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.

totally hooked on ...

Cook's Illustrated
and
America's Test Kitchen.

I've been enamoured of the Cook's Illustrated mags and books for some time, and just recently became aware of the filmed cooking shows. (What rock have I been living under?!? So glad I crawled out for a looksee.) Yesterday, I viewed 'Best Baking Recipes' (2007) on DVD and am now totally hooked on the shows as well.

I've always considered myself a good cook / baker, yet there's always so much more to learn about the craft. The DVD on baking was chock full of helpful tips and info. The only problem is getting hungry as you watch. Creating food with just the right ingredients and just the right techniques: Wow and Yum. The cooking demos set my kitchen mojo afire!

Whilst investigating the website, another lovely surprise.
The TV shows can be accessed on our local PBS station every Saturday. Click here to see if your local listings include America's Test Kitchen.

Cook's Illustrated: Another of life's Yippee Skippees.

People Photography

'White Angel Breadline' 1932. by Dorothea Lange.

People photography = people taking pictures of people.

No, not the kind of picture taking where one Lines-Up-The-Gang-All-Facing-The-Camera-And-Tells-Them-to-Say-Cheese for an 'everyone is happy happy' pic.

No, not the stiffly formal posed studio portraits...and please no - definitely not the relatively unnatural set up of 'glamour shots' either.

We're talking about real people doing real things - photographed naturally, in the candid slice-of-life style (with a purposeful nod to creative composition and mood lighting, of course). Pictures which elevate humble snapshots into works of art.

Life is, after all, living art.
Those gifted in the photography of people have the innate ability to capture something of the living art of the human condition in their picture-making. These skilled individuals are able to hold and suspend The Moment - within the framework of a two- dimensional photograph.

One possessed of that gift is Callie Shell, who recently photographed President Barack Obama's First 100 Days in office.

Artists like Callie Shell make taking pictures of people look easy.

Don't be fooled.
Achieving memorable shots of people requires patience, a discerning eye and impeccable timing. Moreover, it requires a vision. It also helps 'to be one' with the camera. It's no easy task to take photos of people which convey emotion and/or tell a story.

Here is another very gifted artist who takes brilliant photographs of people - as well as places and things (yes, do take note that this is a multiple shameless plug).

Huzzah!! for people who capture, via their cameras - mesmerizingly memorable images of people.

sock it to me

For the past few days, temps have been in the upper 80's - low 90's all around. When record highs occur in springtime, folks just don't know what to do with themselves. We just ain't ready for it.

The high or low of outside temperature largely determines what we eat, how we dress and the type of activities with which we fill our days.

When it comes to knitting, hot weather certainly takes the fun out of working up big scarves, heavy sweaters, monster totebags (to be felted!) or anything nearing the size of a blanket. Weighty woolishness touching one's arms and brushing across bared thighs is downright uncomfortable. Sweaty. Itchy.

Hot weather knitting calls for choosing cotton-y fibers and/or small projects - lightweight creations - like socks.

Before my first attempt at sock knitting, I looked upon the idea of manufacturing a pair of socks by hand as an exercise in futility. Why knit socks when you can buy a pair at Target for a couple of bucks?

Knitting socks requires the use of teeny tiny needles (usually dpn) and yards and yards of narrow gauge yarn. Cost of yarn is between $7 and $25. Not cheap!

One must keep mindful of measuring for length, be brave enough to turn a heel, produce a convincing gusset, manage toe decreases, perform the Kitchener...

There's a tremendous amount of work involved. Since socks are relatively small, the knitting moves along fairly quickly. But wait - you must knit not just one, but TWO of these things before calling it a done deal. So, multiply 'fairly quickly' x 2.

Once a pair of socks come off the needles, they undergo the acid test. Socks get put on feet, then stuck into shoes. They are walked around on. Stretched out. Feet perspire. Feet get stinky. Socks get dirty - fast. They need to be washed. Worn again. Repeated washings. Socks tend to wear out at the heel or toe. Sometimes socks get holey. Then they must be darned. Sock repair. Who darns socks anymore?

As described here, the humble sock gets some serious wearing. Perhaps more so than any other knitted garment.

Which still begs the original question: Why knit socks?

You know what - it's actually fun.

There is a tremendous feeling of accomplishment that accompanies knitting thin yarn on skinny toothpick-ish needles. For me, it's a thrill to witness a sock shape emerge miraculously from a set of 4 or 5 dpns being juggled with (my) not-always-so-capable-fingers!

As a bonus, hand-knit socks are a pleasure to wear. Super cozy.
This must be from all the LOVE knit into them.

I'm now a bona fide knitter of socks.
Knitting socks to completion = it's an act of crafty magic with sticks and string.

(yes, I knitted the socks pictured above)

See you in SockLand.
That is my destination for summer knitting.

Oooopsie!

Monuments Redux (and to be revisited if they decide to correct the error and
move it move it).

It's a bit like having 'to buy the White Album again'.

weight weight don't tell me

Hmmmmmmmm....

PDC

Pretty
Darn
Cute.

RetroPhone application for iPhone.

For those of us of an older gen who occasionally wax nostalgic for the sound (alas, it cannot duplicate the feel) of rotary dial phones, this 'retro' application appeals.

I don't own an iPhone, but wouldn't it be fun to someday try the feature out on someone else's iPhone (hint hint).

The other thing I miss about an old style telephone is the perfect fit-to-your-face design of the handset. I especially appreciate the ear-hugging design of the listening section. The cupped design of the ear piece helps to block out distracting outside noises. To me, the curved shape of a tradtional handset also feels more natural, unlike the flat panels of cell phones. The old handset design also allows for a nice firm grip.

Some time ago, I was given one of these nifty accessories (in spicy orange color) for my basic clamshell cell. It plugs into the headphone jack of the phone. Works like a charm. Fun to use. It even sports a coiled cord to play with whilst talking.

In addition, the YubzTalk is PDC in its own right.

Carry-On Baggage

Perhaps because of my own tendency to carry under eye 'bags' (more when fatigued, but there nonetheless), I find myself very fondly drawn to actors/ actresses who also sport a bit of natural under eye puffage.

Folks like:
Stephen Rea (pictured above)
Greta Scacchi
Greg Kinnear
Jenna Elfman ...
...and others...

Problem, what problem?!?

BOOM in gun sales

What's wrong with this picture?!?

More guns = more gunfire = more deaths resulting from gunfire.

Yes?
No?

What is the ultimate purpose for a gun but to kill something or somebody?
What's that? 'Target practice?' Give me a ******* break!
Anyone stupid enough to justify gun ownership is stupid enough to fire a gun at some living thing so that it lives no longer. I don't get it, it scares me and I want it to stop.

DUH and OMG

P.S. Started this post in the morning before spending the day out. Upon arrival home - a phone call from a friend, telling me that traffic is stopped on the nearby interstate - something going on regarding a man in possession of a gun, with his wife and his kids in tow....

postscript to UP and DOWN

a chance of
SNOW
in
the
forecast
for
tomorrow.
Hee
Hee

UP and DOWN

Not that there aren't a slew of other topics to speak of today, but I'm totally feelin'
the week's weather report:

Temps today in the immediate vicinity = a high of 70º - 79º **
Blue skies and abundant sunshine. Light winds. Pretty springtime colors. Bulbs a-bloomin' and newly leafed-out trees....ahhhhhh......rebirth.

Tomorrow and the next day, things will turn around for a bit -
with the return of cold, grey skies and rain. Also good. We live in a drought state, so any last-of-the-season-precipitation is always welcome.

Come Friday = rain will cease, temps will drop about 30 degrees - high of 49º - 63º

The weekend forecast = warming up to sunny sunshine and blue skies once again.

Unpredictable is not altogether unpleasant when applied to the weather.
It's expected round these parts with the change of season, and I rather like it.

Unpredictable is not so good in describing the recent ups and downs of my moods, however.
That, my dear - is the damnable shits.

(**NOTE: I went down the hill to run errands today, and the temps reached a steady high of 83º - downright summery - not quite ready for that just yet....)

waaaay down deep in the delta southern blueZ

Recently rented on DVD:
'The Last of the Mississippi Jukes' (2003)

Southern blueZy jazzy soulful.
See it very very very soon.

Thoughts from director Robert Mugge on the making of the film - can be found here.