13 September 05
Stinking Bishop
A British cheesemaker is terrified that the next Wallace and Gromit film will lead to demand for this cheese, which is what happened with Wendsleydale in an earlier film.
Stinking Bishop is made from milk of Gloucester cows and its rind is seasoned with perry, cider made from pears. It is said to smell like “old socks” which may temper the demand, I think…
13 September 05
Nineteen More Games
We listened to the Giants game this evening which marked the return of Barry Bonds to the lineup after being out all season. He sparked a two-run rally in the second inning with a near-home run that was changed to a ground rule double because of fan interference. (Will the people in the first row of the bleachers ever learn?) The Giants bats seemed to wake up immediately thereafter—we’re left to wonder what sort of season the Giants would have had if Bonds hadn’t been out seven-eighths of the season.
The season is winding down to an exciting finish. The Indians, A’s, and Yankees are all battling for the AL wild card spot, while the Red Sox have a 3 1/2 game lead over the Yankees in the AL East. In the National League, Florida and Houston are contending for the wild card, with Philadelphia just behind. The Marlins and Astros played today—the Marlins won behind the pitching and batting (he hit a home run) of their ace Dontrelle Willis.
11 September 05
Baseball with the Doc
I’ve had a wonderful long weekend hanging out with Doc Rock, who was visiting from points south. After an intense two weeks getting a 500-page report off my desk, it was fun to have time with a friend. We visited my mother in Bodega Bay, where it was sunny and gorgeous (it’s usually foggy and drippy).
This morning we headed south to San Francisco and the Doc’s first visit to SBC Park. We had seats just behind home plate way high in the nosebleeds—we could see the Berkeley campanile from our spot—and watched a very, very good game which unfortunately went to the Cubs, but you can’t begrudge them, it was riveting baseball, a true pitchers’ duel.
One of my least favorite things about this ball park, surely the most beautiful in the country, is that most people who are there have only the vaguest interest in the game. They spend time yakking about their work, or getting up and down like yoyos for this drink or that food. It makes scoring a little difficult and I was finally obliged to ask the woman in front who seemed to have brought her entire family reunion to the game—there were 30 cousins there—whether she might like to consider sitting down so I could see the game.
Yoyos.
11 September 05
Envelope and Letter Folding
For those who haven’t completely abandoned letter writing, this is an intriguing site.
8 September 05
Out With The Laundry
This morning I got out of the shower, went to my closet in the bedroom, and noticed something odd about the laundry hamper. Charlie was dozing quite contentedly there, and I don’t know how long he stayed—I had to run to work!
7 September 05
Ouroboros, Tetramorph, Polycephalos
Back when I was at the Getty in LA a couple of weeks ago I picked up a copy of Symbols and Allegories in Art by Matilde Battistini.
I grew up being taken to the Prado in Madrid which houses a fine collection of Renaissance Flemish and Italian art and managed to pick up along the way a lot of the Christian iconography, but this book is a gem.
What today must be studied, memorized, and recognized with a definite “aha!” when spotted in a painting was taken for granted. Just as lot of the allusions in Shakespeare would have been caught by even the hoi polloi at the time. Now, they’re the sign of an elite education and culture.
It’s a bridge, though, between this world and that, and I’m looking forward to reading more. And looking.
7 September 05
Evening Fascinations
Screen-door dragonfly
Wings beating like shuffling cards
The cats paw and leap.
5 September 05
What I Can Do
There has been no shortage of pieces in blogland over the past week about Hurrricane Katrina, who screwed up, What This Says About America, who screwed up, white guilt, what it means to be poor (in general, but mostly in the United States), liberal guilt, rich guilt, and who screwed up.
Enough with the handwringing already.
I can
a) give money to Habitat for Humanity and Heifer International, programs which will help people long after the Red Cross has moved out
b) make it known in my dealings with folks I work with, or talk with, or stand next to at the grocery store, that I do not consider the word “looter” an acceptable synonym for “African American.”
c) put pressure on my elected officials to ask hard questions, and not relent until they’ve been answered. They need to ask some easy questions too, like when is Mr. Brown going to get fired from FEMA.
d) seriously examine my lifestyle and curtail the ways in which it is wasteful, unmindful, unthinking. The ways in which it might, with or without my knowledge, exploit others. Focus on low impact environmentally, high impact socially. This will take some time.
e) offer to make it easy for someone whose skills might be put to good use in hurricane relief efforts to get there, like looking after their pets. UC Davis is giving employees who wish to volunteer paid leave. I think this is laudable and I’d like to support it however I can.
f) support community efforts on the ground to rebuild New Orleans and surrounding areas according to the needs of the people who live there, rather than according to the wishes of the government, developers or speculators, corrupt officials, and the rest of the corporate looting mob.
I’m still thinking, but this is a start.
4 September 05
This Must Be A Sign
Though I’m not sure of what.
Yesterday I took a walk west out the Putah Creek levee. After passing under the freeway, I found some scattered pages torn out of a book. I picked these up and read—it was Candide.
3 September 05
Velveteen
During Passover this year we went to a seder at a friend’s house. She used a haggadah—a prayer rite, said throughout the course of long meal—put together by a blogger who has long been on our blogroll, Rachel (Velveteen Rabbi). Only she’s not really a rabbi—yet.
Rachel has just been accepted for rabbinic study, a feat in itself and a huge challenge for the future. It is a delight to read about this journey by someone so intelligent, so committed to the paths of understanding of different faiths, so willing to share her own experience.
Mazel tov, Rachel.