This is My Grown Up Christmas List

When you grow up in a Christian home, Christmas has a meaning that supercedes materialism and presents. You spend a little more time focused on the birth of Christ than you otherwise might if the day is just about presents and food.

Of course, if you grew up in the House of K, as I did, you spend a little more time focused on early morning bloody marys and smokin cigars whilst opening your stockings and listening to Aretha Franklin turn the mother out of her rendition of "Joy to the World". If dancing and a little misting up should happen too, all the better. Most people think that Christianity and Funk/Soul and Liquor cannot coexist, but I'm living proof y'all.

(The fashion show in the youtube clip above is obnoxious, but dig the music.)

Anyways, on the materialism front, while the birth of Jesus is awe-inspiring, I'm not going to say I never wanted presents. My typical plan was to create a cross referenced list with prioritized scoring and catalog page bibliography so my parents could get me exactly what I wanted. Once I learned to use a computer, things got even more complicated.

This year, a blog I read turned me on to one item that I really want. Its too late for anyone to stuff my stocking with this and obviously this economy is ruling out $500 stocking stuffers, but fortunately One Project Closer is having a competition whereby simply writing about this "sexy fine" item enters me in a sweepstakes to win it. If I win, all I have to do is write a review, which I would be more than happy to do. (Unfortunately, I also have to link to the competition, so honestly I'm hoping nobody reads this because the more people that enter, the lower my probability.)
The tool in question is a Dewalt Track Saw Combo kit. Its got a lot of the capabilities of a table saw while also being portable. Can't do routing cuts with it, but you take the good with the bad. Anyways, I'm all about using this to cut down plywood to board up some windows while I reglaze them, making some dog gates around the house, building some small tables, helping Andy and Kim build a backing face for their salvaged TV cabinet, and a gazillion other things I can't even concieve of right now.

Anyways, Merry Christmas, only a week or so to go...
I leave you with this, which in my opinion is probably closer to what heaven sounded like on Christmas, if you can see past the 80s production values...



(I'm still kind of convinced that we'll all be black in heaven. Sigh, can't wait.)

Discipline and Leftovers

Rach is off tonight at an event titled "Stitch and Bitch". Assumedly, she's learning to knit while simultaneously complaining about my tendency to use the "dish" sponge rather than the "dirt" sponge to clean up the dog's pee off the floor. (In the moment, can I really be blamed for not taking the time to analyze my sponge options? Is this mess sponge-worthy? I don't know. I'm under the "Sponge is self-cleaning school of thought", regardless of what science may say to the contrary.)

Anyways, both activities should be a good form of release for her.

With my night, I spent a good bit of time playing with the dog, not that he gave me much choice. But now he's finally gnawing on something, possibly my ipod, on the floor, and I can get to my original goals for the evening. Which included downloading messages from this awesome Acts 29 site. I'm going to load them on the aforementioned ipod and listen to these guys get all exegetical and whatnot on my way to work. Hopefully listening to sermons will also curb my impulse to swear at SEPTA employees under my breath.

I had also planned to write some new blog postings, but alas its already late. I'll just repost something I wrote for Liberti a while ago, since this particular posting is already Jesus related and we are officially in a recession now. Duh. Whatever, here it is:

Discipline and Leftovers

Discipline for most of us is somewhat of an ugly word. I grew up in a church where unspoken rules that didn’t line up with Christian freedom were imposed. As a member of the church, there was a specific checklist of duties and disciplines that had to be fulfilled on a regular schedule. It didn’t matter how you felt about worship, reading the word every night, prayer, speaking with your neighbor about God, or giving money in the offering plate on Sunday. You did it. These are all good things and things that we’re commanded to do, but were done, at least in my heart, without any joy or feeling.

So when I grew up and started attending a student fellowship at college, its no surprise that I didn’t want that rigid structure to be part of my walk anymore. I went to church when I saw how much praise God deserved. I served the church when I felt moved by God. I read the word when I needed God’s comfort. I talked to others about my relationship with God when I could see him moving in my life. And I gave my time, energy, and money to God when I had enough to spare.

The problem is that I usually didn’t have any to spare after another taxing project, the celebratory late night at the bar, and the money used to buy a couple rounds of beer.

Well, eventually I graduated. I moved to Philadelphia. I got an internship with more “normal” hours than I’d had at college. I had a decent salary. But still, the mentality of giving God what was left when the feeling struck me remained.

I’m the king of impulse buyers. Probably the worst cases are my love of food and my love of giving presents. The people who know me best know that I cannot be trusted to only buy the items written on the grocery list. I can’t be trusted to order a reasonable amount of food at the restaurant. And you are a lucky man or woman if I draw your name for a Christmas exchange.

I live from ATM receipt to ATM receipt with a vague notion of how much debt is on my credit card every month. As bad as that sounds, my paycheck would more or less cover my expenses. I always had enough to pay the rent and the utilities. Sometimes, I’d be a little over, sometimes a little under. But I never had any leftover for God. Sure, I’d occasionally put a $20 in the basket. But I’d just as easily spend that on coffee or an extra sandwich during the week and have nothing come Sunday.

So when I started coming to Liberti, it must have really been God moving my heart when I thought, “I’m joining this community, this group of people. I should really tithe to the church.” I didn’t particurally want to. I’d grown used to the lifestyle. And perhaps more importantly, I didn’t know how I was going to give a tithe to the church when I was breaking about even as it was. But I set up a new bank account for fixed expenses. I decided on an amount to give to the church, 10% of my net income, and had it deducted from my paycheck into this account. Automatically, the church gets a check from me every month.

This worked. To some, not a big shocker. Its called a budget with automatic bill pay.

What’s amazing is how God has shaped my heart AFTER I started giving regularly. God showed me how I’d been giving him the leftovers all those years. He gave me this great joy comes from offering him something first. In my new financial life, God doesn’t get shortchanged and he doesn’t get more or less depending on how hungry I am that month. And when my fiancée and I talk about planning our married budget, I get such joy from knowing that the first thing we give is to God. I started giving before he made me a joyful giver. And God has really shown up in the bottom line too. He’s provided me with more and more financially, and when I give to him, I still am able to pay all the bills and eat well and somehow be generous with the remainder.

I still play a lot of games with God when it comes to being disciplined with money. There’s far more that I can give and I make a lot of excuses to him about why I can’t. I convince myself that God really wants me to buy another bottle of wine and the best imported cheese so that no one leaves unsatisfied. I am ridiculous about “praising” him for his creation of fried seafood appetizers. And if I am loving people by buying them EXTRA Christmas presents, how could God not want that? Ultimately all these things are about “my wallet” making people happy and making people approve of me. I’m confident that God is redefining that part of me too.

But, looking back, I think the biggest thing that God is doing here is showing me that discipline is not rigid or legalistic. Its about prioritizing who is more important and who is first, him or me. My situation, whether it be how much I have or how I feel about giving it, doesn’t determine his worth. And I know that he will continue to reprioritize my heart… with worship, prayer, fellowship, money, and everything else where he deserves the firstfruits. And I just want to encourage you all to switch your perspective. Don’t give God the leftovers. Give to him first and he’ll show you that you have a lot more to joyfully give.

Cynicism and Toddlers

I know, cynicism (my blog's middle name) and adorable toddlers don't usually go together. But COME ON, this is cute. (Here's the explanation.) And it's my one online nod to the Phillies parade, which I must admit was a great time. I may not be a huge baseball fan, but I'm a ginormous Philadelphia fan.


Since the little boy is the son of my friends Heather and Sean, I'm entitled to let down the facade I usually stand behind to mock children mercilessly. Will was shown on Good Morning America this morning and apparently he's going to be on Ellen Degeneres at some later point.

And now back to your regularly scheduled cynicism. Which of course includes this:



HAHAHAHAHAHA, stupid melodramatic pre-teen girls having hissy fits. Whew. Felt good to get that off my chest.

The Rohde Warrior

Just before Rach and I got married, we went to The Second Mile thrift store in my ol' neighborhood of West Philly. We purchased two pieces of art deco modern furniture.

One was the dining room buffet for a measly $20 which has been mentioned before and is still awaiting stripping and restoration.
The other was a somewhat interesting little drawer unit with a really bad blue paint job for $5. We talked about repainting it and storing takeout menus inside, but never really got around to it. So when we moved into our current house, it ended up hanging out in the corner of the garage.Before tackling the buffet, which I prize for its modern lines and sweet hardware, I wanted to test out some stripping methods on the little chest of drawers. So on Saturday, I penned the dog up in the neighboring room so that he'd only get the whiff of fumes rather than actually ingesting mounds of peeled paint. I applied a coat of chemical stripper, donned my sensible rubber blue gloves, and went medieval on its a**.Only after I got past the first layer did I clear enough to see that there was a fine, and I mean "sexy" FINE walnut wood veneer underneath. I began to take more care. Once I realized that I might be dealing with a nicer piece of furniture than I'd previously expected, I searched the drawers and found this label.A little googling and we have a winner. Gilbert Rohde was a famous industrial designer and furniture craftsman in the 1930s who single handedly, by some accounts, steered the Herman Miller Furniture company aesthetic towards modernism and minimalist design. He has pieces in the Museum of Modern Art in New York, among others, and his pristine pieces go for a lot on ebay.
I'm under no misconception that I could buffer my retirement account or even buy the aforementioned skill saw with this piece. I fully imagine that I would take it to an antique dealer, much like on that Antiques Roadshow thing on PBS, and they would tell me "If only you had left the paint on, or if you hadn't kept it in your basement for a year, or let the dog pee on it that one time, it would be worth $10,512."

But it will be nice to have in the house once I clean it up a bit more. I've contacted the Herman Miller company as well as an evidently well-informed guy on flickr. (He also has a great showcase of Rohde design photos. He's an avid collector.) Hopefully they'll help me with an identification of the piece this week.

And the satisfaction that I get from knowing its not being used to store someone's crack pipes or some UPenn student's maxed out credit card collection is more than enough for me. A pile of take out menus will be a welcome inhabitant.

Pride cometh before a Fall

Far be it from me to point out a speck in your eye without identifying the log in my own.

This website lists the 100 Most Often Mispronounced Words and Phrases in the English Language.

I immediately scrolled to "For All Intensive Purposes" which is my most despised distortion of the actual Phrase "For all Intents and Purposes". Smug and arrogant, I found that it was indeed listed and I was smarter than a lot of people.

But then I also noticed the following phrases which I've been screwing up for years...

Don't say: Chomp at the Bit
Do Say: Champ at the Bit
Reason: "Chomp" has probably replaced "champ" in the U.S. but we thought you might like to be reminded that the vowel should be [æ] not [o].

Don't say: Spitting Image
Do Say: Spit and Image
Reason: The very spit of someone is an exact likeness. "The spit and image" or "spit image" emphasizes the exactness.

Oh, Egg why doth you run down my face so gloppily?

They also have a list of 100 Most Misspelled Words which is a good reminder. I just screwed up license several times last night and I mess up address, friend, accommodate, judgment, and privilege so often that I have no misconceptions about spelling well.

Fall Gardening

Summer is definitely gone. And the garden and the deck container plantings are past the "Assisted Living" stage and are ready to head for the compost pile. Even my strongest outdoor cold weather performers are failing.

Probably the most tragic loss is the sweet potato vines. They're the most lush pseudo-tropical thing that grows up here without major work. And frankly, the deceitful facade of their verdant green and Amazonian purple foliage is the only thing keeping Rach from rushing headlong into moving to Miami every Sept/Oct. And what's more, at $3.99 each for a plant in the spring, it becomes hard to justify having more than one per pot.

And another loss is the dark purple Coleus that I discovered this year. I'm itching to repaint the exterior of the house with rich reddish purple and crisp yellowy green tones and I'm pre-designing the front garden around it. So I'm always on the lookout for solid landscape performers that match the vision. Here's one in the front bed being choked out by leaf debris. (More on my weekend adventures in leaf blow/vac technology another time...)So I decided this year to try some procreation techniques I'd read about in a magazine. (No, not THAT. Get your head out of the gutter.) I clipped several pieces of Sweet Potato Vine, both bright green and dark purple, as well as a few pieces of the dark purple Coleus. A couple of weeks on the windowsill in vases and jars of water and the cuttings sprouted ridonkulous root clusters.


The roots were several inches long by the time I got around to potting this weekend, but I'm sure you could do fine with less.
In order to keep them presentable over the long winter and facilitate replanting in the spring, I used a long plastic window box planter with an integral water well. I then mixed two of my favorite pastimes, drinking and gardening, by using the cardboard dividers from a case of beer to segment the growing medium into transplantable portions.After planting, I've moved the pot to our sunniest windowsill in the dining room. I'll let you know how it goes.
While I can't say I'm helping the economy, I am recycling beer packaging, minimizing the despicable influence of the Home Despot, and padding my wallet for spring projects that may involve buying a skill saw. Or maybe I'll buy some Allium bulbs. Or maybe I'll put it towards next year's vacation.

Every little bit helps.

Stupid Impoverishment.

Sit. Good chromosomes.

I took Makai over to my sister's house on Thursday. My niece Blair just had half of her teeth pulled out so it was a good opportunity to cheer her up. Not sure how much that happened due to the fact that I was chasing the puppy around the house most of the afternoon to keep him from peeing on anything. Hopefully she at least enjoyed watching that.

But putting him together with Petey, their full bred poodle was just hilarious. Petey's in his teens but Makai brought the puppy out in him. And the fact that they look that much alike (Makai is on the left) is just weird.

They even sit the same exact way.

Of course as I get older, I find myself arranging my body in the same weird contortions that I always thought looked so uncomfortable on my dad. So I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Genetics are strong.

Big Ass Posting

For any of you who have ever seen me wear my Big Ass Fans hat (just like above but in Khaki) and wondered what I could possibly be advocating, let me clear it up for you. They make giant slow speed ceiling fans that move an incredible amount of air. Up to 24 feet wide, in fact. You may have never noticed them, but next time you're in the Ikea self-serve furniture section in South Philly, look up. They're pretty cool.



Now my firm really has no use for giant ceiling fans, and we had them come and give a presentation of their products just so we could get the free swag of hats, totebags, and stress relief squeezy donkey toys which are available to the general public through their website. They also have a great video of the guys at the plant throwing basketballs at the big ass ceiling fans which I unfortunately couldn't link to because it's Flash based, but if you're bored, go search for it.

Although, someday, I would really like to design a vacation home someday that moves all the air through the house via a constant low volume Big Ass Attic fan. The floors of the building would have to be "aerodynamically translucent" like a metal grate or something. Could be tricky for high heels, but who wears high heels in Maine or the Adirondacks?

Lastly I should mention that my Big Ass Fans hat has been put in storage til the spring, and I probably should have waited to post about this until some of you could see it first hand, but I was reminded of the company when The Hardware Aisle, one of my fave blogs did a snippet on them yesterday. They made a joke about installing one in the Capitol building, which makes a lot of sense because Nancy Pelosi is likely to get a lot more floor time now. Natch, into every election season a little obnoxious nasal sounding rain must continue to fall.

"MY" Candidate...

Obama won.

I went to work this morning and read the transcripts of the victory and concession speeches. And I checked the voting results here in Philadelphia by division/ward (Really cool site here where I can see exactly how many voted at my exact polling place Ward22/Div20 and how many votes were cast for each candidate).

I was listening to folks at the train station talk about "their" winner. And reading about people identifying themselves with "their" candidate based on the vote that they cast.

And it made me think that it's kind of a load of garbage.

WE all made this decision. WE collectively elected Obama no matter which button we pushed. WE made this decision in our Primary or Caucus votes. WE made this decision in the way that we spoke about the issues or the candidates to our co-workers, spouses, neighbors, and friends. These party platforms and candidates were defined, in large part, by a desire to get OUR vote. What WE instructed our constituents to vote or say defined the party stance and the platform of both candidates, and even their tone or campaign style. Every time WE tune the radio to either NPR or Limbaugh, we cast a tiny vote for how these people were defined and represented. Every time WE aligned a political party with an ideology or worldview in our discussions with our kids even 20 years ago or more, WE nudged these candidates into the positions they had to hold to try and win the base and the undecideds.

I just wanted to say that as I imagined T-shirts saying "Don't Blame Me, I voted for McCain" or "Yes, We Did". For Good or Bad, (and let's be honest, no one really knows what will happen, and the rear view mirror of history isn't even all that clear), we can all lay claim to this moment. I would argue, by not claiming responsibility for this president, we are shirking our responsibility and spending more time judging another than ourselves.

(Ring, ring, ring. Hello, Speck? This is Plank. You're in somebody's eye. Later.)

BUT in another sense, none of us can lay claim to this moment, again regardless of which button we pushed.

God grants authority. We had a great sermon (Available Here) from the book of Daniel in our church a few weeks ago by a new pastor who will be planting a new "site" in South Philly early next year. (Shhhh! Don't tell anyone he's not PCA...) Listen if you like, but the gist was that God grants authority and takes it away as he sees fit for his glory and for the good of those who love him. Nebuchadnezzar was exalted to leader of the world and brought down to the dust of the earth and the dew of the grass and then restored. As were a host of other leaders, kings, presidents, and others. Whether he or anyone else was brought to that point by a birth order, political strategy, popular vote, or electoral college is irrelevant. God is controlling history for purposes we couldn't begin to understand. And in a lot of ways, by claiming a candidate as "OURS" or "THEIRS" we may be forgetting or even denying the true authority of God.


I'm still going to refuse to tell people who I voted for, other than saying that it was a split ticket. Not out of a desire to avoid blame (see above) but because I don't want that one little button to define me in people's minds when I think my comprehensive worldview (that is only percievable over years of shared conversations) is a much better indicator. Ask me about some specific issues or concepts, or even better, ask me about Jesus. He's the platform I aspire to even when I don't get it most of the time.

* I will Eat Your Babies, B*&^%!

Freakin' watch this and despair... (you only need the to get through the first minute til Martha starts clicking and salivating like Hannibal Lecter talking about Fava Beans and Chianti)



We haven't hit Halloween yet, so its a little early, but I plan on doing this with somebody's child for Thanksgiving this year. (Sus? Sarah? Either one of you want to volunteer your youngest?)

Hilarious Commentary Here:

*Title taken from an Episode of "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia".

Reminiscing About Mega Man

I was never a massive video game kid and I'm not a video game adult at all. My parents wanted me to be outside. So I didn't get a game system til I was 14 and by then I was beginning to be distracted by so many other things: Having a car, looking at girls, getting a job, and sprouting pubic hair (I was seriously late to develop.)

So it didn't really "take" like every other kid's marketed addiction. Thanks Mom and Dad, you helped me dodge THAT bullet.

But because its my birthday, I'll reminisce. I remember having to rent a Nintendo for one birthday party because all my friends had them and my parents didn't "love" me. I was overjoyed when I was at least allowed to go to Willard's Video in Rising Sun and rent one and pass it off as my own. Then, my birthday party came and no one except me wanted to play. Me sad.

But after much begging, my parents finally caved and bought me a Nintendo instead of a rifle. And for those couple of years before I got a driver's permit, I REALLY dug the MegaMan series of games. It was just so simple in its premise and there weren't all these secrets and codes and extra rules like a lot of the other games. Which is generally what I want... KISS, Keep It Simple Stupid.

Well, apparantly Mega Man 9 was just released and by all accounts, the glory days of the franchise are back.
It made me think of all the cool and not so cool Robot Villians that the hero faced over the first 7 installments. Here's a review:

Mega Man Mania: The Robots of Dr. Wily

My fave was probably Gemini Man... who could split himself in two and shoot crazy Gemini Lasers at you...


Do you have a favorite? Or were you the type who thought Mega Man's weak single action Mega Blaster gun and lame jump height were a reason to choose Contra instead?

For My Birthday, I want to give Shoutouts... and be a ______.

Yesterday, I did my three of my favorite things for my birthday, which is today...

A. Recreational Deceit and Prevarication
B. Talk to a Good Friend Across the World
C. Laugh Heartily

It went down this way...


My friend Jessie is in Bethlehem (the original) with her husband Trey doing Racial and Cultural Reconciliation between Israelis and Palestinians. Despite this obviously demanding task that requires them to be away from friends and family in a somewhat hostile and definitely stressful environment, she remembered, as she does every year, to wish me a Happy Birthday. Yesterday, she IM'ed me from across the Atlantic, saying "Happy Birthday One Day Early!"

Being the _____ (insert appropriate derogatory title here), that I am, I decided to give her a hard time and tell her "Thanks so much. My birthday was Monday the 6th, but thank you." Lying through my teeth. And she saw right through it. She knows me well enough to know that this is the kind of stuff I try to pull all the time. She didn't believe a word of it.

So after going back and forth for a while and arguing that she must have me confused with Bill or Amy or other folks she's got in her Google Calendar who are born in October, I finally feigned indignation and told her that I would go back in my emails and find proof that she had been wishing me Happy Birthdays for years on the "correct" date of the 6th.

I searched my inbox, found an email, changed the dates and the content of the message to back up my story. She bit, hook, line, and sinker. I convinced her.

When I finally revealed my lie, and graciously admitted that she was correct in wishing me a Happy Birthday for the 8th, she was so mad she started IM swearing at me in an amalgam of Arabic/Yiddish/English. The tirade was completely indecipherable and I laughed and laughed and laughed. Good times.

Anyways, I don't feel bad, because I'm a _______ (insert even more appropriately derogatory title now that you've read the story). But her being concientious enough to remember my birthday all these years did remind me of how awesome she is and how great the work that she and her husband are doing.

So, for my birthday, loyal readers, go check out their blogs:

The Middle of Nowhere

and

O Little Town of Bethlehem

Let them know how incredible they are. Let them know how much you miss them. Or if you don't know them from Adam, just let them know that what they're doing matters. They're both so ridiculously friendly and open that you'll probably make a life-long friend.

And of course, watch Jessie stick her hand up a Goat's vagina.

Justify this Purchase

Awesome. On Saturday, for my birthday, Rach and I are going to check out a few Archtiectural Salvage places I've been meaning to get to: Re-Store, Provenance, and Architectural Antiques.

I don't know what we'd do with it, or where we'd put it, or how much it costs, or where we'd get the money, but I want this:






Maybe we could use it as a new kennel for Makai when he outgrows his current crate? Or it could be my new office? Or we could figure out how to retrofit it with a showerhead and put it in the basement bathroom? Coat Rack? Turn it on its side and use it as a weird coffin-like crib for some hypothetical future child?

C'mon, help me justify this purchase!!!

Conversations with Your House: 73 Lothrop St.

Back to talking about houses, I thought I should give a plug to this column in the Beverly, Massachusetts paper that references an amazing house in New England.

(Full Disclosure, this column is written by my cousin-in-law. But awesomeness runs so deeply in the blood in our two respective families that if I wasn't willing to give a shout out to members of my clan(s), there wouldn't be many people left to give a shout out to.)

Anyways, the house is incredible. And while her whole dream of ownership of said house relies on an imaginary friendship with Elizabeth Shue, she definitely has all the imaginary details worked out. Here's my favorite quote from the column:

-And then because she is a famous celebrity, she'll buy it and sell it to me for a dollar, and the house will become ours- with an account that Lisa [Elizabeth Shue] will set up to cover taxes- and let's throw in heating bills while we're at it.

Good call, Esther. But don't forget to have imaginary negotiations to cover the costs of legal fees for any time you want to change a lightbulb in a historic mansion. And just so my readers don't think that all I ever do is crib other people's writing, here's a brief conversation I would have with 73 Lothrop, imagined using the Grandmother character, Harriet, from John Irving's "A Prayer for Owen Meany":

Me: KNOCKING.

Harriet Lothrop: Good evening. Welcome.

Me: Hi, I just wanted to see you and find out more about you.

Harriet Lothrop: Of course, good sir. Would you join me in my parlor for tea and crumpets?

Me: Oh, yes. I love strumpets.

Harriet Lothrop: [Disapprovingly] Crumpets, dear. Strumpets are ladies of the oldest profession.

Me: Oh, sorry, my bad.

Harriet Lothrop: [Disapprovingly and with a dismissive gesture to the parlor.] Yes, your bad, indeed. Please have a seat.

Me: [Crouching to sit on the antique sofa] So, how long have you...

Harriet Lothrop: Oh, no not there. That's an antique.

Me: [Moving to the Victorian Wingback chair by the fire] Here?

Harriet Lothrop: No, that's much too precious a family heirloom.

Me: [Turing toward the Ottoman] Here?

Harriet Lothrop: No, that simply won't do.

Me: How about I just sit on the sidewalk outside?

Harriet Lothrop: That would be perfect. Have a pleasant night.

The Word Rules

Let's stop talking about linguistically interesting dog names for a minute and discuss words.

(Because that's FAR more interesting to folks looking to this blog for home repair tips...)

I crave words. I discuss words incessantly. My pastor told Rachael and I that we were the most semantic couple he knew. I like reading the thesaurus. I ask for books on etymology for Christmas.

(Of course my Dad always answers those requests by giving me books on Old Testament Aramaic Etymology even though I'm not, nor ever have been, a seminary student or shown any aptitude for living foreign languages, much less dead foreign languages.)

Anyways, if you knew me at all, it should not be at all surprising that I would have categorized my favorite words. I have three characteristics which define my favorites:

1. Multi-syllabic
2. Beginning with "PL"
3. Ending with the suffix "-age", meaning act of, state of, or collection of, generally added to a French root word.

So I was very excited to find this link to Word Count which chronicles the 86,800 most commonly used words in the English language in a graphically beautiful format...
My favorite word, and thus far the only one I've found which fits all three of my categories comes in at rank #15,192: "Plumage"

When I pointed out the list to Rach, she immediately entered a few names and was surprised by the fact that "David" was ranked#619. I was not surprised because I'm awesome.

Makai Glamour Shots

For those of you interested in what he looks like now...

Makai Dry:

Makai Wet:

Our dog may have a lazy eye... I can't tell. Your thoughts?

A Panglossian* View for a Crepuscular Makai

Crepuscular.

Its the word that's getting me through this day.

After getting up three times last night to take Makai out for a bathroom break in the drizzling rain, I'm a wee bit tired. It doesn't help that when I was in bed I couldn't sleep because I was worried that we weren't going to be able to care for him well enough. (I'm anxiety prone.) So I got about 3 hours of sleep last night I think. Thank goodness he's just a puppy and not a child or I'd never be able to relax.

Not a picture of me, but how I feel.

Anyways, crepuscular refers to animals that are active during daybreak and twilight hours, in this case, dogs. We'll get him there, I hope...

Highlights of the first night:

1. We almost renamed him at the last minute from "Makai" to "Crackleberry" after passing a barn with that title on Route 30 on our way to get him. Do you think we made the right choice after all?

2. Makai puked a softball sized ball of kibble into my hand on the way home. He's twice as big as when we saw him last, but still, who knew his stomach was that big?

3. He liked his crate but we couldn't fit it through the door into our room the first night, so we'll have to get him a smaller one that's more mobile tonight. Or take our door off the hinges.

4. He's already learning his commands, including "Do Your Business". Although I'd like to find something a little more unique to use for that situation, like "Squeeze It Out" or "Craptastic".

5. So far the best book I've seen for this process is "Before and After Getting Your Puppy" by Dr. Ian Dunbar. We'll let you know whether its the gospel of puppydom or apocryphal after a few days...
*Panglossian means hopeful in the face of hard times or adversity.

One more day...

Also, in other exciting news, our puppy arrives tomorrow...
Here's what he looks like in case you forgot. And we'll let you know which of the two names we're going with as soon as we get him.

Way To Normal: An Early Review

Ben Folds put his whole album, Way to Normal, up on Myspace yesterday... here's a track by track breakdown as I see it...


Hiroshima: **** stars
A good opener to the album, although I wish a "studio" version was recorded, although I get the point of the live feel. I'm still singing Oh-Oh-Oh-Oh every morning in the shower, which the neighbors must love.

Dr. Yang: **** stars
Bfolds reiterates that this album is just going to be a piano stool throwing good time with this track. The piano solo in the middle is the stuff that makes me think music students will be studying him in 20 years.

The Frown Song: ** stars
There's something unfortunate about this song, perhaps either the disconnect between the melodies of the verse and chorus. Or perhaps its the squealing synth.

You Don't Know Me:*** stars
As good as when it first aired. Which is mighty good... Still think Hiroshima wouldv'e been a more exciting single.

Before Cologne/Cologne:*** stars
I appreciate the studio version for its refocus on instrumentation and melody. But the DVD/fake version (still available on the myspace page further down on the player) that was leaked early is more fun for its "over the top" miasma of melodrama.

Errant Dog:** stars
I think this is the album's first mis-step. Seems more like a Ben Folds Five lost cut from an early album.

Free Coffee:* star
The definite nadir of the album hits at the exact center of this song. Well, 1 minutes and 24 seconds in. Then things begin to move forward and upward again. At least the experimental song is audibly a little more appealing after that, even if not a good style fit for BFolds.

Bitch Went Nutz:** stars
Again, the leaked version (still available on the myspace page further down on the player) was frankly more fun and comic. This is pretty good though.

Brainwascht:*** stars
Picking back up in quality, Bfolds produces a classic melody. This one is definitely better than the leaked version (further down.)

Effington:**** stars
I think this is still an experimental song, pushing the boundaries of where Bfolds has been, but with exciting results. Its not an "anthem" like the other 4 star songs, but it pushes the energetic desperation vibe beautifully.

Kylie from Connecticut:**** stars
Another solid tragic story told by Bfolds. I'm going to group this with Mr. Jones and Carrying Cathy in the list of songs that make me wish Ben was a painter too.

Ultimately, I had hoped this would be as good as Rocking the Suburbs which I still contend is a religious experience. But I think it exceeds Songs for Silverman which is still high praise. I hope I can get my hands on the fake tracks...

Update: The Myspace player has been rearranged but the list above is the actual album order. Not that anyone really cares about this post.

Screw U*

Check out "The Hardware Aisle" on Thisoldhouse.com...

They've got a lot of great product reviews, home improvement tips, and educational guides...

One of my favorites thus far has been Screw University* where the poster goes over all the permutations of available screw types, including shaft, head, and metalurgy.


Very helpful for designers, craftsmen, and homeowners indeed...

Although they did not cover some of the more obscure hardware types that we often discuss in my office. For example, I recently came across the term "Clevis Pin" in some structural drawings for a roof canopy and was stymied. I asked my boss what that was and he said, "I don't know but it doesn't sound nearly as interesting as finding 'Sex Nuts' all over your design." Too true, sir, too true...

Thank goodness for Wikipedia and Google clearing things up. Otherwise I'm sure I'd could be in a lot of trouble for typing "Sex Head Wood Tapping Shaft Screw Nutdriver."

Footnotes:

*This whole post also reminds me of a conversation I had with my ol' roommate Jeff once. We conjectured that there is a universal right of passage for a young boy (or girl, not to be sexist, although I think this is particular to boyhood.) There comes a time in a young boy's life, where he is working with his dad on something around the house, and Dad asks for the "male" end of a piece of hardware, extension cord, etc. The young boy is confused. Which is the "male" end? He takes a guess and then watches as his father plugs it into the "female" end of the hardware, extension cord, etc. The light of understanding goes on for the young boy and the urge to snicker at this terminology and simultaneous sex ed lesson is before him. If he can supress the urge and proceed as if this was the most natural thing in the world, he has matured and is certainly ready for a more advanced sex ed talk.**

**Or sex ed "demonstration" involving dog breeding as I was subjected to. Disturbing, I know.

Rods and Cones

I know, the title sounds dirty. But no, this time I’m talking about the bio-structures in the back of your retina which process and understand color. Apparently, they’re called rods and cones, and apparently women have more of them then men. Thusly the scientific reasoning behind women making distinctions between colors better than men. By extension, this is the argument behind women knowing how to dress better, making better interior design choices, and being more racist than men.

Oh, calm down, clearly I’m kidding. (Or am I?)

Anyways, back to the point, I cry sexist bull&*^%. At least between Rach and I, I think I have the better color acuity. I think Rach has higher olfactory and tactile and taste sensitivity. And I think we’re both as deaf as doorknobs. So this is not another one of those common occurrences where I think I’m awesome at everything.

But I see colors better. I just know I do.

So I was very excited to find the following practical test online which is completed by arranging the subtle hues along a spectrum to determine how much your eye can differentiate between colors.

I challenge everyone to a color-off… I got a 0/100 which is perfection. But then I forgot to hit print screen to verify my awesomeness and the best I've been able to do since is a 4. So, I'll stick with that. Apparantly I struggle a little bit with the blue range of colors. Which isn't going to help my argument of what shade of blue we should paint the kitchen, but overall I still rock.

Suck it losers.

Report your score below.

Xrite Color Test Here

Aargh

HOLY CRAPATHON! I forgot.

International Talk Like a Pirate Day is TODAY, Sept 19th!

AARGH.

For anyone in Philly, I know there's an event at the Rum Bar off of Rittenhouse to celebrate happy hour of ITLPD.

And I just checked the TLAPD website and found all these other great events too:

Philadelphia - The Pirate Guys themselves travel to the City of Brotherly Love for a special Talk Like A Pirate Day appearance at The Franklin, as part of the museum's events surrounding the Real Pirates traveling exhibition from National Geographic. Cap'n Slappy and Ol' Chumbucket will be in Philadelphia Sept. 17-21, with a Talk Like A Pirate Day reading/performance at the museum from 6-8 p.m. on Sept. 19, and makin' stops at other pirate gatherings around town as time permits. Keep a weather eye out!

Philadelphia - "As a history teacher I am taking my students to the Franklin Institute in Philaldelphia Pa to see the exhibit about the WHYDAH. A pirate ship found off of Cape Cod. I am going decked out with eye patch and head gear. After work its yo ho ho and a bottle of rum, then its on to the wench to shiver me timbers. Ahoy and may you never find your self in Davy Jones locker"

Philadelphia - Independence Seaport Museum celebrates Talk Like A Pirate Day with the closing film in its summer Starlight Cinema series, the classic Bob Hope pirate parody "The Pirate and the Princess." In honor of the date, everyone dressed like a pirate gets in free; there'll be a best-dressed pirate contest, free pirate snacks and tattoos (temporary, we think), and heaps o' pirate fun.

Philadelphia - And in still more Philadelphia pirate news, the crew of the tall ship Gazela, moored at Penn's Landing, will be in full pirate regalia for TLAPD. After storming the Independence Seaport Museum (see above), they'll have the ship open until 11 p.m. for late-night pirate ship tours.

The World Wide Intrawebernetter

A virus destroyed my work computer on Tuesday night. It was like something out of an early 90’s techno suspense thriller, “The Net” or “Fear.com” or "Untraceable". Yes, I know, "Untraceable" was put out last year, but it feels like an early 90's techno thriller, especially when Diane Lane, the FBI agent says, "He got inside my wireless network!" or "He hacked into my car!"

Anyways, I was surfing the web looking for home improvement blogs. I usually surf without fear because my office has anti-virus programs and spyware controls and firewalls and pop-up blockers and a whole host of other things I don’t understand completely in the slightest but in which I still put my faith.

I don’t know which site it came from, but suddenly an advertisement for buying authentic reproduction samurai swords pops up. Unphased, I clicked the “Close Window” button. Instantly, my screen goes white, and an alert on my desktop appears saying “Your computer is infected with the following spyware programs: Yousmelllikepoop.exe* and Dontforgettobrushyourteeth.exe*. Please install Antispyware XP 2008** immediately.

Now I’m phased. This was clearly bad news, but I didn’t believe the message on my screen. I smelled a scam. I tried to cancel through the Task Manager. I watched as the Task Manager fell apart before my eyes.I tried to Google research the scam. I watched as all the google hits were rerouted to erroneous websites. I pulled out the network cable to contain the infection. I tried to use Add/Remove Programs and watched as the virus tore me a new one.

Finally I called the tech support office employed by our office. The informed me that this virus is some new thing and it is NASTY. Apparantly Antispyware XP 2008 and all its associated programs have no cure and no virus protection program yet exists to block them. We could spend hours trying to rebuild things and would probably destroy windows in the process, or we could just wipe the computer clean and go back to factory settings.

Which I did. I spent Wednesday morning rebuilding. Fortunately all my actual files were on the server and unaffected. I just had to reload all my software and settings and plugins and lisp files and other things ad nauseum.

But it was really kind of freaky to be “attacked” that way and for it to look so much like a cheesy techno thriller where the geeky hero cries out “The hacker is calling from INSIDE the Server! They've breached the firewall. Get out of the server, get out of the server!!!!” I’m sure someone who knows anything about computer science is reading this and snorting their Red Bull with laughter. That’s kind of the point. I don’t know anything about this stuff and for all I know some villain could be overtaking my DVD player, my toaster, and my Electric Nose Hair Trimmer as we speak. Laugh if you will, but I’m unplugging them all before I go to bed.

*I don't remember the real virus names, but wouldn't those be disarmingly frightening names, like when an innocent looking kid comes up to you and says something childlike and simultaneously creepy? Like that one time Rach and I stayed at this bed and breakfast and the innkeepers little girl comes and talks to us at breakfast. Rach asks her, "Do you like having people stay at your house?" And she replies, "I can hear them up there". And Rach says, "You mean you can hear them walking around upstairs?" And the little girl says "No, I mean, I talk to the shadow people on the ceiling." with this wide eyed vacant stare and a smile. (shiver)

**But the Antispyware XP 2008 thing was a real name. Look out for that. I've talked to two other folks since then who got the same bug.

Come Hither Salsa

In my bachelor days, I didn't have much going for me with the ladies. I mean, I was funny, of course, and remarkably good looking obviously, and there was my abundance of emotional, spiritual, and sexual maturity. But other than that, all I had was salsa...

Yes, I made a KICKASS salsa; Giant overflowing bowls of salsa that I would bring over to Rach's house on the ghetto-ish Girard Ave. and the girls would swoon.

"This is so *&^%ing good I want to quit my job teaching underprivileged children and sit around the apartment all day eating this with a spoon!", her roommate Becky would say.

"I don't care whether my sister and you are good for eachother, just marry her already so I can have more of this salsa!", her roommate/sister Kim would say.

"Mmm, mmm, mmm. Yo, white boys aint my thing, but you look sexy carrying that bowl of salsa", the old lady on the corner would say as I got off the bus.

"Hey there.", my then-girlfriend/future-wife Rachael would say. (She's very understated, but trust me, volumes were implied.)

Anyways, I'm confident that my salsa is the primary reason Rach stuck with me. And now that we're married, I don't need to cling so tightly to the secret, but can spread it around to those less fortunate.

The real secret is that there is no recipe. One can only taste your way through the salsa making experience allowing room for much adjustment as the individual ingredients vary through the season and from the source. It's a zen meditation thing, one best accomplished with a little "Morcheeba" playing in the background, especially "Big Calm" and "Fragments of Freedom".

But after repeated nudging, I went to Sue's Produce, sat down this weekend, and codified the recipe as best as I could.

Come Hither Salsa
3 15 oz. Cans Black Beans (Goya Brand Preferred)
6 Large Slightly Under-ripe Jersey Tomatoes, Diced
1 Large Yellow Onion, Diced
3 Jalapeños, Minced.
3/4 Cup Cilantro, Minced
2 1/2 TBS or 4 Cloves Garlic, Minced.

1/2 cup Lemon Juice (Fresh Preferred)
2 TBS Red Wine Vinegar
2 TBS Corn or Olive Oil
1 1/2 TBS Kosher or Sea Salt

Drain and rinse black beans with cold water in colander. In Large mixing bowl (3-5 quart), mash one half of the beans into a mushy pulp. Preferably, use your bare hands. Add remaining unmashed beans, diced tomatoes, diced onion, minced jalapeños, minced cilantro, and minced garlic. (I've added links above for the best means of cutting/dicing/mincing for the less experienced.) Combine Ingredients.

Now comes the Zen Part. Get your best trip-hop on. Add lemon, vinegar, oil, and salt as needed. I've listed approximate quantities above but you may want to start with half of those and build up to the quantities listed as you taste.

Disclaimers:
1. This salsa is always made in big batches so I cannot vouch for what will happen if you try to do a fraction of it.

2. Be very careful of making this salsa if you are not intending to find a spouse. Even if you plan to sit at home and watch the evening news alone while eating the salsa, unintended spousal side effects may occur.

3. Like I said, there is no recipe. Except for the one that my sister taught me from Martha Stewart that started this whole thing, but I think mine has evolved enough to rename and claim.

4. Do not add corn unless you have been explicitly instructed to by the intended object of your affection. Suprisingly, my experience has been that corn is very divisive and could potentially undo the entire salsa wooing process. Fortunatley for me, Rach is very forgiving.

Finishing Up...

Among the list of things to wrap up in the dining room is refinishing this sideboard/buffet piece... It was the first of many thrift store purchases that Rach and I made. We got it at the Second Mile in West Philly before we moved into our tiny house in Grad Hospital. It has modern Danish detailing, with concealed hinges and stainless pulls on the doors and drawers.

I've gotten a few books out of the library on refinishing, but am still stymied as to how to handle the detailing on the front panel doors and drawers. Multiple layers of different species veneer make sanding and staining problematic.
Does anyone have any ideas?

Schoolhouse Rock

Schoolhouse Rock: Great blog on public education reform debates from Slate. I've most appreciated what Paul Tough has to say in his newest post, called "The Divide":

"To those in the Broader [,Bolder Approach to Education] camp: Let's admit that our public schools could be serving poor kids much, much better than they are today, and that in order to do that, they need a radical overhaul right away."

"To those in the Education Equality camp: Let's admit that alone, even the best charter schools can't fix the crisis in the nation's worst urban neighborhoods."

I always love when someone sees through the crap and characterizations and demonization of two opposing idealogies and proposes a compromise that just might work.

I also love what Michelle Rhee, the DC Superintendant of Schools is proposing. Its a split contract, one that gives teachers the option of compensation and tenure the way they've had it for a while OR one that limits tenure and enacts performance based standards but with much higher potential for raises and bonuses. (Kind of like the rest of the world functions...)

The reaction from older generation teaching union leaders is illustrative of the problem. We can debate the kind of change needed, but entrenched refusal to change is looking worse and worse on them...

I'm curious what readers who have taught or are teaching in public/private/charter schools think...