash of them in the freezer) pan broiled in white wine with flame raisins, apples, and minced shallots. The apples were less than exciting, but the reduced sauce was good.
Tomorrow night I'm going out to Dragonfish downtown. (Weeknight dinners downtown are not Zorg's thing.) I ate there a few weeks ago with friends before a silent movie at the Paramount, and am going back to try it again. It's contemporary Pan Asian cuisine, but it's the only Seattle restaurant I know that manages that old-fashioned atmosphere of a downtown neighborhood nightspot: friendly, elegant and intimate. Lots of people dining alone but in a relaxed way, with a cocktail and a book, and a few boths with small parties getting together after work. Utterly unhurried, with engaging waitstaff. Food's good, sake is great.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Rain, rain, rain
Pouring rain in Cupertino all day. I got up at 4:30 a.m. to fly down for a day of this?
Sunday, March 20, 2005
On deadline
One of the aspects of blogging I enjoy is the lack of deadlines. I write when the inspiration strikes, and to the length I choose.
This is particularly delightful for me because for 25 years I've made my living as a writer-for-hire, cranking out what one of my former employers called "wordage" on deadline and often to strict word counts.
Next month is the 25th reunion of my graduate journalism program. It'll be the first college or grad school reunion I've ever attended. Wouldn't you know they sent out a biography form, complete with deadline? Your professional life, in 325 words or less.
This is particularly delightful for me because for 25 years I've made my living as a writer-for-hire, cranking out what one of my former employers called "wordage" on deadline and often to strict word counts.
Next month is the 25th reunion of my graduate journalism program. It'll be the first college or grad school reunion I've ever attended. Wouldn't you know they sent out a biography form, complete with deadline? Your professional life, in 325 words or less.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
The lighter side of...
Contemplating your list of home improvement projects with dread? Now there's help:
Check out this page of Seattle-area home services ads. It may not improve your home, but it will improve your attitude.
The page is part of a parody of a tired Seattle alternative paper, The Seattle Weekly. And it's all part of a website satirizing the flaccid Seattle "alternative" journalism scene and the post-grunge, post-dot.com community, in general.
Check out this page of Seattle-area home services ads. It may not improve your home, but it will improve your attitude.
The page is part of a parody of a tired Seattle alternative paper, The Seattle Weekly. And it's all part of a website satirizing the flaccid Seattle "alternative" journalism scene and the post-grunge, post-dot.com community, in general.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Eureka! experiences
Some of my local and digital friends are on a roll! You might get a hit of energy and inspiration from one of these:
tech innovator J LeRoy on Recent Communication
photographer Doug Plummer on Brutal Reality, 2
tech innovator J LeRoy on Recent Communication
photographer Doug Plummer on Brutal Reality, 2
GoogleX
Google pays tribute to Mac OS X with a new Google search landing page that looks like the Mac OS X Dock. Under it: "Roses are red. Violets are blue. OS X rocks. Homage to you."
[NOTE 2:49 p.m. PST: Hmmm. That glimpse into Google Labs was short lived. They took it down!]
[NOTE 2:49 p.m. PST: Hmmm. That glimpse into Google Labs was short lived. They took it down!]
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
I hate (name of company).com
...check out this great Forbes article about the best websites devoted to reviling particular major corporations ("the creme de la creme of online rage") and what the corporations they target think about them. Not surprisingly, anti-Walmart and anti-Microsoft sites made Forbes' top nine. But so did sites devoted to a couple of my favorite companies, UPS and PayPal (I luv PayPal). Also surprising: only one airline (United) appears on the hit list. I'd be happy to nominate at least three more denizens of the unfriendly skies.
Of course, Forbes chose its top hate sites based on things like ease of use, updates, number of posts, hostility level, relevance and entertainment value--not based on the actual odiousness of the target company.
I've never joined the squawking at one of these sites, preferring to leave any scathing comments at Epinions. How about you?
Of course, Forbes chose its top hate sites based on things like ease of use, updates, number of posts, hostility level, relevance and entertainment value--not based on the actual odiousness of the target company.
I've never joined the squawking at one of these sites, preferring to leave any scathing comments at Epinions. How about you?
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Grim day in the garden
No, I didn't drop a rock on my foot, throw my back out planting a shrub, or come in contact with an itchy ground cover. It's not the usual.
It's the garden itself. It's thirsty.
Here it is, mid March, and plants are blooming a month early. And they are shriveling up just a few days later, as if it were mid-July. The sky is bright blue, the sun is hot, and for some reason the wind is powerful enough that a gust can blow a cup of tea right off the patio table. The garden beds are as dry as dust--not just on the surface, but six inches down. The tulips that bloomed Monday are already wilting. The governor has announced a drought emergency.
Fortunately, our garden is a fairly mature one, and there are no plans for any major plantings this year, just some weeding and re-arranging. Two out of the past three years I've used rubber soaker hoses on most of the garden beds, and this year I'm going to deploy them on all of the beds with snap-on hose connectors so I can easily bring the main hose to each soaker section. I'm vowing to stick to a schedule of once-a-week deep watering, and get plenty of chicken grit and compost to correct the two beds that currently have poor drainage. One of my neighbors suggested getting a rainbarrel, so I'll likely go up to my favorite nursery, Sky in Shoreline, and pick up a good one.
That, of course, assumes that at some point we'll actually get rain.
Today I watered--watered in March!--using the new 75' coiled garden hose purchased at the garden show last month. Though slim, it moves plenty of water for the "shower" setting that works well on garden beds. It's lightweight, so I don't feel as though I'm dragging a dead python around the garden. But the coils cause it to tangle something fierce on anything uneven it its path (a gatepost, a plant, or the hose guides I use to prevent hoses from squashing plants). And when the hose crosses itself, and the coils get tangled in the coils--it's downright miserable. Finally, you can't loop it up on a hose holder to store it. I'm not sure how you store it--perhaps on a pole? At the moment, it's on our garden pathway where I dumped it after I finished watering. I'll figure out a storage solution tomorrow. I hope I don't have to buy the coiled hose hammock I just Googled.
It's the garden itself. It's thirsty.
Here it is, mid March, and plants are blooming a month early. And they are shriveling up just a few days later, as if it were mid-July. The sky is bright blue, the sun is hot, and for some reason the wind is powerful enough that a gust can blow a cup of tea right off the patio table. The garden beds are as dry as dust--not just on the surface, but six inches down. The tulips that bloomed Monday are already wilting. The governor has announced a drought emergency.
Fortunately, our garden is a fairly mature one, and there are no plans for any major plantings this year, just some weeding and re-arranging. Two out of the past three years I've used rubber soaker hoses on most of the garden beds, and this year I'm going to deploy them on all of the beds with snap-on hose connectors so I can easily bring the main hose to each soaker section. I'm vowing to stick to a schedule of once-a-week deep watering, and get plenty of chicken grit and compost to correct the two beds that currently have poor drainage. One of my neighbors suggested getting a rainbarrel, so I'll likely go up to my favorite nursery, Sky in Shoreline, and pick up a good one.
That, of course, assumes that at some point we'll actually get rain.
Today I watered--watered in March!--using the new 75' coiled garden hose purchased at the garden show last month. Though slim, it moves plenty of water for the "shower" setting that works well on garden beds. It's lightweight, so I don't feel as though I'm dragging a dead python around the garden. But the coils cause it to tangle something fierce on anything uneven it its path (a gatepost, a plant, or the hose guides I use to prevent hoses from squashing plants). And when the hose crosses itself, and the coils get tangled in the coils--it's downright miserable. Finally, you can't loop it up on a hose holder to store it. I'm not sure how you store it--perhaps on a pole? At the moment, it's on our garden pathway where I dumped it after I finished watering. I'll figure out a storage solution tomorrow. I hope I don't have to buy the coiled hose hammock I just Googled.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
This site will give you pause
See where you stand on the Global Rich List. (Thanks to Crawford Kilian for pointing out this site.)
Search me...
The Blogger software provided for Blogspot-hosted blogs is basic and serviceable. I chose it because I liked the wide range of subtle templates they offer.
Blogger allows you to dress up your blog with all the trendy extras. You can alter templates, code completely original templates, and add RSS feeds, Atom feeds, Blogrolling lists, HaloScan commenting and trackback, favicons, and Technorati tags and searches. When I say Blogger "allows" these additions, I mean just that. You won't get any built-in code, or any handholding, but installation of these features from other sites turns out to be pretty much intuitive and the Blogger templates are very forgiving.
I don't pretend to understand all this stuff, but if a feature sounds like it might be useful, I get the code from one of the third party sites listed above, paste it into my blog template, and preview the results. If it doesn't look too hideous, I republish the blog with the new feature and try it out for a while. Features I'm testing (such as blogrolling) often appear at the bottom of the sidebar.
This week I cleaned up the sidebar a bit (fixing formatting, and condensing the archives from a long list of weekly archives to a shorter list of monthly archives) and added a search feature provided by Technorati that lets you search the Mysterious Traveler archives by keyword.
Recently a friend sent email to ask about a car repair service I'd mentioned in my blog--he couldn't find the entry. With the new search feature, a search on the word "car" will take you to the entry about the car repair place--or at least to the entry about how I trashed their loaner car in an accident. Turns out in this case the best keyword to search on is "Honda."
Blogger allows you to dress up your blog with all the trendy extras. You can alter templates, code completely original templates, and add RSS feeds, Atom feeds, Blogrolling lists, HaloScan commenting and trackback, favicons, and Technorati tags and searches. When I say Blogger "allows" these additions, I mean just that. You won't get any built-in code, or any handholding, but installation of these features from other sites turns out to be pretty much intuitive and the Blogger templates are very forgiving.
I don't pretend to understand all this stuff, but if a feature sounds like it might be useful, I get the code from one of the third party sites listed above, paste it into my blog template, and preview the results. If it doesn't look too hideous, I republish the blog with the new feature and try it out for a while. Features I'm testing (such as blogrolling) often appear at the bottom of the sidebar.
This week I cleaned up the sidebar a bit (fixing formatting, and condensing the archives from a long list of weekly archives to a shorter list of monthly archives) and added a search feature provided by Technorati that lets you search the Mysterious Traveler archives by keyword.
Recently a friend sent email to ask about a car repair service I'd mentioned in my blog--he couldn't find the entry. With the new search feature, a search on the word "car" will take you to the entry about the car repair place--or at least to the entry about how I trashed their loaner car in an accident. Turns out in this case the best keyword to search on is "Honda."
Friday, March 11, 2005
Here, kitty, kitty--oops!
Late last night, on my way up to bed, I decided to try to lure our elderly cat, Betaille, inside for the night. She prefers to sleep in a heated fleece-lined box in a sheltered alcove outside the basement, but I worry about her outside, particularly because of the recent raccoon visits. It's sometimes possible to lure her in with the promise of a midnight snack.
I turned on the back porch light, and she appeared at the foot of the back stairs. I opened the door, she ran halfway up the stairs and then I realized it was the raccoon, and he was headed right for the kitchen.
I hurriedly closed the door and he halted, looking slightly offended, midway up the stairs, and stood upright. This is one big, well-fed raccoon. He didn't seem to mind the bright light, either.
The back door is all glass, so we just stood there in full view of each other for a couple minutes. I opened the door a crack. He didn't move.
"Go away!" I hissed. He swiveled around slowly, dropped to all fours, and tiptoed down the stairs and off into the night.
The new guaranteed-against-raccoons cat door arrived in the mail this week, and we will be installing it this weekend.
I turned on the back porch light, and she appeared at the foot of the back stairs. I opened the door, she ran halfway up the stairs and then I realized it was the raccoon, and he was headed right for the kitchen.
I hurriedly closed the door and he halted, looking slightly offended, midway up the stairs, and stood upright. This is one big, well-fed raccoon. He didn't seem to mind the bright light, either.
The back door is all glass, so we just stood there in full view of each other for a couple minutes. I opened the door a crack. He didn't move.
"Go away!" I hissed. He swiveled around slowly, dropped to all fours, and tiptoed down the stairs and off into the night.
The new guaranteed-against-raccoons cat door arrived in the mail this week, and we will be installing it this weekend.
Monday, March 07, 2005
Yak Shaving
A useful new term for an annoying and familiar scenario. Explanation by blogger Seth Godin.
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Nightmares and train wrecks
I spent Saturday with an old friend whose life has turned into one long, slow-motion train wreck. Nothing tragic has befallen him—no life-threatening illness, no loss of a loved one, no great artistic failure—but he suffers from a cognitive handicap that isn't commonly recognized as a disability: He has absolutely no common sense.
Unless a person like this lives with a family that protects him, he has no way to survive in modern society. Money vanishes (he's squandered two modest inheritances). Friends get tired of bailing him out of the same problems, over and over, and drift away. He falls victim to every "success" scheme on the planet. And he sets his goals so unrealistically that, even if he achieves them, he either decides he doesn't like what he's got or he panics--and throws it all away.
My friend is in his 50s, in poor health, unemployed, and in danger of becoming homeless. The modest talents that sustained him through his 20s and 30s were never disciplined into any actual professional skills, so he's pretty much unemployable. The lack of common sense means that he can't follow even the simplest directions from an employer--whatever they tell him to do, he wastes hours inventing a new, wholly original, approach to the task. Reactions to this range from amusement to puzzlement to rage, but, eventually, they fire him. His resume has long since gone from suspicious to unthinkable. The menial jobs he could get are, of course, the ones he's most likely to be fired from because his behavior--that of a very eccentric professor of some arcane, left-wing social science--is so inappropriate.
It's trying to be around this guy in any circumstances, but on Saturday it was particularly soul shriveling. He was having a garage sale preparatory to moving far away for a job he has not yet gotten but believes he will shortly get.
He'd asked me to come by the night before to help him price large items of furniture. Once I get in the vicinity of the train wreck, I can't help it: I start pleading with him to put on the brakes and I trying moving everything of value to the back of the train.
The furniture was ghastly, for the most part, ranging from shiny 60's suburban hutchs to massive 70's blond oak coffee tables. Shelves were missing, and everything was covered in dust. The two or three bookcases that were desirable looked much less so in the company of all the squalid junk. An expensive mixer and Cusinart looked like they'd never been cleaned. It soon became apparent that he didn't have any tags to put on the items we were supposed to be pricing, so I went back home to get some.
Much of the garage sale merchandise was still packed in boxes, mixed in with old financial records and other personal papers. While taking a ladle out of a box for the sale, he'd begin shuffling through the papers and sorting them. We'd have been there all night if I hadn't moved everything that didn't belong in the sale into an adjoining room. I then priced the large items, chose a bundt pan to buy, and would have fled--except that it turned out I didn't have $10 to pay for the pan, just a $20, and it turned out he had no change. Actually, he had no money at all.
My friend insisted on coming with me to the drugstore, where I made some purchases--including an energy bar for him--got change, and gave him 10 ones.
In the morning, I was back with $50 from the bank in change, figuring he'd need it. The sale was starting, people were coming in, and there he was, standing in the middle of the room, complaining about his most recent job interview. The boombox he was selling was blasting shrill folk music so loudly that he couldn't hear any of the questions buyers were asking. A box of personal files on one of the sale tables had a photo album, circa 1990, with pictures of two of his friends smoking dope. (I hurried it out of the room, thinking with some amusement of how irate those two would have been if they'd known that album had been on public display.)
The garage sale scene was so depressing (a couple of his customers were as crazy as he) that I could take only a hour of it, and fled for a latte. When I returned in the early afternoon, bringing a sandwich for him, he was dragging yet more large pieces of furniture down from the attic for the sale, which was by now more than half over.
At the end of the day I came back to help put a few things away but I didn't stay long. It was just too overwhelming. He'd made about $400, but was still surrounded by a Stonehenge of big, ugly furniture that he would have to dispose of, somehow. Miraculously, the rust-red velvet couch missing one wheel had vanished.
"Take all the $1 stuff to the dump," I urged him, waving at the table full of warped, greasy plastic cutting boards and 10-year-old giant containers of spices. "Don't keep carting it around!"
I suppose I could have packed the dreck up myself and carted it away for him, but I didn't. I came home, took a bath, and went right to bed. Not surprisingly, I had long, complicated nightmares. In one of them, someone was trying to kill me. If one day with my friend is this depressing, I can only imagine what a whole life of being him must be like.
Unless a person like this lives with a family that protects him, he has no way to survive in modern society. Money vanishes (he's squandered two modest inheritances). Friends get tired of bailing him out of the same problems, over and over, and drift away. He falls victim to every "success" scheme on the planet. And he sets his goals so unrealistically that, even if he achieves them, he either decides he doesn't like what he's got or he panics--and throws it all away.
My friend is in his 50s, in poor health, unemployed, and in danger of becoming homeless. The modest talents that sustained him through his 20s and 30s were never disciplined into any actual professional skills, so he's pretty much unemployable. The lack of common sense means that he can't follow even the simplest directions from an employer--whatever they tell him to do, he wastes hours inventing a new, wholly original, approach to the task. Reactions to this range from amusement to puzzlement to rage, but, eventually, they fire him. His resume has long since gone from suspicious to unthinkable. The menial jobs he could get are, of course, the ones he's most likely to be fired from because his behavior--that of a very eccentric professor of some arcane, left-wing social science--is so inappropriate.
It's trying to be around this guy in any circumstances, but on Saturday it was particularly soul shriveling. He was having a garage sale preparatory to moving far away for a job he has not yet gotten but believes he will shortly get.
He'd asked me to come by the night before to help him price large items of furniture. Once I get in the vicinity of the train wreck, I can't help it: I start pleading with him to put on the brakes and I trying moving everything of value to the back of the train.
The furniture was ghastly, for the most part, ranging from shiny 60's suburban hutchs to massive 70's blond oak coffee tables. Shelves were missing, and everything was covered in dust. The two or three bookcases that were desirable looked much less so in the company of all the squalid junk. An expensive mixer and Cusinart looked like they'd never been cleaned. It soon became apparent that he didn't have any tags to put on the items we were supposed to be pricing, so I went back home to get some.
Much of the garage sale merchandise was still packed in boxes, mixed in with old financial records and other personal papers. While taking a ladle out of a box for the sale, he'd begin shuffling through the papers and sorting them. We'd have been there all night if I hadn't moved everything that didn't belong in the sale into an adjoining room. I then priced the large items, chose a bundt pan to buy, and would have fled--except that it turned out I didn't have $10 to pay for the pan, just a $20, and it turned out he had no change. Actually, he had no money at all.
My friend insisted on coming with me to the drugstore, where I made some purchases--including an energy bar for him--got change, and gave him 10 ones.
In the morning, I was back with $50 from the bank in change, figuring he'd need it. The sale was starting, people were coming in, and there he was, standing in the middle of the room, complaining about his most recent job interview. The boombox he was selling was blasting shrill folk music so loudly that he couldn't hear any of the questions buyers were asking. A box of personal files on one of the sale tables had a photo album, circa 1990, with pictures of two of his friends smoking dope. (I hurried it out of the room, thinking with some amusement of how irate those two would have been if they'd known that album had been on public display.)
The garage sale scene was so depressing (a couple of his customers were as crazy as he) that I could take only a hour of it, and fled for a latte. When I returned in the early afternoon, bringing a sandwich for him, he was dragging yet more large pieces of furniture down from the attic for the sale, which was by now more than half over.
At the end of the day I came back to help put a few things away but I didn't stay long. It was just too overwhelming. He'd made about $400, but was still surrounded by a Stonehenge of big, ugly furniture that he would have to dispose of, somehow. Miraculously, the rust-red velvet couch missing one wheel had vanished.
"Take all the $1 stuff to the dump," I urged him, waving at the table full of warped, greasy plastic cutting boards and 10-year-old giant containers of spices. "Don't keep carting it around!"
I suppose I could have packed the dreck up myself and carted it away for him, but I didn't. I came home, took a bath, and went right to bed. Not surprisingly, I had long, complicated nightmares. In one of them, someone was trying to kill me. If one day with my friend is this depressing, I can only imagine what a whole life of being him must be like.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Of mice and cats
My contribution to the tradition of Friday catblogging:
Local news: Two weeks ago, our neighbor Carol presented us with a package of a dozen cat toys: tiny stuffed mice made of rabbit fur and amazingly realistic. I gave one to each of our cats, who were outside assisting me in the garden, and one to Smokey, the cat we share with another neighbor, Steve. A half hour later there was a blood-curdling scream from across the street. Another neighor, Theresa, was pointing at her driveway where Smokey had deposited a little gray mouse. "It's just a stuffed toy," I shouted. She peered at it and waited until I ran over, got the mouse, and returned it to Smokey (who had taken refuge under her car when the screaming started). In a few days, all the mice had vanished, and I distributed a new batch, giving Smokey is nice white mouse that he promptly began tossing around on the lawn.
Today I got a phone call from Steve, Smokey's elderly co-owner. He reported that his daughter and her husband had arrived for a visit and discovered that Smokey had left a dead mouse on his front porch. They had taken it away with a shovel and flung it into the trash.
"Was this mouse white?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "How did you know?"
I explained it was a stuffed mouse. He said his daughter will certainly be surprised.
It was, apparently, a week to be surprised by your cat. Check it out.
Local news: Two weeks ago, our neighbor Carol presented us with a package of a dozen cat toys: tiny stuffed mice made of rabbit fur and amazingly realistic. I gave one to each of our cats, who were outside assisting me in the garden, and one to Smokey, the cat we share with another neighbor, Steve. A half hour later there was a blood-curdling scream from across the street. Another neighor, Theresa, was pointing at her driveway where Smokey had deposited a little gray mouse. "It's just a stuffed toy," I shouted. She peered at it and waited until I ran over, got the mouse, and returned it to Smokey (who had taken refuge under her car when the screaming started). In a few days, all the mice had vanished, and I distributed a new batch, giving Smokey is nice white mouse that he promptly began tossing around on the lawn.
Today I got a phone call from Steve, Smokey's elderly co-owner. He reported that his daughter and her husband had arrived for a visit and discovered that Smokey had left a dead mouse on his front porch. They had taken it away with a shovel and flung it into the trash.
"Was this mouse white?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "How did you know?"
I explained it was a stuffed mouse. He said his daughter will certainly be surprised.
It was, apparently, a week to be surprised by your cat. Check it out.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
San Marzano tomatoes
Our friend Chris came over to dinner tonight. I was going to make spankopita but didn't get my act together to dash over to the Ballard Market for filo dough. So I decided to make pasta, with a tomato sauce from my favorite cookbook, The Romagnoli's Table (original 1974 version, not the revised one). Because we had fresh basil (from the pizza experiments) I decide to make the extremely simple sauce of melted unsalted butter, good plum tomatoes, fresh basil and salt. Without the onions, salt pork, garlic, and olive oil many people believe are essential for tomato sauces, this is nevertheless an astonishingly flavorful sauce. The key is excellent tomatoes, and I was planning to use a couple cans of peeled plum tomatoes (pomidori pelati), da Napoli brand.
When a peek into the cupboard revealed only one can of tomatoes, I hiked up to the neighborhood grocery, Sunset Hill Greenmarket, and picked up a second can, called San Marzano.
When I got home and opened the two brands of tomatoes side by side I nearly went into shock. The da Napolis, which I've always liked, appeared coarse, fibrous, and sort of limp. The San Marzanos, smaller, rounder, and redder, were delicate and the juice much richer. The taste of the San Marzano's was absolutely to die for--flavorful and complex without being sweet. The da Napoli's didn't taste bad...they just didn't taste much.
As it turned out, the recipe called for only one and a half cans of tomatoes, so I used the all San Marzanos and filled in with a few of the smallest da Napolis. When I crushed the tomatoes, I noted that the San Marzanos have hardly any seeds! (Recipe: melt butter, put in the tomatoes, crush them a little, add salt and basil, let cook 20-30 minutes until the sauce suddenly darkens and thickens. Serve.)
The sauce was great, and I give those San Marzanos full credit.
Some web research reveals that I have barely begun to experience San Marzano tomatoes. The domestic San Marzanos I cooked with (sold by Simpson and Vail, who also sell some killer imported olive oils) are the relatives of Italian tomatoes grown in the San Marzano valley in the Campania region of Italy--"in the shadow of Vesuvius."
The Italian-grown San Marzanos are available from these brands: Sclafani, Strianese, Rosa, AnnalisA, Miracolo di San Gennaro, and La Valle (though not all tomatoes sold with these labels are San Marzanos--you have to check the label). Prices range from $2 a can to $9.50 a can (before shipping). The Miracolo di San Gennaro brand, sold on the Gustiamo website is the most expensive. But based on my previous experience buying cheese and olive oils from Gustiamo, these are likely the tomatoes to end all tomatoes. [NOTE: A heated San Marzano discussion on eGullet includes the information that real Italian San Marzanos will have the letters D.O.P. (Denominazione d'Origine Protetta) on the label. But many folks in the discussion noted that there are some good Italian canned tomatoes with out the D.O.P. accreditation.]
I'm going to look into buying a case of San Marzanos through the Sunset Hill Greenmarket or Larry's Market (where I've seen them in the past). Please let me know if you see any San Marzanos (whole, peeled) anywhere else in Seattle. First good tip leaded to the local purchase of San Marzanos by the case will be rewarded with a pasta dinner, or homemade pizza, with a San Marzano-based sauce. [NOTE: Contest closed. Domestic and imported San Marzanos have been located at the Ballard Market for $2.99 a can. Stand by for an upcoming taste comparison.] [NEW CONTEST: Reward as specified above for information on where to buy Miracolo di San Gennaro brand tomatoes in Seattle.]
Bon apetito!
When a peek into the cupboard revealed only one can of tomatoes, I hiked up to the neighborhood grocery, Sunset Hill Greenmarket, and picked up a second can, called San Marzano.
When I got home and opened the two brands of tomatoes side by side I nearly went into shock. The da Napolis, which I've always liked, appeared coarse, fibrous, and sort of limp. The San Marzanos, smaller, rounder, and redder, were delicate and the juice much richer. The taste of the San Marzano's was absolutely to die for--flavorful and complex without being sweet. The da Napoli's didn't taste bad...they just didn't taste much.
As it turned out, the recipe called for only one and a half cans of tomatoes, so I used the all San Marzanos and filled in with a few of the smallest da Napolis. When I crushed the tomatoes, I noted that the San Marzanos have hardly any seeds! (Recipe: melt butter, put in the tomatoes, crush them a little, add salt and basil, let cook 20-30 minutes until the sauce suddenly darkens and thickens. Serve.)
The sauce was great, and I give those San Marzanos full credit.
Some web research reveals that I have barely begun to experience San Marzano tomatoes. The domestic San Marzanos I cooked with (sold by Simpson and Vail, who also sell some killer imported olive oils) are the relatives of Italian tomatoes grown in the San Marzano valley in the Campania region of Italy--"in the shadow of Vesuvius."
The Italian-grown San Marzanos are available from these brands: Sclafani, Strianese, Rosa, AnnalisA, Miracolo di San Gennaro, and La Valle (though not all tomatoes sold with these labels are San Marzanos--you have to check the label). Prices range from $2 a can to $9.50 a can (before shipping). The Miracolo di San Gennaro brand, sold on the Gustiamo website is the most expensive. But based on my previous experience buying cheese and olive oils from Gustiamo, these are likely the tomatoes to end all tomatoes. [NOTE: A heated San Marzano discussion on eGullet includes the information that real Italian San Marzanos will have the letters D.O.P. (Denominazione d'Origine Protetta) on the label. But many folks in the discussion noted that there are some good Italian canned tomatoes with out the D.O.P. accreditation.]
I'm going to look into buying a case of San Marzanos through the Sunset Hill Greenmarket or Larry's Market (where I've seen them in the past). Please let me know if you see any San Marzanos (whole, peeled) anywhere else in Seattle. First good tip leaded to the local purchase of San Marzanos by the case will be rewarded with a pasta dinner, or homemade pizza, with a San Marzano-based sauce. [NOTE: Contest closed. Domestic and imported San Marzanos have been located at the Ballard Market for $2.99 a can. Stand by for an upcoming taste comparison.] [NEW CONTEST: Reward as specified above for information on where to buy Miracolo di San Gennaro brand tomatoes in Seattle.]
Bon apetito!
Parody of the 1984 Apple commercial
Nicely done "2004" update and parody of Apple's "1984" SuperBowl commercial. Brought to my attention by John Paczkowski's Good Morning Silicon Valley column.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Dragostea Din Tei
No, that's not a typo. It's a hit song by the young Romanian pop trio O-Zone from their album DiscO-Zone. It's also been a hit of sorts for a New Jersey teenager named Gary Broisma who, for a goof, filmed himself with a webcam, dancing and lip-syncing "Dragostea Din Tei" in his computer chair.
The clip of Broisma's performance (called "The Numa Numa Song," after lyrics from the song's chorus) has been one of the hottest downloads on the Internet (since early December). It was initially discovered by a couple of Irish bloggers who mistakenly identified Broisma as "some Dutch kid."
The music video by O-Zone isn't bad, either. It's a delightful techo-dance tune, and they're cute. You'll find several versions of the song on iTunes.
An NBC4.TV poll found that 83% of NBC News website visitors prefer Broisma's exuberant and ironic version.
The Wall Street Journal had a rather touching article (subscription required) yesterday about how the viral popularity of the lip-sync/dance clip has not been a positive experience for Broisma. A bright, mischevious but not particularly directed young man, he was described as first enjoying media attention, but now avoiding it and appearing to be somewhat depressed. I'm sure there is a complexity of issues going on here. Broisma's to be congratulated for not turning himself into another William Hung but I have to admit, I'd love to see him onstage with the charming Romanians. O-Zone performed in Manhattan (and on the Today Show) last week...but no sign of Broisma.
Broisma reminded me quite a bit of Mike Daisey, the ex-Amazon employee and writer/director/actor who turned the saga of his employment during the Dotcom frenzy into the successful play "My Life in Dog Years." I sure hope this eventually turns out well for Broisma. He's too talented to be left working at Staples.
The clip of Broisma's performance (called "The Numa Numa Song," after lyrics from the song's chorus) has been one of the hottest downloads on the Internet (since early December). It was initially discovered by a couple of Irish bloggers who mistakenly identified Broisma as "some Dutch kid."
The music video by O-Zone isn't bad, either. It's a delightful techo-dance tune, and they're cute. You'll find several versions of the song on iTunes.
An NBC4.TV poll found that 83% of NBC News website visitors prefer Broisma's exuberant and ironic version.
The Wall Street Journal had a rather touching article (subscription required) yesterday about how the viral popularity of the lip-sync/dance clip has not been a positive experience for Broisma. A bright, mischevious but not particularly directed young man, he was described as first enjoying media attention, but now avoiding it and appearing to be somewhat depressed. I'm sure there is a complexity of issues going on here. Broisma's to be congratulated for not turning himself into another William Hung but I have to admit, I'd love to see him onstage with the charming Romanians. O-Zone performed in Manhattan (and on the Today Show) last week...but no sign of Broisma.
Broisma reminded me quite a bit of Mike Daisey, the ex-Amazon employee and writer/director/actor who turned the saga of his employment during the Dotcom frenzy into the successful play "My Life in Dog Years." I sure hope this eventually turns out well for Broisma. He's too talented to be left working at Staples.
Friday, February 25, 2005
Calling in the artillery
The Solo Pet Motorized Electronic Pet Door is guaranteed raccoon-proof. And look who's doing the testimonial.
Coonzilla returns
We battled cat-door savvy raccoons at the old Shady Rest in Wallingford for years, with considerable success, but the raccoons over here in Ballard are a whole new adversary.
Our electro-magnetic cat door requires a magnet (worn on the cat's collar) as an entry key. The door has a plexiglas flap that swings freely in the outgoing direction as the cat leaves the house but has a magnet-triggered plastic bolt that prevents entry by any animal lacking the key. In Wallingford, the raccoons learned to exploit the weakness in the system (the free-swinging exit) by hooking a claw under the flap, swinging it out and towards them (as if a cat were leaving) and ducking in under the open flap. We foiled them first by changing the control settings so that a second plastic bolt prevented the free-swinging exit. We then installed a second cat door. Under the side-by-side cat doors system, cats used a magnet to enter and to leave, and no doors were free-swinging in any direction.
The Wallingford raccoons responded by ripping the control panel off the second cat door (since it was reversed, the controls were on the exterior), removing the batteries that controlled the lock system, and then ripping the entire cat door assembly out of the door. We fought back by reinstalling the door and covering the controls and the frame of the cat door with one-by-fours screwed into the door itself. Yes, our backdoor in Wallingford looked like something from the set of a made-for-TV tornado disaster film, but we'd won. (I'll spare you the episode that involved the coyote-urine raccoon repellent.)
After realizing we had a nightly visitor here in Ballard, we ordered a second cat door and, while awaiting delivery, locked the current basement cat door so it did not swing out at all, magnet or no magnet. The Ballard raccoon didn't waste any time on skirmishes or vandalism. Sometime during the night, he got a grip on the plexiglas cat door flap and twisted and yanked it until it popped out, right over both plastic locking bolts. This morning I found the flap twisted off-center and jammed in the wide-open position. In the basement, cat food dishes were empty, water bowls muddied, and bags of cat food ravaged.
We've scrapped our plan to reinstitute the "double uni-directional cat door" that worked so well in Wallingford. Mere plastic bolts don't stop Coonzilla. Our fallback plan is to board up the cat door opening for a few weeks and hope the raccoon gives up and moves on easier basements during that time. And, yes, we are going to blockade the door up from the inside so the raccoon can't bring along his little Makita and unscrew the boards.
Our electro-magnetic cat door requires a magnet (worn on the cat's collar) as an entry key. The door has a plexiglas flap that swings freely in the outgoing direction as the cat leaves the house but has a magnet-triggered plastic bolt that prevents entry by any animal lacking the key. In Wallingford, the raccoons learned to exploit the weakness in the system (the free-swinging exit) by hooking a claw under the flap, swinging it out and towards them (as if a cat were leaving) and ducking in under the open flap. We foiled them first by changing the control settings so that a second plastic bolt prevented the free-swinging exit. We then installed a second cat door. Under the side-by-side cat doors system, cats used a magnet to enter and to leave, and no doors were free-swinging in any direction.
The Wallingford raccoons responded by ripping the control panel off the second cat door (since it was reversed, the controls were on the exterior), removing the batteries that controlled the lock system, and then ripping the entire cat door assembly out of the door. We fought back by reinstalling the door and covering the controls and the frame of the cat door with one-by-fours screwed into the door itself. Yes, our backdoor in Wallingford looked like something from the set of a made-for-TV tornado disaster film, but we'd won. (I'll spare you the episode that involved the coyote-urine raccoon repellent.)
After realizing we had a nightly visitor here in Ballard, we ordered a second cat door and, while awaiting delivery, locked the current basement cat door so it did not swing out at all, magnet or no magnet. The Ballard raccoon didn't waste any time on skirmishes or vandalism. Sometime during the night, he got a grip on the plexiglas cat door flap and twisted and yanked it until it popped out, right over both plastic locking bolts. This morning I found the flap twisted off-center and jammed in the wide-open position. In the basement, cat food dishes were empty, water bowls muddied, and bags of cat food ravaged.
We've scrapped our plan to reinstitute the "double uni-directional cat door" that worked so well in Wallingford. Mere plastic bolts don't stop Coonzilla. Our fallback plan is to board up the cat door opening for a few weeks and hope the raccoon gives up and moves on easier basements during that time. And, yes, we are going to blockade the door up from the inside so the raccoon can't bring along his little Makita and unscrew the boards.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
There's a word for it
According to WordSpy, what I've been doing to our dining room for the past week is undecorating. And, I apparently have great aptitude as a house fluffer, since my recommendation to friends preparing their houses for sale is always "get rid of the aluminum screen door." But I have yet to go in for extreme ironing.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
The Somerville Gates
I was wondering what to blog about. Then Chris turned me on to Hargo's the Somerville Gates. This 2,400-square-foot installation is not to be missed, and will be up only for a short period. My favorite view: the Media Gates.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
A "Ten Things" list
According to some of the livejournal blogerati the latest meme (infectious idea) going around involves listing 10 things you've done that your friends probably haven't. On one hand there's a rather off-putting "nyah, nyah" tone to this, and, on the other hand, many of the things I've done that are that, uh, distinguishing aren't necessarily things I'd want to talk about.
That said, here's my (expurgated) list of Ten Things I've Done That You Probably Haven't. I can hardly wait to see Zorg's list! [here it is, Zorg's List, and it's a lot more exotic than mine!]
That said, here's my (expurgated) list of Ten Things I've Done That You Probably Haven't. I can hardly wait to see Zorg's list! [here it is, Zorg's List, and it's a lot more exotic than mine!]
- Herniated a disc by crawling under a hot tub and changing the tub filter.
- Worked my way through college as an art class model.
- Accidentally ordered a small octopus for lunch (I ate it).
- Lost a Virginia high school state speaking competition because the judges didn't like my Northern accent.
- Had the door to my apartment smashed into splinters in the middle of the night by someone I'd never met.
- Got two free cab rides in one year in Manhattan.
- Published (online) a comprehensive survey of mystery novels about cats.
- Wrote a graduate school thesis on the drug paraphernalia industry.
- Traveled with Stokely Carmichael.
- Used a minature video camera in 1968.
Friday, February 18, 2005
Googling by the (UPC) numbers
A wheel broke on our second-hand patio lounge chair. Rubber tread, plastic hub (shattered)...how to find another one? Dreading a Saturday spent schlepping from Fred Meyer to Home Depot to Lowe's to True Value with no real hope of success, I picked up the broken wheel to put it in my car as a sample. There, attached to the side of the wheel, was a barcode sticker. I thought, wouldn't it be great if you could just enter the barcode into Google search and find the item online? At least I'd know the name and manufacturer of what I was looking for.
I Google searched first for web pages about barcode searching and found (though not very easily) an excellent page on using Google and Yahoo searching for arcane purposes. And discovered to my amazement that all you need to do is type the barcode number into the regular Google search box and click. (Other numbers, such as patents, need keywords as well.)
So I typed in the barcode number and, like magic, Google yielded two sites that sell what was revealed to be the "6-inch by 1.5-inch plastic 50# Diamond Tread wheel by Arnold." Two wheels (for the day when the other wheel falls off the lounge chair) plus shipping totaled $14 at doityourself.com, and I could pay using my PayPal account. Adios, Home Depot! My Saturday is free.
I Google searched first for web pages about barcode searching and found (though not very easily) an excellent page on using Google and Yahoo searching for arcane purposes. And discovered to my amazement that all you need to do is type the barcode number into the regular Google search box and click. (Other numbers, such as patents, need keywords as well.)
So I typed in the barcode number and, like magic, Google yielded two sites that sell what was revealed to be the "6-inch by 1.5-inch plastic 50# Diamond Tread wheel by Arnold." Two wheels (for the day when the other wheel falls off the lounge chair) plus shipping totaled $14 at doityourself.com, and I could pay using my PayPal account. Adios, Home Depot! My Saturday is free.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
That's what I like about the Web
...web sites devoted to exposing the manufacturers of crummy overpriced appliances. A little Web research (including Epinions) saved us from buying an expensive Neptune washer from Maytag. The company had ignored customer complaints about mildew to the point that a class-action lawsuit was underway.
Here's a woman who's put together a resource page for consumers afflicted by malfunctioning Kenmore Calypsos, compounded by Sears' so-called "customer service."
At Macworld San Francisco this year (and at the subsequent Blog Business Summit in Seattle) Steve Brobak told a fabulous storyabout using a blog to get back at a hotel that advertised "free wireless Internet" but then charged him for it. After they refused to adjust his bill, he blogged about their deception. Then he spent $5 to buy a Google AdSense ad warning people about the hotel's deceptive practices and linked it to the blog entry. Each time someone Googled the offending hotel they got, alongside their search results, Brobak's ad. Not surprisingly, it took only a day or two for the hotel to hear about it, contact him, and agree to fix their misleading advertising.
Here's a woman who's put together a resource page for consumers afflicted by malfunctioning Kenmore Calypsos, compounded by Sears' so-called "customer service."
At Macworld San Francisco this year (and at the subsequent Blog Business Summit in Seattle) Steve Brobak told a fabulous storyabout using a blog to get back at a hotel that advertised "free wireless Internet" but then charged him for it. After they refused to adjust his bill, he blogged about their deception. Then he spent $5 to buy a Google AdSense ad warning people about the hotel's deceptive practices and linked it to the blog entry. Each time someone Googled the offending hotel they got, alongside their search results, Brobak's ad. Not surprisingly, it took only a day or two for the hotel to hear about it, contact him, and agree to fix their misleading advertising.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
More alarms at night
As a child, my favorite story was Thurber's "The Night the Bed Fell." As an adult, I've always had an interest in investigating strange sounds in the night.
Tonight I came back from a long day in San Jose, miserably sick with a cold. I lured all the cats indoors and got into a nice hot bath with a mystery novel. Almost immediately I heard a strange sound outside the bathroom window. It was midway beween the squeak of an animal and the shriek of a car beeper. It would sound a couple times, then be quiet for five minutes, then sound again. After about a half hour of this, I was getting concerned. The house next door to us is in-between owners, and unoccupied, and I wondered if an animal were stuck in the house, or in a trap. Finally I got out of the tub, put on a fleece robe and sheepskin boots, armed myself with a large flashlight--and woke up Zorg. He put on sweats and slippers and we crept down to the basement and out through the laundry room to the backyard, making sure none of the cats followed us. As we stood in the side yard under the bathroom window in the freezing cold, shining the light around, I felt like an idiot. Then, we heard it.
Squeep!
But it was much quieter, a good distance away. We went out to the driveway, and heard it again. Finally, I shone my light down the alley and there they were: a pair of gigantic raccoons, now growling and muttering as they scampered off down the road. Zorg believes that I interrupted their Valentine's Day celebration. I think they should go celebrate somewhere else. I suspect they are the same raccoons who rampaged through the garage and ate the cat food last week.
Tonight I came back from a long day in San Jose, miserably sick with a cold. I lured all the cats indoors and got into a nice hot bath with a mystery novel. Almost immediately I heard a strange sound outside the bathroom window. It was midway beween the squeak of an animal and the shriek of a car beeper. It would sound a couple times, then be quiet for five minutes, then sound again. After about a half hour of this, I was getting concerned. The house next door to us is in-between owners, and unoccupied, and I wondered if an animal were stuck in the house, or in a trap. Finally I got out of the tub, put on a fleece robe and sheepskin boots, armed myself with a large flashlight--and woke up Zorg. He put on sweats and slippers and we crept down to the basement and out through the laundry room to the backyard, making sure none of the cats followed us. As we stood in the side yard under the bathroom window in the freezing cold, shining the light around, I felt like an idiot. Then, we heard it.
Squeep!
But it was much quieter, a good distance away. We went out to the driveway, and heard it again. Finally, I shone my light down the alley and there they were: a pair of gigantic raccoons, now growling and muttering as they scampered off down the road. Zorg believes that I interrupted their Valentine's Day celebration. I think they should go celebrate somewhere else. I suspect they are the same raccoons who rampaged through the garage and ate the cat food last week.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Roomba madness
A few weeks ago, on the advice of a friend who knows both technology and housekeeping, I purchased a robotic floor cleaner known as the Roomba. I was in the middle of drafting a product review for this blog when my friend Nina came by to visit. Before I could give her a demo of the Roomba, we heard a cheery series of beeps behind us and turned around just in time to see it come roaring out from under the buffet (where its home base charger is positioned) and go zooming across the dining room. It had a small stuffed mouse riding on top of it and our cats Kaylee and Zoe in cautious pursuit.
"That's the Roomba," I explained to Nina, and then we both lost it.
(Kaylee had apparently tossed the mouse onto the docked Roomba, then followed it aboard, and stepped on the "Power" and "Clean" buttons in sequence. This caused the Roomba to back out of the dock and embark on a cleaning mission, mouse and all.)
Owning a Roomba is full of surprises, some good, some bad, and some hilarious.
Getting started with the Roomba is much like trying out any new housecleaning service: In the beginning, you may spend as much time preparing the room and instructing the Roomba as you would have spent doing the cleaning yourself. Is it worth it? Maybe.
It's good, but limited.
The Roomba performs best on hard surfaces (wood, linoleum, and tile) and it excels at spot cleaning of things like dust and crumbs. It doesn't do shag carpeting, and doesn't like clambering from a hard surface up onto the higher surface of a thick Oriental rug. Fringe? Hah! That way lies madness. The bottom line is that you'll want to keep your traditional vacuum, and use it regularly. The Roomba is best for a quick cleanup before the guests arrive, or cleanup after a cooking, home repair, or crafts project.
It's lightweight and energetic.
We have a small house with hardwoods, and a fully charged Roomba can easily clean a whole floor of the house without running out of juice. Since it's lightweight, it's perfect for spot-cleaning. Pick it up, put it down, and push the Power, Clean and Spot buttons. No lugging around a heavy vacuum cleaner, changing attachments, and reeling out cords to clean up a dusting of flour in the kitchen or gift-wrapping scraps in the diningroom.
It doesn't do it your way.
Yes, the Roomba would drive your control-freak mother nuts. And the first time you see it in action, you'll discover just how much of her controlling personality you inherited. It sets about cleaning a room in a zig zag pattern that appears maddeningly random to you, but trust the programmers: It works. Let it zig and zag and zig and zag the result will be a well-cleaned floor. You heard me. If you want it to decrease, rather than add to, your workload, you'll have to leave it alone and trust it.
It's intelligent, but only up to a point.
The Roomba is a perfect example of the difference between intelligence and judgment. It gets the floor clean, avoids going over the edge of the stairs into the basement, and finds its way back to the power dock when the batteries are running low--pretty bright. But it's not prepared in any way to either handle or avoid the unexpected. If your cat has a tendency to glorp up its breakfast under the dining room table, or your puppy has accidents, you'd better get there before the Roomba does, or you'll be cleaning both floor and Roomba.
It's NOISY.
Don't expect to stay in the room where the Roomba is buzzing and clattering away. It sounds like a large child's toy. You'd be better off going in to the next room and washing the windows, dusting the lampshades, or maybe cleaning the sink. While listening to your iPod.
Then, it's your turn to clean.
The Roomba cleaned your house, now you get to empty the Roomba (over a kitchen-size garbage can) and remove and clean the Roomba brushes. The Roomba is a floor sweeper, not a vacuum, and it doesn't use a bag. I found emptying it of cat food crumbs and cleaning its brushes of cat fur more complicated and less pleasant than switching out a vacuum bag.
It's cute.
It's small, easy to store, and it comes in a both neutral and bold colors. I purchased the new model called the Roomba Discovery, in an iMac-like blue/grey and white. Another one of the new ones is the Roomba Red, in a shiny, retro finish. What's not to like about this relative of R2D2, whirling about, nuzzling your baseboards, and starting and ending its cleaning with happy little arpeggios of beeping?
"That's the Roomba," I explained to Nina, and then we both lost it.
(Kaylee had apparently tossed the mouse onto the docked Roomba, then followed it aboard, and stepped on the "Power" and "Clean" buttons in sequence. This caused the Roomba to back out of the dock and embark on a cleaning mission, mouse and all.)
Owning a Roomba is full of surprises, some good, some bad, and some hilarious.
Getting started with the Roomba is much like trying out any new housecleaning service: In the beginning, you may spend as much time preparing the room and instructing the Roomba as you would have spent doing the cleaning yourself. Is it worth it? Maybe.
It's good, but limited.
The Roomba performs best on hard surfaces (wood, linoleum, and tile) and it excels at spot cleaning of things like dust and crumbs. It doesn't do shag carpeting, and doesn't like clambering from a hard surface up onto the higher surface of a thick Oriental rug. Fringe? Hah! That way lies madness. The bottom line is that you'll want to keep your traditional vacuum, and use it regularly. The Roomba is best for a quick cleanup before the guests arrive, or cleanup after a cooking, home repair, or crafts project.
It's lightweight and energetic.
We have a small house with hardwoods, and a fully charged Roomba can easily clean a whole floor of the house without running out of juice. Since it's lightweight, it's perfect for spot-cleaning. Pick it up, put it down, and push the Power, Clean and Spot buttons. No lugging around a heavy vacuum cleaner, changing attachments, and reeling out cords to clean up a dusting of flour in the kitchen or gift-wrapping scraps in the diningroom.
It doesn't do it your way.
Yes, the Roomba would drive your control-freak mother nuts. And the first time you see it in action, you'll discover just how much of her controlling personality you inherited. It sets about cleaning a room in a zig zag pattern that appears maddeningly random to you, but trust the programmers: It works. Let it zig and zag and zig and zag the result will be a well-cleaned floor. You heard me. If you want it to decrease, rather than add to, your workload, you'll have to leave it alone and trust it.
It's intelligent, but only up to a point.
The Roomba is a perfect example of the difference between intelligence and judgment. It gets the floor clean, avoids going over the edge of the stairs into the basement, and finds its way back to the power dock when the batteries are running low--pretty bright. But it's not prepared in any way to either handle or avoid the unexpected. If your cat has a tendency to glorp up its breakfast under the dining room table, or your puppy has accidents, you'd better get there before the Roomba does, or you'll be cleaning both floor and Roomba.
It's NOISY.
Don't expect to stay in the room where the Roomba is buzzing and clattering away. It sounds like a large child's toy. You'd be better off going in to the next room and washing the windows, dusting the lampshades, or maybe cleaning the sink. While listening to your iPod.
Then, it's your turn to clean.
The Roomba cleaned your house, now you get to empty the Roomba (over a kitchen-size garbage can) and remove and clean the Roomba brushes. The Roomba is a floor sweeper, not a vacuum, and it doesn't use a bag. I found emptying it of cat food crumbs and cleaning its brushes of cat fur more complicated and less pleasant than switching out a vacuum bag.
It's cute.
It's small, easy to store, and it comes in a both neutral and bold colors. I purchased the new model called the Roomba Discovery, in an iMac-like blue/grey and white. Another one of the new ones is the Roomba Red, in a shiny, retro finish. What's not to like about this relative of R2D2, whirling about, nuzzling your baseboards, and starting and ending its cleaning with happy little arpeggios of beeping?
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Kitchen capers
Don't let any recent informative or thoughtful blog entries fool you. Since getting the Wolf stove two weeks ago, most of what I've been doing outside of work hours is playing in the kitchen.
New cookware. I tossed out several pots and pans that were so dented they rattled on the stovetop. And got rid of a warped 15" pizza pan. Then I went to Craig's List to troll for a deal on the pots and pans endorsed by the Cook's Illustrated testing kitchen: All-Clad stainless steel. My timing was good: I hooked up with a guy who had gotten a set of All-Clad as some kind of sales incentive at his job, and we met in the parking lot of the Ballard QFC Wednesday to exchange cash for cookware. The set has four pieces: a little 1-quart pan, a 10-inch frying pan, a 4-quart saucier (looks like a bowl with a handle) with cover, and a 6-quart saute pan. The 6-quart is so ridiculously immense (you could put three big roasting chickens in it) that I immediately listed it for sale on eBay. This morning I cooked a cheese omelette in the 10-inch frying pan. I expected it to cook up quickly, evenly, and heat through nicely, but the big surprise was that it didn't stick to the pan. It moved around when I shook the pan, and let me fold it over with no problem. I was entranced. Fortunately, Cook's Illustrated endorses basic Pyrex as the best ovenware, so there are no expensive purchases required for baking. Tonight I brought my 30-year-old wok up from the pantry, removed some gunk, and made moo goo gai pan, complete with fresh water chestnuts (from the Ballard Market) and velveted chicken. Zorg, who is suffering from a cold and couldn't taste a thing, commented on the nice texture of the chicken. Which is exactly the point of velveting.
New ingredients. Five-year-old beignet mixes? Yech. I cleaned out the pantry, tossing out rancid grains, flour and mixes that had followed me over from the old house, some four years ago. Then went out and bought barley and bulghur wheat.
Sharp knives. Our knives, a varied assortment of mid-range items from cook shops and yard sales, were duller than the Lawrence Welk Show. Some months back, I'd been at the dry cleaners and noticed a mobile knife-sharpening service working on the tailor's shears. I found their card, called them up, and they came over during the week and sharpened four knives, a cleaver, three pairs of scissors, the garden loppers and two pairs of garden pruners, all for $35. Snip! Slash! Swoosh!
New recipes. Back in the days when we had the O'Keefe and Merritt stove, I had been developing a FileMaker Pro database of recipes. I'm working on it again, and hope to have a Shady Rest West Cookbook ready by the holidays. This is just too much fun!
New cookware. I tossed out several pots and pans that were so dented they rattled on the stovetop. And got rid of a warped 15" pizza pan. Then I went to Craig's List to troll for a deal on the pots and pans endorsed by the Cook's Illustrated testing kitchen: All-Clad stainless steel. My timing was good: I hooked up with a guy who had gotten a set of All-Clad as some kind of sales incentive at his job, and we met in the parking lot of the Ballard QFC Wednesday to exchange cash for cookware. The set has four pieces: a little 1-quart pan, a 10-inch frying pan, a 4-quart saucier (looks like a bowl with a handle) with cover, and a 6-quart saute pan. The 6-quart is so ridiculously immense (you could put three big roasting chickens in it) that I immediately listed it for sale on eBay. This morning I cooked a cheese omelette in the 10-inch frying pan. I expected it to cook up quickly, evenly, and heat through nicely, but the big surprise was that it didn't stick to the pan. It moved around when I shook the pan, and let me fold it over with no problem. I was entranced. Fortunately, Cook's Illustrated endorses basic Pyrex as the best ovenware, so there are no expensive purchases required for baking. Tonight I brought my 30-year-old wok up from the pantry, removed some gunk, and made moo goo gai pan, complete with fresh water chestnuts (from the Ballard Market) and velveted chicken. Zorg, who is suffering from a cold and couldn't taste a thing, commented on the nice texture of the chicken. Which is exactly the point of velveting.
New ingredients. Five-year-old beignet mixes? Yech. I cleaned out the pantry, tossing out rancid grains, flour and mixes that had followed me over from the old house, some four years ago. Then went out and bought barley and bulghur wheat.
Sharp knives. Our knives, a varied assortment of mid-range items from cook shops and yard sales, were duller than the Lawrence Welk Show. Some months back, I'd been at the dry cleaners and noticed a mobile knife-sharpening service working on the tailor's shears. I found their card, called them up, and they came over during the week and sharpened four knives, a cleaver, three pairs of scissors, the garden loppers and two pairs of garden pruners, all for $35. Snip! Slash! Swoosh!
New recipes. Back in the days when we had the O'Keefe and Merritt stove, I had been developing a FileMaker Pro database of recipes. I'm working on it again, and hope to have a Shady Rest West Cookbook ready by the holidays. This is just too much fun!
Blogging between the covers
Ever thought about turning your blog, or the best entries from it, into a hard-bound book? BlogBinders does it. Philipp Lenssen, who write Google Blogscoped, shares his experience.
Blog at your own risk
Eric Scobie, who does a much-watched corporate blog for Microsoft, comments very perceptively on the recent firing of Mark Jen, who'd been a Google corporate blogger. Scobie concludes:
"Every blogger has a knob to turn when he/she writes. One direction is 'more interesting' and the other direction is 'safer.' You gotta decide where to turn that knob."
When I get the occasional nastygram about one of my blog entries, it's a reminder that blogging is not like being a journalist. You don't have tough editors, powerful publishers, and a phalanx of corporate attorneys to tell your critics to go pound sand.
"Every blogger has a knob to turn when he/she writes. One direction is 'more interesting' and the other direction is 'safer.' You gotta decide where to turn that knob."
When I get the occasional nastygram about one of my blog entries, it's a reminder that blogging is not like being a journalist. You don't have tough editors, powerful publishers, and a phalanx of corporate attorneys to tell your critics to go pound sand.
History tablecloth, drift table, and more
And I thought the Roomba was eccentric. Check out Electronic Furniture for the Curious Home.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Northwest Flower and Garden Show
The weekday crowd at the Northwest Flower and Garden Show (at the Convention Center through Sunday) is a mellow assortment of (mostly gray-haired) gardening devotees. I took a vacation day today so I could join them; anything to avoid the weekend crush of wealthy couples on the prowl to hire the trendiest garden designers in the region.
This year none of the exhibits is particularly memorable or outragous, but several are worth study. For the ecologically conscious, "Feel the Heat," and for the modern garden fan, "Figure and Form in the Garden."
Here are two albums of unedited photos I took. You'll find pictures of the competitions (floral arrangements, container gardens, and full-sized gardens) in Part 1, and highlights of the commercial booths in Part 2. These albums are best viewed by clicking the slideshow icon at the top to see the full-size images.
Highlights of the commercial booths (see the Part 2 photos) include the delightful garden sculpture of Phillip Glashoff and stained-glass patio tables by Karen Seymour (Karen is also selling her new how-to book, with comes complete with CD).
So what did I buy? Afraid it was not very dramatic: One of those 75-foot-long coiled garden hoses for small gardens; a little "noodle" sprinkler; an $8 hellebore to replace the expensive one that (gulp) vanished during the fence renovation project; a tiny $5 Australian bush mint they assured me will be huge by summer; an aluminum extension pruner to prune the top of the pear tree, and Karen's Seymour's stained-glass book (mentioned above). However, I am thinking about buying the recycled metal fence section that appears in the picture of the ReStore booth in the "Part 2" photo album. I took measurements, and will be out in the back yard tomorrow seeing if it will fit. Any opinions?
This year none of the exhibits is particularly memorable or outragous, but several are worth study. For the ecologically conscious, "Feel the Heat," and for the modern garden fan, "Figure and Form in the Garden."
Here are two albums of unedited photos I took. You'll find pictures of the competitions (floral arrangements, container gardens, and full-sized gardens) in Part 1, and highlights of the commercial booths in Part 2. These albums are best viewed by clicking the slideshow icon at the top to see the full-size images.
Highlights of the commercial booths (see the Part 2 photos) include the delightful garden sculpture of Phillip Glashoff and stained-glass patio tables by Karen Seymour (Karen is also selling her new how-to book, with comes complete with CD).
So what did I buy? Afraid it was not very dramatic: One of those 75-foot-long coiled garden hoses for small gardens; a little "noodle" sprinkler; an $8 hellebore to replace the expensive one that (gulp) vanished during the fence renovation project; a tiny $5 Australian bush mint they assured me will be huge by summer; an aluminum extension pruner to prune the top of the pear tree, and Karen's Seymour's stained-glass book (mentioned above). However, I am thinking about buying the recycled metal fence section that appears in the picture of the ReStore booth in the "Part 2" photo album. I took measurements, and will be out in the back yard tomorrow seeing if it will fit. Any opinions?
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Quality content on the web
For the past three years, I've had a paid subscription to the electronic newsletter Netsurfer Digest. The monthly digest points to substantive articles and websites on a wide range of topics, many, but not all, about high tech. It's well worth the $20 a year.
Today's issue points to an article by TechWeb columnist Mitch Wagner, explaining RSS (rich site summary) technology and why an increasing number of people are using it.
How common are RSS feeds? A few months ago, I'd visit a blog or site and then try to subscribe to it with NetNewsWire Lite (an excellent free desktop-based newsreader for the Mac). But often the site lacked the RSS code necessary to let NetNewsWire track it. Today, I'd say that more than 90 percent of the blogs and sites I visit have installed RSS feeds. (Installing an RSS feed can be as simple as pasting a line of code into your blog template.)
Wagner recommends a Web-based newsreader, Bloglines. Using a Web-based aggregator, instead of a desktop one, makes sense if you use multiple computers (home and work, for instance) but want to be able to keep your RSS reading in sync. He's got me curious enough to take a look and see if Bloglines is Mac-friendly.
By the way, today I spent quite a bit of time at Doug Plummer's blog, thoughtful writing (and stunning images) by a brilliant photographer.
Today's issue points to an article by TechWeb columnist Mitch Wagner, explaining RSS (rich site summary) technology and why an increasing number of people are using it.
How common are RSS feeds? A few months ago, I'd visit a blog or site and then try to subscribe to it with NetNewsWire Lite (an excellent free desktop-based newsreader for the Mac). But often the site lacked the RSS code necessary to let NetNewsWire track it. Today, I'd say that more than 90 percent of the blogs and sites I visit have installed RSS feeds. (Installing an RSS feed can be as simple as pasting a line of code into your blog template.)
Wagner recommends a Web-based newsreader, Bloglines. Using a Web-based aggregator, instead of a desktop one, makes sense if you use multiple computers (home and work, for instance) but want to be able to keep your RSS reading in sync. He's got me curious enough to take a look and see if Bloglines is Mac-friendly.
By the way, today I spent quite a bit of time at Doug Plummer's blog, thoughtful writing (and stunning images) by a brilliant photographer.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
More caching adventures
Today we went off in search of the locationless "Terra" cache again, this time in Seattle. The plan was to walk to Fremont, but halfway there we got caught in a squall. We came home and changed clothes, then drove to Fremont and found a cutesy card shop at the address that some years ago had apparently housed an establishment called "Terra Cotta."
So, still no Terra cache. Zorg says he has completely lost faith in Dex directory listings, where he'd gotten the list of Seattle area establishments with "Terra" in the name.
Today's pizza hunt was more successful. We found decent slices at Mad Pizza in Fremont. The crust is truly superb, light and crisp, though the red sauce is dominated by bitter-tasting dried oregano. Frustrating--that would be so easy to fix!
So, still no Terra cache. Zorg says he has completely lost faith in Dex directory listings, where he'd gotten the list of Seattle area establishments with "Terra" in the name.
Today's pizza hunt was more successful. We found decent slices at Mad Pizza in Fremont. The crust is truly superb, light and crisp, though the red sauce is dominated by bitter-tasting dried oregano. Frustrating--that would be so easy to fix!
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Portland adventure
Today I had my introduction to terracaching and geocaching, Zorg's newest hobbies. Geocaching bills itself as "the sport where you are the search engine," in which case I probably need a tuneup.
Caching starts with someone hiding a box of goodies, including a log book, and recording the cache by GPS identity at one of the official caching sites. The participants, who register with one of the sites and carry GPS devices, go in search of the cache. When they find it, they sign the log, and when they get home they go online to record the find.
We were doing a variant of terracaching in which you look for something that has no definite location. Such as a Jeep completely covered in mud. Or a sign that includes the word "Terra." To document your find, you take a picture of it, including in the picture the coordinates displayed on your GPS device.
After a visit to Zorg's grandmother, we spent the afternoon looking for something called Antica Terra in Portland. Zorg had chosen it because he thought it might be an antique store, and thus appealing to me. Eventually we arrived at the address, in a picturesque neighborhood just a few blocks from a not-so-picturesque neighborhood. It was an unmarked residence. Hmmm. The phone number for Antica Terra had been changed, and when we called the new number, we got the home office of the owner of a winery...called Antica Terra. He sounded puzzled, but we didn't try to explain.
Poor Zorg. My luck was even worse, because we found the pizza place I'd been looking for (routine restaurant hunting, not terracaching) and it turned out to be utterly undistinguished, except for the salad.
Caching starts with someone hiding a box of goodies, including a log book, and recording the cache by GPS identity at one of the official caching sites. The participants, who register with one of the sites and carry GPS devices, go in search of the cache. When they find it, they sign the log, and when they get home they go online to record the find.
We were doing a variant of terracaching in which you look for something that has no definite location. Such as a Jeep completely covered in mud. Or a sign that includes the word "Terra." To document your find, you take a picture of it, including in the picture the coordinates displayed on your GPS device.
After a visit to Zorg's grandmother, we spent the afternoon looking for something called Antica Terra in Portland. Zorg had chosen it because he thought it might be an antique store, and thus appealing to me. Eventually we arrived at the address, in a picturesque neighborhood just a few blocks from a not-so-picturesque neighborhood. It was an unmarked residence. Hmmm. The phone number for Antica Terra had been changed, and when we called the new number, we got the home office of the owner of a winery...called Antica Terra. He sounded puzzled, but we didn't try to explain.
Poor Zorg. My luck was even worse, because we found the pizza place I'd been looking for (routine restaurant hunting, not terracaching) and it turned out to be utterly undistinguished, except for the salad.
Friday, February 04, 2005
They're everywhere
Dave Winer, godfather of blogging, on the prevalence of iPods on Manhattan: "Walking through the city is like walking through an Apple ad."
Winer has a podcast in that same blog entry you can listen to; it reminds me of This American Life, though that may not be what he intends. If you want to listen to podcasts, and you're a Mac user, Dave recommends Podcast Tuner, available in beta Feb. 8.
Just got an email saying that my iPod shuffle is in the mail--wearable music, yeah! Now I'll be well dressed for my trip to New York in April.
Winer has a podcast in that same blog entry you can listen to; it reminds me of This American Life, though that may not be what he intends. If you want to listen to podcasts, and you're a Mac user, Dave recommends Podcast Tuner, available in beta Feb. 8.
Just got an email saying that my iPod shuffle is in the mail--wearable music, yeah! Now I'll be well dressed for my trip to New York in April.
Monday, January 31, 2005
More joys of cooking
After a couple weeks with the new Wolf gas stove, I'm noticing that the stovetop and the surrounding countertop rarely need to be cleaned. Remembering the ordeal of scraping burnt spots off the old electric stove's glass cooktop, and trying to get grease off the glass control panel on a daily basis, I wondered what was going on. It's not just that the Wolf is easy to clean--it's that it isn't getting dirty.
The answer, I realized, was that because I can now control burner temperature precisely, foods aren't bubbling over or spattering. I find I enjoy cooking much more now that it doesn't involve trashing the place.
The answer, I realized, was that because I can now control burner temperature precisely, foods aren't bubbling over or spattering. I find I enjoy cooking much more now that it doesn't involve trashing the place.
Spinning my wheels with Sears
Sears' web site service allows me to get all the way to the page where you pay for the parts you are ordering--and then it stalls out. This has been going on for years. I keep thinking they'll fix it, trying to order online, but ending up calling the parts ordering number. As I did last week when I needed new wheels for our vacuum cleaner.
Today a confirmation letter arrived in the mail saying that they'd shipped the new wheels January 25. The confirmation letter arrived January 31. The wheels, sent via DHL, did not.
Using the DHL tracking number in the confirmation letter, I discovered that DHL has no record of my package.
I then called the "order status" phone number provided in the Sears confirmation letter. I listened to the long menu of things, none of which were "order status." I asked for Customer Service, and she cheerfully transferred me to Parts. Parts cheerfully said she need to transfer me to Customer Relations (apparently different from Customer Service). Didn't get to find out, because her transfer disconnected me. I got a message telling me to please re-dial the 1-800 number.
I then called back to the main number and was placed on hold multiple times listening to a hideously cheerful voice chirping "Sears. Good life, great price." Finally got through to Parts again, and was again transferred to Customer Relations, which informed me that the DHL tracking procedure outlined in the confirmation letter "never works." And that they have no idea where my wheels are, but will get back to me.
Sears. "Good life, great price." Good grief.
Today a confirmation letter arrived in the mail saying that they'd shipped the new wheels January 25. The confirmation letter arrived January 31. The wheels, sent via DHL, did not.
Using the DHL tracking number in the confirmation letter, I discovered that DHL has no record of my package.
I then called the "order status" phone number provided in the Sears confirmation letter. I listened to the long menu of things, none of which were "order status." I asked for Customer Service, and she cheerfully transferred me to Parts. Parts cheerfully said she need to transfer me to Customer Relations (apparently different from Customer Service). Didn't get to find out, because her transfer disconnected me. I got a message telling me to please re-dial the 1-800 number.
I then called back to the main number and was placed on hold multiple times listening to a hideously cheerful voice chirping "Sears. Good life, great price." Finally got through to Parts again, and was again transferred to Customer Relations, which informed me that the DHL tracking procedure outlined in the confirmation letter "never works." And that they have no idea where my wheels are, but will get back to me.
Sears. "Good life, great price." Good grief.
Saturday, January 29, 2005
A question of identity
Suspicious about what might be lurking across the street from your house?
Here's the National Arbor Day Foundation's guide to tree identification. Hone your tree ID skills with their interactive Flash animation exercises.
Here's the National Arbor Day Foundation's guide to tree identification. Hone your tree ID skills with their interactive Flash animation exercises.
Friday, January 28, 2005
It says "don't forget the mskrtthy"?
Sad, but true. For most of us, writing in cursive is becoming an amusing affectation.
What's it all about: TiVO
Wondering what TiVO is all about, and why some people would rather give up caffeine than their TiVO box? THEZORG offers his usual clear explanation.
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Dialog with an iPod
7 a.m., somewhere in the air over Southwest Washington state, with a bright orange dawn flaming in the East, and the gray summit of what must be Rainier poking up out of a dark, choppy sea of clouds.
This is the early morning flight from Seattle to San Jose and various stops beyond. It's one of the Southwest planes with the cozy leather seats, and there are very few passengers on this first leg of the trip. So I get a set of three seats, sit in the middle with my laptop, and put down the tray tables on either side for tea on the left and the mouse on the right. No phones to ring, no cats to worry about. And the iPod is shuffling through 3,000 songs, opening with a Fats Waller classic, then introducing me to a lively folk-rock tune--shades of Dylan, Clapton, and Roger McGuinn--"Looking Up in Heaven" by Paul Westerberg (from the latest Wired CD), and seguing with surprising smoothness into Vivaldi's Four Seasons.
I'm using Apple's new Pages software to put together a booklet for my 50th birthday party. It is sufficiently reminiscent of early PageMaker to keep me very happy.
It seems that the iPod has quite a sense of humor. Now it's playing "Progress," Jim Page's biting lampoon of new technology, including headphones. (Radical folksinger Page, who is a Seattle neighbor and a Northwest Folklife Festival acquaintance, reminds me quite a bit of Steve Jobs. Can you imagine a discussion between the two of them? I'd love to host it. Menu: vegetarian.)
OK, the iPod is beyond brilliant. It's followed Page with Tom Lehrer' howl-inducing sendup of self-righteous protest singers, "The Folk Song Army." Now that's a segue worth of my all-time favorite folk DJ, WYBC's Dave Mix.
I'd just mentioned Clapton, so the iPod apparently sensed that and has followed Lehrer with Clapton's slinky acoustic version of "Layla."
Staying on the acoustic English folk/blues theme, the next tune is the late, legendary Nick Drake's "Fruit Tree." Backed by classical musicians, it's a pretty lush piece of music. The sun's up, just emerging from a curtain of clouds, and illuminating a landscape of Oregon's mountains and rivers.
The iPod goes for Handel's "Oh Thou That Tellest Good Tidings to Zion," with much mention of mountains. I'm getting no work done, but having a marvelous time.
This is the early morning flight from Seattle to San Jose and various stops beyond. It's one of the Southwest planes with the cozy leather seats, and there are very few passengers on this first leg of the trip. So I get a set of three seats, sit in the middle with my laptop, and put down the tray tables on either side for tea on the left and the mouse on the right. No phones to ring, no cats to worry about. And the iPod is shuffling through 3,000 songs, opening with a Fats Waller classic, then introducing me to a lively folk-rock tune--shades of Dylan, Clapton, and Roger McGuinn--"Looking Up in Heaven" by Paul Westerberg (from the latest Wired CD), and seguing with surprising smoothness into Vivaldi's Four Seasons.
I'm using Apple's new Pages software to put together a booklet for my 50th birthday party. It is sufficiently reminiscent of early PageMaker to keep me very happy.
It seems that the iPod has quite a sense of humor. Now it's playing "Progress," Jim Page's biting lampoon of new technology, including headphones. (Radical folksinger Page, who is a Seattle neighbor and a Northwest Folklife Festival acquaintance, reminds me quite a bit of Steve Jobs. Can you imagine a discussion between the two of them? I'd love to host it. Menu: vegetarian.)
OK, the iPod is beyond brilliant. It's followed Page with Tom Lehrer' howl-inducing sendup of self-righteous protest singers, "The Folk Song Army." Now that's a segue worth of my all-time favorite folk DJ, WYBC's Dave Mix.
I'd just mentioned Clapton, so the iPod apparently sensed that and has followed Lehrer with Clapton's slinky acoustic version of "Layla."
Staying on the acoustic English folk/blues theme, the next tune is the late, legendary Nick Drake's "Fruit Tree." Backed by classical musicians, it's a pretty lush piece of music. The sun's up, just emerging from a curtain of clouds, and illuminating a landscape of Oregon's mountains and rivers.
The iPod goes for Handel's "Oh Thou That Tellest Good Tidings to Zion," with much mention of mountains. I'm getting no work done, but having a marvelous time.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
What is your Starbucks density?
Calculate the number of Starbucks within a 5-mile radius of your address.
Our Starbucks density out here in far Western Ballard: 44.
Off to San Jose for the day tomorrow. I was supposed to go there Tuesday, and I certainly tried, but the plane sat at the gate for 2 hours while they tried to repair something. I gave up, got off, and rescheduled the trip. Then I drove home from the airport and was at my desk by 9:30 a.m.--the same time I usually start the workday.
Our Starbucks density out here in far Western Ballard: 44.
Off to San Jose for the day tomorrow. I was supposed to go there Tuesday, and I certainly tried, but the plane sat at the gate for 2 hours while they tried to repair something. I gave up, got off, and rescheduled the trip. Then I drove home from the airport and was at my desk by 9:30 a.m.--the same time I usually start the workday.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Madcap mysteries
My taste in mysteries runs the gamut from the coyest "cozies" to the nastiest noir. As long as the writer has a flair for words and dialogue, and more than a glint of humor, I'm likely to enjoy the book.
Charlotte MacLeod, who died this week at age 82, was a delightful writer and one of the grand dames of the American cozy. After a career as a business excutive, MacLeod began writing fiction in her 40s. She said she preferred to write in her bathrobe so she wouldn't be tempted to leave the house on errands.
Her Peter Shandy series set in New England (The Corpse in Oozak's Pond, Rest You Merry, Something in the Water, and more) fully exploited the rich all the possibilities of the academic mystery. MacLeod's books are available at your local used bookstore or through Amazon.
Charlotte MacLeod, who died this week at age 82, was a delightful writer and one of the grand dames of the American cozy. After a career as a business excutive, MacLeod began writing fiction in her 40s. She said she preferred to write in her bathrobe so she wouldn't be tempted to leave the house on errands.
Her Peter Shandy series set in New England (The Corpse in Oozak's Pond, Rest You Merry, Something in the Water, and more) fully exploited the rich all the possibilities of the academic mystery. MacLeod's books are available at your local used bookstore or through Amazon.
Friday, January 21, 2005
The Wolf is in the kitchen
I waited four years for this, so figured it wouldn't hurt to wait four days before blogging about it: The Wolf gas stove has arrived.
It cooks just as well--even better--than the vintage O'Keefe & Merritt gas stove we left behind at the original Shady Rest. There are no fancy timing devices or self-cleaning controls. The chef is expected to be, if not in the kitchen, at least on the premises.
I tested the oven immediately Monday evening (after burning it in for a hour) with a batch of brownies. Instead of the gooey interior and burnt exterior the KitchenAid had been serving up for the past three years, we got a pan of evenly done cake-style brownies. Tuesday night I stuffed a chicken with herbs (a recipe from The Naked Chef) and roasted it in a pan full of root vegetables. The result: crispy skin, moist meat, thoroughly roasted veggies--everything we'd been missing.
The Wolf burners are at once very powerful and extremely fine-tuned. I used the chicken leftovers to make a soup, trying out the low and simmer settings, and it was again impressive. If you look at the picture, you'll see traditional burners on the left and what are called S-grates in the center and on the right. Another set of S-grates are on order, so eventually the stovetop will be one even surface, and easy to move pans around on. At some point, I may splurge and order the wok grate.
Because this is the small 30-inch model Wolf, there aren't any fancy French burners, griddles, or warming drawers. But the oven does turn out to have convection, which is recommended for baking bread. To find out more about Wolf stoves, check out their site. It even has a picture of my stove on the homepage! And a QuickTime manicotti demo using their dual fuel model.
So that's the deal. It's a tough, dependable stove, and, yes, I'll be taking dinner reservations soon--after I finish dusting off my cookbooks.
It cooks just as well--even better--than the vintage O'Keefe & Merritt gas stove we left behind at the original Shady Rest. There are no fancy timing devices or self-cleaning controls. The chef is expected to be, if not in the kitchen, at least on the premises.
I tested the oven immediately Monday evening (after burning it in for a hour) with a batch of brownies. Instead of the gooey interior and burnt exterior the KitchenAid had been serving up for the past three years, we got a pan of evenly done cake-style brownies. Tuesday night I stuffed a chicken with herbs (a recipe from The Naked Chef) and roasted it in a pan full of root vegetables. The result: crispy skin, moist meat, thoroughly roasted veggies--everything we'd been missing.
The Wolf burners are at once very powerful and extremely fine-tuned. I used the chicken leftovers to make a soup, trying out the low and simmer settings, and it was again impressive. If you look at the picture, you'll see traditional burners on the left and what are called S-grates in the center and on the right. Another set of S-grates are on order, so eventually the stovetop will be one even surface, and easy to move pans around on. At some point, I may splurge and order the wok grate.
Because this is the small 30-inch model Wolf, there aren't any fancy French burners, griddles, or warming drawers. But the oven does turn out to have convection, which is recommended for baking bread. To find out more about Wolf stoves, check out their site. It even has a picture of my stove on the homepage! And a QuickTime manicotti demo using their dual fuel model.
So that's the deal. It's a tough, dependable stove, and, yes, I'll be taking dinner reservations soon--after I finish dusting off my cookbooks.
Feline detente
Betaille, our elderly Himalayan/Abyssinian cat, is not given to impetuous actions. Every night she examines her dinner as if it were some strange, potentially poisonous, alien footstuff, rather than the same brand and flavor of cat food she ate for lunch. Each time we open the door for her to come in the house, she stops at the threshold and peers around, just in case we acquired a pitbull while she was out in the yard.
This has been going on for 15 years.
For the past four years, Betaille has been putting on a great show of being afraid of the big deaf white cat, Sheba. They eat in the same room, sleep in the same room (one on the bed, the other under it), yet day after day, Betaille refuses to come in the house if she can see Sheba.
For the past few months, Betaille has been hopping up on my desk to let me know she wants food, or to be let out. Recently, she's actually sat down on the desk and allowed me to pet her. She eyes the fleece cat bed on the desk, but refuses all invitations to get in it. Tonight she finally walked over and stood in it. Then slowly, slowly sat down. And finally curled up, purring.
The irony is that the fearsome Sheba is asleep on her fuzzy mat behind the computer, just two feet away from Betaille. They're pretending they don't see each other.
This has been going on for 15 years.
For the past four years, Betaille has been putting on a great show of being afraid of the big deaf white cat, Sheba. They eat in the same room, sleep in the same room (one on the bed, the other under it), yet day after day, Betaille refuses to come in the house if she can see Sheba.
For the past few months, Betaille has been hopping up on my desk to let me know she wants food, or to be let out. Recently, she's actually sat down on the desk and allowed me to pet her. She eyes the fleece cat bed on the desk, but refuses all invitations to get in it. Tonight she finally walked over and stood in it. Then slowly, slowly sat down. And finally curled up, purring.
The irony is that the fearsome Sheba is asleep on her fuzzy mat behind the computer, just two feet away from Betaille. They're pretending they don't see each other.
Thursday, January 20, 2005
I can't decide!
Why the luxury of too many choices can make us crazy, and dissatisfied: A great interview by Mark Hurst of Good Experience with psychologist Barry Schwartz.
Shopzilla to the rescue
I've been shopping online for more than a decade and have had very few bad experiences with it. Of course, I'm cautious. Today I was looking for a high-quality, all-elastic cat collar for Kaylee, who gets herself out of her cheaper-brand elastic collar about three times a day.
The brand I wanted, which Sheba is wearing, is Coastal (their Licorice Strip is the all-elastic collar). The problem was that the big name-online pet stores are pushing a different brand of all-elastic collar, one which doesn't impress me much.
It took but a moment to find listings for the Coastal collar using Google. However, you can't buy from Coastal's wholesale site, and the retail sites that came up in the search just didn't inspire confidence. No Bizrate rating. No PayPal payment option. No physical store associated with the online operation. Hmmmm.
I went to Bizrate and discovered their new Shopzilla search. Turns out that one one of the major online pet supply stores did, indeed, stock the Coastal collar. For a whopping $6.99 per collar, when everyone else had been charging $2.49. Hmmmm...a $4.50 per item convenience fee for shopping a secure site? Since I was buying 8 collars (stocking up on supplies for the whole herd) this made a quite difference.
Going back to Shopzilla, I found SuperPetShop.com, which not only had the Bizrate association but would also let me pay by PayPal so I wasn't surrendering my credit card info to them. One more nice thing about SuperPetShop.com--their order form has a notes section so I could ask them to send me a red collar (instead of a raspberry one) if they had red in stock.
The brand I wanted, which Sheba is wearing, is Coastal (their Licorice Strip is the all-elastic collar). The problem was that the big name-online pet stores are pushing a different brand of all-elastic collar, one which doesn't impress me much.
It took but a moment to find listings for the Coastal collar using Google. However, you can't buy from Coastal's wholesale site, and the retail sites that came up in the search just didn't inspire confidence. No Bizrate rating. No PayPal payment option. No physical store associated with the online operation. Hmmmm.
I went to Bizrate and discovered their new Shopzilla search. Turns out that one one of the major online pet supply stores did, indeed, stock the Coastal collar. For a whopping $6.99 per collar, when everyone else had been charging $2.49. Hmmmm...a $4.50 per item convenience fee for shopping a secure site? Since I was buying 8 collars (stocking up on supplies for the whole herd) this made a quite difference.
Going back to Shopzilla, I found SuperPetShop.com, which not only had the Bizrate association but would also let me pay by PayPal so I wasn't surrendering my credit card info to them. One more nice thing about SuperPetShop.com--their order form has a notes section so I could ask them to send me a red collar (instead of a raspberry one) if they had red in stock.
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Kitties rock!
The kittens are immortalized by ipodmyphoto.com. (If you're a do-it-yourself type, check out this tutorial.)
Squish, squish
Yesterday Seattle logged a spirit-dampening two inches of rain in 24 hours (though nowhere near our October 20, 2003, record of just over 5 inches.) Today the temperature reached 60 degrees on our front porch and the sun nearly came out at noon. Three hours later it was pouring again. A confused African daisy is blooming in the backyard, just inches from where gooey mess where the nasturtium froze to death last week. Is this confused, or what?
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Environmentalism and the environment
Environmentalism and the environment--are they even related?
In a spate of recent articles, nicely analzyed by Katherine Mieszkowki in Salon ("Dead movement walking?") environmentalists admit that their efforts have had precious little effect on stopping massive degradation of the global and national environment. The causes, including econonomic development of the third world and rapacious greed on the part of the the United States, are well documented, but no one seems to know how to get governments or voters to take action.
The situation for environmentalists is much like that confronting the Democratic Party. Should they become more passionate, radical, and focused, or should they continue their current, ineffective, strategy of trying to appeal to middle-of-the-roaders--who show no compunctions about screwing them and siding with the conservatives on every key issue.
The difference between the environmentalists and the Democrats is that the environmentalists are willing to admit they've got a problem. If you aren't a Salon subscriber and can't access Mieszkowki's article, check out the website of Michael Shellenberger and the recent comments of Sierra Club president Carl Pope. The Salon article also allows you to download PDFs of some other insightful speeches. This might be the time to subscribe to Salon Premium ($35 a year includes some great benefits including free audio books and free mp3s).
In a spate of recent articles, nicely analzyed by Katherine Mieszkowki in Salon ("Dead movement walking?") environmentalists admit that their efforts have had precious little effect on stopping massive degradation of the global and national environment. The causes, including econonomic development of the third world and rapacious greed on the part of the the United States, are well documented, but no one seems to know how to get governments or voters to take action.
The situation for environmentalists is much like that confronting the Democratic Party. Should they become more passionate, radical, and focused, or should they continue their current, ineffective, strategy of trying to appeal to middle-of-the-roaders--who show no compunctions about screwing them and siding with the conservatives on every key issue.
The difference between the environmentalists and the Democrats is that the environmentalists are willing to admit they've got a problem. If you aren't a Salon subscriber and can't access Mieszkowki's article, check out the website of Michael Shellenberger and the recent comments of Sierra Club president Carl Pope. The Salon article also allows you to download PDFs of some other insightful speeches. This might be the time to subscribe to Salon Premium ($35 a year includes some great benefits including free audio books and free mp3s).
Friday, January 14, 2005
Three cheers for MarkSpace
I arrived at Macworld this morning and realized that my Treo 600, fully charged and receiving a signal, was nevertheless unusable. The screen was dead. What to do?
Palm does not have a presence at Macworld this year, but MarkSpace does. (MarkSpace is the company whose product the Missing Sync bridges the gaps that exist between Apple's iSync, Palm Desktop software, and the huge variety of PDAs.)
I had used the Missing Sync in the days when I had a Sony Clie, and had just heard yesterday about cool new features that make Missing Sync a must-have for the Treo and other Palm Desktop devices.
I approached MarkSpace booth and threw myself on their mercy, identifying myself as a past customer and proffering my semi-dead Treo. They confirmed my suspicion that I needed to reset the Treo by poking a paperclip into the reset dimple on the back of the PDA, and they went in search of a paperclip. I realized that the stylus of the Treo might unscrew to reveal a reset pin--which it did. They stabbed it, it reset immediately, and I was in business. And I came away with a great tip: The MarkSpace folks suggested that the Treo be reset at least once a month for optimum performance.
Thank you, MarkSpace. I'll be upgrading my Missing Sync software and installing it on the Treo tomorrow.
Palm does not have a presence at Macworld this year, but MarkSpace does. (MarkSpace is the company whose product the Missing Sync bridges the gaps that exist between Apple's iSync, Palm Desktop software, and the huge variety of PDAs.)
I had used the Missing Sync in the days when I had a Sony Clie, and had just heard yesterday about cool new features that make Missing Sync a must-have for the Treo and other Palm Desktop devices.
I approached MarkSpace booth and threw myself on their mercy, identifying myself as a past customer and proffering my semi-dead Treo. They confirmed my suspicion that I needed to reset the Treo by poking a paperclip into the reset dimple on the back of the PDA, and they went in search of a paperclip. I realized that the stylus of the Treo might unscrew to reveal a reset pin--which it did. They stabbed it, it reset immediately, and I was in business. And I came away with a great tip: The MarkSpace folks suggested that the Treo be reset at least once a month for optimum performance.
Thank you, MarkSpace. I'll be upgrading my Missing Sync software and installing it on the Treo tomorrow.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Yum! Macworld
I'll blog about Macworld when I get back to Seattle, but just for now, some notes on food:
Last night Harold took me to a new bistro on Russian Hill called Luella. Very elegant (done in sage greens and walnut brown), not particularly pricey. Signature side dish is polenta fries. These are quite a bit larger than french fries, filled with fine polenta with such a crispy exterior that I suspect an egg batter.
Food at Macworld is the usual convention center food in the Moscone (to be avoided if you have time to leave the building for alternatives). Fortunately, there are outstanding selections next door at the Sony technology center. The noodle place now has about 300 selections of soups, stir fries, and such. The cold noodles with shredded chicken and sesame sauce remains a favorite. Today I went to the Firewood at the Sony and, instead of having their thin crust pizza, I got the appetizer sampler with dolmathes, grilled eggplant, goat-cheese stuffed peppers, and tossed mozzarella and tomatoes. A great vegetarian choice.
The show is very upscale this year; not many small vendors with weird stuff, and, unfortunately, no big MacWarehouse booths selling all the cables and memory card readers you forgot to bring with you. Lots of bags, iPod accessories, and all the big vendors for printing, photography, peripherals, and music.
My vote for most astonishing software goes to Kinoma. Through some combination of TiVO, USB add-on for the TiVo, the Mac with Kinoma's $30 software, and your Treo, you end up watching full length movies on the Treo. Arcane, but useful for plane flights. I have no doubt that this works, but am wondering how much time and effort it takes to move the video from TiVo to Treo; and if my Treo has enough memory without adding a memory stick.
Last night Harold took me to a new bistro on Russian Hill called Luella. Very elegant (done in sage greens and walnut brown), not particularly pricey. Signature side dish is polenta fries. These are quite a bit larger than french fries, filled with fine polenta with such a crispy exterior that I suspect an egg batter.
Food at Macworld is the usual convention center food in the Moscone (to be avoided if you have time to leave the building for alternatives). Fortunately, there are outstanding selections next door at the Sony technology center. The noodle place now has about 300 selections of soups, stir fries, and such. The cold noodles with shredded chicken and sesame sauce remains a favorite. Today I went to the Firewood at the Sony and, instead of having their thin crust pizza, I got the appetizer sampler with dolmathes, grilled eggplant, goat-cheese stuffed peppers, and tossed mozzarella and tomatoes. A great vegetarian choice.
The show is very upscale this year; not many small vendors with weird stuff, and, unfortunately, no big MacWarehouse booths selling all the cables and memory card readers you forgot to bring with you. Lots of bags, iPod accessories, and all the big vendors for printing, photography, peripherals, and music.
My vote for most astonishing software goes to Kinoma. Through some combination of TiVO, USB add-on for the TiVo, the Mac with Kinoma's $30 software, and your Treo, you end up watching full length movies on the Treo. Arcane, but useful for plane flights. I have no doubt that this works, but am wondering how much time and effort it takes to move the video from TiVo to Treo; and if my Treo has enough memory without adding a memory stick.
Friday, January 07, 2005
Gas, water, and electric
We're at the point in the gas appliance installation project at which everything is waiting for something else. The plumber forgot to schedule the gas inspection for today, which threw everything into a cascade of dependencies. The plumbing can't be finished until the gas inspector signs off; the plumbing inspection can't be scheduled until the plumbing is completed; and the appliances can't be delivered until they can be hooked up, and nothing can be hooked up until after the not-yet-scheduled plumbing inspection. Wait, there's more: Since the gas water heater is not next to an external wall, it needed a power vent to the outside. The power vent is electric. And there's no outlet near the gas heater, so we need to install one. That means the electrician is now in the mix, as well--fortunately, he was already coming on Monday to troubleshoot some mysteriously malfunctioning switches in the garage.
So, delivery and installation of the stove and dryer have now been shifted out a week to Monday, the 17th, when I return from Macworld. Unfortunately, I'd already promised to sell the old electric dryer this coming weekend to a family on Phinney Ridge whose own dryer blew up Tuesday night. They were eager to rush over last night and pick it up, but I told them I needed a couple days to do all our laundry! Guess that's what I'll be doing this weekend.
Meanwhile the contents of the laundry room (where new water heater is being installed) is spread all over the den and the garage, and the contents of half of the pantry is in the den as well, since the power vent for the gas water heater runs through the ceiling of the pantry. The contents of our basement exterior storage area is stuffed into the garden shed. The idea is to keep all the new work visible for the inspectors--who I'm sure know that you're going to pile all the old junk back on top of it as soon as they're off the property.
So, delivery and installation of the stove and dryer have now been shifted out a week to Monday, the 17th, when I return from Macworld. Unfortunately, I'd already promised to sell the old electric dryer this coming weekend to a family on Phinney Ridge whose own dryer blew up Tuesday night. They were eager to rush over last night and pick it up, but I told them I needed a couple days to do all our laundry! Guess that's what I'll be doing this weekend.
Meanwhile the contents of the laundry room (where new water heater is being installed) is spread all over the den and the garage, and the contents of half of the pantry is in the den as well, since the power vent for the gas water heater runs through the ceiling of the pantry. The contents of our basement exterior storage area is stuffed into the garden shed. The idea is to keep all the new work visible for the inspectors--who I'm sure know that you're going to pile all the old junk back on top of it as soon as they're off the property.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
It had to happen
From John Paczkowski's lively Good Morning Silicon Valley column:
"According to Microsoft Chairman Bill Gates, 5 percent of Windows machines crash, on average, twice daily. So odds were that it was only a matter of time before Gates found himself standing before an audience of thousands with the infamous Blue Screen of Death behind him. And that's exactly what happened yesterday. In his annual keynote address at the International Consumer Electronics Show, Gates re-iterated Microsoft's ambitious vision of digital entertainment (sorry folks, no new products), in a presentation beset by technical gaffes ranging from a frozen digital-photo slideshow to the aforementioned BSoD.. Gates, it should be noted, handled the cockups particularly well, graciously suffering the quips of celebrity guest Conan O'Brien, with whom he shared the stage. "I don't know who's running things here," O'Brien joked during Gates' ill-starred slide show. "Who's in charge of Microsoft?" he asked, looking at Gates. "Oh."
O'Brien later says of his Vegas experiences with Gates, "I got so drunk that I woke up with a hooker, Bill got so drunk he woke up with an Apple computer."
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
Surreal car accident
Tonight I agreed against my better judgment to have coffee with an old friend who took leave of his senses several years ago and hasn't been back to visit them since.
Zorg can't abide this guy in the house, so I told him we'd go out to Tully's. My friend putted up to our house at 7:30 p.m. in his ancient heap. When I offered to drive in my car--actually, in the loaner car from the repair shop where my own car is being serviced--he agreed because his passenger seat was filled with junk.
We drove into downtown Ballard and were cruising down NW 56th Street when he yelled "look out"--just as a Toyota exiting a bank parking lot across the street merged into my driver's side door with a horrible crunch. The woman driving the Toyota was very apologetic. She said it was her fault, and that she'd never even seen our car. We exchanged information, and I called 911 and was told to come in and fill out an accident report if the damage was more than $500. A pedestrian witness came forward to give me his business card.
Finally, we got back in the car and I headed for a more official parking place. My friend continued jabbering about making a mint selling things on eBay, just as if nothing had happened. We went into Tully's and he continued to yak away, pausing only when I said I wanted to call Zorg to tell him about the accident. I left a message, and we were back on the eBay scheme. Eventually I dragged him out of Tully's, back to the car, and back to my house, where he practically followed me up the front steps. Fortunately, my cell phone rang. It was Zorg, who had spotted us from the window of his darkened study, and was calling to rescue me.
I've always suspected, and am now convinced, that pervasive, low-grade trouble follows my friend around. God knows he exhausted his allotment of karma some years back. His current scheme involves selling all his possessions and moving to another country this spring.
Bon voyage.
Zorg can't abide this guy in the house, so I told him we'd go out to Tully's. My friend putted up to our house at 7:30 p.m. in his ancient heap. When I offered to drive in my car--actually, in the loaner car from the repair shop where my own car is being serviced--he agreed because his passenger seat was filled with junk.
We drove into downtown Ballard and were cruising down NW 56th Street when he yelled "look out"--just as a Toyota exiting a bank parking lot across the street merged into my driver's side door with a horrible crunch. The woman driving the Toyota was very apologetic. She said it was her fault, and that she'd never even seen our car. We exchanged information, and I called 911 and was told to come in and fill out an accident report if the damage was more than $500. A pedestrian witness came forward to give me his business card.
Finally, we got back in the car and I headed for a more official parking place. My friend continued jabbering about making a mint selling things on eBay, just as if nothing had happened. We went into Tully's and he continued to yak away, pausing only when I said I wanted to call Zorg to tell him about the accident. I left a message, and we were back on the eBay scheme. Eventually I dragged him out of Tully's, back to the car, and back to my house, where he practically followed me up the front steps. Fortunately, my cell phone rang. It was Zorg, who had spotted us from the window of his darkened study, and was calling to rescue me.
I've always suspected, and am now convinced, that pervasive, low-grade trouble follows my friend around. God knows he exhausted his allotment of karma some years back. His current scheme involves selling all his possessions and moving to another country this spring.
Bon voyage.
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
Of course, Mr. President
Many thanks to dean of online writing Crawford Kilian for pointing out AlterNet's "P.U.-litzer Prizes" for media malfeasance in 2004. Most of the awards underline prominent reporters' and editors' confusion over the difference between their job descriptions and those of the White House PR flacks.
If that's too depressing, check out another link from Crawford: Anne's Pepper's slideshow on editing for the web.
If that's too depressing, check out another link from Crawford: Anne's Pepper's slideshow on editing for the web.
All your pfeffernusse belong to us
An MIT researcher urges educators to bring foreign language education into the digital age, using digital audio devices and sophisticated computer games like The Sims.
Sunday, January 02, 2005
What's happening with Social Security?
Talk about depressing. Here's a blogger who is following the deepening Social Security mess.
Amazon splurge
To reward myself for finally cleaning the garage/workshop, I blew all my Amazon gift certificates on a new cordless Panasonic drill/driver (and finally tossed the dead Makita, which was pretty feeble even in its prime).
The garage cleanup is part of the preparation for having the plumber on site to run pipes to bring the new gas line to a new dryer, a new hot water heater, and a new stove. Unfortunately, the gas hot water heater can't go where the electric hot water heater has been; gas hot water heaters need to be vented to the outside, either through a chimney (we don't have one in the center of the house) or a nearby wall (the current heater isn't near a wall). So the new hot water heater is going into the laundry room, and some things from the laundry room are going into the garage and pantry. Sigh.
It's not all out-with-the-old and in-with-the-new, though. This week the 1990 Honda Civic goes to the legendary High Road Automotive for a complete overhaul (though their sign says "Honda and Acura" their website says they do Toyota, Lexus and Subaru as well). What's so special about High Road? They are AAA approved, have a 5-star environmental rating from the county, and focus on preventive care for older vehicles. Check out what Car Talk readers have to say about them.
When I asked them if my 1990 Honda Civic stationwagon with 70K miles was worth preserving, they pointed to their three loaner cars: two are Honda Civic stationwagons even more ancient than mine.
The garage cleanup is part of the preparation for having the plumber on site to run pipes to bring the new gas line to a new dryer, a new hot water heater, and a new stove. Unfortunately, the gas hot water heater can't go where the electric hot water heater has been; gas hot water heaters need to be vented to the outside, either through a chimney (we don't have one in the center of the house) or a nearby wall (the current heater isn't near a wall). So the new hot water heater is going into the laundry room, and some things from the laundry room are going into the garage and pantry. Sigh.
It's not all out-with-the-old and in-with-the-new, though. This week the 1990 Honda Civic goes to the legendary High Road Automotive for a complete overhaul (though their sign says "Honda and Acura" their website says they do Toyota, Lexus and Subaru as well). What's so special about High Road? They are AAA approved, have a 5-star environmental rating from the county, and focus on preventive care for older vehicles. Check out what Car Talk readers have to say about them.
When I asked them if my 1990 Honda Civic stationwagon with 70K miles was worth preserving, they pointed to their three loaner cars: two are Honda Civic stationwagons even more ancient than mine.
Saturday, January 01, 2005
Smarter than we are
Reuters reports that no wild animals have been found dead in the wake of the tsunami. Is it possible that they knew what was coming, and got to higher ground?
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