Daydream Believer

Truth be told, Mickey was my favorite. I watched the Monkees anytime it was available on TV, and when I was little, it was on all the time. Wacky hijinks and sarcasm were ingrained in me via Mickey, Peter, Mike and of course, Davy (click on photo to see him in action). Always a fan of the offbeat and quirky though, I gravitated to the manic Mickey, and away from the big, doe-eyed, adolescent dreamboy Davey. Even the songs he sang seemed to lack something to the 8 year-old me - they seemed candy-coated even then. However, being the Monkees fan I was, and a child of the only woman who graduated high school in 1962 who DID NOT like the Beatles,the show with it's evergreen plotline of what crazy job would the boys try in order to make enough money to pay the rent on their beachhouse,  it was a natural fit. As I got older, and appreciated the anti-establishment nods the show sprinkled in (it's true, they were soft-focus, but there was a definite pro-youth vibe and a distrust of status quo, plus, did I mention wacky hijinks/proto videos/and broad sarcasm? Yeah.). I remember tuning in the antennae of our kitchen tv so I could watch the show via Canadian tv when we moved to Seattle. In high school, they were the first record collecting and memorabilia hunting I ever did. I still have picture discs and all three of the first albums on vinyl among the milkcrates. At one point I had jigsaw puzzles, buttons and loads of magazines all featuring the Pre-fab Four. As I went to college and began to mainline punk rock, I tucked the Monkees stuff away, but I have never lost my affection for that bit of childhood, that first real feeling of being a fan. Later, a screening of "Head", the Monkees movie, which featured all sorts of the hardcore (for them) anti-establishment stuff, drug references and made it clear how Jimi Hendrix became their opening act made me feel like I might be just a little bit more hip. I saw it at the old Neptune in the U-district, a double feature with an early Jack Nicholson exploitation flick, Psych Out.Oh, those wacky '60s, viewed in the ironic '80s.
At any rate, Davy always represented "safe" and "normal" to me, even though he was British, shorter, and an actual stage actor who started as a childactor in a production of  "Oliver" in London. (To his credit, Mickey Dolenz was also a child actor but who the hell ever saw the tv show "Circus Boy"?). I disliked him because he was the most popular, and it became a way of seeing most things in our culture that persists to this day. I gravitate to the unique, different, and the difficult.
Even as a little kid, watching the Brady Bunch, the fact that my least favorite Brady (Marcia, duh) crushed out on Davy just strengthened my resolve. Clearly everyone loved davey, and that must mean the other Monkees weren't getting love, that was what I always told myself as I watched on Saturday mornings thorughout the 70's, huddled in my light green beanbag, madly scanning the TV Guide for more episodes. I do love the biggest musical hit, "Daydream Believer", and feel like it couldn't have been sung by anyone other than Davy. It was one of the first songs I ever learned all the words to, and Stepping Stone, Mickey's big hit, was one of the first cover tunes I ever learned on bass.
Most of all, as my pal Drl pointed out today - Davy also seemingly created the Axl Rose shimmy dance (see above screen cap) and for that alone he will be a small legend in my mind. I certainly didn't expect him to be the first Monkee to shuffle off this mortal coil (somehow, I thought it would be Peter, in some crazy accidental convenience store drug rampage or something), yet another milepost passes into the distance.
That said, today marks a week since smrge's visit began. It was a bit of a fantastic daydream right out of the gate - a warm, sweet meeting at the airport, animated conversation and affection as we drove back to the house. We enjoyed delightful morning cocktails (i did a little bloody mary magic) and reacquainted ourselves. Drug out old pictures, and compared notes. The evening was spent enjoying the construction of a pizza as music was played and conversation expanded. We curled up in the evening, putting a stuffed bear out to pasture, and enjoying the Wilco doc, "Ashes of American Flags" which smrge hadn't seen, and in fact, loved. We played each other music (I heard latest TOOL, he latest Wilco) and the natural affinity seemed to click in well.
Friday was a rambling day - Berkeley guitar shop, SF car tour and more music stores. Lunch at Nopalito, which was an adventure in urban hipster land, but I was so happy to have him by my side, and we headed home, where I did my traditional roasted chicken dinner, and it was more relaxing and watching movies, Doctor Who, and music, some heartfelt discussions and laughter. Saturday was leisurely, coffee, scones and some observation of the backyard fauna, specifically Addict Cat ("Whiskers") whom smrge managed to entice to within arm's reach. That evening we drove into the City via Marin, so that smrge could travel the Golden Gate Bridge, and we braved the dreaded (by me) Marina district in order to eat at my old coworker's new gig: Umami. Taylor took care of us - we sat at the sushi bar, not far from his station, and he sent out a huge menu of all his favorites, and we filled in with a few pieces of sashimi and seriously, some of the most lovely sake I've ever drunk. Taylor also demoed a new salad for us (not on the menu yet, but soon) of house smoked duck and a salad of pea shoots, kumquats, watermelon radish and other seasonal yumminess. From there, it was tuna tataki, cherry smoked salmon, halibut sashimi in a ceviche style that blew my doors off...a take on a bbq pork sandwich as a roll, and so many more things (I kept the menu, and may break it down again). Taylor came out a couple times to talk to us, to tell us about the food he was sending, and it was so much fun to be able to share that with smrge, who seemed to really dig it. When he got up to use the loo, he planted a kiss on my forehead and I admit, I swooned a bit. Such a great night.(we had started by getting coffee at the Coffee Bean and smrge mentioned it was the best vanilla latte he'd had - and that's no faint praise - he loves his coffee.
It was all the conversation and loveliness of the food - of explaining things about the kitchen and the ingredients to smrge, being finally able to share it with someone in that way...really could not have asked for a better night. We drove home the way we came in, and so smrge got the nighttime view of the Bridge and stuff as well. Every bit of it dreamy.
Sunday was quiet, and we made a trip to Berkeley Bowl to buy provisions for making an old favorite of smrge's: scallops with bacon & brussels sprouts. Sunday is not a good day for shopping at the Bowl, and sadly, I did not realize the extent of how horrendous it would be.
Fucking hippies.
Dinner was yummy, we had a nice bottle of Layer Cake and then attempted to stay awake to watch early episodes of The Office, but drifted off pretty quickly. While the first night was full of tossing for me, by Sunday night, sharing blankets was like riding a bike. Monday, smrge was a champ and came into work with me, even enduring the BART merry-go-round. I plied him with baked goods, and he showed me how get the spill guard off my mixer to get it clean. Which reminds me: somewhere in there he also managed to clean up my computer's registry & free up huge amounts of memory, and also to find the code so that I can once again use my car stereo. Kudos to my big-brained soulmate. We got home late, and I made a quick stop at the burrito joint I found recently so that he could also enjoy a real burrito (one of the great joys of this area, imho) - which he also was most complimentary of. He also ate several scones (not that night) and took several naps, as one should when on vacation. I thought it was a great visit, and I couldn't help but cry when "Radio Cure" started playing as we headed to the airport, where I once again got very emo as we parted so that he could catch his plane.
I know there is a lot of stuff going on. I know that I probably should have been more cautious with my emotions - that nothing ever is a simple anything for me. This has always been the case, and appears it always will be. What I am thankful for, even if it was only for a few days, was the chance to share my life with smrge again, face-to-face and nose-to-nose and for it to actually be *my life* that I was sharing, not simply space. I certainly have all sorts of worries about what happens next - but I will not forget how good it felt to have smrge there, to be laughing, sharing discoveries (even goofy YouTubers that I follow) and being as honest as I know how, right then with him.
I'm a believer.

this is the way it goes, and goes, and goes...

Working on a post about the weekend, a highlights-reel sort of thing. We enjoyed some nice weather, good wandering, amazing food and a lot of hanging out together. Even dragged him to work on the last day; such a champ. Getting back to the *normal* routine is taking some effort.
In the meantime, when in the Marina section of SF, dine at Umami. Ask for Taylor. Get the duck salad.

Not just any game either - we won against Spurs in the Derby - and with a 5-2 scoreline, AND we came back from a 2-nil deficit. Impressive work for the boys, and with both Bac and TR7 scoring (totally rare occurences, and actually, Bac has scored as often as the little Mozart has in recent seasons). At any rate, it was a 5:30 am game, and SMRGE was in the house, and we had spent the previous evening enjoying an epic meal orchestrated by my pal and former coworker T, (more on that later) which included a good amount of fantastic sake and thus didn't see the game live. Ok, I did roll out of bed early enough to watch the last 10 minutes of the game but we had already won by then so it was a little anti-climactic...however, later that evening we (yup, we) did watch the match in it's entirely and it was sooooo freaking good to see them playing the way we know they can play. RVP mentioning that the communication on the pitch was fantastic, to me, says everything about the issues in the team.At any rate, it was spectacular, and made even more wonderful by the full-on Soccer Sunday that went on at the house - we watched the Carling Cup final as well - great game for SMRGE to see, and man, what great performances by both squads. I'm gutted for Cardiff, especially since it would have been nice to go into next Saturday with Liverpool having lost the Cup on penalty shots, but it was not to be.

Next up, Wednesday at ours against Inter, and I'm as worried about that as I was about Spurs so...yeah. 

reminder:

Perseverance is not a long race; it is many short races one after another. WALTER ELLIOT (1888-1958)

two hours of backspacing.

previously scheduled programming

As if the day couldn't be shit enough, I've gotta read that Dave Mustaine, he (once) of Metallica and Megadeath fame, is endorsing Rick Santorum for president. http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/ticket/megadeth-singer-endorses-rick-santorum-calls-newt-gingrich-164220697.html
A couple of things here: first, Mustaine's support? His endorsement? Is someone actually looking to him for voting suggestions? Jesus. Next, Santorum? Bad enough you identify as a Republican, you elitist second string musician, but you're gonna pick the young conservative christian who'd be the first to throw you in jail for any number of offenses, starting with the cover art for your albums. Mustaine is impressed that Santorum "took time to be with his daughter when she was sick". Sooooo, the main character trait we are looking for in the president of the United States of America is his unique ability to show concern for his own offspring? Well, that opens the field up pretty wide. I mean, so you have to have the natural instinct to protect your young, and bingo! Bob's your Uncle. Sam, apparently. It's not that I don't value that trait - it's that I think there is more to being an effective leader of the moderate police state we have going on right now. I also don't think that Not Being Newt is a valid reason to be the POTUS either. I mean, it will probably come to that, but in terms of using reason to endorse a Republican candidate it's a little terrifying. The fact that the most prominent Republican is also one of the most decisive is telling on it's own, throw in a little of the patented Repubo-loony-tunes Bible-thumpers, and it just becomes painful.
Santorum is so many flavors of bad that it's hard to even get the energy to go over the list; suffice it to say that if it's a knee-jerk conservative christian platitude, he foams all over it (hah! a joke, but only if you've googled "santorum") and that his staunch anti-choice, anti-civil rights, anti-anything that isn't in his favorite episode of Fox news and his own twisted interpretation of "moral values" attitude is bad news. But I suppose dimwitted metal dudes against Newt (DWMDAN) have to exist on this mortal coil for some reason, and it would seem that endorsing Santorum is it. Capricious god indeed.
I don't know what is more horrifying: the fact that Dave Mustaine feels it necessary to alert the half dozen fans he has left that he's a conservative Republican moron, or the fact that Yahoo news finds it relevant as news.
No, I know, the answer is b. I mean it's Dave Mustaine of Megadeath, you know, the band that isn't Metallica.Who, honestly cares? I mean, other than me, and Kevin Seconds who is currently taking on critics on FB right now who are accusing him and his ilk (that'd be my ilk, as well) about standing by and doing nothing during the Reagan years. DOING NOTHING. Honestly, kids, learn your history.
(insert stock Lars-bashing comment here. I just don't have the energy tonight).
Arsenal lost, and lost badly (that is we played for shit) today - it doesn't look good for when they come to ours in the second leg. we'd have to score 5 goals to win, and to be honest, there's just no way we're gonna do that against InterfrackingMilan.Even at home. Bye bye champs league.
((thursday update: our dishwasher, Renato has recently begun chatting with me - the subject: Arsenal. He is a Real Madrid fan, so certainly he understands the emotional nature of incredibly talented, but highly sensitive players - but it's funny, today he even told me that we might win against Inter in the next leg. From his mouth to RVP's ears, truly))
Then there's the homsickness. It was bad enough when I was simply marking time until April because I was saving money and trying to spackle my resume back together. You know, missing the family, the city, my friends, that sort of thing. The hopeful anticipation of being able to start a new job (I do love a new job, all the opportunity, the possibility, learning new things) - yes, I was bored, and yes I was pretty much just punching the clock feeling pretty invisible, but at least there was a certain resignation to the routine acceptance.
Now? Now I've got true love coursing through my veins again - homesick isn't even close to the heightened irritation and frustration I feel over just about every facet of my day to day rountine now. It's amazing how perspective can change everything. 8 weeks ago, I had no idea SMRGE even knew where I lived, much less gave a thought to how I was. I was not-especially blissfully going through my days fully accepting that he was happy without me. Sure, I fantasized that he might be unhappy and would somehow manage to call me because he needed to tell me that - fully thinking it was sheer folly. That it was just another little story I told myself to distract myself from the reality of having been thwarted in finding love with CG. I wanted to believe that I had been right about SMRGE, even though all evidence showed otherwise...until January 6th.
Then it all changed. It turned out I was right, and all the ensuing conversations and communication have been amazing and wonderful. Valentine's day (actually, VD-eve for me) was amazing, was able to put together a package of love for SMRGE that he appreciated just as I hoped he would. He brightened a day that generally brings out the grinch in me, by simply sending me lovely little things to perk me up  - sunny, smiley roses (a plant! so I can bring them with me! they will grow with us!), a special mug to enjoy tea and dream of Time Lords with - just sweet, simple things to remind me of him. Which is great....
Except for the homesickness. It has become so much more now. It's a ticking bomb in my head - we talk every day, even if just briefly at his lunch break (my early morning) and the connection between us is so fundamental, so elemental, it makes waiting really eat away at my patience. He's luckily surrounded by friends - my best pals are 2.5 hours away. My loneliness is magnified in the shadow of our rekindled romance. The fact that more lengthy daily chats are made difficult or impossible due to our schedules only makes it more frustrating.
I mean, yes, I have some friends here - but they live in the City and I do not, and given my schedule, I don't really see them as much as I would if I didn't live in the 'burbs. My fault, I know.
The work schedule is a big issue and was the main reason I'd planned to return home in the Spring anyway.As easy as this job is - it's just too segregating to work this shift, even before this new development. The constant feeling of time slipping by has become so much more profound as I try and match my life schedule up with SMRGE's right now. I had mentioned to just about everyone I know that I feared I'd become a hermit working swing shift with only one other coworker (I mean, hell, at least if your are at Kinko's and worked this shift, or at a normal restaurant, you'd at least be working with a dozen other people who you could hang out with after work even if all that was open were bars or whatever. At least there were other people to talk to and have fun with, I have only the Gleek to talk to for the bulk of our shift), and one fact is screaming at me in this moment.
I'm so amazingly lonely, and now, lovesick on top of it. I mean, the good news, of course, is that I know now how much SMRGE loves me and cherishes our connection. The bad news is that being here denies me the ability to take immediate steps to begin spending physical time with him now that I know he wants to be with me again too is maddening. I am trying to behave in a consistent manner in terms of keeping actual life things under control, to treat my employer with respect, and my landlord as well.
 I shouldn't just cut and run - but holy crap do I want to. Seriously. I have a pretty profound history of moving - at last count I believe I have lived at 15 addresses in the last 26 years. I've had 28 different employers since my first job in high school. I tend to land on my feet.
I'm pretty sure that's a pattern.
I also tend not to stay in any one thing long enough to get to settled. If I stay in the same city, even for 10 years, I'll move house, change jobs, whatever, constantly hitting "refresh" - before that was even a thing.
It's weird to think he's created a life for himself, been at the same job, had the same friends and stuff for most of the time we've been apart. Me? I've been the same old cork, bobbing along on the sea of life.
Dear dog, that's stretching a metaphor.
It's so fucking hard right now. And I know this is about perception, and I know that in a week, SMRGE and I will be nose-to-nose in Real Life again, and yes, that's nerve-wracking as well. It's been almost 10 years - and I do worry about the superficial things that girls worry about...though I trust in the understanding of him knowing who I am, what I look like, how I sound, all those things. Still though, getting older is tough.
My ability to maintain some calm and not immediately panic and assume the worst case scenario is being honed like a razor currently. Practicing Patience has never been so challenging as it is right now. Even as SMRGE said in an email tonight, we both share the same worries, surely (indeed every item on his list, including some random dental issues are on my list as well). So together we'll figure it out. A plan will be laid to get this tent packed up and outta here. Pronto.I just need to figure a way to keep my paranoid demons at bay - they are rearing their ugly heads and I'm so tense that I'm letting it affect me. Writing about it usually helps, so, yeah, here's that.
Ok, I am now going to go curl up with Jon Stewart and Ricky Gervais and try to erase the "news" that seeped into my brain today and replace it with some day-old current events presented with panache and wit.

valentine time

el dorado

At the behest of SMRGE (and my own nagging conscience) I set the Rickenbacker out of the case and placed it on the stand tonight – where it admittedly hasn’t been at all in this house , (I have taken it out about once a year, just to dink around when drunk and melancholy about a life once lived) though it did live out in K2’s house and in the townhouse (where it stood sentry in the extra bedroom, where Scraps chose to sleep at night once she became too sensitive to sleep on the bed with me). I kept it out like a piece of art though, rarely touching it. It was just comforting to have it there…for a while. I had the SG out as well, and for almost 3 months, played the 3 chords I knew, and strummed like crazy. I had to sell that guitar though, because the only real history I had with it was entwined with SMRGE and I was in the business, then, of un-entwining. Also, I needed cash. Two of the great truths of musicianship, poverty and instruments as short term equity.

I would never sell the bass. It is…a singular reminder of a time and space that I inhabit always. It was my passport to a life I never imagined living, and even now, sometimes feel like it’s something I read about once, or a movie I saw a long time ago. The history I have with it, is all mine, with plenty of guest stars along the way, but the memories it evokes are not bound to anyone else or place, just me, and it together. As SMRGE reminded me this evening, an old friend who has been through so many adventures.

It is the only bass you see me playing in photos (though I also briefly had a baby blue Epiphone, and also very, very briefly a Fender, but both felt so foreign and I never really felt the need to have a “back up “ bass, so I shed them both in short order) – with the exception of the one photo I have of my very first gig. My very first gig was opening for DOA at the Depot in Arcata, California.

That show I rocked a ¾ size bass that was I believe gleaned from a Sears store in Eureka, or somewhere similar. It was all we could afford and enabled me to learn the songs a little faster. I played with DOA three times in the first year I played in Agent 86….and then once more in Seattle…and then never again.

((Joey is selling the DOA van (“Reid Fleming”) – they’ve had it for 23 years. I remember (and experienced one of my earliest sensations of dying while) riding in the step van they had before that. It’s amazing to think about those times. Visiting Vancouver was one of the great early joys of my punk rock life – visitng the World’s Fair with DOA’s manager Ken, and his girlfriend at the time, Kris. Watching fireworks from Dave Gregg’s front porch just across the road from the Expo fairgrounds. As we drank beer and talked politics and did various controlled substances, I remember Dave telling us that everyone one of the fireworks was the cost of a hospital bed that the government was spending.))

The Rickenbacker found me wandering in a music store in Dupont Circle in Washington DC. We had just relocated, and per usual, we were hunting for a drummer and a practice space. I hadn’t planned to get a new bass, but as I recall, when I was cajoled into trying out basses, it was the El Dorado that called to me. Heavy, and with a completely different profile than the typical Rick basses, it also sounded incredible through a Marshall, a warm sound that I like to call brown. It made me feel feminine, that bass – I felt like I was rocking a bigger instrument, that it could protect me from the onslaught that might come. I liked that no one had ever seemed to have seen one before. I’m a sucker for unique looks.

What’s hard about this is that…I have all these really brief memories of so many shows, but not a lot of coherent ones. What I suppose is most important is how comfortable I became with that bass, even if I wasn’t comfortable with the actual playing of it. That sounds odd, right? That I was comofortable with it, and yet not? Put it like this: when I knew what I was playing, there was nothing better than making that sweet rumble, and of having its weight around my shoulder.

So many stories, and yet it’s all fragments. What’s most pressing right now, is getting back in touch with it – I have been considering all the different things I did to try and ease the pain over the years, and one of them was to set aside my personal connection to music in that way. My appreciation and love for instruments and the people who create with them is still alive and well, just not especially well-tended. That is changing, things are reawakening all around me, and for that I am pleased.

Just a quick shot after Titi's goal today against Sunderland, but all my favorites are here, Bacary, Rambo, RVP (can't see Verminator's face,but just knowing he's got the same smile as the rest of them) and Arteta, who is fitting in so nicely! It's just awesome to see them react and be happy as a team, because early in the season, there was none of this. 13 more games guys, let's do more of this enjoying-playing-our-game thing.

Yes, this is what is commonly known as "food porn" - but for me, it's actually even more than that. It's a reminder of what I aspire to be within the career of "cooking".
No, I don't fancy myself a molecular gastronomist or even a pastry chef who builds architectural wonders, and the reason I admire people like Chef Achatz is because of their approach about eating. About what it means to enjoy, and most of all, experience food.  When I watch this (or any of the Next or Alinea videos that are uploaded) I am not simply struck by the beauty of the food, or the presentation - though both are, admittedly wonderful and certainly inspiring in terms of technique.
What gets me worked up, almost to the point of tears, is the intensity of the kitchen. Of knowing how much effort, practice and concentration is needed to execute at that level. To bring the concepts to fruition requires not only the most stellar products (the height of the season, carefully transported and stored) and technique knife skills that honor the product and don't waste the animal's life, or break down veggies into uniform and perfect pieces; using temperature to bring the item to it's fullest potential, (cooking, or not); being able to time everything and get all the dishes for a table ready to go out at the same time..the thing that I find most romantic about it is The Dance.
That is, the getting through the day, through prep, through service, through the breaking down of the stations. In any kitchen, it is a wild ride, busy action, people under pressure to get it done, get it right and get it out. The intensity is addictive, I find. In the better kitchens I've been in, when everyone shares the same level of commitment to the food and to the guest, it is particularly acute. We specifically call service a Dance, because usually, you are in a small place with several people, all trying to get things done with fire and knives and plates and people calling orders, running out of things, dishwashers darting around to pick up dirty dishes, and cooks locked in on their tickets, juggling 18 things at once and it literally becomes a dance as you negotiate your way through the night.
When I watch the video above, its the shots in the kitchen that make my heart flutter - to be a part of a team that is so focused. Surely it's as exhilarating as it is exhausting. There are some videos where more focus is on the kitchen itself, and what strikes me is the quiet - there are well over 35 people in that place, and it's like a library - and I do mean library - people are busy, busy studying, paying attention to their work. I've been lucky enough to work in a kitchen where creativity and focus were primary motivators, but it was a small crew and a blissfully large space (I had no way of understanding at the time how lucky we were working in a kitchen with wide aisles, skylights and room to spare). To watch the cooks at Alinea, all going about their work in what seems like a seamless precision - it makes me giddy. It also casts my current position in a shadow. What I desire, versus what I have. Having had a taste of those sorts of kitchens makes wiping the dried mashed beets off the handle of the mixer and finding the uncovered half-empty container of sliced red onions left amongst the cake pans by the guy before me in my station makes keeping my motivation a bit of a struggle. I know that my expectations aren't shared by everyone, and Life is not a wish-granting factory. However, if there are any wishes left in my queue - I'd like to use one up on being able to land in a kitchen with pride and focus in what they do. In a kitchen that has a mission to create an experience for the guest. Chef Achatz, who has captured the sense of whimsey and technique - has brought many facets of experience to fine dining, I most recently read that he was working on a way to incorporate music into courses - as you would with wines - different music evoking different emotions linked to the food being presented. It's the antithesis of mobile truck food, and yet it isn't - it's a way of offering an experience, unique and special to people, and I think it's an amazing way to approach it. I suppose this begs an Achatz appreciation post - which I guess was where I was headed...but mostly it's a mash note to the ideal kitchen. As I get ready to move on again, and find a new place to ply my trade, I want to reawaken my original mission statement for myself - and to keep true to my values. Currently, I am lucky to be working with some good quality product, all organic, if not always completely seasonal. It's missing though, that one piece - the vision, the creative unity of the crew producing the food. Without dragging out older, less delicate kitchen cliches (let's just say that Chef Bourdain's masterwork, Kitchen Confidential is just that, and for good reason) I want people who appreciate the idea that prepping your own mis-en-place is important: if you spend 20 minutes mincing shallots, you are a hell of a lot less likely to drop them on the floor or dump them in food indiscriminately. That's where I want to be. I don't expect to ever be at the level of a kitchen like Alinea or Next, but only because I got such a late start in this career - however, I know for a fact that there are hundreds of chefs in Seattle who share my core values - I just have to find them and make my case to be a part of their team.

ping pong

Hey! I posted over at the other one tonight, cause of context and stuff.

In the meantime, this is just one more reason to love Ira Glass:

“Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.”
― Ira Glass

I'm thinking about some stuff...

...still haven't got it all worked out yet...

but it's in-process, which is pretty damn exciting.

seasonal offering

Okay. The new cupcake mentioned a while back (this is seriously the first time I have ever demoed an item so far in advance - it feels like a million years ago right now) made it's debut yesterday - and apparently was a resounding hit.
Go figure, I was not as stoked as one might imagine (you might want to get a cup of coffee now, cause there's gonna be some kvetching for the next couple of  'graphs). Mostly because, while I'm happy with the idea, and the execution (that being a rare case to begin with) - I don't think it's a great cupcake. To be honest, in terms of taste, I thought the chocolate peppermint "hot cocoa" was far more interesting, and thought it had a better look. This, the "schoolyard crush" or "pb&j" as it was dumbed-down to for ease of use, is a simple vanilla cake filled with cranberry-orange jam, topped with peanut butter and the candy conversation hearts I made to garnish.
It seemed though, that not one person ever tried the previous seasonal offerings. Not one front of the house person, not one cook, not one cafe manager ever tried the damn things. They didn't seem interested. Same with the gingerbread, the filled halloween one we did where i made the sugar skull garnishes and even the coconut-lime, which is on the permanent menu now, I'm pretty sure most of the staff has never tried - luckily a few customers have made a point to share with me how much they like it.
Today though, it was completely different. I had a manager and three staff members all tell me how great it was - one guy told me it was "a yummy explosion in my mouth" (??!!?). The cafe manager, who has previously been a bit of a thorn in my paw about trivial matters, was elated, telling me she had "fantastic feedback about the new cupcake" which I take to mean one of the owners must have eaten it and liked it.
Now, I don't want to seem like a complete egomaniac, but of course they did. I do not cook crappy shit. Or, if for some reason i'm having an off night and i do, i destroy it and do it again until it is amazing. Because that is how i was brought in, it's how i was trained, it's why i do this. Nothing will get me to be a jerk to a server faster than them asking me if something I created (note i didn't say "made"; sometimes, i gotta cook stuff i didn't create, and it's not great. that's a different thing)  "is any good."
The delightful (normally, anyway) Hector said that to me today, after his coworker made the expolding-in-my-mouth remark, and i responded as i am wont to: "No Hector, it sucks. because that's what I do, I make shit food for you to sell" and dutifully rolled my eyes. Is it really any good? Am I a clown? Do I amuse you?
It was not a very Buddhist reaction from me, to say the least. He grinned uncomfortably and backtracked, stammering a little, and I realized, fair enough, some of the stuff we bake is kind of dull (again, not the stuff I created, and I assure you, I am working my way through tuning all of those recipes) - so i relented and told him how I created it ("awww, that's so great") and that i made not only the cake and garnish, but also the jam inside - we purchase jam for the cafe for other uses, (not baking!) so that seemed to be a big deal for him as well. It's always interesting to me how differently people react when you share information about what they are eating and it allows them to appreciate it more. I had a call from another cafe manager, who also said that the staff had tried the cupcake and though it was amazing. A pattern was emerging - suddenly front of the house staff were tasting things! holy crap batman, we may have progress!
I have been mentioning to the General Manager for some time that I though if the staff were more familiar with the products they'd be able to speak to guests and sell more effectively. Apparently someone finally bought it. So, chalk one up for our side. Go BOH!
One of the things i miss most about a full-service restaurant is Line-Up. Just before service, better restaurants will have all the staff come together to go over the menu, any additions/subtractions, wines, etc. The kitchen usually provides a sample of the specials so the servers can understand the plates and taste the food, ideally so they will be able to speak to the customer with some sort of understanding of what they are presenting.
Especially at Lantana, where we had an especially fun front of the house, line-up was the best part of the night. Most were really into food already, and if they weren't they wanted to be. It was always great to set the evening's specials out, have them ooh and ahhh, and taste - answer any questions, and then send them off to the dining room to be the ambassador for your dish. Nothing better for the ego than having a server come back breathless about how much the table loved it, and could you come out, they'd really like to meet you.
Yeah, that's a thing that used to happen. Now, sometimes I'll be in the dining room doing my production plan for the evening, and a server will direct a guest to me, and they will tell me how much they enjoyed a cupcake or something. It's nice, but different. I yearn to be back in a busy service, adrenalin pumping until you're finally done (and as the pastry person, you are always the last one done) and then that wash of exhaustion, relief, and victory (if you're lucky) once it's over.
Sure, it's self-indulgent, but when your mission statement is to provide guests with a fantastic dining experience, and you do - then it's worth being proud of, I think. All I can hope is that we can move the cafe staff up a little notch in the art of appreciating food and understanding the effort that goes into what we, at least are doing.
Hopefully.

profile of the hidden talent

Interestingly, it would appear that action does, in fact breed more action. Lately, as I'd been posting more frequently due to a recent upsurge in my hopes and dreams for the future (!) and as part of an overall attempt I had started in December to try and drag myself out of a bit complacency that had set in as the new job became normal, it appears this blog is getting more hits.
Granted, it could be just posting Tim Minchin's name, or videos, or linking to David Tennant photos, the Arsenal mentions, or maybe even a certain special someone doing some research...at any rate, the blogger stats aren't very detailed, and all the referring sites seem to be horrible pop up ads that are probably infecting my computer, but still, there's one bit of information that's kind of interesting. It would appear I'm getting hits from Russia (the former Soviet Union if the crap referring map is to be believed). So, this one is for you guys. I need to talk about your National Team captain and Arsenal midfielder (though lately relegated to the wing, which he clearly hates) Andrei Arshavin.

First off, I love the Little Russian for his character alone. His website (http://arshavin.eu/en/discuss.php?fid=15) and the "ask Andrei" section is pure gold. He is a funny, somewhat acerbic guy, and his pure Russian-ness is fantastic. It never stops being amusing. Few footballers have that sort of genuine, honest personality, much less an ability to laugh at themselves. When he was a student in St Petersburg, he studied fashion design, though football became his focus. He's a talented player, tough as nails (famously saying he "heals like dog" when he literally was playing with a bleeding foot a couple years ago, staying on the pitch to continue the match after having the docs just wrap his stomped foot up so he could play on) he's inventive, quick, and low-to-the-ground (ok, short) who, on a great day, moves like that Messi kid from Argentina. he's also the Russian national team captain, and once scored 4 goals in a single game for us against Liverpool:

That, however was 2009, his first year (mine too!) with Arsenal...and it hasn't been the same since. He's gone through a couple of dips in form before, but recently it's been really bad, and it seems the home fans (Away fans would never do this, I suspect) are booing him now. Terribly sad that the crowds can turn like that when a player has a bad run. Sure, they are professionals and should be expected to give 100% all the time - but what if this is one hundred percent of what Andrei can give right now? If he's as sensitive as the rest of the players seem to be, certainly the team crisis has affected him. Surely he's got to be wondering why we haven't brought new high-quality players in and instead seem to be trying to garage-sale our way through Arsene's last season(s). Or perhaps it's his homelife, reportedly he's never been especially happy in London (though he's said differently in the press last year)...maybe he's just sick of playing out of his natural position, no matter how brilliant Arsene's plans are. We can't know. But to hear any of our players booed, in the home stadium is disturbing. It happened to Eboue, who was driven to tears after fans went ballistic on him when he cost us a close game; and then slowly but surely battled back into the squad and into the fans' hearts as a sort of a wacky mascot/squad player, who later inspired the Cult of Eboue (when the fans would sing "we've only come to see Eboue"). True, it went back into a slump as the numbers of mistakes grew again, but he was never booed as savagely as after that first incident.  It also happened to Alex Song, who was simply didn't have a match of experience to go with raw talent, and would make horrendous errors and would be booed...now, he's considered a linchpin in the midfield, though he still only scores the occasional goal. Now Alex Song Billong has songs sung for him by the crowd. For both of those players, it was early in their careers; however, with Arshavin, this is in his sunset period - he's almost 30. He won't likely go to a bigger club after Arsenal. He'll probably just go back to Zenit, where he came from, and it's a shame. There is so much potential in our number 23, and yet, it continues to be untapped. What will it take to get Andrei to rise, phoenix-like from the ashes of the last couple of seasons, and start creating the goals that he was known for when he arrived? What can we do to wake him up? Or will we just have to wait until he hits the very bottom of whatever unfortunate situation that is keeping his head out of the game (and him out of interviews)? Will it come soon enough to gel with the current incarnation of the squad - one where he should surely be at the top of the pack in terms of experience and talent? Here's hoping he comes back, because when he does, it will be a treat, that much we've seen.

It appears that I blog in the same way as Arsenal currently plays: somedays a wonderful achievement, a win that seems effortless and based in an innate natural ability that comes together to produce the desired result. Other days, it's as if an odd performance anxiety has set in, or a malaise that it will "just happen" if one simply shows up.
Yeah, the last week I kind of lost my shooting boots. It's not as if there's nothing to write about. In fact, there is a revelation that taps into one of my most basic beliefs and also causes (if that's a word one still uses these days) - the plight of Planned Parenthood, and currently, in light of the Komen Foundation's revelations that they don't support funding for Planned Parenthood.
There are few things in this universe that incense me more than the issue of Planned Parenthood being funded, and in conjunction the political conservatism that has made it normal to use the phrase "anti-abortion". Seriously. I have given up most fights, but this is one that really fucking pisses me off. As if anyone is "pro-abortion"  you useless, bible-thumping control freaks who are so busy calling people names and fighting for the "rights" of the unborn; who you promptly abandon fighting for as soon as they become "born" and need the right to be fed, housed, educated, employed and see the doctor. I am not a fan of the word hate, but if there is one aspect of American culture I hate it's the remedial christian dog-and-pony-show that masquerades as a conservative political movement. Hell, I'm just gonna say it: something seemed odd about the Komen Foundation from the get-go, and I think it was the emphasis on pink shit to buy "in support of breast cancer awareness" - which seems more than a little convoluted to begin with, or perhaps the huge amount of money a person who wants to "walk for the cure" has to provide up front to participate. That's right, Susan G. Komen's peeps have set a minimum price you must pay in order to participate in their particular fundraising and awareness-raising. Because it'd be crazy to have people who only had a few sponsers and could only rustle up $300 to donate while they walked the 5k or whatever participate, spread the word and PROVIDE FUNDING. You wouldn't want just any old supporter of breast cancer research out there representing your precious pink ribbon now would you?
Also, if you don't set those minimums, how on earth will the office space and company cars get paid for?
It reminds me of Jim Bakker, who I have gone on about before. Even Bakker was more honest than the Komen Foundation, who takes money "in support of women" and then actively avoids ensuring the actual, tangible healthcare support provided at reasonable cost all over this country that Planned Parenthood provides. I don't mean to get too graphic, but damn, do you know how much a mammogram costs these days? It's no joke. Pap smears? Simple treatment for infections?
At least Bakker told you up front: you give me the thousand dollars, I tell God to reserve a place in heaven for you, and you get a timeshare at bibleworld or Heritage USA, whatever.
Dammit. I knew those pink ribbons were bullshit, and even typing this now, I realize I should sit quietly with it and reason out a better presentation of my feelings, but to be honest, it's difficult. I want to write something now. I've seen links everywhere, drawing attention to the hypocrisy that is the SGK Foundation, and so that's a big win for the internet. Word (via NPR) is there has been a donation spike to PP which is even better, and as much as it always seems to take something like this to get people to do it, it turns out that the bulk of the people in this country do in fact support a woman's right to choose healthcare options from several public providers. Better still, it also seems to be sick and tired of giant "foundations" raising money for research and yet mostly using it to sustain the foundation staff. All on the back of the people who have been affected by breast cancer..
There are other organizations this sort of thing happens to - but few are as horribly flawed as this. So much effort, so many glitzy ads, so much branded merchandise - is anyone really surprised that it turns out the only think SGK Foundation is truly trying to promote is iteself rather than the actual safety and health of the women they pressure into their pink-baseball-hat-wearing army?
For a much more eloquent and well-researched piece on why SGK Foundation is just another example of corporate greed using fear and guilt to raise funds to keep themselves employed, please go here: http://www.ginandtacos.com/2012/02/02/race-for-the-cure-to-being-relevant/

Segovia, Spain. On the to-do list...

Love & Marriage....

So, yeah. Marriages end, or break down - Seal & Heidi, Russell & Katy, Blurb & Dooce, Demi & Ashton, Kim & Thurston...and what always sort of sticks with me is how it apparently can happen to anyone, no matter how "healthy" or "happy" they seem (or how rich & successful). I am, in a very, very unexpected place right now - a place most people tell you is a fairy tale, and impossibility. A place that some people do visit in their relationships - my parents even, though it was a far less protracted split/separation that happened after he had an affair, she kicked him out, he slept on the boat for a couple of weeks, had a bit of a think about things and came back. She loved him and forgave him, and trusted him when he said he wasn't going to make the mistake again, that he realized what was important and what he truly wanted. The good news is that they were infinitely more happy together after that, sharing their lives and interests in ways I had never seen them do as a kid. The bad news is that his history of ignoring his health bit them in the ass, and he was gone at 58. However - at least they had that time to be together, happy, and loving; and not angry and hostile fighting it out or lonely and bitter apart. There's something to be said for living in the present, enjoying the time you do have together, if you are able to.
I would be remiss if I didn't note the stark parallels in my own personal narrative right now. My willingness to bring my ex-husband back into my life is based in the simple fact that I loved him dearly when I met him, though I wasn't completely able to functionally do it, because, simply put, I wasn't too crazy about myself. Sure, in the abstract, I'm suitably enamored of my personae, my ability to take on challenges and survive. Blah, blah, blah. But, that sort of ends up making you a bit of a lab rat, waiting for the next mystery dose to see what the effects are. Doses administered by others.
It would be lovely if we all came to relationships all shiny and new. But we don't. When we are young, we are products of our parent's relationships, media input, of hideous playground hijinks and highschool pressure. As we connect with people and disconnect, we learn a little bit more, but we also put on a little bit of armor each time, to protect us from being hurt in the same way again. That's where it gets tricky for me. The armor. Mine was papier mache - his, lead. Mine looked plenty strong, but in reality was useless. His was heavy and poisonous. No matter how hard we tried to let the connection grow, it seemed our separate poorly constructed armor made it impossible.
In the end, people seem to split up when they just don't know what to do anymore. At the very least distance can give a chance to rebuild, to rethink. Most people, it seems just move on, find a new person to be with, and that works - I know a lot of successful second marriages.What I'd like to know, though, is how many people reconcile. Reconciliation is a risky choice for a lot of people - it requires admitting bad choices, understanding the pain of what you've done, but also, it can be such a strong foundation.
As I said in a text to SMRGEv2.0 yesterday it is "epic" - and he responded that we "are lucky for what a lot of people lack" - because - we've both been through some crazy bad shit and can share that experience. Having apologized and expressed his desire for me to know that he was wrong and that we did have something special, that's a crucial choice, a decision that opens up a whole new road for us to travel.
We can rebuild the relationship and learn from our past, how exciting is that? Pretty fucking exciting.That, folks, is evolving. It's learning and living and not staying in a morose spin of depression and frustration. This is about living.
The issues he deals with are his own, and I know now that all I can do to really, truly help is to live as well as I know how, and to share that with him. It's strange to be in this place now - I've said before, I had never, ever expected him to return, convincing myself that I had been misguided in my choice; that my ability to understand what was important was faulty.What is unfolding now is another journey, made difficult by distance, but also, because it does require more effort, perhaps a good thing. To fall into each other's arms again immediately, and not explore the ouchy parts of our shared history (and the ouchy parts of the history in between) is to possibly ignore what might have made it crumble before. Certainly, it wasn't my idea to split - but the situation was so tense, so angry, so fraught with miscommunication and almost a panic, that I couldn't do anything other than go along with it.
So I did. The thing is, and it is so scary and painful to believe, but it seems, now, to have been the best thing - for me, anyway. I awoke from a stasis I had been in for quite a while, trapped in this dilemma of what I was going to be without someone to define it for me, a dilemma I had been dancing around before I met him; starting certainly when I left Eugene and returned to Seattle in '94. I had let circumstance rule the day for so long - and now, now I want to continue to make decisions that offer me chances, offer ideas, experiences, I want to share my joys and my pains again with someone I, at my core, have always loved. The fact that that person is also the person who caused me to go through a lot of anguish and rebuilding, is actually quite encouraging. That there is a deep investment between us, it survived and is looking to flourish. It occurs to me as well that I very well may now be much more of the person he fell in love with initially. That becoming comfortable with who I am, with what I enjoy and care about - which are all born of the core experiences I'd had up until meeting him has got to enhance this new chapter. It's difficult to get it all down - but I'll keep trying, as it goes. As the dust settles a little and things fall into line - as I try and move forward my plans to get back to the place I love...
A few years ago, when I found out that Kev & Al had separated, I remember this crushing feeling of "wow, if what they had wasn't LOVE, then what the fuck is?" and interestingly, in another universal parallel, they are back together, performing, making art, having pets, and so on...all the things they do best. They seem to have that balance; the balance that is, obviously, so hard to achieve for most. They had to take some time away perhaps, to get the perspective. To understand what is important to them, to know how they want to live their lives together. To know that in the end though, they came back to each other for whatever their reasons are, is encouraging.
I am excited to be able to contribute to a new and hopefully better chapter. To have a chance to be part of the partnership that I believed so much in 10 years ago (ten....years....) that was mired in so much...muck. This has been an amazing couple of weeks, and with some luck I'll be able to document it a little better each time.
30 days, and counting.
Back to more Whovian-Minchin-Arsenal gushing, I promise!

fan-tastic.

Being a fan. Fan is short for fanatic, right? I mean that's where the term not the word comes from. I have been what I consider a fan of things before: bands, movies, authors...and lately, a simple scroll through the pages (especially recently) of this blog will tell you that I've even become a very specific or passionate fan of things like Arsenal, (as poor SMRGE experienced this evening after asking how our team did today, and I responded at such a pitch that I literally had a little head rush when I paused for a breath) and it's been a bit of a lesson in the depths of fandom, of nerdom, of just general hobbyist thinking. A bit of a switch for a girl who was pretty sure being part of any massive group-think (yup, that's how I spun it in my little head) was bad.
Here's the thing: I find TV show fandom really amazing. Right now, on my Tumbler, fans of the Moffet/Gatiss version of Sherlock are blowing shit sky high about the last of just 6 episodes. I mean rabid, constant posting about every minute detail (charts and graphs of fall speeds and velocity from buildings, hair styles and longing glances, teacups and bathrobes) of all the episodes, and enough screen caps and .gifs to literally make my eyes tired and head hurt from squinting at the tiny captions. Though, yes, I did watch all the episodes and will probably do so again, as the writing is pretty amazing, and visually still innovative enough to not be boring - though eventually, the texts on screen, and Sherlock doing his air-touchscreen thing as he thinks through solutions may get tedious. Until then, though...I'll keep watching, and be a fan, from a safe distance.
 "Safe distance".
I suppose I use that phrase because sometimes the intensity of fans, especially here on the world wide internets mkes me feel oddly uncommitted. Sure, I've spent more time than is prudent on YouTube watching clips and videos of shows and performers I enjoy, and I read and listen to a healthy amount of Arsenal blogs and podcasts, and yes, I check for Alan Davies tags on Tumbler, and just recently acquired a Dalek "To Victory" poster, though it occurs to me that it might be time for my living space to not revert back to the "university chic" look that I cultivated for so long....
Anyway, being a fan of something has always been interesting to me, and for the longest time, save for a couple of punk rock mainstays (Kevin Seconds and Aaron Cometbus) I'd pretty much stayed fairly middle of the road when it came to fandom. Only as I gain more mileage, do I seem to hone in on subjects with more verve and commitment.
I've never been to a convention, of any kind. Though, I've dabbled in comics, with a firm love of all things Jaime Hernandez, and my understanding and affection for Tolkien's classics is also well-set. To go that extra step though, to plan vacations, to spend money on cosplay and the time to create .gif sets, and all the posting and conversations, plus just the actual time it takes to watch shows...how DO they do it? Being a fan of people who inspire me is easy enough, but to commit to the sort of real-life actions some fans take is pretty amazing.
Case in point - my coworker, who is what is apparently known as a "Gleek", a huge (she describes herself as "pretty obsessed") fan of one of the cast members in particular recently took a weekend trip to New York to see a Broadway performance of one of the castmembers (not even her favorite! her like, second favorite! OMG!) and then flew back in time to be at work last night (our "Monday").
I'm impressed on several levels. The first is just overall inspiration - she had saved and was planning a trip to Mexico in March with some friends, but it fell through and she found out about that on Thursday (our "Friday" if you will) so she began to think about what else she'd like to do, and decided she'd like to see this cast member in this show on Broadway (she is also a huge fan of musicals, so the pieces do fit together), but didn't have actual tickets to the show in question. However, savvy enough to know about the possibility of cancelled tickets on show day, she booked a flight, a room, and headed to NYC alone, just a carry-on and her intense desire to see this happen.
And it totally did - she got the ticket (apparently even a pretty good seat in the orchestra), saw the matinee performance, and then took in a second show that evening that had been recommended by another member of the Glee cast. She battled the bitter NYC cold, but got some food, saw some shows, and flew back -all spur-of-the-moment and totally had a great time.
I really think that's kind of fantastic. Sure, there are hours spent online on message boards, cruising blogs and Tumblr and Twitter, but when being a fan of something actually inspires you to get out and experience the thing that you enjoy the most about your "thing" (for her, it's musical performances) I think that's the best-case scenario. It's why I want to go to the Emirates - as I was sharing with SMRGE last night while he was perusing the Arsenal site - I gushed so incessantly I actually gave myself a second headrush talking about visiting  "my" team and what it would mean to me. To be able to attend, to be a part of that human experience...I imagine it will be like going to a show by a band that I adore. I don't care if we win the game I go to - I just want to be among the fans, among people who love the team (so I guess, given the state of Arsenal fandom right now, it's a good thing I'll have to wait until next year to do it) watching them play live, being caught up in it.Having that experience. I understand that desire, that affection for something now in ways I never have before.
There are lots of ways to be a fan I suppose, and lots of things to be a fan of...people and ideas that capture your imagination, who inspire you to think about things to explore things and ideas. That seems like the best part of being a fan of anything.

currently...

Highly Anticipated Tim Minchin Appreciation Post

2011 was not a great year. I mean, it wasn't like 2005, a great year that saw me graduate culinary school top of my class, get a job at the dream restaurant I'd hoped for, and reach a level of physical fitness I hadn't seen in years. Though, it wasn't as bad as 2007, the year my best friend's stepfather killed himself, I wrecked my car, careened madly though my first job as an "executive pastry chef", and I filed bankruptcy. 2011 was just a year where consistency was the goal, and as always practicing the patience to achieve it was the primary activity. It was the first calendar year without Hopey, as well. My first whole year without dog. Which is, of course, god spelled backwards.
2011 was also the year that I became fully aware of Tim Minchin, and it was easily one of my favorite things to have happen all year.He describes himself as a satirical musician, and also as an atheist and rationalist. That was originally what brought him to my attention, a British vlogger's site (it's true, I have no business watching 20-something UK uni students video blogging about their Time Lord Rock band, but it happened, and it led to the discovery of a unique, witty, and amazingly talented musician, so, you know, pffffbt) that  had mentioned him, and initially the song "White Wine in The Sun" (which I posted yesterday) a song I'd been hearing references to throughout my....uhm, survey of British TV I'd taken to indulging in between Arsenal games.
((sidebar: hey, adorkables? My delightful team of bi-polar-footy-boys? You are, all 23 of you, including King Henry, killing me with your inconsistency! Losing to Swansea? Did you think because you were in Wales you were on vacation? It's a good thing there are some lighthearted videos by Tim Minchin available to help bring a smile back to my face after such a sad, sad performance. 10 points behind Spurs? I feel like you all need a big hug. I'd be happy to oblige. Just saying. For the team. Call me.))
"White Wine..." is a fantastic example of Minchin's talent. The song starts out as a satirical indictment of Christmas, from his atheist/rationalist perspective, for which he draws lots of attention. It is witty, and disarming, as he sings about how he genuinely enjoys Christmas in spite of the hokey religious characterizations and horrendous soul-sucking merchandising dog & pony show. As the song progresses, he begins to fill in the emotions of what christmas really means to him, and it becomes a touching, sweetly genuine song of love for being amongst the ones you love and who love you, unconditionally. As the song finishes, every time I listen, all I can think of is "yes, that is what Life is about, not all this other dreck", And also, "holy cow is he fun to watch". You see; as he explains in interviews, Tim wears eyeliner and shadow onstage, and rats his hair because he is a piano player, so isn't able to use grand physical gestures to an audience; so in order for his expressions to be easier to read (and even more engaging) he uses makeup. Regarding his "look", he talks about how when so many of his songs (I'm not sure of the percentage, but I'd be willing to say its almost at least half) are about controversial issues like religion, it is easier for the audience to be receptive to ideas if the person presenting the information is more of a "character". It makes sense, and when you watch clips of his live performances you'll see all that. I am also quite fond of  his dead-sexy intelligece. His songs are intricate  (well, mostly, that one about the Pope not so much, but hey, everyone needs an afternoon off, and really, what more is there to say about the motherfucking pope?) prose set to music (again, mostly, with a couple exceptions) which tend to start as a seemingly straightforward sarcastic toned poke, and end up a well-crafted statement of a core belief in oneself and in figuring it out for yourself. Sometimes they take the long way around, like "Prejudice", where what starts as something you think you know, a song about a subject that seems so obvious you find yourself tapping your foot and thinking, "what could he possibly say about this that hasn't already been said" and then a little flipping of letters, and it becomes a song about something else altogether, and yet not. It, for me, becomes a song about how words get turned into things that people put weight and meaning into. How words can be hurtful, and yet, in the end, they are, after all just words that people make rules for using and create cultures around. I enjoy Minchin's approach to science, writing songs dispelling new age nonsense, and hopeless religious affectations.
It seems so amazingly refreshing to see an artist present views like that - at least here in America where if you approach that sort of subject matter and try and get people to laugh and think about shit at the same time, you generally get buried. Although he's Australian, Minchin has become a huge presence in the UK, where he now lives. In the UK, 43% (or so) of the population identify as atheists. As a kid who decided on her own at the age of eight to stop saying "under god" during the Pledge of Allegiance ((look it up....oh, wait, wikipedia is down, YOU CANT...oh, the youth....)) because it made me uncomfortable, that is a huge hook. Uncomfortable how? Well, I was raised in a family that didn't go to church, for a litany of reasons. Even at that young age, perceiving how serious people seemed to be about church (even on shows like Little House On The Prairie) I felt uncomfortable referring my loyalty to this god that I didn't know or really understand how it worked. Much the same as today, and as reflected in Tim Minchin's songs, I still don't see any tangible evidence of this god that we are supposed to listen to, yet I can't hear him. How do you follow the instructions of anyone you can't see or hear? It just hasn't ever made any sense, and suddenly there's this great musician who's smart and has a great sense of humor and he writes these songs....just so very good. Plus he also writes sweet love songs with clever and even sort of snarky lyrics  like "If I Didn't Have You", or "If You Really Loved Me" and his onstage personae is so genuine, so engaging, so completely geeky (such a Rock and Roll Nerd)  that honestly, I find it futile to try and resist.
Also, he's a really versatile musician able to switch genres with grace and aplomb. Yep, I said aplomb.
I look forward to him gaining more recognition, to a US tour, and to see him more often in general, and to hear his new music. He, like Eddie Izzard, is an artist who raises the bar, who nudges you to learn as you are entertained, and for that, in a year that lacked a lot of entertainment, I am very, very appreciative.
This one is another of his sweet ones, but still though...Here's to 2012's discoveries.

So, there's this cat. I first noticed it in my back yard amongst the squirrels. Previously, I'd had a pretty regular squirrel visitor queue (look, it's dull without a dog around, squirrels are like tiny little dogs who can hang upside down on the trunk of a tree and slap their tails when they bark) ((no, seriously, they bark)) for a while - ever since I started leaving old baked goods on the fencepost for them. Squirrels, I'm sure it doesn't suprise you, love baked goods, cookies, muffins, scones. Also avocado pits. But I digress.I had been tossing stuff to squirrels for a few weeks when I noticed a squirrel perched on the fencepost chattering  so loud I could hear him in my bedroom. I peered out the window into the foggy backyard, and there was a grey and white long-haired cat munching away on a scone I had tossed out there for them earlier in the morning.
I'll type that again, just in case it's not clear: the cat was eating the scone. Not just picking at it or licking it, oh, no, that cat was scarfing it like there was no tomorrow and the squirrel was having a fit, slowly creeping down the post and towards the cat who would throw a mean side-eye and twitch its tail and the squirrel would flit around to the other side of the planter box. For the next couple days, I would specifically throw other items out - but ol' Sconey only likes scones. I assume it's the cream and butter in them that makes it so appealing - but the cat isn't starving, by any means. I see it around the neighborhood, so it's just one of those outdoor felines who wander from house to house, culling the best grub.
On Xmas when the cat appeared to be sleeping at the foot of the tree in my yard (it's funny, it's taken a year for the critters in the neighborhood to agree that the crazy grey dog who cant hear is no longer going to come skittering out onto the deck when she sees some sort of movement) I wished I'd had some catfood (I was home alone on Xmas, but totally ok with it, actually. I mean, I was a little homesick, but mostly just enjoyed the quiet day off, making tiny paperchains & decorations for my tiny little live tree and cooking a little meal to enjoy after all the requisite phone calls had been made) .
Karen had suggested just getting a cheap bag of food, if I was at all interested in making nice with the cat...which I kind of was. Anyway, I didn't have any scones left from work, nor any catfood cause I hadn't actually thought that plan through, but I wanted to give the cat something - it was the silly holiday of giving, right?
So...I opened a can of tuna, and proceeded to create Addict Cat. Addict Cat now sits on my back fence staring intensely into the window waiting for more food to be put in the dish. We haven't had as much extra stuff at work, so the cat hasn't been getting the scones anymore, but instead I've given it the giblets from chickens I've roasted, chicken, more tuna, and yeah, I did finally break down and get some cat food.
Both wet and dry - I know. So far, Addict Cat just hangs out on the deck after eating - I haven't been out there much because it's been cold lately, but I imagine if its pleasant enough one morning, I might go out and have coffee with him/her, just to see how it's going.
*coming soon, a long overdue Tim Minchin Appreciation Post, until then:

According to generally accepted Whovian definition, Eleven is officially my Doctor. That is, he's where I picked up the story. That's right, I jumped the Anglophenia Express at Arsenal Station and headed via the scenic route to Cardiff; via Jonathan Creek, Peep Show, Black's Books, Green Wing, Pulling, Coupling, QAF, QI, Never Mind the Buzzcocks, Grandma's House, Mighty Boosh and various sundry British television shows, not to mention the others from my childhood like All Creatures..., Monty Python, Fawlty Towers, or the Young Ones. Doctor Who though - I mean I'd had a basic idea about the show based on hazy memories of snowy PBS channels and shows with echoey sets, british accents, arch costumes and the giant albatross of SCIENCE FICTION SHOW dangling off it. I'd heard the fandom were like Trekkers (I know they don't like to be called "ees") and so just let that vision of the show and its fans sit, occasionally referenced but never really experienced.Until last spring, when I found myself swept up in a marathon of the latest Doctor Who series that was leading up to the newest season. I found the writing funny, smart, and at just the right level of sci-fi to be engaging without being irritating. Matt Smith, as the current incarnation of the Doctor is so geeky-quirky-smart-funny-offbeat that it didn't take much for me to get hooked. I'm a sucker for the quirky geek genuis-y types. Stephen Merchant writes so well, has a Sorkinesque ear for dialog, it was like no other Doctor Who I'd ever imagined (I'd always pictured them being written like a cross between Brideshead Revisited and Star Trek....yeesh). The current plot arc is twisty and romantic and a bit of a puzzle and has an genuine sense of play about it while still being also scary in the way that shows like The Twilight Zone could be. Humanity. I didn't know that it's always been a theme in Doctor Who, the show that will celebrate 50 years on TV next year, but certainly would explain it's longevity..
After catching up and completing the newest episodes, I was left wanting more...so much of Doctor Who concerns where the character has been and who his companions and enemies are, that I decided, after much reading that I'd go ahead and start watching from the most recent reboot. And, like that, Nine became my new curl-up-and-watch pretend boyfriend. Even after just watching "Rose", I was drawn even deeper into the mythology, because it was if I had travelled in time - now I knew what this character's future held, but I hadn't seen all his past, it was the most ingenius way to watch TV, so different from the way most shows are structured.
That's a big part of why I enjoy the show so very much, that it has the ability to be so many things, and, as done by Russell Davies and Stephen Merchant, spoke in a verancular I can absolutely understand. Intrinsic, even if it is very, very British. It also has a universal sweep (literally like The Universe universal, and figuratively), and it always has that storythread of investigation and discovery. Of people and beings trying to get along as they go about the business of living. It's good stuff, and though I find Billie Piper a distraction, I think the character of Rose was one that certainly we never see in America of British young women from a specific social standing. Martha, a med student is a little more familiar; and Donna, brash and impulsive and not the typical pin-up model, but was smart, strong and best of all a genuine friend of the Doctor. I'd never seen characters quite like that in US shows before.
What it still comes down to most of all though, is how can you not like a story of an amazingly smart and dashing guy in a time machine racing around the universe having adventures, and usually looking for some company, cause it turns out he's a little dark on the inside as well. The Tardis could show up anywhere and the more episodes I watch the more comforting I find the show.  It hit all the major buttons for me last summer as I settled into a new job and into the Definitely Not Dating column again. Just in time to move into three seasons of David Tennant's reign as Ten. Previously I had actually avoided the reboot because he was so ridiculously good looking it seemed hard to imagine the stories could have any weight or interest. I was, happily wrong (ok, there are a few weak episodes but overall, great stuff, with special effects really finally catching up to the writing).
My absolute favorite thing about Ten is him as this Converse-clad Time Lord who is at both a genius and a goofball. With sticky-uppy hair, no less. He also has a temper, and a code of conduct, but is impulsive and tends to have to tell people he's sorry a lot. Ten has several catchphrases, but my favorite is "Allons-y!"
Which is, of course,  French for "Let's Go!". It's a phrase I embrace, and to see it embodied in a TV show is encouraging. I think people should be encouraged more to give things a go. In the face of a stiff challenge or unknown future, isn't the best thing is to get in it, try it, see how it fits? Give it a whirl, see how she flies.
One of the things Doctor Who seems to always do when he is confronted with aliens from other planets who always seem to have a penchant for having Earth as their own, is that he asks them what is wrong and how can he help.It's a value that doesn't get taught much, to ask how you can help, and then to try and do something to be helpful.
There is a great sense, to me, anyway, that the Doctor knows about risk (and maybe that's a British thing and happens to a culture that made it through the Dark Ages and the Blitz) and looks it in the face and says it anyway: "let's go!" Interestingly, Eleven says "Geranimo!" which, is essentially the same thing (though with a decidedly American bend) - lending itself to the idea that the Time Lord, in any of his incarnations is a creature who understands the meaning of living in the present more than any other, specifically because for him, time doesn't move in a simple line. He (and his companions) are always living in everyone else's present, which is a fun, existential quirk for me, and keeps me hooked into the show...but most of all it's the way that the show seems to encourage discovery of not only planets and creatures but of the characters themselves.The junior executive anthropologist in me digs that.
Throughout the fall and holiday season, I had actively been working allonsy into my repertoire and, as usual, the Universe has responded in kind, almost saying: "Ready? Ready to see something amazing for real?" and all I can say is: hell yes, land that Tardis here. Let's go somewhere cool. 

I mentioned the return of Theirry Henry to Arsenal the other day. Photos are flooding the interwebs, and it's surreal and wonderful, to have the mythical talisman captain back is huge. To have it be now, when Arsenal is at a nadir of confusion and struggling to be cohesive is even more of a gift. Love is such a strange emotion, one I normally hold at arm's length and wonder what sort of trouble it's going to get me in THIS time. Loving Arsenal, with all their epic brilliance and silly juvenile mistakes in the last couple seasons, has provided notes for how my understanding of the many layers can work. For me to say I love a sports team at all is still a little shocking when I think about it objectively. But, when I say it now, it feels as natural as anything in the world. Of course I love my team - I have come to know the players, their quirks, their struggles, the manager, his battles and failures. True, I've never been to an actual match, but I have watched live on mornings with a hardy band of like-minded people, and it is fun.
This was news to me. Having been sure for so long that I was a fully self-contained unit who couldn't be swayed by group activities, especially sports. Somehow, I seemed to conveniently ignore that being in a band was being on a team. That I was learning about how team psychology works, even though I was blissfully marching along thinking that we were simply like-minded individuals doing what we loved to do for people who would dig it.
Henry has mentioned that he comes back to Arsenal with a love for the team that he didn't have the first time he played for us. Which has struck me as interesting, and somewhat amazing given the timing. What does he mean now when he says he loves the team? He played 8 years for us without loving Arsenal? Maybe he played because he loved to play, and at Arsenal he played and was successful at the top level of international football. However, he still chose to leave.He didn't completely love the team, didn't appreciate all that it offered all that it represented. I would love to ask him when his feeling for the club changed in such a subtle, yet seismic way. Surely, he had a love of the shirt, of being proud of being on a winning team, but to love Arsenal, to use that particular word...it is interesting, especially given I'm talking about a sport here.
It occurs to me all these years later, that following a sports team manifests a kind of love I have encountered before, but didn't realize. They provide an emotional connection, the games provide performance, drama and a story. Sure, I knew that a bit in my head, but only recently have I come to understand it in my heart. When I wonder what the hell is going on at the half of a game in the dressing room on a match day when we are losing, now I think about arguments; or worse stony silences in band practice spaces. What I'm trying to get at here, or get back to - is the idea of love. How it can be so many things. You can't love or hate something you don't care about. You love because you are invested emotionally. To be invested is a risk, and it might be heartbreaking - watching Samir leave Arsenal in the manner that he did was so depressing, having taken him into our hearts as a rising star, singing songs for him only to watch him turn on a dime, for...well, a LOT of dimes. His loyalty to our club wasn't there in the end. On the other hand, Henry has always been the most class of acts, who moved on from the club at his strongest, and has always been civil and fair to his former team, and in recent years as he talked about coming back, about possibly returning to be a part of the team again, you couldn't help but wonder: would it be the same? I'm so very interested in what has prompted Henry to be so enthusiastic about how being a fan, a lover of the team has changed the way playing feels for him. his desire to help the team again, he said was a big part of why he wanted to return
Ultimately, could the Boss not accept Theirry when he expressed interest in playing for Arsenal again? How could you not say, "Ok, Titi, you are older now, and you left us when we needed you most, and it's been a tough go without you, but you want to return, and you have played in Barcelona, you've been slogging it out in the horrible wilds of American footy, where no one appreciates you and you are losing your lustre, so yes, let's do this, let's give it a go again, bring your talent and your experience back to us show us again who you are."
Our current team, which is a strange mix of experienced national captains and a bunch of really talented but underexperienced kids who have been fighting for every victory tooth and nail, need a rallying point, something to agree on, something to work with. Theirry, brings this in spades. And, if his homecoming goal is any indication - it's doing him some good as well - his touch was brilliant again, he hasn't scored many like that in the 2 seasons he's been in New York, where he seems to be just a placeholder and name to attract butts to seats - you know: "come see the former legend". However, just one game back home at the Emirates, the stadium his Invincibles Team built, and he was back on form. There's a lesson here, right? You can go home again, once you've traveled where you need to so that you appreciate it as your Home. Theirry said it himself in the post-match interview after Leeds: he said it was very different playing for Arsenal as a fan of the club. When he was here before, he was, yes the captain, but he was "from France" and hadn't grown up following Arsenal (like, say, Jack Wilshere, who joined the Arsenal youth squad at 9 years old, who is destined to follow in Tony Adam's footsteps, though he's only just 19 right now), and when he thought he had done all he could do with us, he left. He went on to play for Barca, where it wasn't quite the same, he spent a lot of time on the bench in his last season there, they never used him as they could have, and seemingly lost his fire. He moved to the NY Red Bulls and everyone wrote him off as clearly not having "it" anymore.Like Bex but without the social calendar. It's an incredibly risky thing to come back to the Premiere League - the most competitive in the world. He had everything to lose, he'd be that guy who tried to regain old glory and failed, But he took the risk, he came back to us and put the kit back on...and fucking scored the winning goal in a cup playoff game. What more could you hope for? Surely, it's got to make him feel great about taking the chance to up his game, do the work and come back to the club that only by leaving did he grow to love more than any other. For The Manager, for Arsene, it's similar - it could have been looked at as a desperate bid, bringing back the guy who left, the guy who thought he was done with Arsenal, the guy who could be on his way out, trying to recapture old glory only to be an embarrassing joke. Many people in the press characterized it as Wenger's unwillingness to move on, to try and buy newer stars to do the business he needs to do. But Arsene Wenger is not the usual manager, and he brought Theirry back and it appears to already be good for everyone involved. Sometimes, love is risky, but as I think we are all realizing, totally worth it. Henry realized how important Arsenal was by leaving, and we realize how exciting his talent and potential are once again. It's an exciting time...