Sunday, December 31, 2017
Sunday, December 3, 2017
Saturday, December 2, 2017
In this week's installment, Beverly loses a pearl earring when she dusts a little too vigorously after being spurred on by that new rock and roll seeping out of Junior's bedroom.
When Beverly's husband Fred, who is disapproving of Junior's "crazy noise", asks about the missing earring at the dinner table, Beverly explains it away by laying the blame on her inhospitable and extra-thick ear lobes. But when Junior fires up his record machine after supper, Beverly, who is fixing dessert, once again begins to shimmy and shake, and watches helplessly as her second earring falls deep into the topping of her coconut cream pie. As Fred digs into the pie, Beverly attempts to distract him and retrieve the earring before he chokes on it. Hilarity ensues!
Tune in next week as Beverly befriends a new neighbor, who demonstrates a dusting polish that leaves Beverly feeling high.
Tuesday, October 24, 2017
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
Sunday, October 1, 2017
Saturday, September 30, 2017
Wednesday, September 20, 2017
Monday, September 4, 2017
Nothing, that I can see.
Here's what's right:
Iggy and Waits in a booth. I MEAN....
Sturdy-looking coffee cups
Smoking. Inside. (note the accomodatin' ashtray)
Mustard and ketchup in squeeze bottles. (Making me so hungry for fries right now.)
Table is checked not in the traditional gingham but in a hypnotic, nearly Escher-like fashion.
Christmas lights strung up, with those fat, old bulbs that burn hotter than a mother.
Oh, here's what's wrong. I found it: I'm not there, joining the conversation! (The one from my imagination. Not the one in the movie.)
Sunday, September 3, 2017
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
Sunday, July 16, 2017
Thursday, July 13, 2017
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
Tuesday, July 11, 2017
Monday, July 10, 2017
Saturday, June 10, 2017
Saturday, June 3, 2017
Would it really kill someone to open a coffeeshop with this kind of architecture? Is that so much to ask? When was it decided that the parabolic element, inspired by the Space Age, was passé? As if we'd moved on, just because space flight became normal.
Even when we're ignoring the astronauts, the parabola is very much a part of our earth-bound lives! The parabola is the natural shape any projectile along the earth surface takes, because gravity. And other physics things I'm not smart enough to explain.Consider that old earth game, which is, beyond dispute, the greatest game---baseball. Parabolas abound! From the pitcher to the batter, to the guy running in the outfield to make a catch, if he's doing it right. (According to research in environmental psychology, which I read about in this blog post about Cardinals baseball, guest-authored by two university professors, Drs. Bhatia and Chura, who are baseball fans).
The parabola can even figure into our romantic longings and philosophical musings. Stealing again from this same blog post, Thoreau wrote of how he took his daily walk through the woods in the shape of a parabola "opening westward", apparently preferring the parabolic path as a "perfect middle between opposing cultural forces" and symbolizing "not only the type of beauty he wished his walks to have, but the shaping and altering effects he wished his life to have." (Quoting Bhatia and Chura here.) Wow! The parabola can do all that?!
Even if you eschew all that frou-frou, the parabola figures into our satellite dishes, our clean energy wind turbines, and other stuff I'm too lazy to look up. So it's just as deserving as ever to be a motif shaping and altering our banks, gas stations, cafes and coffee shops! So let's bring it back. Let our architecture reflect the trajectories of our meager but fervent little lives --- the hopeful rise of the curving arc....falling back to earth again......or, in the case of the bouncing ball, a series of repeating but diminishing parabolas. On a more optimistic note, once again plundering the baseball scholars, NASA calls the parabolic path that comets trace around the sun an "escape orbit" , that can be traveled forever. And it has been said (by Bhatia and Chura) that the arms of the open-ended parabola, "reach toward infinity."
I think I've made my case, but before we move on, take a gape at that "Ships" sign in the photo..... How can you beat that? You can't! Tell me who doesn't want to drive up to a stunning piece of signery that looks like it's about to blast off? No one, that's who! What kind of a world do we live in where we toss out such fun, energetic designs and send em straight to the garbage heap? I ask you.
Friday, June 2, 2017
Saturday, May 27, 2017
Friday, May 19, 2017
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Thursday, April 27, 2017
Sunday, April 2, 2017
Sunday, March 26, 2017
Friday, March 24, 2017
Sunday, March 19, 2017
Sunday, February 26, 2017
Saturday, February 25, 2017
Thursday, February 23, 2017
Monday, February 20, 2017
Sunday, January 29, 2017
January 29th is Kansas Day. Here is a picture of why I love Kansas so much.
Am I talking about the wide open spaces, that make me breathe more easily ? The azure sky, an open window to eternity? The vast horizon and its painterly sunsets? The soft prairie grasses,in delicate shades of tan, brown, gold and rust? The lightness of the dry air, lifting my spirits like a weather balloon? The caress of the wild wind, e'er blowing through my hair, across my skin?
Sunday, January 22, 2017
I didn't want to believe the news I read this morning, that our pitcher Yordano Ventura had died in a car accident. No, no, no, no, no......
What's weird is I had woken up this morning, staring at Yordano's picture and thinking about him briefly. Let me explain: I was lying in bed, looking to the wall opposite my bed, where my writing desk is. Hanging over my desk is the 2016 wall calendar from last year I still hadn't taken down---a Royals calendar commemorating their 2015 win. Yordano was the player featured on December, and I had contemplated how at some point I should take the calendar down, but I didn't have an immediate replacement for the empty spot on the wall, and I didn't mind having Yordano up there a little longer. These were some of my first thoughts of the day. Within an hour or so I'd go online and learn that Yordano had lost his life.
He was only 25. He was still just a kid, a goofy kid. That's why I had a soft spot in my heart for him, because we'd all seen him battling. He had tremendous talent, and sometimes he was brilliant, dazzling. Other times he was all over the place, and unable to last past a few innings. He lost his cool a few times and lost his command, but give the kid a break...he had a good heart. He was really trying to correct his mistakes. And when he was on, he was really on, throwing fire and reminding everyone why they'd called him Ace Ventura.
No one who watched Game 6 of the 2014 World Series could forget his 7 shut-out innings against the Giants. Brilliant. We didn't really care that he was erratic, because we loved him on the team, and we knew his best years were ahead of him. He was fun to watch, and we looked forward to seeing him develop in the coming years into a mature, solid player. In the meantime, he brought his spirit and personality and youthfulness to the game, to the Royals, and to our city.
We loved his story, the unlikely odds he overcame to make it all the way to the big leagues, and we were so happy to see his success. He was part of that incredible, unbelievable ride we all took to the World Series win in 2015. We loved that he was ours, and we got to see him pitch. To think there will be no more Yordano Ventura bobblehead nights....he will be sorely missed this coming baseball season.
Thursday, January 19, 2017
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
Monday, January 16, 2017
In this dream, I went to heaven. It was cloudy. Clouds on the ground, even. I started walking around when all of a sudden Elvis stepped through a cloud and was standing right in front of me.
"It's the King!" I shouted.
Elvis looked good. He had slimmed down and though he was still wearing a jumpsuit, it was reasonably embellished with what appeared to be some form of celestial rhinestones, that sparkled in a tasteful way.
Elvis held up his palm and shook his head. "I'm not the King," he said. "That title belongs to one who comes before me."
"You mean, Jesus?" I asked. (Who, by the way, was nowhere to be seen.)
"Jesus doesn't like earthly titles. No, I mean Dr. Martin Luther. When I got here, he was one of the first to meet me, because he died in Memphis too, you know."
"He was the true King, in both name and deed. I was humbled to walk the same cloud with him. I told the heavenly host I wanted them to drop all that "king" biz and have everybody just call me "The Prince" instead.
Just then, Prince, the musician walked up.
"Oh my gosh, it's Prince!" I yelled. "That's right! You died...just last year!"
Prince smiled serenely and extended his hand. "Dearly beloved...." he said. I tried to touch his hand but it was like running my hand through warm mist. Prince had a guitar strapped on, and started messing around lightly on the strings.
"So...how do you feel about Elvis calling himself "The Prince"? I asked.
Prince played a short riff before answering. "It's okay by me. He is free to use it. After all, I gave the name up for a while, during my contentious contract dispute with Warner. . . ."
"So what do you go by now?"
Up here they call me "Formerly the Artist formerly known as Prince", but usually they just call me "Formerly" for short. Technically, I took my name "Prince" back after my contentious contact with Warner expired. But no one seems to remember that." .
Just then, a slight pale figure burst through the cloud. It was David Bowie.
"David Bowie!" I exclaimed. "Oh my gosh!!!!"
Prince nodded in Bowie's direction. "Otherwise known in these parts as "the Duke."
"Of course," I said. "As in 'thin, white....makes sense."
Bowie greeted me. "Welcome to heaven. The ultimate space oddity."
"I'm honored to meet you, Bowie," I said. "I cried when you died." I awkwardly glanced at the two Princes standing nearby. "I was sad when you guys died too," I said hastily.
Bowie ch-ch-changed the subject. "We're all going on a joy ride," he said. You should join us".
"I think I'm already on a joy ride," I said.
Bowie continued. "Dr. King is taking us for a ride on his bus. You'll love it".
I was incredulous, which, given the unusual events that had already transpired, was saying something. "Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.....drives a bus?"
Just then I heard a loud honk, and saw approaching the strangest vehicle I'd ever seen. It was short but incredibly, impossibly wide."
"That's our ride," said Bowie.
"What IS that?" I gasped. "I've never seen anything like it!"
"It's Dr. King's bus," Bowie replied. "Where everybody sits up front."
Sigh. It was just a dream. Or was it?.........
Sunday, January 15, 2017
...Is what you're left with when you make a big pot of masala chai.
But it's well worth it. An aromatic cup of spicy, milky chai tea is the thing to drink when the weather's crappy and you're stuck home all day.
How do you arrive at the perfect cup of chai? Well, I don't like to boast but I've got homemade chai down to a science. And I'm happy to share my process with you:
It's easy! Just...
Measure out 5 cups of water and start heating it.
Cut up an ass-ton of ginger into small bits and throw it in the water.
Add about 20 whole cloves.
Measure out a couple of teaspoons of ground cinnamon, and sprinkle in some nutmeg.
Pour a couple of handfuls of green cardamom pods onto cutting board and attempt to crush with the bottom of a drinking glass. Note that they aren't getting very crushed.
Look for the meat tenderizer to use instead. After searching utensil drawer, look in auxiliary kitchen drawer.
Note that meat tenderizer is oddly missing. Who took it and where could they have taken it?
It was a big hammer-like tool and is not something that could be easily overlooked.
Continue attempting to crush pods with the bottom of a glass.
Look for the mortar and pestle. Didn't we use to have one once?
Give up and add partially crushed pods to water.
Grind pepper over the pot. Realize the pepper is being ground up too fine.
Get out whole peppercorns and put them on the cutting board and attempt to smash up somewhat with the bottom of the drinking glass. Add peppercorns to water.
Boil together for a couple of minutes.
Lower the heat. Actually, just turn it off.
Add tea bags---has to be strong black tea. Oops --why are you adding the kind with strings and paper tags? The paper will dissolve in the water. Fish out the bags. Replace with tag-less bags. There, that's better.
Cover the pot and steep the bags.
Add 4 cups of milk. Turn up heat until mixture is nice and hot.
Taste. Meh. Too bland. Add more cinnamon and pepper.
Don't add more cloves because you did that last time and the tea tasted like furniture polish.
Uh-oh. Mixture looking too dark. Add more milk.
Taste. Now too weak.
Throw in a couple more tea bags. Grab a random spice and sprinkle more in.
Taste again. Now too strong! More milk!
Repeat previous 5 steps!
Finally, strain the mixture into another pot.
Add sugar. Taste. Needs more.
Add sugar. Taste. Needs more.
Add sugar. Taste. More.
Taste. Ahh...that's IT!
At last, the payoff.....
See? That's all there is to it!
Friday, January 13, 2017
I for one welcome and embrace our new Ice Overlord.
I submit completely to your rule, knowing in return you will not shut down our internet or bank our furnace fires.
I like a light glaze as opposed to ice accretions or snapped power lines. Not that you were asking. Falling tree branches are a mighty testament to your power. But not necessary.
Your power is known to all. Your appearance, less so. So it is with surprise (the pleasant kind, I assure you) that after a lengthy meditation on your awesomeness I was led to this image. You appear rather wizened, and even a bit cold. Perhaps you've been wanting a new line of work
Believe me, we've all been there. Excuse me, I mean, believe you.
Because we do believe you. That's my point. You have no need to prove what you can do. We believe in your fierce-some power already.
So give yourself a pass on this one.The people have already clawed and hoarded every last scrap left on the grocery store shelves. So your work is done.
We'll light some candles, as if all our electricity was going off, and call it good. Deal?
Monday, January 9, 2017
Posted this sign on the kitchen cupboard over the winter break. Two daughters home all day, making multiple trips to the kitchen to drink multiple solutions of tea, cocoa, protein shakes ....you can imagine what can occur...
By now the sign has lost its initial startle effect, but I have to say it pretty much worked!
Sunday, January 8, 2017
Pitcher Danny Duffy won my heart some time back with his bear suit, but he was vying for the top spot on my roster with outfielder Jarrod Dyson and closer Wade Davis. Now both David and Dyson have been traded away (see previous post They Traded Dyson!!!!!!!)
So Danny Duffy, congratulations. You'll be pleased to know you are now officially my favorite Royals player.
Saturday, January 7, 2017
I can't even.
(Sobbing, blubbering, sniffling...sobs coming so fast can't catch a breath...)
I know, I know....we needed a pitcher. Dyson was not an everyday player. He wasn't even the 4th outfielder. We only had one year left of him anyway before he hit free agency, so we needed to make a move to fill a spot in our rotation with someone who we could hang onto for awhile. I get it.
But Dyson, along with Wade Davis, who also got traded this off-season, was one of my favorite members of the team. He was one of the most colorful, and fun to watch. He was an excellent pinch runner. Could steal like a mother. And he made some pretty impressive catches. He was relatively small--5'9"---but he was scrappy. And had his own unique blend of mojo.
Here he is doing a backflip after making a winning catch:
Speaking of catches, this grab he made climbing the outfield wall was insane:
One of my favorite moments was the big smile on his face after sliding into home after hitting an inside-the-park home run:
Then there was the little dance he did after stealing third during the 2014 Wild Card game that would send the Royals to their first playoffs in 29 years and eventually the World Series.As he was often known to say, "That's what speed do" :
Thanks for all the good times, Dyson. Hope they appreciate you in Seattle.