F16’s Don’t Kill People, 500 Lb. Bombs Kill People

Oh dear God no. Deep Purple are still performing. Bad enough they were still touring in 1993 when the allegedly "worst recording of their careers" in question was made-but they are (ugh, it is painfully embarrassing (for them) to type this)…still performing.

Other than achieving fame for having composed the requisite first song every teenager learns to play on a guitar (Smoke on the Water) it is not as though Deep Purple has made such a significant contribution to the musical cannon that they really ought to be complaining too loudly about the recording being released. I mean, really, just what would their better efforts sound like in comparisons? Maybe they’d employ four power chords instead of three?

Oh, and have a look at the photograph of Ian Gillan. Is that what you want to see prancing about on a stage in spandex pants? My God, he’s practically an old age pensioner. Dignity man. Have some dignity. Go do the socially acceptable producer gig, give the youngsters a crack at the spotlight, eh?

Almost as embarrassing (though not quite) I have an ancient concert shirt from a million years ago when Deep Purple was touring with Black Sabbath. They played McCormick Place in Chicago. I seem to recall that parking cost more than the concert ticket.

Deep Purple is still touring-and making the front page of the Guardian. Yeesh.

Well THIS sounds pretty bad. I’ll have to ask L when he gets home if they needed to pull anyone in off the roof today.

Overweight children are being threatened with removal from their homes, and police want to randomly test the breath of motorists for alcohol.

Updated-the boy will be permitted to remain at home for now.

Before Danny was born, I began building his library of children’s books. One volume I was particularly taken with is an ugly, grey library-bound book from the early 1960’s about eclipses. The inside illustrations are very plain, but striking in tonal values and contrasts, As it happens, Danny enjoys the book quite a bit and finds it great fun to point to various images and declare, "Sun" or "Moon."

The upcoming lunar eclipse on 3 March is a great opportunity to teach the little ones about eclipses. Unlike solar eclipses that can burn your eyes (not that one ought to gaze directly into the sun under ordinary circumstances either) a lunar eclipse may be viewed with the naked eye. Over a relatively short period of time, it is fun to have a child look to see how much "smaller" the moon is becoming at ten-minute intervals.

It is also a great opportunity to bake some Half Moon cookies, and stay-up late!

Uh oh, some prankster is going to be in big trouble. Admittedly, planting a CD player with a timer under a church pew set to begin broadcasting obscenities during Ash Wednesday mass, is probably asking for some serious penance should the prankster get caught-it still didn’t require a bomb squad being called in to detonate it. I’m not saying it is impossible for a terrorist to have a sense of humour. I’m saying that, as with the episode a couple of weeks ago in Boston with the obscene lite-brites, we are losing the ability to understand what is and is not an actual danger. At this rate, municipalities will need three or four full time explosives experts on call to detonate potentially dangerous roadside rubbish.

I wonder what the recordings said.

There must be better ways to express one’s creativity than by burdening a child with the name "Breezy" particularly if your last name is Colon. Furthermore, didn’t anyone point out to the two super-geniuses that wanted a themed name for their second child (as the first one was named, "Disney") that "Casper" was a bloody ghost? As in a child ghost? As in, you know, dead? Geez. There’s also something terribly disturbing about the parents devotion to brand loyalty.

I hadn’t heard of the Nevaeh phenomenon, but I have to say that is one of the most utterly stupid things I’ve ever heard. I can believe a handful of people would name their children "heaven" spelled backward, but to have it actually become popular likely reflects something about our culture that I don’t even want to begin considering. Wait…. no, never mind. I really don’t want to think about it.

It irritated me to no end when I was expecting, and people would offer their unsolicited suggestions for names. This was more of an issue before we knew the gender, as people were appalled that we would consider naming a child Dorothy Philomena. Sure, I realise those names are somewhat out of popularity, but at least they are actual names. Again and again people suggested completely made-up names as though that would somehow be not only better, but also "creative." Frankly, when I’m feeling creative, I pull out a sketchbook. But that’s me-if getting knocked-up is an opportunity to express yourself, what the heck, but don’t be shocked if your someday forty year old daughter "Breezy Colon" is harbouring a bit of resentment for all the resumes she had laughed at, and rejected out of hand. Who wants to share a cubicle with Breezy Colon?

Friends of mine back in Boston are to become new parents any day now. I’ve tried stretching my memory for useful suggestions to help them through the first few weeks, but everything that comes to mind seems, in retrospect, pretty obvious. Thinking back, poor Danny must have lay there thinking "Of all the mothers in the world, I get the one that doesn’t know how to do anything." It’s true really, I didn’t know much beyond which end of the baby to diaper.

Somehow, we figured things out, though we had to endure our own stupidity in the process. I remember when Danny had to switch to the Neocate formula. Because it is a funny amino formula, it has to be prepared differently than the typical grocery-shelf variety. The water had to be boiled for sterilisation, and then mixed warm in the bottle, shaken, and set to cool in the refrigerator.

I’ve taken my share of science classes. I understand how expansion works. Let me tell you something-with a few weeks of serious sleep deprivation and the worry that comes along with a newborn, everything you learned in school makes a grand exit from your mind and takes common sense along with it. Until I was standing in the kitchen at midnight covered head to toe in formula that had (being warm and in a small space) expanded in the bottle that I forgot to crack and let some of the warm air out of, I realised that anything I’d tackled in life would never compare to the day to day task of keeping an infant fed, clothed and cared for. Everything suddenly becomes more complicated than one could ever imagine. By the time things settle into a routine, the child will require a new routine. This knowledge will be helpful for the care of subsequent children, though at the time most people vow never to have another.

I keep coming back to the "advice" I offered them a few years ago when they married. Overlook A LOT. You’ll never find as much fault with a spouse/partner as when there is a new baby at home. Your beloved will never irritate you quite the same as when you’ve been awake for 72 hours straight and haven’t showered in over a week. You’re both just trying to figure things out. Babies are pretty durable, they can withstand a feeding being ten minutes late or a poor diapering job by dad. Breathe. Overlook.

And whatever you do, as I was told by someone when Danny was born, don’t "wish" the time away ("I wish she could sit up by herself", "I wish she could eat solid food", I wish she could walk so I don’t need to carry her everywhere") because the teeny-tiny-baby is sitting and eating and running faster than you ever anticipated, and at the end of the first two exhausting years you’re going to look at the big-kid diving head-first off the sofa (again) screaming "look mama I can do it" and you’ll wonder just when that little baby you used to carry in the crook of your elbow whilst making dinner with the other hand grew into such a giant.

I haven’t been this excited about a baby since my own.

A bit of web searching landed me at THIS article where the author describes the paper label on the Chicago rye and it WAS a union label. I’m going to try his baking method and see if I can get better results.

We served the bread I made for lunch and while it was tasty, it was not what I had in mind. Guess I won’t be sending L to the supermarket for a beef salami just yet.

We lost power last evening around 9 PM and did not get it back for twelve hours. That pretty much did-in the perishables in the refrigerator but the freezer was fine. Thankfully, our power was back on early enough to get my two loaves of sourdough rye into the oven. I’d been fermenting the starter since Friday morning and  would have been terribly disappointed if I’d been unable to see the project through to completion. I’ll be spending the next couple of weeks working out variations of the recipe with different flours and starters. Friday afternoon, I caved and ordered six lbs. of First Clear flour from King Arthur which has a much higher protein content than artisan bread flour-it is, I’m told, the key ingredient to New York style rye bread.

As a child, in Chicago, the delicatessens all sold large, dark loaves of rye bread that could be purchased cut in half. One of the end pieces would have a paper label stuck directly onto the loaf. For some reason, I was fascinated by the label and the rest of the family humoured my fixation by letting me have the heel of the bread. I must have eaten hundreds of those in my lifetime, gnawing the paper away with my teeth and spitting it away-yet I cannot for the life of me remember what the label said! For years, I’ve been convinced that it was some sort of “Union Label” from the baker’s union, though I suspect that is probably wishful thinking/nostalgia on my part. More likely, because they came from a Kosher bakery, it was the local Rabbi’s certification-though really, it could have said just about anything. Anyone out there from Chicago that remembers rye bread from the 60’s and 70’s?

I have not cut into the loaves yet, but I can tell you they are not what I was hoping for. They are closer to what Bostonians call “sissel” that is, the rye flour is much lighter and the crust is chewy, not crisp. The hot loaves are brushed with a cornstarch and water glaze upon removal from the oven and then left to dry for a few hours. I think the Chicago rye is closer to a Bavarian style bread.

This was my first attempt at a sourdough, and it made a great science lesson for Danny. He’s also still impressed from the chemistry lesson on Friday when I added the baking soda to the molasses/crumb mixture to make the shoo-fly cake. I certainly would have appreciated science class more had the experiment results been edible.

The wind is still blowing about, but the snow has stopped. We had everything from downpours of rain, to hail, to heavy snow. We lost power moments after a very close, bright lightening flash, but for all we know it might have been ice downing a power line. Interestingly, I slept quite well. The temperature inside wasn’t horrible thanks to new siding and that extra layer of warmth you get with wall-to wall bookcases (we bundled Danny up in a layer of thermals beneath his blanket sleeper) and without all the background noise of computers and the furnace and the silo that runs day and night, it was wonderfully quiet.

We are expecting another storm mid-week, but hopefully are nearing the end of the season. Last weekend, I stopped by the Earl May (garden store) to pick up seed packets and peat-pots. I need to look at the packets, but I think it is nearly time to begin seeding the geraniums. I’m sticking to flowers and herbs this year. Last year’s containers of rosemary and oregano are doing nicely in a sunny upstairs bedroom.

This week, I’ve prepared a Shoo-Fly cake suitable for Lent (eggless, butterless). The photograph does not do it justice. The recipe calls for an entire cup of molasses which makes the house smell wonderful as it bakes.

I cannot think of a better thing to have on hand as we hunker down for (not again) another major winter storm. As I live in a rural area of a state that is notorious for losing power (yeah well, it is a publicly owned power utility)there is always the chance that blogging will be light this weekend.

The past two and a half weeks have been remarkably awful. Between all hell breaking loose and the awfully long communte to and from Omaha in bad weather, I have lapsed into lollybloggerdom. I swear, it is not as though we sit around here breaking mirrors, but this has been above and beyond what most people would consider a bad run of luck. I’m inclined to blame it on witchcraft. Or sorcery.

So while I sit here waiting for the other shoe to drop (three weeks to return test results for a genetic screening?) I’ll offer up some links to interesting stories as I do from time to time when I’m overwhelmed. By the way, we are expecting another major storm on Saturday which makes perfect sense as it was fifty seven degrees here today. Every major snowstorm I can remember was preceeded by an unusually warm February day. As I’ve already been stuck in the snow once this season, and my husband had to be towed out of deep mud this morning, we figure we’re up-to-date now on our allotment of wintertime misery. Maybe the roof can cave in or something equally dramatic. I’m not exaggerating, it has been one horrible thing after another in rapid succession. I hope to return to regular posting soon-in the meantime, here’s some links.

Motherhood is Not For Wimps, is one of the few "mommy blogs" I not only find tolerable, but actually enjoy. Don’t miss the photographs of items her daughters have tossed into the fishtank. Oh, and buy a copy of her book because she needs the money (Elizabeth may be the only person in the United States driving an automobile in worse shape than mine-you know, my car that just sucked $3,330. dollars out of us for a new engine…which admittedly was destroyed because my husband didn’t realise you’re supposed to check the oil even if the light never comes on). Anyone that would hand her daughter a shopping list of Christmas presents and then taunt her inability to read…is my kind of mother.

I share the sentiment, but the entire time I was reading John Berger’s argument for a cultural boycott of Israel, I was distracted by the thought, "John Berger is still alive?!" 

Five years worth of Paxil litigation condensed into an easy to understand article. It’s even worse than I suspected.

Big Brother wants to scan and store your facial identity.

Beware of laptops to fill out forms at the doctor’s office.

Getting Pharma out of medical education. But it’s o.k. there are always consumers to shill for them.

Getting advertising out of children’s lives.

Some good information for people using herbs/supplements along with Rx medications. Link via Extra Extra.

For the knitters: A place for patterns (check out the adorable bunnies) and a couple of excellent knitting blogs from our neighbouring state of Iowa.

How to make rock candy (science AND candy, how’s that for educational?).

We drove past THIS gas station advertising "Terror Free Gas" a few weeks ago and wondered what the deal is. Sort of nutty, given the global nature of these oil companies. But I’m sure for the target, jingoistic audience, this will go over pretty well.

Read Bob Altermeyer’s book The Authoritarians, on the web. He’s posting a chapter a week.

Ewww. Might want to forgo that cup of coffee and donut at THIS place. I had to laugh at the suggestion in the article that customers be "proactive" in pointing out health hazzards. So there you have it, next time a rat runs across the counter and poops on the donut you were about to order-don’t be shy! Point out the rodent and his droppings to the person behind the counter.

I hope to resume regular posting soon, God willing.

I wasn’t going to write this post. After all, it’s a bit on the presumptuous side to declare what is, and is not a valid Lenten sacrifice. Yes, I cringe every time I pass a restaurant with a large sign advertising Friday lobster specials (“oh, the sacrifice!”). And yes, given that we’re (the US) about to begin yet another pre-emptive slaughter in the Middle East it does seem more appropriate to be rending one’s clothing and taking to the streets instead of giving up some silly luxury like chocolate. I wasn’t going to write this post because I didn’t want to sound like a finger-pointing-gloom and doom asshole.