I'm Sure This Will End Well

From BPN today:

My name is Nata, I'm 20 and I grew up in Jerusalem.

I will be in Berkeley until spring and am looking for a family with kids and a spot on their lawn to park my minibus converted into a room! All I'd need is to use the facilities in your house (bathroom, kitchen) and in exchange I can babysit your kids for several hours a week. I come from a very big family and have lots of experience in nannying, so if this sounds like an idea that could work in your house please contact me, I think it could be really awesome!! 

I am currently in Israel for my brother's wedding and will be back only on October 8th so just write me an email or send me your phone number if you're interested!

Greatest BPN of all time? Or just this century?

100% of the credit for catching this one goes to my friend David.

About big-diameter poop?
-------------------------------------------
Some of our family members have big-diameter poop.   Big poop clogs toilets.

The best toilet we've found, so far, is American Standard Champion 4.   American Standard
advertises that their Champion 4 will flush golf balls, but some poop has bigger diameter
than golf balls.

Can anyone recommend a toilet that will flush big-diameter poop the first time?

Expert with a plumbing snake!!!

Whale Tale (sorry)

There was a crowd of people massing around the middle of the strand that is Stinson Beach, far more than you usually see at Stinson, but an especially large group for a Monday morning and never this size on the Seadrift side of the beach. News had traveled quickly along the beach that there was a whale in the water, so the kids and dads took off running towards the crowd.

I had inconveniently just put bacon in a pan and had an egg ready to cook. I ran from the kitchen to the dunes twice before deciding to eat my damn breakfast. I couldn't sit down to do it though. I threw the egg on some toast, and wrapped the bacon in a paper towel, checking to see that the stove was off (twice, because I was so excited) before bolting out the door. I jogged a bit while I ate but as soon as I could, I took off running. Within a half mile - or halfway to the whale - I caught up with my friend Lisa and walked with her. From there, you could see a massive fin jutting out of the water and not much else. There were rescue vehicles and caution tape by now, and about 100-150 people. It was a parade atmosphere. Everyone was excited and anxious and repeating whatever they had heard from the fireman and park ranger who were working the line, telling everyone to move back. They didn't know much.

The whale looked like it was moving its tail, but if you watched it all closely enough if seemed equally likely that the movement was coordinated by the waves rolling in. The whale was in 3 feet of water, and the waves were about 2-3 feet tall. The Marine Mammal Center arrived around the same time I did but spent what seemed like an interminable amount of time discussing the whale with each other, rather than rescuing the whale, which is what the crowd wanted. I don't know how we thought these four people in a Toyota 4 Runner were going to rescue a whale. I suspect most people hoped, as I did, that the whole crowd would be enlisted to push the mammal back out to sea. Big Miracle on Stinson Beach.  Finally, Dr. Shawn Johnson, head of the MMC veterinary team, waded into the water and determined that the whale had died. I suppose that had been obvious to him from the shore, which is why there hadn't been undue haste to jump in the path of a 10 ton animal being propelled by the surf. Dr. Johnson hosted a quick "lecture" (as the fireman called it) to tell us that this was a juvenile fin whale, that it had died and that they would be doing a necropsy once the tide had receded.

Not having been assigned the volunteer assignments we all wanted, many of us wandered home. Our kids pulled on some wet suits and hit the beach.

After lunch, I headed back to the whale to see if the necropsy had begun. The tide hadn't gone out far enough, and efforts to bring the whale further up the beach were impaired by the sheer size of the whale. A couple of people have asked me, "why didn't they haul it back out into the ocean?" and looking at this whale, I would have to say, "with what?" They tried to pull it up the beach with a bulldozer and all it did was snap the rope and abrade the whale's tail.

That's a view of the whale's back, or top, side. He's lying on his right side. He was 42 feet long, and a really beautiful dark, unblemished gray. Here's his underside.

This was taken around 2:00 pm. The necropsy started about an hour later, when scientists began sharpening knives and taking measurements. One thing that seemed apparent was that they didn't have a lot of practice doing this. It didn't seem ham-fisted or anything, but watching a scientist sharpen a machete is a painful thing to see. She clearly didn't do it very often, and it seemed possible that she was doing more to blunt it than sharpen it. Otherwise, they worked pretty deliberately and certainly not at a pace intended to please the crowd (which was appropriate, obviously). Anyhow, here are the necropsy photos, with a little commentary from me.

First cuts to the underside

shark bait

The excavator that Lonnie brought down from Pt. Reyes Station to dig a hole

A nice shot of the intestines

A view from the top

I think this last picture is one of the most amazing. That dark red area in the cross-section is pure muscle, the same size in diameter as a man's leg.

The whale itself was the best part. The worst part: some of the inane, science-ignorant conversations I overheard. In separate conversations, I had to explain to different, grown men that juvenile whales nurse from their mothers. To wit:

Me: they are going to see if there's milk in his stomach.
Dude: isn't it male?
Me: yes, he was still nursing.
Dude: Still nursing?! He was one!
Me: yes, it takes a lot of calories to gain 30 tons.
Dude: how do whales nurse? Do whales have tits?!
Me: mammary glands

I also overheard a ten year old boy ask where the whale's gills were.  I also lamented the older-lady volunteers who were using horrible body mechanics to lift massive slabs of blubber to the burial area. One lady lost her balance and actually fell into the whale's body cavity. I'm sure that memory won't leave her soon.

Here's a great video clip my son shot, capturing another excellent conversation I am having with a friend.


The second worst part was leaving the whale to go back to normal life where I am not an imaginary marine biologist. When I went back later that evening, the excavator was just finishing the job of filling a massive hole, and the exhausted looking researchers were getting back into their 4 Runner to head back to the Sausalito.

So how does this story end? The MMC has posted an update on its website with some information about how the whale might have died. I went so far as to see if the Berkeley Extension has a Marine Biology class I might take (they do). We visited the grave one last time on Friday, and saw viscera bubbling up from a hole within the storm fencing they put up. I hope I never see anything like this ever again.

This Week

It's only Tuesday, but I want to share what is making this week feel so great:

1. My kids came home from the East Coast. They seem more mellow and more mature. Evidence of that is the newfound ability to visit the bathroom alone (them, not me).

2. I diffused a kid's temper tantrum using patience and good humor rather than losing my shiznit and yelling.

3. A skin tag fell out exactly 24 hours after I googled it, which means I have found a new cure for skin tags!

4. I've sold 114 earthquake kits in my trial balloon/fundraiser. I am aiming to sell 200 and there's still 2 weeks until school starts.

5. Eric Holder is directing federal prosecutors not to seek mandatory minimum sentences, which is one of several measures to reduce incarceration rates.

6. I was only 6 days late in mailing my mother's birthday present. I believe the earlier record was . . . never.

7. I'm going on vacation on Friday.

Futures

I've been thinking a lot about my next career move, and I think I would really like to start my own business or somehow become my own boss. My informal market research tells me that my denim panties business does not have a natural untapped market (No pun intended?) so I've had to explore some other ideas. Here's what I'm thinking about doing:

1. Starting an earthquake supply business
2. Starting an art CSA
3. Intraporting* Taylor ham/pork roll from New Jersey to California
4. Becoming an arbitrator

* I made up this word. It's like importing a product but from one state or another.

I might try to do all of these at once. What do you think?

A Terribly Earnest Post

Today, I heard an interview with the photographer David Johnson and his wife Jacqueline Sue, who co-wrote a book about Johnson, called "A Dream Begun So Long Ago". Johnson was the first African-American student of Ansel Adams. You can hear the interview here, and see his photographs here.

There were many interesting things about his story, and his photos are as evocative as they sounded in the interview. But I was struck by a couple of things. First of all, Johnson did not remain a photographer throughout his life. He's in his 80s now, and his wife described how she never knew he had been a photographer until after an archivist sought out his work for a show of the Golden Era. In order to help him write his books, she read through his journals spanning back through his life, and learned all these things about him. He grew up in segregated Florida, fought in the Philippines in WWII, came to SF to study photography and eventually moved back to Florida. Now there is a documentary and book about his work, and his photos capture a particular viewpoint of SF at a particular time in history.

A few weeks ago, my father sent me a copy of a letter that his father had written to his mother a few days after V-J Day. My grandfather had returned from the North Africa (where he served in the Army) and was living temporarily at Camp Pinedale CA before returning home. In the letter, he tells of agreeing to go into San Francisco with a buddy of his. As it turns out, it is V-J Day. Here's what he writes:

We went to San Francisco and it was nothing new for me it was just like any other city. And for a Sunday and V-J Day it sure was quiet. For one thing all the "Beer-joints" were closed. But we did enjoy the ride up to 'Frisco and back. We went up on the streamliner and we did a little venture trip and Hitch-Hiked back. and saw some of this country. I guess I saw enough included the Pacific Ocean. So I guess I am all set to come home.

This account leaves me feeling so empty. I cannot imagine being in San Francisco on V-J Day and not feeling like I was living a moment of history. Why was it quiet? Where might there be celebration? And to see California in a day or two and be ready to be done with it? Baffling to me.

One of these men could describe, in 2013, the feeling of getting off the bus in SF in 1945 or 1948 and make me feel and understand how it was to live in that moment. And then, on top of it, he created beautiful pictures that verify his account of that moment. The other man not only couldn't describe what was happening in a very important historical moment at the time it was happening, he didn't even seem like he could experience that moment at all.

I spent a lot of the rest of the day thinking about this contrast, and how clarifying it was for me about who I want to be. I want to experience moments, create them, describe them. Leave a record so that my children can look back on it and understand what it meant to be in that moment, and cause them to think on their own moments, and cause them to want to impact history somehow.

Thoughts on Trayvon Martin

This post has nothing to do with Trayvon Martin, actually. I don't have anything new to contribute to the dialogue about the George Zimmerman trial. It was a crime, and it's a shame. I tend to respect juries, who must reach a conclusion based on the facts presented and the laws in place. I am not familiar enough with the trial to weigh in on the prosecution's failures. I wish that young man were not dead. Read David Simon's blog for the full treatment. (Thanks BD)

Trayvon Martin's death was similar to the death of Oscar Grant. It was therefore predictable that the Zimmerman verdict would open wounds in Oakland about racist profiling and unarmed Black men being killed. In fact, there are many communities across America where families have faced similar torment, and not been vindicated in the courts. It is widespread enough a problem to warrant a social justice movement of its own. What kind, though? A civil rights movement for youth, or a continuation of the march for justice for African Americans? An anti-gun movement? Or better yet, a new style of social justice movement that is complex and novel and seeks solutions to multi-variate problems like racism, gun violence, racial profiling and access to the rights of society for young people.

I think there are many people of good faith who all want this kind of movement. A lot of people in Oakland have marched and protested with a hope for that dialogue with the Oakland police and city leadership, as have people in dozens of other cities and towns.

But in Oakland, something weird happens. The marches and protests wind down, probably with a prayer or a well-known speaker. Parents and classmates and civic-minded folks hop back on BART or bus, or in their cars, and head home. And a group of people don masks and create havoc in downtown Oakland. No one knows if they are members of the peaceful protests who were waiting for confusion of the crowd, or who were angry that the protests did not have the immediate effect of reforming our broken police department or bringing Oscar Grant back to life or convicting George Zimmerman.  They might be a totally separate group; the people who mutated Occupy Wall Street into an crypto-anarchist attack on Oakland. Whoever they are, they then start smashing windows and destroying property and injuring bystanders.

For the past few days, I have been trying to make sense of the attacks in Oakland. I am not de facto offended by the destruction of property. I see value in some graffiti. I understand impulsive reactions based on anger and frustration. But it's clear that that is not what is happening in Oakland. Last night, two full days after the Zimmerman verdict, a rioter put a hammer into the head of a waiter at a local restaurant. That's not impulsive anger. That's terrorism. The destruction and attacks on Oakland are not part of the justice-for-Trayvon-and-Oscar movement. Can you imagine where the Civil Rights Movement or the Marriage Equality Movement would be today if every peaceful protest ended with a hammer in some working man's head? Holy crap. Talk about regressive.

And the Oakland police, for reasons I cannot do not know or understand, does little to stop this mayhem.

So what is to be done when one lives in a city where non-lethal acts of terror are being committed in the name of a social justice movement? Where the hands of the police seem tied?

Shall we arm ourselves and form neighborhood watch groups, like George Zimmerman? Sickening. And time-consuming.

Many folks are suggesting that Oaklanders come out in droves to the restaurants that were hit over the past three nights. I think that's a step in the right direction. There's safety in numbers, and lets our friends who own these small businesses and non-profits know that they have our support. There are a limited number of tables at Flora and Dogwood but I agree it's worth trying. Another way to support Oakland is to support Youth Radio, a non-profit that trains kids to record radio and other media stories. It's a great organization meant to give Oakland youth a platform for expressing themselves. I just donated. Anyone have any other ideas? These don't seem meaningful enough, but they seem better than smashing up a small business. . .

One Star Reviews: Where the Wild Things Are

When I decide to write one of these posts, I try to imagine books which are beloved beyond dispute. Above reproach. And is there a book as beloved as Where the Wild Things Are? I couldn't even fabricate an argument against in my mind. But some people can. It turns out that the negative reviews for Where the Wild Things Are are a study in humorlessness. These people must have take the world completely at face value, incapable of nuance or empathy or recalling their own childhoods. The ironic thing is, Max would probably understand them better than the rest of us do, since they are such monsters.

I'm having cutting-and-pasting problems with my computer, so I encourage you to click the link and not enjoy them for yourself.

One Star Review: Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone

There are 113 one star reviews of this new classic so I had some high expectations of crazy for this review. In fact, I was worried that it would be all Christians who thought the whole series was pagan and Satanic and book-burning-worthy. And maybe amid the reviews, that sentiment exists. At first glance, though, people seem to love the book and hate having to download the Kindle version from a special "Pottermore" site that causes them difficulty. They are emphatic that their one-star is NOT directed to the book. At least one person hates the *audiobook*. Then there are readers who give it one star but declare it "five star". How could these people be literate enough to read the book? Not sure.

Here's some other non-literate reviews that I think you will enjoy.

I borrowed this book because I hoped that it would be better than the film. It wasn't. I was particularly disturbed by the discription of the treatment Harry received from his aunt and uncle. It did not make sense. If they had wanted to keep him from the wizard's way, they would treated him well. I also was disturbed by the portrayal of non-wizards as Muggles, hinting that they were somehow less than human.

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What's wrong with you people? Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, J.R.R. Tolkien and hundreds of dead REAL authors would be rolling in their graves if they knew a "work" this horrid would be even considered for publishing. Let alone actually published and purchased with money! Harry Potter should be at the bottom of a paper shreader bin not on peoples shelves.

The book is amateaurish dribble. Full of flat, boring, and demensional characters as well pointless details, political correctness, and an unoriginal premise.

In short overrated Junk.

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BUT WAIT, what have we here?

Books authored by C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien are far better, and have a level of excellence that J.K. Rowling cannot get to. We see a different kind of magic in Rowling's works. Indeed, see where she has led us with her latest novels in the series. Don't be afraid to swim against the tide. Go ahead and refuse to read what is popular.

If you are a praying person and your prayers seem lifeless and powerless, take a close look at what you read and watch. Ephesians 5:15 "Be very careful, then, how you live--not as unwise but as wise."

Satan's plan has always been to reel us in with fun and thrills, and so he has done it again with Harry Potter. But he is clever. His final plan is not to bless us. And so the series deteriorates to a lower level with each new book. A word to the wise: Revelation 22:12-17.

And for all those who read this review may the blessing, love and power of Jesus fall upon you and fill your life. You are loved by Christ.

One-Star Reviews: Curious George

You think you know where this One-Star round-up is going, don't you? Kidnapping a monkey in Africa and then letting it smoke a pipe and wear men's lounge pajamas. Horrible stuff. Then the poor beast is manhandled by brutish firemen. For shame. Sure, that One-Star is out there. In fact, here it is:

1.0 out of 5 stars Sends the wrong message to children, April 28, 1999

By A Customer

This review is from: The Complete Adventures of Curious George (Hardcover)

Curious George gets kidnapped from his natural habitat in an African jungle by a "nice" man who throws a sack over him, bundles him onto a ship and takes him to America where he puts him in a "nice" zoo.

Is this the kind of "niceness" we want our children to learn?

But there's more than one way to hate on George, believe it or not. Maybe you don't think it's a very accurate description of puzzle-piece surgery, or you don't like that George hallucinates. Someone agrees with you.

1.0 out of 5 stars The worst Curious Book yet, May 29, 2010

By 

DHH "DH" (Bloomfield Hills, MI United States) - See all my reviews

Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)

This review is from: The Complete Adventures of Curious George, Anniversary Edition (Hardcover)

Unlike all the other Curious George compilations this book has a bunch of strange stories in it. The strangest is the one written in conjusction with the Boston Children's Hospital where George swallows a puzzle piece. He then gets admitted to the hospital, drinks barium and then gets operated on. As a physician this was far too detailed for Curious George story.

Another story in the book has George smelling a bottle of ether and then having stange dreams and passing out.

My daughter likes the hospital story as I make up all my own words but this book will hit the trash can one day soon. Buy any other compilation of George stories just not this one - it's like the writers were drinking on duty when this book got put together.

Or maybe you can't really be that specific, and its just the color scheme that drives your family insane.

1.0 out of 5 stars This piece of literature was very disapointing., April 20, 1999

By A Customer

This review is from: The Complete Adventures of Curious George (Hardcover)

This book is too scary for my whole family. My child is now traumatized and needs mental help. My wife thought the water colors were very cold and made her depressed. Customers should think before buying a book like this.

So many things wrong with George, aren't there?

One-Star Reviews: Episode 2

The other day, I shared with you an Amazon review of Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs written by someone who fears that it will spread "carnism", as if meat-eating needed PR of this type. It got me wondering, what else are nutjobs saying about our favorite books.  Therefore, I happily bring you episode 2a of One-Star Review: Ferdinand the Bull.

Who on earth could hate Ferdinand, that lovable bull who just loves smelling the flowers, until he selected to be a toro in the bullfight? Not even the matadors can anger Ferdinand, who loves the flowers thrown to him by beautiful women. It turns out that there are exactly two people on earth who hate Ferdinand, and they don't even have common ground in their disgust for this lovely, peaceable book.

1.0 out of 5 stars Shocking and inappropriate for young children, February 4, 2004

By A Customer

This review is from: The Story of Ferdinand (Hardcover)

Upon reading this book, I found it to be very shocking and inappropriate for young children. My students thought it to be a "bad story." They "did not like it because the men wanted to hurt Ferdinand. They wanted to keep sticking him with spears and a sword." My students asked me to stop reading the story because they felt very sad.

1.0 out of 5 stars Not Recommended for Boys, November 29, 2010

By 

justmenc - See all my reviews

Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)

This review is from: The Story of Ferdinand (Reading Railroad Books) (Mass Market Paperback)

I bought this for my 4 year old son because my husband said it was his favorite book growing up. Well, this book was only one of his many problems from childhood. First of all, it speaks of the violence brought on a bull in a bull-fight (not appropriate for young kids in my opinion). The worst part, however, is the ineptitude of Ferdinand. He is a big, strong bull not at all interested in being what he is. He is lazy and just wants to look at flowers. He is a waste. I cannot fathom how anyone finds the story endearing...

Team Brandon

I'm pretty sure you were worried about this, so it's important to let you know that you CAN field an entire major-league baseball team comprised of men whose first name is Brandon. I did the work for you; here's your roster:
C - Brandon Inge/Brandon Bantz

1B - Brandon Moss/Brandon Belt

2B - Brandon Phillips

3B - Brandon Wood

SS - Brandon Hicks/Brandon Crawford

CF - Brandon Barnes

RF - Brandon Belt

LF - Brandon Snyder

P - Brandon McCarthy, Brandon Lyon, Brandon League, Brandon Beachy, Brandon Maurer
I acknowledge that it's not a 10-man bullpen but cut me some slack here.

You're welcome.

Vegan Zombie Attacks

How awesome is this review? 

When I posted this on Twitter, a friend sent this tweet:

Needed empty capsules to put meds in for a sick cat once - called @Rainbow_Grocery and they asked if my cat was vegan.

To which I say, do not, I repeat, do NOT let your cat read Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.

Just. wow.

This week's Berkeley Parents Network newsletters were so insane, so target-rich, I didn't know where to start. David very helpfully leads the way by citing this one in the comments to an earlier post.

Husband want to take MY child on trip
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My husband and I got married when my son was 10 months old, and he did not adopt him. My son is
now 14 years old, and my husband wants to take him cross country to visit his daughter. My son
wants to go, but, for various reasons - one being that my husband has anger management issues - I
do not want him to go. My husband is insisting and says that he'll take him despite what I say.
If he does, can I have him arrested for kidnapping?
Worried in Bay Area

The only thing that makes this nonsense okay is that, as of this morning, people who WANT to be married, CAN be married.  This lady is unaffected by today's Supreme Court ruling. Congratulations to the rest of us!

Where Do Baby Names Come From?

My friend Jenny has a new post up about trying to choose a baby name. Naming your kid is a big deal, because this person has to live with this name for their whole life (probably) but you want it to communicate something about what you intend for them, which is why many of us avoid stripper names. Whatever those are. I'm sure there's at least woman professionally stripping who goes by the name Andrea, which makes my name definitionally a stripper name, but you get my meaning.

So finding a name is tortured. And it should be. So you can have long meaningful conversations with the other parent and all your friends about what the name "means". But I think, in the end, the most successful names are almost random. And not forced random. Here's an example. Naming our first kid was an ordeal, right up until it wasn't. The father of my children wanted to name our son Buckaroo, after Buckaroo Banzai. He thought Roo would be a cute nickname (it is, Jenny) and that Buck would be a strong adult man's name. I agreed, with the caveat that he would have to explain the name to the judge for whom he was clerking. The idea of naming our son Buckaroo quickly passed. It was too forced, too "random".

The back-up plan: I had off-handedly said, in April 2003, that if the Red Sox won the World Series, we could name our son after the Red Sox player of his choice. It seemed like a harmless gibe at the time. The Red Sox had not won a World Series in 85 years. But as my due date (October 27) approached, and the Red Sox hung tough, I found myself arguing about the virtues of baby Nomar versus baby Johnny. Little Wakefield? Jason? Manny Dooley? Thankfully, I never had to eat that crow, and when Johnny moved on to the Yankees, the error of naming a child after a baseball player became clear. Again, too not-random.

Once my due date passed, my husband's panic (about everything, but channeled into the baby name) rose. On November 1, after a Halloween party I will not soon forgot, he said, "how about Liam, after my buddy Liam T--?" I said, "sure, sounds good with our last name." And that was that. It was sort-of random, and it works. Another learning about that name: in Alabama, it was so weird and different, people couldn't pronounce it. In the Bay Area, you cannot throw a dream catcher without hitting a Liam.

For number 2, I literally ran a search in a baby name generator website. One or two syllables, Celtic. I got about 8 names. Emailed the ones I like to my husband. No response. I casually mentioned which one I liked best at dinner. No response. We go look at a house to buy. The house is great, but it is across from an Indian restaurant. I think the odor is too strong. He and the realtor think I have super-smell sense because of the pregnancy. After we look at the place a second time, husband says, "If you will agree to put a bid on that house, I will agree to name the baby Quinn." I say, "okay, I can go for that. I like Indian food." The next morning, he wakes up and says, "I just realized, I don't want that house, but I do like the name Quinn." BOOM. Done. Practically random.

Where do baby names come from? I think they come from the place you least expect them to. Good luck, Jenny, and all the other pregnant moms I know!

A Really Good Turn of Events for the Athletics of Oakland

I can't believe it's taken this long.

From the Chronicle yesterday (h/t to BD)

Norris is the latest A’s player to sport an unusual hair style. He asked Coco Crisp what he should do with his hair, and Crisp suggested a mullet. So that’s what Norris asked for “business in the front, party in the back” in Danville yesterday – a first for the hair stylist, but she told him she’d learned every style in school even if she’d never actually met anyone who’d wanted a mullet before.


“It’s a work in progress, but it’s definitely going in the right direction,’ Crisp said, noting that the back isn’t really to the ideal length yet. “It takes (guts) to change your hairstyle, so I dig it.”

“I think I look good, pretty darn good,” Norris said. “It’ll get there, give it time. I’m a catcher, I’m not supposed to be pretty.”

Closer Grant Balfour, standing nearby, said loudly, “It’s beautiful. I’m a fan.”

Oh, and . . .

For the friend I have who refuses to join Facebook but is not so much of a Luddite that he doesn't read my blog:

Home Economics Post

If Home Ec was taught in my high school, I definitely gave it a pass. If I knew what retrograde meant, or even suspected, I surely would have used that word. And what would nuns have been able to teach about home economics? I can't answer that, but I do wish now I had learned a bit more of the womanly arts. So does everyone else, which is why, when I am finally free to quit my job, one of my many business ventures will be to open a Home Ec themed set of stores/learning centers. But I digress from what I really intended to post.

A friend, who occasionally reads this blog, has signed up for a sewing class. I share her utter terror at this experience and can't wait to live vicariously through her blog posts. Until she updates us, I thought I would share with all of you the basic instructions on how to make a skirt. I have not made this skirt but a friend has made several of them (since she lives in a country where they do not seem to sell women's clothing in a size 8) and I can tell you, they look great, especially for having been made by another home ec avoider.

Now on to our cooking project. This one is super-easy. It's the basic skirt of food, actually. Pasta with sausage. Mark Bittman recipe from basically every cookbook he's ever written. Boil water. Crumble 1/2 lb of italian sausage in a melted Tb of butter on med-high heat. Add 1/2 c. water to simmer. Cook pasta (like the whole box). Reserve 1/2 c of pasta water. Drain pasta. Mix sausage and pasta. Add water back in if you need to (you won't). Add 1/4 c of parmesan cheese. Also really good if you add broccolini but not completely necessary. Every non-vegetarian in the house will eat this, I promise.

Why am I telling you this? People (like, one person) is always asking me what I feed my kids, and that recipe there is on the menu probably twice a month. So now she knows.

This is all practice for my Home Ec empire.

Maxwell's Memories

News is out and all over my Facebook timeline that Maxwell's of Hoboken is closing. Maxwell's is a music club in Hoboken which had the most amazing shows, including all ages shows, that I've ever seen. Although I was too young for what some fans believe was its heyday (the mid-eighties), I went to literally dozens of shows throughout 1991-1996.

My first show: Love Battery. The lead singer from the Screaming Trees was there, flail-dancing around, but the show was not that full. I think it was a weeknight, Love Battery really wasn't well-known enough to headline, and the guy was huge and had plenty of room to move around. Ted Leo brought me and his younger brother Chris. Possibly, it's more accurate to say that Ted brought Chris and Chris brought me, but whatever. It was awesome. I didn't love Love Battery but I did love Maxwell's.

High point of junior year: We managed to score fIREHOSE tickets. Like 8 of them. It was me, Bridget, Jeanne, Chris, Danny, Dan Gomez, Gary and Maureen, I think. We took the train to Hoboken and then walked to the other end of the city (not actually very far) to Maxwell's. We were way too early for the show, and had no money to eat (at least the boys didn't), but we saw Thurston Moore eating inside at Maxwell's, and freaked the hell out. Then a guy (who I've actually recalled to be a "bum named Jackie") bought us a 6-pack of some lite beer, which we shared before the show. fIREHOSE was A-Fing-MAZING. My teeth still feel the bass.

I saw Shudder to Think there at least 3 times. I saw Tsunami there at least 3 times. I saw Fugazi there at least twice. Ted Leo has it exactly right describing the room during a Fugazi show. These are among the greatest memories I have of early adulthood. It helped that the club was in the shadow of the Maxwell House Coffee factory. The blast of coffee smell as you left the club at 2:00am was enough to drive home awake.

The last show I saw was Barbara Manning. I went with Dave McMahon. It was hella fun, but since I had relocated to Chicago I suspected I might not be back. There are efforts afoot to preserve Maxwell's but I think it would be weird for a punk club to be historically preserved. It's definitely a "you can't go home again" kind of thing.

Guest Blogger Dispatch 3: Totally Different and Unrelated Sharing

A friend shares this email from her child's preschool director:

Dear Families,

Our 11 year old son was saying things which seemed to me to have a generally negative turn to them. Jonah told us he had overheard us having a disagreement, and that's why he was now negative. I remembered reading in Raising Happiness that if children see you reconcile with your partner,that really helps mitigate any harm they experience.  I told my son that Tim and I had made up after our argument, and were fine now. He seemed to perk up. 

SEND FRUIT FOR OUR COMMUNAL FRUIT SALAD

On Thursday and Friday we will assemble a fruit salad with the kids using the fruit you send in.  Organic preferred!

THIS WEEK'S SNACK

A.M.: hummous, chips and carrots or celery (Mon-Wed). Snack on Thurs and Fri will be fruit salad

P.M.: dates

Okay, my friend shared this with me for the first part of the letter, which is just way too much information, and also veers very close to an admission of make-up sex without actually saying it. Or am I reading too much into it? Anyway, I continued with some other components of this newsletter because two OTHER things completely grossed me out besides the over-sharing: 

1) communal fruit salad prepared by preschoolers

   a) of course organic is preferred. Why did that need to be mentioned?

   b) Why isn't this just called germ salad or immune booster salad?

2) dates

   a) ewww

   b) no non-Hellenic (and I do mean from ancient Greece) toddler has ever like dates, because no one does, and also, aren't they a choking hazard? I guess its better than the toddler-prepared fruit salad they will be getting in the mornings

Thanks for oversharing, guest blogger!