hiya to dante, stumpy, melliemel and alla da rest o'youse...

end of february and the last time we posted anything hereabouts, well, me don't wanna think about it, been a long time, datz fo sure...
so, first, via the marvel that remains wood s lot, George Lakoff on the Obama Code; wanted to share this powerful and compelling read provided via the Times Online, evidently one of the stories from a recent edition of Granta.

had the pleasure of hosting two amigos from Tejas who were visiting here earlier this month, the esteemed CJ and his partner in crime, G Mac (mine own appellations for the gents), in Berkeley for a specialty book fair held on the Cal Campus, the Codex exhibition, where many, many lovely printed works were available to view and purchase. The time we shared together passed much too quickly, but t'was good to renew our comradeship. Mention here another pal of mine who spent much of the last month hard at work on his FAWM project, and ye can hear some of the music he produced here; Yah Babee, way to go, Phillippe!

so, not gonna overdo it, will endeavor to make more regular contributions here, tho' before we close this one, just quick mention of a handful of chunky, chewy bits of linky goodness: via LA Times online, a recent article on one of my favorite places on the planet, Mono Lake; yourstruly has been long acquainted with the weblogs am about to mention here, always worth visiting, and in particular lovely to see that the fine mind behind the retired Riley Dog still providing us much stuff to enjoy, and we always happy to see what is new at Bifurcated Rivets and Ethel the Blog. Una cosa mas, we want to pass along some encouragement to co-worker Becca B. who's started something earlier this month...

ciao ciao, bambini...

The promised land

JP, Mellie Mel -
Lori and I made it today to the promised land, the Museum of Jurassic Technology. The reason for Cabinet. See Culver City and die. Hugs and kisses.
Sent via thingy.

2006 interview of Andrew Sullivan

Any of the four of you notice that for the last few months the rss feed up there on the right belongs to Andrew Sullivan, the conservative soul? Just spent part of the morning watching an October 2006 C-SPAN Q&A interview of of him. You should, too. What an honorable man. Kind of life affirming.

The Beatles Complete on Ukulele

Bless you.

A Mission Statement by Roger and Dave

Roger and Dave will....

A) Record & perform on ukulele all 185 original compositions by The Beatles with 185 guest artists.

B) Write essays to coincide with each release.

C) Make available for download one new recording and essay every Tuesday for 185 weeks, beginning January 20, 2009 (Inauguration Day) and climaxing July 24, 2012 (The eve of the London Olympics).

It's OK, Ma, I'm only whiiining

Dear Diary,

Am through the first 23 chapters of P&P. Upside down as things are, I cannot help but be darkly drawn to Darcy. And mistrust Whikham's goodness. I am Elizabeth, though, if anyone other than Mr. Bennett.

Last night saw Antony & the Johnsons @ Town Hall. Musically, hard to imagine a better concert. What a fabu orkestra the Johnsons are. Had seen Antony perform maybe three times before, in Hal Wilmer productions and co-hosting a Winter Soldier period fund raiser with Mr. Reed & Ms. Anderson. But with the Johnsons - wow! Attracts a distinct audience, too. (Why Antony but not Johnstons?)

But before the concert was an early dinner @ Koi, starting with some roasted shishito peppers. Did I mention I've been ill the last week and that I slept three hours the night before and that my back had been spasming so that half the sleep I did get was sitting in a chair? Where was I? Shishito... Two of the first three were HOT! Wewy wewy hot... Get ready to rumble. Hey, let me tell you something about the stalls in the men's room at Town Hall - these are the same stalls, I'm sure, that were installed in the 20's. Six foot tall marble walls, wooden doors. Kind of echoey, but still, really a comfort to a man in need.

And after we got home and I lay me down to sleep, the back started seizing up again and there was no Imodium in the house and I ate enough ibuprofen to poison myself, I say, then did I cry out my tale of woe to Lorita. And Lorita said, Hey, we have some Ben-Gay! And, oh, baby, did we slather it on, and then I found the softest surface in the house (the living room couch) curled up, and passed out.

Now, part of the illness of the last week was a wicked cold (thank you, niece Jillybeans), and really I haven't been able to smell much since getting it. During the week I could not smell my beloved Yu-Be, and last night I couldn't smell the Ben-Gay.

So, slathered and sense-numbed and rumbling and sleep deprived as I was, I passed out and was dead to the world until the sun came up. Hallelujah! And after sitting meditatively and praising a bit, a word floated up unbidden in my consciousness: naptha. Naptha. I smell... naptha. Then I thought, What is naptha? and, How do I know what it smells like? I cupped my hand over my mouth, you know, to see if the smell was coming from inside me. No - thank god. Then I thought, Maybe it's oozing out of me, like sometimes when you're really drunk your body gives off that sort of sour smell, you know? (Don't lie - you do too know.) Mmmm, no I don't think so. Then I got a little freaked out and worried it might be coming up from the cellar, but no. Then I stopped thinking about it and threw some clothing on and went out and moved the car. (If you're not from NY you might wonder why.)

When I got back in I headed upstairs and started to undress and, WHUMP, NATPTHA! I happened to be standing in front of my closet and realized, Oh, moth balls! (which are no longer made from naptha). But of course there are no moth balls in the closet. OK, enough, a little later I realized that it was the Ben-Gay and my sense of smell is back. When I showered the bottom of the stall looked like when a thunderstorm washes down the street after the gasoline tanker crashed. I mean, man, Lori must really put on a lot of the old BG when I was whining away last night. And I'm glad she did.

Bye.

Me luv gurly book

I downloaded a copy of Pride and Prejudice, am about a 5th of the way through, and am loving it. As I've said about other stuff before, I already didn't read Austin or the Bronte's when I was young, so what was going to make me do so now that I was too proud to admit I hadn't and too prejudiced against girly books to dive in? (Love me for my candor. Please.) The answer is the absurd Mr. Mybug in Stella Gibbons' Cold Comfort Farm.

Amaro me, Dr. Memory (crosspost)

(The partners in our little 11th Street winemaking group have a private blog - and I'm cross posting this little ditty from there.)

Started on the Amaro recipe at about.com. The hard to get herbs all came from Aphrodisia, and the grain alcohol and vermouth from Slope Cellars. Since the recipe is silent on amounts for the roots, I used 5 grams of each, and where I had dried herbs rather than fresh, I used a teaspoon. And where I had leaves instead of root, I winged it. So:

• Lemon balm 1 tsp
• 5 leaves fresh sage
  
• 10 leaves fresh rosemary
• Centaury plant 1 tsp. dried
• 15 juniper berries
• 5 cloves, check
• 1/2 inch cinnamon stick
  
• Orris root 5g.
• Calmus root 5g.
• Gentian root 5 g.
• Blessed thistle I have is dried leaves, not root, and I am using 2 tsp
• Milk thistle 1 tsp dried
  

Step 1 is complete. Sugar is dissolving in vermouth, herbs are steeping in grain alcohol. More work a couple of times in the next week or two, then 8 months of waiting.

CYHSY / Mr. Fantasy

Just home from seeing Clap Your Hands Say Yeah at BAM. Good fun, but maybe my mind was wandering a bit. One of the last songs before the encore had the same chord changes and rhythm as the chorus to Only Living Boy in New York, and I was singing that on top of the CYHSY number. Then, during the first encore number, it popped into my head that Dear Mr. Fantasy would be a great ukulele tune. At least, maybe.

Meanwhile - CYHSY's Satan Said Dance is mos'def not a ukulele tune.

SONY releases new...

What, you've seen this already? It's OK, watch it again.
Thank you, Bawk.

6 Points Hop Obama busted!

Or, as NY Mag says it, Feds Harsh Sixpoint’s ‘Hop Obama’ Beer Buzz. Does 6 Point sell outside of NY Metro? Damned good. Boo feds. Look out, Oblinga watches, ATF is on the beat.

Oblinga

Saw these in a shop on Fulton Street this afternoon - FootMart. Hope the phonepic is clear enough. There was a whole shelf of Obama watches - I particularly likes the Bam-Bam + Michelle on a white background.
Sent via thingy.

Oh! And speaking of Fulton Street, the collection of Fulton Street business trade cards at the Brooklyn Library is fabu!

There have always been Starkadders at Cold Comfort Farm

Was down at Scaredy Kat this weekend and picked up a copy of Stella Gibbons' Cold Comfort Farm (1932). I haven't read most of the authors it's parodying, but it's still great fun. Mr. Scaredy Kat's a big fan. Special added bonus: The 1995 John Schlesinger film version is on line at youtube in 10 minute installments, so you can creep along in the film as you do the book. It's working out so far through the first third. (Look for the Penguin paperback edition with the cover by R. Chast!)

Be there, or be square. NY Writers Coalition party @ Galapagos. Tomorrow, Feb. 9, at 7 PM.

FW: Farm Catskills Fundraiser at applewood THIS SUNDAY!

What if they built a natural gas well or service station here? applewood needs you to Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is at our Farm Catskills Fundraiser THIS SUNDAY NIGHT this is an urgent plea to HELP SAVE THE ENDANGERED ORGANIC FARMLAND (PICTURED ABOVE) FROM NON-FARM DEVELOPMENT Only with your help can we ensure that this land currently farmed by Lucky Dog Organics will be preserved for agricultural use forever Sunday, February 8th 6:00 p.m. $20 per person includes admission and hors d'oeuvres (full cash bar available) EVERY PENNY GOES TO FARM CATSKILLS Please join us for a fun-filled evening of wine and cocktails, hors d'oeuvres, and a silent auction to save valuable, endangered, and irreplaceable farmland in upstate New York. We need immediate donations of cash or checks to reach our goal of raising $30,000 to save this land. all donations are tax deductible Please make your checks payable to: Farm Catskills c/o applewood 501 11th Street Brooklyn NY 11215 or just come to the event and bid on such wonderful items as: paintings by local artists Beth Reisman, Shelton Walsmith, Becky Serrell, Matthew Myers, Judith Lamb, Michael Ingui, and Sandra Garlick one week of summer camp at Creative Theatrics Summer Theater Workshop photography by local photographers Dana Matthews, Sara Wight, John Cyr, and John Rajes a one-year membership to the Pellegrini Family Wine Club gift certificates to Juice Box, La Esquina, and Mas three subscriptions to the Edible Magazines a behind-the-scenes tour of the American Museum of Natural History's Dinosaur Collections jewelry by Beverly Eichenlaub, Eve Martinez, and Meredith Weaver antique collectibles from Michael and Betty Howard tattoo by Todd Woodzart hand-thrown pottery by Tim Farrell VIP seating for Thursday night "movie under the stars" in DUMBO fine wines, armangnac, and cognac yoga classes with Patty Swander swedish massage and spa pass from Body by Brooklyn private tour of the upcoming brooklyn bridge park site "closet cleanse" package by Jessica Cadmus children's book libraries from Melanie Cecka in-home tutoring with David Levi collection of works by Kris Waldherr ___________ please read below for complete information on the easement and why this fundraiser is so important: Our good friends, Richard Giles and Holley White of Lucky Dog Organics in Hamden, New York, have provided applewood with some of the most purely beautiful and amazingly delicious organic produce we've ever seen! Their dedication to their land, their crops, and their family of farmers epitomizes all that sustainable farming can be. One of the pieces of farmland that Lucky Dog Farm leases for growing vegetables has been at high risk for non-farm development. Quality farmland is already scarce enough in the western Catskill Mountains where Lucky Dog Farm grows vegetables that end up in Park Slope. But the level flood plain along the West Branch of the Delaware River, a source of Brooklyn water, is at constant further risk from unwise commercial development. "If you're a contractor thinking of building a service station or a sewer plant, your eyes don't wander up the mountainside. The impulse is toward cheap, level, and easy...and once the farmland is gone, it's gone for good." - Richard Giles Even as we in this community enlighten ourselves about the values of eating local food, more and more "local" farmland goes under concrete. This is a nationwide problem, but when the farmland in question is so near to so many eaters, the result is tragic. Here's the good news: The State of New York purchases the development rights on some at-risk farmland and is currently considering an easement on some of the valley farmland leased by Lucky Dog Farm. A grant from the state would pay the landowner for the easement, thus satisfying his financial interests, and the easement the state purchased would prevent development of the land. These easements are a highly effective way of keeping farmland from being covered in concrete. And this is where we as eaters need to step forward: The NY state easement grants require that the landowner or some other entity put up 25% of the value of the easement. Lucky Dog has a verbal commitment from the Open Space Institute to contribute 12.5%, and so we still need to raise the other 12.5%--about $30,000. There will never be a better chance to put you money where your mouth is. If you can't join us for the party, but would still like to help, we are accepting donations for our silent auction at applewood. The party will be on Sunday, February 8th, and we are excited about the donations we've already received: paintings, photography, walking tours, spa and restaurant gift certificates, to name a few. We are also, and will continue to be, collecting direct financial donations for the easement. Farm Catskills, a regional farm advocacy non-profit group is leading the effort to raise funds and you can write your checks to them and send them to us at: applewood 501 11th Street Brooklyn NY 11215 to the farm: Lucky Dog Organics P.O. Box 51 Hamden, NY 13782 or to: Farm Catskills 87 Sal Bren Rd., Suite 1 Delhi, NY 13753-1440 `

Be nice

A week or two ago I had dinner with some colleagues, one of who used to have the same job as me in a similar firm as mine, then went off to do similar work in the law department of a large corporation, then rose through the ranks until he became the director of all he sees. For some context regarding size, my company has about 1,500 people in it. His company just acquired another company (a habit of his company) and the number of jobs that will be cut from the combined company - this is the slough from the synergy, ahem - is 30,000. Not a typo.

So there came in the course of dinner a conversation I've wanted to have for years. Someone, maybe me, asked our friend how it was he came to be whatever he is. His answer surprised me.

Corny though it sounds, he said, what's been most useful to me is Dale Carnegie's How to Win Friends and Influence People. I try to listen to people.

Be nice.

So, how could I resist? I got a copy of the book & jumped in. Maybe I'm the last person on Earth to do this? It's both boring and fascinating. It's everything you know. Don't act nice. Do be nice. Don't flatter. Be thankful. Don't blather on about what you want. Understand what the person next to you wants, and see if you can make both your wants go hand in hand.

I'm working on it.

When does the back-yard mint die?

It's dead now, but it wasn't yet a month ago when we made lamb burgers and we used it with the fresh oregano and parsley from market. Then, in the last few weeks, we had enough snow and ice to keep it covered for a while. (Though I remember, too, when we had the lambypie last month I picked the mint from the snow.). Now it's gone 'cept a tangle of brown vines and some frostbitten green-purple leaves and some very fresh sprigs just popping up. I think it happened the same way and the same time last year. The mint is dead! Long live the mint!
Sent via thingy.

I know bupkis about this Michael Phelps / smoke thing, but...

... did it really not occur to anyone watching & listening to him out of the water & before his fall, that he's not a nice guy, that he's got large self image issues (not just large ears), and that you wouldn't want to be like him, smoke or no smoke? No? Just me? OK.

My latest time-killer: a sneak peak

A work in progress to be sure, but I'm hoping this one might actually have legs.

I'm sharing it here so that you (half dozen) can check it out on various platforms/devices and tell me if things work -- and what you think about the content, of course! Will try to post daily, at least, while I'm out of work -- I'm aiming to share it with a few more trusted individuals next week before broadening my audience.

My Urban Gardner - a spahound!

Well blow me down, Julie Cummings, Urban Gardner, designer of our fabu grape arbor, patio and back yard plantings, indulging guest at our yearly new-wine blast... is a spa hound and is in this week's TONY!

I'll stop complaining and think of it as a jump on images for next year's Xmas card

One more time.

Uping the ante on nerd chic

Lorita forwards this important announcement, from the Daily Candy flavorpill daily dose. And we're glad she did. Check out the video.

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Upping the ante on nerd chic

Spectacled singer Dent May is an Adonis of the Cosby-sweater set. Hell-bent on resuscitating the oldies, the ukelele-toting troubadour evokes everything from classy '50s crooners to the quirked-up pop of Jens Lekman and Elvis Costello.

He proves dorks really can be cool. May hips up the sweeping strings and interlocking vocal harmonies of doo-wop and '60s surf pop, ushering the disparate styles of the Lettermen, the Beach Boys, and Phil Spector into the post-everything age.

The songs are seriously silly. When he isn't kicking up a square dance ("You Can't Force a Dance Party") or lamenting lost love ("Girls on the Square"), May embraces the innate kitsch of his instrument, tearing exuberantly through cheeky tunes like "26 Miles" and "Alcoholic."

Dent is also a clever clown. May's ironic take on suburban angst offers a lighthearted indictment of middle-class America, as songs like "At the Academic Conference" and "College Town Boy" unabashedly poke fun at the "pains" of privilege.

Download our favorite single, watch a tux-loving video, check out May's MySpace, and order his album.

- Andrew Phillips

He was very excited about carrots.

Hey, the old guy who demonstrated and sold the vegetable peelers in Union Square died on Sunday. I'll miss seeing him -- he always drew a big crowd, especially on Greenmarket days.

Cellar Archeology 002, In which the stern god of John Winthrop and Roger Williams drops a dime on our hero

We were out late last night, had great fun but maybe too much bourbon and too late a dinner and I was feeling low about myself this morning, bloated and boggy, and I decided to go down to the cellar and get on the bike (Lori's, which winters on the trainer) and try to exhaust or exhilarate myself.

So down I headed and midway, damned if one of the stairs didn't let loose and I crashed through, cartoon style, one leg straight down until my crotch found the next stair. As it was inconvenient to fall further, I pitched into the stone wall at my side.

I wasn't really hurt (as measured by bones sticking through flesh and clothing), but lost some skin here and there and was deeply banged. As the shock wore off and I was still astraddle the broken stairs, friends, a wave of sadness washed over me that I can barely describe, and won't really try. Sad deep sadness. Big nauseating waves of mama.

Have I mentioned in any recent posts that I'm reading Sarah Vowell's The Wordy Shipmates? I don't think I have. Great book. (Heffernan at the Times hates it. Or hates SV. Or both. She has her knickers in a twist about it. She doesn't think I should be learning from a comedic smart-ass, she thinks I should be learning from a serious academic. But, Heff, I already didn't do that.) Opened my eyes to the Massachusetts Bay plantation founders. I'm about three quarters of the way through. At a few junctures in the book there are events which those men and women 350 years ago clearly took to be their lord giving them big hints about what to do or not do: they are aghast when their brethren don't take the hints.

Sooo, anyways, there I am, weepy on the broken stairs, John Winthrop and Roger Williams looking on from Calvinist heaven. OK. I hear you, dudes. I'm pretty sure the message isn't just to fix the stairs. I'm working on it.

(By the by, this isn't the first time I've gone through that staircase.)

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Strangers are typically pretty leery about going down our cellar stairs - or are after they take one or two of the stairs and feel a little rocking action.In the pic on the left, the stairs that have no carpeting on them are ones that were badly damaged and I reattached, or simply gave way under me. (You can't see the bald stair second from the top - that was a lulu.) The avocado shag holds an astounding quantity of dust and sand and who knows what, so I've learned to strip it off out of doors. The repair in the pic isn't today's stair - it's one of the older ones. For today's I used some two by three, and three inch screws.