objectified

I love a good documentary.

One word movie review: AHA!

Wanted: a Happy Holiday.

It has been over two and a half weeks since my last drink post (forgive me, AA devotees, for I only open by being lite with borrowed slogan - due to embarrassment for lengthy time between posts).

Dear Readers: I have been neglectful, and I do apologize.

I've been here.
But what have I been doing since that last blog post on the 4th?

I've been spending precious time these last weeks vacillating between getting into the holiday 'spirit' - or not. Trying to decide what holiday spirit is, after all. Is it as the media and marketing realm has been dictating to the masses with ever-increasing greed and success > that holiday spirit equates with shopping till dropping? That more is more and anything less is Scrooge? Recall the days of the popularity of the 'Unplug the Christmas Machine' book? I remember workshops of the same name when that title was first released (about 15 years ago). I'd like to think that the 'unplug' philosophy has made great strides in changing the face of the holidays. Maybe Yes, more likely No. I saw people in Costco buying big screen TVs for presents - that don't smack of any consumer downsizing in shopping habits to me.

The concept of unplugging the machine has recently made a resurgence under the guise of 'cutting back due to the economy'.  
This looks more to blaming the government rather than commercialism, but hey - if it means pointing a middle finger at increased woes caused by the previous admin, I ain't arguing. I look to the future for improvement, though it is a long rough road upon which we must trod before change and recovery becomes apparent.

Ooops, ahem....that be a segue...back to....ah...the holiday machine.
Those who believe in Christmas as a religious time - celebrate it as a season of their devotion and belief. Albeit, even the most solidly God-fearing American may still fall prey to full-on decking of the halls with over-the-top spending. After all...

My own materialistic tendency of holidays past has taken something of a back seat as I move forward towards the looming deadline of December 25th. Instead of making a list and checking it 100 times as to who-gets-what and how-much ---- I've been observing more about the holidays, giving serious thought to the various meanings of it, and making a conscious decision to scale back on the senseless shark-frenzy shopping for it. Sure 'nuff, bought some good stuff (mostly online) for 'the kids', but according to their wants and needs - as opposed to my whim. That was both easy and fun. A tight budget helped to prevent overspending.

I did halve my usual 'list'. Would rather spend time than money. Do the good people in my life want for time spent with me in lieu of a meaningless gift? Will I really get better mileage from re-acquainting myself with those on the obligatory lists - by sharing the gift of time well spent, the quality of an intellectual exchange or belly laughs yucked together?

Not giving in to the been there done that must keep doing it mode of 'making the holiday happen' translates to maximizing, rather than minimalizing - the concept of the commonality of man which is so often purported at this time of year. I actually believe that avoiding the malls and focusing on the people in my life moves me towards making valuable, reasonable and sincere connections with those who are healthy to my being. At the same time, I look to ease out of my life those who are toxic to it. What I wish to have in common with my fellow man, woman, child and animal friend --- is a propensity for joy, as opposed to want of possessions.

A few of my favourite holiday moments thus far (there will be more, I just know it):
- decorating, with DollinkFriendBBB - an evergreen tree growing on the side of our shared roadway. This sparkly tree to be enjoyed by all who drive by.
- going to the local city pond with DollinkDaughterJrs and DollinkGranddaughterLB, where we fed cracked corn to geese whilst exclaiming 'Happy Holidays!' with each toss of a handful of grain.
- the gift of a one-on-one reunion lunch with a fellow student/ acquaintance from high school - after 38 years of no contact.
- chowing down on fresh steamed crab with my DollinkFriendJ and eating desserts with DollinkFriendTtheP.
- heart-to-heart chats in the car with HubbyDear as we run errands.

All this says happy holiday to me.

Simple quiet joys.

It is the very thing that I wish for you.

Meryl Streep kicks

I was changing sheets on the bed this morn.
Flipping channels on the bedroom tv.
Whistling whilst I worked.

There on a movie channel was Meryl Streep in 'Mama Mia' - singing The Winner Takes it All.
I'm not an Abba fan, but this song, sung and acted out so dang well by Meryl Streep - could
not have been performed with more, well, let us say - gumption. The lady can sing AND act at the same time. Not so easy in that wild Greek island setting, with wind blowing hair and clothing and with an awkward Pierce Brosnan staring vacantly at her.
Meryl Streep kicks.

I went to another channel - and there she was again - in one of my fave
Streep flicks: 'The River Wild'. In it, she's buff, she paddles the rapids and yes, she kicks.
She kicks the crap out of Kevin Bacon's bad guy character.

Meryl Streep is the quintessential Kick Butt Actress.
If there was an Oscar equivalent: The Kick Butt Acting Award, she'd get it.



photo by Herb Ritts.

Stop the insanity!

No more shark's fin soup for you!

Over the years, I confess to having enjoyed many a bowl of shark's fin soup.
However, now that I am enlightened by this knowledge, I can easily forego the delicacy.

There is still Bird's Nest Soup to consider.
If it were not for the fact that I was raised on this stuff, the whole concept of using bird
spitooie to make soup would gross me out.
But it doesn't.

Not until someone tells me that bird's nest soup harms the birds, their young, or their species, I will continue to indulge...grotty as it is.

i heart PBS

OK, so this show might prove to be my next new tv addiction.

Frozen River

Just watched 'Frozen River' (2008).

The story takes place during the week before Christmas. As we are fast approaching the December holidays, it seems that viewing 'Frozen River' is timely.

We live in such a socially stratified country - of Haves, Have Nots and all those in-between. Not only is this evident in our everyday lives, it is accentuated at the year-end holidays, when expectations of self, as well as lot in life, are heightened, if not tested.

How sobering to think of those who already subsist on barely enough; whose lives are defined by missed, botched, few, or lack of - opportunities. It's not just about being able to succeed if one sets nose-to-grindstone. Much depends on whether those opportunities are available. It is assumed for some, a challenge for others, and seemingly - an impossibility for those in the lowest strata. That is when desperation becomes the mode of survival.

'Frozen River' is about survival, while struggling to remain humane.

Kudos to the writer/director Courtney Hunt, with a special nod to
Melissa Leo, whose work I was not previously familiar with.
Rio is Damn Fabulous in the role of 'Ray'.

One word movie review: REAL

Beam me up!

Look at what I just found on How StuffWorks:
'Top 10 Star Trek Technologies that Actually Came True'.

I am living the Star Trek fantasy whenever on video Skype or video iChat with my DollinkDaughters and DollinkGDaughter.

OK, beam me up!
(oh, that one isn't ready yet...)

A wee tale of DollinkDaughter Halloween costumes...

Once upon a time, when my DollinkDaughters were little, they really had fun at Halloween.
I think they still do, actually.

Back then, I also enjoyed Halloween.
Well, most everything about it anyway.
Trips to the pumpkin farm, buying candy, a little decorating, a lot of seasonal brouhaha - all good.
The one thing I never looked forward to with great anticipation was - the costumes. More specifically, how to create who or what it was that I, or my children - wanted to 'dress up as'. I looked on this task with what could be called Excited Dread.

As a kid growing up in San Francisco, my brothers and I didn't wear homemade costumes. Mom took us to 'Five and Dime' aka Woolworth's - so we could choose from the boxed costumes there. Just about all of those outfits featured a suffocating plastic face mask with elastic that stretched too tight around the back of your head - and an itchy glitter-shedding nylon apron pullover thingy which tied at the back of your neck. On this was printed your Halloween identity: a Disney princess, witch, ghost et cetera. Some of the boys costumes had matching long pants, also uncomfortable to wear. The masks were often scary, even when they weren't meant to be.

Even stated that way, wouldn't you know - I still delighted in wearing my storebought costume. After all, Halloween was really more about going out at night, more or less incognito - and scoring a bag full of free candy, right?

It didn't occur to me until I was older that the boxed costumes were cheesy. Homemade costumes were rare in Chinatown. Many of my friends had parents who worked all day (sometimes nights) in the neighborhood restaurants, sweat shops or down in the tall office buildings in the Financial District. Our folks were exhausted at the end of their workday, and just getting dinner on the table was all the energy that was left to them. No one I knew had a dad who came home to happily engage in his woodworking hobby or a mom who sewed after hours 'for fun'.

That being so, of course, when I had children of my own - you better believe that ALL their Halloween costumes HAD to be homemade. Being part of the next generation, we really did live life a bit easier than our parents had it. Less of a rigorous work schedule and more leisure time. Translation: My kid's costumes were Made by Me their Mama.

I eschewed ready-made sewing patterns for costume-making. Not sure why that was. OK, I confess to being something of a sewing snob when it came to Halloween costumes.
Looking back though, not using a costume pattern can be likened to shooting oneself in the foot before embarking on a 100 mile hike...

Consequently, for me, the process of conceptualizing and then creating Halloween costumes was something of a mystery every year. I never knew how it was going to come out until it came out. For me, costume-making was really something to be labored over.

I've come to the conclusion (only very recently) that this laboring-over-thing is my true creative process. Even now. Working and reworking something until it suits me, with no preliminary sketches to define the final product. Lovin' it -Hatin' it.

Like life isn't tough enough without having a plan before setting out to do something creative. Come to think of it - the working and reworking thing best describes my approach to life .... little to no long range planning...OMG.

But - I digress (don't you just hate when people go off on a tangent and come back with that catch phrase).

During the rather grueling creative process, it didn't help matters any when the DollinkDaughters would, a few days before the 31st -  change their minds about who or what they wanted to be. Fortunately, this didn't happen often - maybe it was the Evil Eye I shot their way if they even entertained the notion.
The YOU WILL BE WHO/WHAT YOU ORIGINALLY SAID YOU WANTED TO BE A MONTH AGO Evil Eye.

The plot thickens...
So I designed as I went along, stopping my kids in their homework or play time to hold fabric up to them for yet another measure and fit. Trimming, re-directing a collar or hem. Tightening with extra seams, pleats and darts or adding strips of fabric or trim for a looser fit. Plenty of pinning and unpinning. Tedious hand-sewing. For a kid's Halloween costume? You betcha.

I was quite tortured in the process. As I'm sure my DollinkDaughters were, though they never complained. Out loud, anyway.

Happy endings:
Typically, in the 11th hour, as a costume came together, I would begin to get Very Excited. All costume ingredients had been decided on, purchased, assembled, cut, sewn, glued, re-cut, re-fitted and finally pressed. Time to sit back and admire my handiwork (though there were always very uneven and untidy bits). The next day, the kids would get dressed and made up. They always looked sooooooo amazing. I dare say that they loved their Halloween costumes.

Great memories, those.

Here are two of the many homemade costumes the DollinkDaughters wore over the years. I'd scan and attach more if I wanted to be more show-offy about my costume-making ability as well as the cuteness of the Dollinks, but hey - you get the idea...

DollinkDaughterJrS as a devil (she called it 'Debo' in 1983.

If memory serves me (it doesn't always), JrS

liked this costume so much she wore it again the following Halloween.

 

DollinkDaughterLLS as Snow White (1981)

Below is a little scrap of paper

that LLS wrote describing her costume. Adorable.

Click on the 

scrap of paper to enlarge. 

It really is cute.

" This is Me on Halloween Dressed as Snow white and I Thought I was Pretty

I wore a cape a collar a ribbon a skirt and a blouse.

The make-up was eye shaeow blusher and lipstick "

look up!

James Turrell: 'Skyspace'

WANTED

This evening, I half-watched, half avoided - watching this movie.

CGI was over-the-top awesome.
Basic LifeIsCheap storyline.

Starring Morgan Ya-Gotta-Love-Him Freeman, Angelina What's-With-That-Lower-Lip Jolie and James Gosh-He-Sure-Is-Capable-of-Varied-Acting-Roles McAvoy.

... One word movie review: RUDE!

(According to your personal 

movie preferences, 

you can take this review in a 

bad or not so bad way)

When is a bagel not a bagel?

When IS a bagel not a bagel?
When it is reduced to being a bagel that is simply a slightly-heavier-than-white-bread-dough shaped into a humongous-bagel-looking-round. Almost all bagels from the local grocery store and so-called 'bagel eateries' fall under this description. Most of these bagels are, at best - insipid. Donut shaped breads are donut shaped breads, and not necessarily bagels.

Regular readers of b's blog know that boring food does not impress me.
Rather, boring food depresses me.
When it comes to eating - I maintain that fresh is important, tasty is best and dishes that are deemed 'pretty darned authentic' truly reign.

And so - back to the humble bagel. I don't know from bagels the way many folks do, but I know what I like and have a wee idea of how they're supposed to be...

A good while back, the bagel went mainstream. Since then, a good bagel is getting hard to find. It's been screwed with.

Bagel ingredients are few.
Cooking method is straightforward.
Resulting texture should be satisfying: toothsomely crunchy at the onset and tender yet dense as you work your way further. Delicate in taste and flavor.

It's not nice to mess around with the ingredients. Is malt still included? Even worse to shortcut the basic method of preparation. I suspect ersatz bagels are not given a hot water bath prior to being baked - authentic bagels take a nice hot soak. This is a vital step in the bagel-making process. Lesser bagels are often steamed to get water onto the surface. Not good enough. A good bagel should have something of a crust. It has been said, and I do believe - that bagels need the bath to achieve Perfect Crust Nirvana.

You know the diff if you've had a real 'New York style' bagel.
I've eaten some good 'uns, which is why I have high expectations.

Waaaaay Back in the 90's, on numerous business/ pleasure trips to NYC, I'd buy a couple dozen bagels from a local deli: Plain, rye, pumpernickel, garlic, onion, poppy seed, sesame seed and my personal fave: salted. One or two were for eating on the spot, the rest were to take back to CA.

These I would (very carefully and with a great deal of love) triple pack in plastic bags and fit into my suitcase (like a breadish jigsaw puzzle) for transport home. Due to close proximity (even with layers of plastic wrap betwixt and between) with the food, my travel togs would invariably take on the heady scent of freshly made, generously flavored bagels.

Smelly clothes for great bagels. It was a trade-off.

Once home, I shared my bagel booty with family and friends (one set of neighbors always eagerly awaited my return from a trip to their native New York). The chewy sour-y bite of each coveted bagel would be well worth the small sacrifice of needing to air out some strongly onion-scented clothes.

Compared to those New York bagels, anything less is lackluster to the palate. Leaves one begging for better.

These days, I am resigned to buying and eating bagels that are 'less than'. My lesser bagels of choice are the multi-seeded pre-packaged ones from Safeway. Toasted. If I happen upon a batch that is generously sprinkled with caraway and poppy seeds, it helps with the illusion.

Perhaps I could start baking my own....like others have so successfully.
Hmmmmm. Doable.

Baking bread is fun.
I ...
... enjoy gathering the ingredients.
... never fail to be intrigued by the alchemy of mixing yeast, warm water and sugar.
... love kneading bread dough with practiced hands.
... delight in turning the mixture into my huge McCoy bread bowl (a wedding present
from 38 years ago); gently covering it with a dishtowel and placing the bowl in a cozy spot for the dough to rise.
... want to be the one to punch down the doubled up dough after the first rising.
... happily ball up the yeasty mix for a second rising.
... feel homey when setting it to bake in the oven.
... savor the anticipation that comes with the last fragrant moments of baking (a few peeks into the oven is allowed).

Seems to me that bread machines take away from the earthy satisfaction of home-bread-making - the wonder, the pleasure and yes - the sensuousness - of the process, So no bread machines for me. A bit of muscle and a lot of patience does yield the superior product.


There is one major problem with me and home-baked breads. I eat more than my fair share of the results. 'Fresh out of the oven' is my dietary downfall.

Homemade bagels - do I possess the will power not to over consume?
Is it possible to make 'em and store 'em and pace myself with the eating of 'em?

We shall see.
We shall bake.
We shall report findings.

P.S.
The question of real bagels leads me straightaway to the
'when is yogurt not yogurt?'** question.
Yet another topic for another curmudgeonly moment relating to food.
Of which I have many.

** Purge regret - I should never have gotten rid of my Salton Yogurt Maker.

YouTube bagel video by poopshadow.

cloggin'

Finally, after years and years of coveting DollinkDaughterL's pair of Dansko clogs,
I finally got a pair of my very own:

I've been a wearer of clogs since the early 1970's, when I worked at a fancy shoe store* at Ghirardelli (say 'Gear-ah-delli') Square in San Francisco. My first pair were wooden soled, upper in brown suede, with a wide strap and buckle across the instep. Hiking up and down SF hills, I wore those things clear to the ground. My next pair were even more stylish - with wood soles, red leather uppers, and whoooohoooo - squared off toes. Footwear fashionista!

At the same time, DollinkFriend and fellow co-worker L had a pair of clogs with fur-covered uppers. Now those were WILD. During idle moments at the store, we would pet her shoes.

Clogs continued to be part of my shoe wardrobe over the next decades. I can't imagine
not having at least one pair, though in recent years, my selection of clogs has been rather unsatisfactory. They've been clog-type shoes, rather than the real deal.

This is my first pair of real deal clogs fashioned with full backs. Should be fun.

I heart these Dansko clogs.

* working this job, I learned to appreciate fine leather shoes and handbags. With my employee discount, I kept the family in fine leather footwear. Back then my clothes wardrobe sucked, but shoe and bag collection was awesome.

free as a bird / real love

A.W.O.L.

now BACK by popular demand!
my banner header that is.
wonder where she went off to?
banner-napped by blogger?
happy to have her back i am i am.

Gone!

egads!
my blog header/banner has disappeared!
at least it is gone from my firefox and safari pages.
should i wait awhile and see if the header (with teapot morphing into turtle) reappears (due to a problem with blogger) or should i go hunting around for the darn thing?
or give it up for dead and try to create a new header/banner?
(i liked the old one real well and for another odd reason, it no longer exists in my files)
dang!
!@?&^%$#!@?#@!#$!!

Ears off to ya, Roy

'Here's your ears' sing a chorus of Mouseketeers to a special guest on Tuesday Guest Star Day (Mickey Mouse Club, circa 1950's). The Mousketeers then bestow upon the VIP a pair of glittery sparkly Mickey Mouse ears. Not standard issue, but pretty wowiezowie. After being crowned with the sparkly ears, that person then became an Honorary Mouseketeer. Nifty.

In the 50's, like most American kids my age, I watched the Mickey Mouse Club on TV every day after school. Wanted a pair of Mouse Ears just like the Mouseketeers wore.
Back then, it took going to Disneyland to secure a pair. But our family never took such vacations. Finances dictated we stay close to home. I don't even recall my parents ever having vacation days from their working class jobs. As a kid, I wasn't empathetic to our lot; rather, resigned - to living out my childhood without a pair of Mickey ears. Brat.


Finally, in 1971, as an adult (married, before kids), my first trip to Disneyland. Once inside the gates - a stop at the nearest hat shop on Main Street. There they were: the Mickey Mouse ears. Lots of 'em. It was as if I suddenly became 8 years old again. The ensuing adrenaline rush assured me that in this magical place, there was a pair of MM ears just for me.

It makes for a better story to say that I got a Mickey Mouse ears hat on that first trip to Disneyland. In reality, it might have been on a subsequent visit...
Eventually, it happened. A pair of Mickey ears, in classic black - with my name embroidered on the back in yellow thread. I felt like an Honorary Mouseketeer.

image from http://www.disneystore.com

Roy Williams is credited with the creation of the world-famous Mickey ears-hat. It seems that Williams was inspired by this early Mickey Mouse cartoon in which Mickey tips the top of his head (his ears) to Minnie @ 3:10:

Williams' bio reads that in 1930, he was an artist and storyman for the Disney Studios. Those of us who grew up watching the original Mickey Mouse Club show may remember him as the 'big Mouseketeer' or 'Mooseketeer'. AKA 'Uncle Roy'.

Roy Williams' artful contributions to our favourite classic Disney stories deserves kudos. Then there is this business about the MM ears hat.

For his part in Disney history, we thank Uncle Roy for the memories.

Let us tip our Mouse ears to him.

BFF

b & Brenda Dayne = Best Friends Forever.

Well, virtual friends anyway.

A few years ago, after a very long hiatus - I returned to - knitting.
Hold on hold on - don't click away just yet. This post is not so much about knitting as it is about connecting.
To people. To places. To things.

The stuff of living - for the finer nuances of the act and society of knitting does, indeed, reflect the art and science of life.
Or so it has been said by many a rabid chronically needle and yarn wielding knitter.
Including my virtual BFF, Brenda Dayne.

For the past couple of years, I've been listening (typically with an ongoing knit project in hand) to a number of knit-related podcasts. By far, Brenda Dayne's Cast-On is my absolute favourite. All other knit podcasts pale to a pasty pallor in comparison.

To me, the Cast-On podcast is, above all else - soothing.
It is instructional. It is entertaining. It is thought-provoking.
Colorful. Witty.
The music played on it is (new-to-me and) engaging.

To be sure, Brenda does speak on the art/craft of knitting. The woman knows her fiber art. At the same time, she expounds on lovely rituals of her daily routine, punctuated by new life discoveries made along the way. Much ado about knitting, but not restricted to it. Via the podcast, she shares these ruminations with her listeners.

She's very cool.

Have a listen.

Make a new BFF.

time to get off the computer and go to a PARK

This week on PBS, Ken Burns' The National Parks: America's Best Idea is causing quite a fervor on the airwaves. Spectacular stuff.

For those who can't get enough, also just out on the news stand is the latest National Geographic magazine, which features the awesome photo I've posted here and without a doubt, the usual fascinating NG article.
The photo is from this blurb on NPR.
(click on the link for details and much better views of the image)


P.S. An (unrelated to this NG photo/article) aside: One of the best days out in my entire life was spent hiking with family and friends at Pinnacles National Monument (and yes, we've returned there for more visits).

i heart skipper

Clicking around the web tonight, I came across this adorable picture of Skipper (in a sweet pink knitted cardigan with little gold buttons) - and just had to post it:

[ image from http://www.windycitydolls.com/knitting.htm ]

We've come a long way, baby!

I don't have Tivo.
Or anything Tivo-esque.

Last night, whilst watching TV, I used the remote to jump between two shows which aired at the same time:
Dancing With the Stars and The National Parks: America's Best Idea.
Really wanted to watch both. Not possible. Bouncing back n' forth between and betwixt two (or more) channels is silly. You end up not watching much of anything.

Using the remote thusly felt like SUCH an inconvenience. Until I realized that Hey-We've-Come-A-Long-Way from the days before everyone had TV remote controls.

Once upon a time...
if you wanted to switch to another show, you had to get up outta your chair, walk over to
the TV - actually TOUCH the TV's channel control dial - and rotate it until you got to the correct station number(s). This had to be done whenever the viewer wished for a channel change.

Like this.

HubbyDear reminded me of the time, back in the early 1970's (whooaaah!) - when the plastic knob cover from our overused TV dial stripped of its threading, rotating uselessly around the underlying metal control. Until the plastic dial housing was replaced (months or years later), we had to use a pair of pliers to change channels.

Now upon this time...
We no longer watch TV with pliers in hand. Now we sit back and change channels with our trusty remote. Gently pressing the button is such an improvement over utilizing a tool to ply the dial from station to station.

We HAVE come a long way. baby.

For me, two TV shows on simultaneously of interest is very rarely a dilemma, so no worries. Yet when it does occur, I still haven't figured my way to viewing both at the same time and not miss anything at all from either one (taping is no longer an option).

tell it like it was

Map from http://www.earlyamerica.com/

This should be required viewing/ study in schools.

Journey to the Center of the Earth (2008)

Movie re-make using brilliant, if predictable, digital effects.

Based on the Jules Verne book, which, in and of itself as a read - offers plenty of excitement, especially for its time.

Brandon Fraser at his 'silly best' + two supporting actors who are not altogether unlikable.
The three come across as a believably compatible trio on a wholly unbelievable adventure.

This film's ultimate appeal is that it qualifies as HighlyLite N' Mindless Entertainment for a SuperLazy Sunday afternoon. Much like The Mummy, The Mummy Returns and The Scorpion King.

To be sure, 2008's Journey to the Center of the Earth scores as a fun romp - and worth another viewing (did I actually say that?!?).
Next time, in 3-D.
I already have four pair of 3-D glasses at the ready... anyone care to join me?


One word movie review: Cliché.
(which is not always a bad thing, btw)

YEAH YEAH YEAH!

Go here now.
YEAH.
Bookmark.
YEAH.
Enjoy.
YEAH.

new improved blogger tools

STRIKETHROUGH

The strikethrough is now included as a tool.

Now - how not to abuse overuse it could be a problem.

HeeHee.

It's a small world after all

Jackson Pollock, 1951
Mixed media sculpture (detail)
24" x 42" x 30"
~ Joe Fig ~

Today DollinkFriendBBB turned me on to the work of artist Joe Fig.

Especially fascinating are his sculptures which depict, in miniature - studios of well-known artists.

Miniatures + art studios.
Two of my very favourite things.

Click on this link, then on 'Sculpture' - and watch the slideshow.
What's not to love?

Dog Days and Cool Cats

Thanks,WikiHow - for these coooooool tips for coolin' down (sans air conditioning) during the dog days of summer.

This link for those of us who have ever wondered why 'dog days'.

OK, Cool Cats - to the business of cooling down...

('Cool Cat' - LooneyTunes cartoon character. Circa 1960's)

Didneelan!

Changes changes!
Still, for me - one of the happiest places on earth.

10 Things I Hate About You: the movie

It's made out to be the atypical mindless let's-all-get-dumbed-down teen flick.

But NO.

One word movie review:
non-imbecilic
(OK so it's a hyphenated made up word, but what the hey).

It's a wrap!

What's not to love about Furoshiki?

Waaaaay back in the 80's, friends from Japan presented me with large cloth squares in cotton, rayon, poly blends or silk. Each square was printed with traditional Japanese designs rendered in gorgeous colors.

I wondered why my new found Japanese friends were all into giving big square scarves as gifts. I received quite a few. Not a problem, for I, at the time, was The Scarf Woman. Not only did I accent my outfits with a scarf round the neck or shawl o'er my shoulders, but dressed my hair in scarves and wore them at the waist or fashioned into wrapped blouses as well. So I welcomed these presents of big square scarves in a multitude of colors and prints!

Indeed a furoshiki can be used as such, but the true purpose of these over sized square cloths is much more than that.

I watched in amazement as my Japanese friends demonstrated clever ways to use the square to wrap items into pretty cloth packages for gift giving or simply to tote round. It is astounding how many creative ways there are to wrap and tie a furoshiki around objects. Who knew a simple square of cloth could be so useful?!? Well, someone knew and I learned.

Recently, DollinkDaughterLLS presented me with a 'modern day' furoshiki.

The one LLS gave me is from Furochic.
It's a 27" cotton square in a vibrantly colored elephant and flower print. The fabric is tightly woven; strong yet flexible. The latter features are important when it comes to using furoshiki cloth for wrapping, twisting and tying.
Think: use and re-use. Think: sustainability.

The owner of Furochic is designer Jenn Playford. Her books and videos show examples of the tried-and-true approach to wrapping anything and everything in a simple square of fabric. Cultures all over the world wrap things in fabric squares, but there is definitely an art to the Japanese way.

Furochic's website emphasizes the 'green' of eco-friendly packaging with fabric.
If you don't know by now -
Green is the new Good. So very good.

Now get yourself some furoshiki and start wrapping!

Happy Wishes...

b's blog ~~~
Three years old on July 21, 2009. It's been fun. Let's keep on keepin' on.

A big loving Happy Birthday to DollinkGranddaughter LBPS.
Two years old TODAY. What a joy you are, little one.

How quickly these young'uns grow up!

Midnight Madness Eats

**
The art of the late night snack.

Dinner taken between 6-8PM. A full belly.

Midnight rolls around and I get the hankerin' for a bit more food before beddy-bye. To ignore the notion of a snack would mean going to bed a tad hungry. It would mean visualizing food whilst lying in bed awake. Only to get hungrier.

I crave a small hot meal. A wee dish of something savory would be best.
I decide to head for the kitchen. Something warm and savory across the palate and into the tummy would be nice. However, due to the late hour, a cold offering from the larder would be quicker and easier. Cold cereal or a some fruit will have to suffice.

Late night snacks were the norm when I was growing up. My family-of-origin made no bones about partaking in the 4th meal of the day: 'siu yé'. And yes, the food would always be warm and savory...

Great memory of late-night eating:
The family would eat an early dinner. After post meal dishes were taken care of - Mom, Dad and one or more of us kids would head out for a movie. We'd walk a few blocks down to Chinatown to one of the Cantonese movie theaters. Sometimes there was a recent film release that Mom or Dad had in mind to see. Other nights, we'd take in a double feature of whatever happened to be playing. It was after sitting through two movies that we'd reward ourselves with some Midnight Madness Eats.

When the show let out around 11PM, it was an unspoken rule that siu yé was next on the evening's agenda. Even if it happened that I'd nod off by the end of the second feature, San Francisco's cold night air, plus the promise of a hot tasty midnight snack would jostle me awake good and proper.

Siu yé? I am sooooo there.

The Chinese restaurants we frequented were all within walking distance - another block or two, maybe three if we wanted to go 'out of our way' for a particular dish. Upon arrival at the chosen eatery, we'd usually find the joint fairly jumpin' with other late night diners. A waiter would motion us to a table or booth, we'd peel off our coats and pass the menus around.

Typically, our late night food choices would be simple ones: a bowl of jook (congee), won ton (soup) or noodles (fried or in broth). The food - tasty. The company - convivial.
I always felt happy and secure taking these midnight sups with family.

For me, Midnight Madness Eats translates to yummy food, laughter and going to bed very much satisfied with life.

That was then and this is now.
These late nights I settle for a bowl of cold cereal with a splash of milk.
Perhaps a sliced banana over top for some real excitement.
Then I sit and eat alone.
Satisfaction of life rating: all things considered and sans jook = still A-OK.

)) sigh ((


** Photo of 'jook' aka 'congee' from this yummy website.**

ROAR!!!!

Today I am (once again) obsessed with Eric Burdon!
Gonna haul out my Animals LPs and 45's circa 1960's!!!



Here is the 'See See' variation favoured by my Mom, who adored singing and dancing:


Dad could also carry a tune and loved to sing. My brothers and I do our best to carry on in the family tradition by following suit - singin' n' dancin' whenever the spirit moves us.

See 'Ruminations' sidebar for another early Burdon video.

love means never having to say you're sorry

No shit.

The harsh reality of those times.
The harsh reality of these times.

the neverending story

On B's blog, I post with increased frequency bemoaning my accumulation of stuff.

The truth is that at times, my stuff fairly overwhelms. When one has spent a lifetime in the hunting/gathering of cute things, fun things, sentimental things, both necessary and extraneous non-essential but delightful things - it adds up. Big time.

When one is short of storage space, those items that once served to please, accessorize and embellish a humdrum existence quickly morph into excess baggage that can bog down one's lifestyle.

Too much stuff! is the bane of my existence. It is also my mantra. My rallying cry.

The urge to purge is constant, a chronic condition. Though fond memories can be readily recalled of how good it buoyed the senses to acquire this or that, it feels equally, if not better, to let go of what has amounted to a ridiculous number of belongings**.

Fact: the powers that be in the advertising world are largely to blame for convincing us to get more stuff. Advertising drives and defines our consumer existence. Every ad that convinces us to consume MORE MORE MORE is a well-thought out bit of propaganda. Each is a brilliant example of brainwashing: you want it. Need it. Gotta to have it. Show it off. Validation of self through the acquisition of stuff appeals to a basic human need: to feel significant. It isn't wrong - some of us just take it too darn far.

Therein lies the irony: To have, to hold, to feel good for a moment, to become overwhelmed with, to fret over, to get rid of. To replace. The cycle really is endless - that is, until the end of funds or life..

Day by day, as I am faced with caring for my stuff, I pause to take stock. I have every intention of cutting back and simplifying. But how? Perhaps it is more important to ponder the question of 'why'.

Understanding WHY I/we (note: this is where I involve you, dear reader) need more stuff is a big step towards achieving, if not the ideal of Simper Living, at least a reasonable goal of Less Stuff is More. Such a learning process, this.

Taking baby steps, we move slowly. Distractions, numerous falls and even going backwards is part and parcel of the process. Yet one step at a time, we edge towards our purpose.

WHY requires taking pause each time before considering something else to add to our stuff. It behooves us to ask ourselves whether this or that new thing fills some void, improves our lot in life or makes us more at one with the universe. Will our friends enjoy us even more because we've got more stuff? (Some will, but those are friends we might also consider purging.)

WHY is a valid question. We should ask it now and again.

I am proud to make the statement that I am not the shopper I once was.
Hallelujah for that.

Purchases and acquisitions of late tend to be only what is needed to extend and enrich my current hobbies/interests (I must confess to having far too many hobbies) or to replace something in the house that is oft-used and now worn out. Case in point: my vacuum cleaner. The one I have is a cheapo which now sports a duct-taped electrical cord. The vacuum spits out more dirt than it sucks in. Moreover and much more alarmingly, there is a distinct smell of burning rubber that emanates from the machine when it's been on for more than 5 minutes.
I asked WHY and the answer is 'The damn thing is broken. Get rid of it and buy a new one.' Not the most philosophical of WHY questions, but practical is applicable as well.

It's recently occurred to me that I possess an organizational skill that has proved somewhat counterproductive to effective purging. It is the ability to tidy, stash and stack to the point that a lot of stuff looks like not-as-much-as-all-that. This has to be kept in check in order to achieve the state of simplicity which still eludes me.

Accumulation of stuff: links like this and this are terrific reality-checks.

** Collections of pretty dishes, yarn stash, paper-crating supplies and a plethora of cooking utensils are not to be considered excessive. Ahem.

go dhani go

the latest from Dhani Harrison.

Little Ringo is 69 today!

Happy Birthday, Luv.

Still Life

the 2006 film by Jia Zhang-ke.
Life and times during the creation of the Three Gorges Dam.

Things hoped for in viewing the film: a statement on the rapid industrialization of China, great visuals of the Yangtze River landscape and transformation of what once-was to what-will-now-be and insight into the lives of displaced locals.

Subject matter very solid and the film delivers visually.

Acting and direction, however, left me looking around my living room for
something more interesting to do....like dust the furniture...
or stare at a cobweb on the ceiling.
(If one of the main characters ceremoniously filled her water bottle again after the first 4 times, I was gonna run
screaming... then again, it could be that I totally missed the metaphor.)

One word movie review: BORING

new artsy photographer on the rise

Here is a photo taken by DollinkGranddaughter LBPS.

When: June 2009 (LBPS was 22 months old at the time)
Subject: Grappa
Camera: G-Ma (aka MiNo)'s Canon Digital SLR

No computer image manipulation, save for size reduction for blog.

plucked from the plethora ...

... of 'Michael' articles and videos offered up by the media these last few days ...
this one by TIME music critic Josh Tyrangiel comes closest (thus far) to expressing some of my own reflections on
Michael Jackson: Performer Extraordinaire.

For me, over and above the weirdness he lived - the music truly defines the man.

Included in this video are snippets of my fave MJ tunes.
Those with a beat that 'You can't not move to'.

Crank the speakers.
Get a grooooooove on.

So much of Michael Jackson's music is magic that flows through to the core.
I dare ya to steady your booty.

Photo of young MJ from this website:
- Also check out the photos of young female celebs.
Appreciate that celebrity is
more often than not - cultivated from 'just us normal folk'-

musical interlude

Ode to Betty Crocker's Chiffon Pie

Yesterday, I made a Lime Chiffon Pie.
Clearly, doing so was a step in the opposite direction of my current return to better-eating-and-exercising-for-health program.

Five steps forward, three steps back. A reasonable forward and back motion considering the challenging times. (liken it to the status of our personal finances...).
Ahem and Amen.

Anyways.
Armed with a recipe for Citrus Chiffon Pie from my Betty Crocker ** cookbook, and four fragrant limes, I assembled the ingredients to make a frothy tangy and a wee bit sugary pie.

To my thinking, 'chiffon' is Pie Lite, and this I maintained as rationale for making a dessert with just two people in mind to eat it. This was my first attempt at a true chiffon pie. Not one of the Cool-Whip + Jell-o Instant Mix variety - though that combo of chemicals does yield a convincingly tasty (albeit too sweet) version of the real deal. Nope - my chiffon pie will be made from scratch or not at all.

~ Citrus Chiffon Pie ~
from the Betty Crocker Picture Cookbook
1/2 c. sugar
1 envelope unflavored gelatin
2/3 c. water
1/3 c. (fresh-squeezed) lemon, orange or lime juice
4 egg yolks, slightly beaten
1 T. grated lemon, orange or lime rind
4 egg whites
1/2 tsp. cream of tartar
1/2 c. sugar

Blend sugar, gelatin, water, juice and eggs yolks in saucepan. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until it boils. Add rind. Place pan in cold water, cool until mixture mounds slightly when dropped from a spoon. Fold into a Meringue of egg whites, cream of tartar and sugar. Pile into a cooled baked pie shell. Chill several hours until set. Serve with a generous amount of whipped cream.
P.S. If you aren't adverse to the idea, a teeny
tiny drop of green food coloring can
be added during the mixing. I dipped the very tip of a
toothpick into green food coloring and that
was just enough for a visual hint o' lime.

Some folks shy away from uncooked meringue (you can substitute pasteurized dried egg white), but I am OK-fine with it. I have little fear of the traditional Caesar salad made with raw egg, and have consumed my share of the Original Orange Julius (remember those?) drinks with raw egg added for extra protein. The eggs I used for this pie were washed/scrubbed after they were laid by a duck - by the name of Mavis. (No, Mavis didn't wash the eggs - her owner did). In the future, I'll be using egg white substitute for this pie - so no one freaks out about eating uncooked egg white. OK? OK.

** The Betty Crocker New Picture Cookbook (1961, 5 - ring binder edition).
(consider this a temporary link ` until the book sells for $325)

Walking down Memory Lane with Betty C....

On many a Saturday morn in the 1950's and 60's, my Mom and I could be found boarding the Powell-Mason cable car for a ride downtown. We'd spend the day browsing department stores, always with a stop for lunch at the JC Penney cafeteria (chicken pot pie!) or Woolworth's lunch counter. Mom and I weren't shopaholics, therefore never went on crazy shopping sprees, but there would always be a few sensible and/or novel, purchases made by day's end.

At age 12 or so, I was developing an interest in the alchemy of food. Particularly fascinating was the notion that certain combinations of flour, liquid, leavening and flavors - mixed, then baked in the oven - would result in a variety of yummy things to eat. We didn't bake in our home, but I did learn something of cooking and baking 'American-style' by way of junior high school Home Economics.

Not only educational, but lots of fun - were the hours I spent in Home Ec class kitchenettes. It was like playing house. Each mini kitchen was equipped with a small sink, refrigerator, stove and oven. There was a table and four chairs. Shelves of plates, drawers full of utensils.

Until cooking class, I'd not actually prepped food using measuring cups, baking pans, rolling pins, cookie cutters. Rubber spatulas! Waxed paper. Crisco! I could hardly wait for my turn at sifting flour and wielding a rotary beater...

Well then - back to the bit about shopping with Mom.
We were perusing the book department of The Emporium on Market Street. Mom must have taken note of how I lingered over the display of Betty Crocker cookbooks, for she asked if I was interested in owning a cookbook. That cookbook. Who, me - own a cookbook?!?

Being a public library kind of kid and getting my book fixes on loan, I didn't actually own many books. I agonized over the decision, since the cookbook was less practical than say - underwear, pajamas or school clothes. Those were the type of things Mom and I would typically shop for. The book was also a bit pricier than non-essential knickknacks we'd sometimes consider on our shopping trips.

What to do. What to do.

For want of something new as well as novel (pun intended), the cookbook won out. Mom paid, handed it to me and I walked off cradling, like a newborn babe - the bag which contained my very first cookbook, ever. Once home, I ceremoniously removed my prized possession from its bag and pulled off the shrink-wrap plastic. I then smelled the book before proceeding to flip through every slick page, taking the time to savor each recipe, drawing and photograph. Wow.

Since the acquisition of that first cookbook, there have been many added over the decades. I now own more cookbooks than any one person could use in a lifetime. So stated, in my recent Urge to Purge extraneous personal belongings, I've since gotten rid of a few. Just a few. At best, getting rid of cookbooks seems a little unpatriotic.

The Betty Crocker Picture Cookbook, binder style, circa 1961 - remains a favorite.

With over 45 years of use, my very first cookbook, ever shows inevitable signs of wear and tear - emphasis on tear. It's actually fallen apart several times. The last repair was done with filament tape, which is neither acid free nor archival. This is a tough-ass cookbook. A survivor.

And now it's ready for another 45 years.

This IS fast becoming a food blog, is it not?

Bloody Beets

(great photo of beets is from this wonderful website)

Yes, I know. Another food post. You must understand, when it comes to sharing the joys of food, 'I Can't Help Myself'.

Today's food topic of choice: beets.
Fresh beets.
Earthy rough and seemingly tough-skinned beets.
Unbelievably tasty beets.
Bloody beets*.

At the beginning of the 1970's, when I was going through my first 'fresh and organic please' phase of food thought, processing and eating - a good friend and I became obsessed with fresh beets. Up until that time, my buddy and I had not tasted a fresh beet. We'd only ever experienced the rather insipid canned variety.

L and I cooked and ate together often, and one weekend we planned a simple supper of a main course salad, to be served with a loaf of crusty San Francisco sourdough bread. We'd already shopped for the bread, which was so aromatic and fresh (hot from the baker's oven) that we wisely decided to buy two loaves - one to eat while preparing dinner, one to eat with the meal.

Back in L's tiny apartment kitchen (OK, we dug into the hot bread on the way home), we happily set to work, chopping off the pretty green beet tops, washing both root and tops, then setting the big fat roots to a boil. Forty-five minutes later, after plunging the cooked roots in cold water, we were able to slip the skins off with ease. The raw leafy beet tops we'd already sliced and mixed in with organic lettuces. All other ingredients were at the ready for assembly of the salad.

The skinned beets were cool to the touch, yet let off a bit of steam upon being sliced with one of L's sharp kitchen knives. The aroma that reached our nostrils was like an earthy perfume. L and I looked at each other and smiled. Taking in the rich deep color of the beet slices, we smiled again. Both of us not only appreciated, but knew how to coordinate a meal using complementary flavours as well as combining food to create pleasing color combinations at the table. We were, to be sure, self-professed foodaholic / 'aestheticians'.

Let's see....varied greens of the lettuces and avocado, the clean yellow and white from the boiled eggs, sassy pink of shrimp meat, a sprinkling of browny green from toasted pumpkin seeds - and now a lusty red from freshly boiled beets: the salad will definitely look appetizing. To be certain that the addition of beets to our composition was not an error of judgment in flavor, we each grabbed a slice off the cutting board for a taste test.

OMG.
The firm slice of beet yielded to the tooth, yet maintained a wonderfully crisp bite. Flavor-wise...ooooooh....such a natural sweetness that defies addition of seasonings or dressing. In appearance, sliced beets offer a subtle variation in texture with their built in 'rings' - so it looked pretty too.

L and I were instantly enamoured of 'cooked beet au naturale' and decided that the sliced orbs deserved presentation in a pretty bowl of their own - separate from the salad.

The two of us sat down and proceeded to (very giddily) devour a generously sized salad with all the fixin's, fragrant crunchy sourdough bread and all four of the very large, unbelievably delicious beets.

Though I still, on rare occasion, partake of beets from a can and/or at a restaurant salad bar - those overcooked, squishy and relatively tasteless roots cannot compare to the royal taste treat of freshly cooked beets.

Beets: boiled, roasted, raw.
Eat 'em and weep...tears of joy.

Food post in the not too distant future:
The Sensational Savoy (cabbage).
I know y'all can hardly wait.

* L and I called each other in a panic the next day. Both of us feared (erroneously) that we might require hospitalization. From that point on, we referred to our beet eating initiation as Bloody Beets. Oh what fun!

New fave bread

I am a huge fan of BREAD - and typically adopt one type of bread or another as my current 'fave' (read: once chosen, I tend to overeat it).

My fave bread of late has been Trader Joe's Cranberry Walnut. I can sit and eat an entire loaf of this yummy bread in one sitting, and it's become more like a dessert bread for me. Delicious when mounded with gobs of soft butter, I'd say it can be downright deadly.

Not so with Mestemacher bread.
A little goes a long way to satisfy both the palate as well as the bread addiction.

A package of Mestemacher pumpernickel bread resembles a brick doorstop and weighs just about as much.
A thin slice of the bread is dense in texture, dark in color and tastes a bit sour.
Very satisfying.
Even a half slice.
I've been eating it toasted - sans butter - totally plain (can you believe?!?).

Not trying to rush through this loaf, but at the same time, am very eager to try other 'flavors'.

Mestemacher.
A healthier (?) bread alternative (?).

I hope I hope I hope.

Chinatown My Chinatown

Chinatown, My Chinatown.
Written in 1910 by a couple of white guys - who, I have no doubt - were not from Chinatown.

Taking into consideration the political-social atmosphere at the time, the words to the song probably typifies how outsiders viewed American Chinatowns. It was 1910 - to be sure, plenty of **** going on in and around the Gilded Ghettos. People didn't get it. They still don't, but that again is another post for another day.

One has to wonder if Chinatown residents were bemused and/or chagrined by the inane lyrics of 'Chinatown, My Chinatown', which, to my thinking - greatly serve to perpetuate the exotic myth of the Mysterious Orient ... more so in the early 1900's - when the enclave of Chinatown was viewed as a world very much apart.

Maybe no one paid attention to the words.
They were probably much too busy bop bopping to the catchy tune to take note.

I grew up in San Francisco's Chinatown.
We didn't live deep within the bowels of ChinatownMyChinatown, though my Mom did - back in the 20's, 30's and 40's. The rental flat of my youth was located on Mason Street (major claim to fame being that the Powell-Mason cable car line ran right in front of our building). We bordered North Beach and Nob Hill, but 'three blocks up' from Grant Avenue was Chinatown all the same.

As a kid, one of my elementary school teachers at Jean Parker School had the lot of us Chinese-American kids (our school's student population was close to 99% A.B.C.) sing the refrain of 'Chinatown My Chinatown' for a school assembly. Now, that must'a been cute...or patronizing.... or exploitative...acccch....no matter...

At home, my Mom hummed this song with her cronies for a lark. Heck, Mom and I even sang it together a few times.

So - in spite of the politically incorrect lyrics, I do hold a bit of a fond memory.
Go figure.

Now here's your chance to sing-a-long.
Go ahead - - - put that in your 'pipe' and smoke it.

P.S. .....'wing wong'......now that'sa T-A-C-K-Y.

skip skip skip to my lou

The other day I saw a (nicely dressed, tidy and fit-looking, middle-aged) man skipping down the street. It was a sight to behold. Kinda neat-o.

Children often skip, but adults tend not to. Or do they?

When was the last time you skipped (not school, not work, not TV channels, not dessert and definitely not rope). I haven't skipped like a kid in at least a decade. Maybe two. Perhaps I'll give it a go when next I'm out walking on the track and there's lots of room for me to stumble and fall...

Apparently, there are some heavy duty adult skippers out in the world.
Check out this article about the founder (of the above skipping movement).

more what's not to love...

...about wikiHow?!?

This recent wikiHow post offers super fun craftiness and is oh-so-practical:

What with rubber thongs aka flip flops aka zories selling at ridiculously high
prices, it really makes sense to try constructing them yourself - from an old yoga mat, yet.