Kale and butternut squash and red onions

Before

And after

It's good, but since I will be taking this to work every day for lunch, I think that by the end of the week I will have had my fill for a few months. I'll be ready to make it again next fall.

Odd angles of the kitchen

Prehistoric hug

This story should have come out on Valentine's Day.

Cashew chicken

Prep

And the final product. Neil tells me that Rolling Rock is the preferred beer of local jazz musicians, so I managed to get the latest CD by one of our finest local jazz guitarists into the montage.

He has entered the fabled Odin-sleep.

The Comics Curmudgeon is good today (like most days).

About 25 years ago

My daughter and younger son, Princeton, NJ

Show & Tell

This poem is for you, Miss Birnbaum, my once-upon-
a-time 4th-grade teacher, whom I shall never
never forget. Back in the fall of '49,
while the invincible Yankees, golden as ever,

were beating the worthy (but vincible) Red Sox
on the greendsward enclosure which the late Bart
Giamatti used to call our New World paradise,
back when the Russians had just ended the short-

lived U.S. hegemony created by those twin
phoenixes rising sublimely over Hiroshima
& Nagasaki, ending our invincibility by detonating
their own version of an H-bomb, and that a monster,

at that very moment, Levittown, Long Island
(that ex-potato-farm & homemade muddy eden
for all those GIs like my father as well as other
huddled masses living in  New York's superheated

flats and tenements) was still so new, it didn't
even have a school which at that particular instant
it could call its own. Those one-storied brick
& plastic wonders still lay in the "not-too-distant

& foreseeable future," like our wonder malls.
The answer was to bus us kids across the tracks,
over to your four-storied ancient redbrick school
in picturesque Old Bethpage, replete with its oaks

& maples out of Norman Rockwell. The leaves
then were in their autumn beauty, flame red
& flame gold. My imitation leather shoes squeaked
with every step I took across your sun-bled

dusty wooden floor. And when my sad pants
at last split up the back, you gathered three other
teachers, ladies like yourself, and made me
bend over in the courtyard, amid a smother

of giggles, to pick up stones for you,
my backside showing through the tear, much ah!
much to your delight, Miss B, until one woman
had the decency to call the torture

to a halt. And now that I am twice the age
you were back then, Miss B, now before the bell
dismisses both of us for good, I want to thank you,
especially for the morning ritual of Show & Tell.

Everyone did Show & Tell, you reassured me.
Everyone. Tomorrow it would be my turn, you said,
to do my Show & Tell. I worked hard that night,
sweating cold sweat to try & make a card.

Scissors, ribbon, old crayons, a piece of pretty paper,
Except at home we had no tape or glue & I knew
we had no money, then, for sure, for either
tape or glue. I even tried to make a home brew

of flour mixed with water, but the batter
wouldn't stick. Nothing stuck. Finally, I sewed
the goddamn thing together & made my card for you:
a red heart rampant on a piece of yellowed board

which, Miss B, I remember you holding at arm's length
between your thumb and forefinger, away from you,
and, before that class of strangers, asking why,
instead of sewing it, I hadn't simply glued

the thing together, the way any of the other
children would have done. I said nothing then,
or when I had to take the others' jeers
down on the playing field that noon, or even when

I got back home and hid, or at anytime since then,
except, Miss Birnbaum, the kid grew up the way
kids do. Eventually, the boy from the other side
of town even learned to read & write & say

things properlike, and make a proper bow.
And now, Miss B, though you may already be in hell
& I left speaking to a ghost, I have come back to try
and get it right this time. This is my Show & Tell.


Paul Mariani

If I only had a brain

Today was a two-movie day. We have suddenly turned into people who go to the movies, after a long time away from them. I'm not sure why this is, but it is so.

But first - we have crocuses blooming in the back yard, and tulips coming up in the front! In February!

First movie - The Artist. At a local art movie theater in Jenkintown. The kind of theater where you can become a member and volunteer to take tickets and do fundraising.

They have a nice little display of old ticket stubs from the mid-twenties that were discovered when a wall was taken down during some remodeling.

I liked The Artist a lot.  I didn't love it as much as James Lileks loved it. Here's a bit from his review:

In this film, both actors connect with the viewers in every scene on a visceral level from the moment we meet them: snap crackle shazam. The movie loves them: this is obvious from the start. The movie we are watching loves these people. It just glows out of every frame, and you can’t help agree.

That’s the genius; that’s the trick. Folks, I watch a lot of movies. It’s been years since I watched one I wanted to stop, rewind, and watch all over again.

Bonus: best supporinting actor isn't James Cromwell or John Goodman or Malcolm McDowell, but a dog.

Coming out of the movie, we noticed signs for a special showing later in the day of The Wizard of Oz. I had never seen it in a theater, and we decided to come back later - the movie would be shown in 35mm, and there would prizes for anyone who came in costume, and the audience was encouraged to sing along.

It was very nice to see Wizard in a theater. The costumed kids were cute.

And the young man dressed as The Scarecrow who emceed the costume contest and trivia contest did a nice job.

The theater showed a Tom and Jerry cartoon before the movie, which was a big hit with the audience.

I tried to take a few shots of the movie screen, but not very successfully.

A good time was had by all.



Some day

I keep meaning to take one of these. I will, some day.

Some day.

Maybe this one.

Avocado, Mushroom, and Peppadew Pizza

My husband makes the best pizza ever.

And I do appreciate it! Looking forward to a nice three-day weekend, to finishing grades for the third and final big assignment in the online class I'm teaching, and to the MOVIES.

Good day, sunshine

The sky was ablaze in the east this morning.

And in the reflection in our picture window.

And in the dining room window.

And I was feeling rather sunny myself; this is the week my promotion at work comes through as a little more money in the paycheck. Good morning!

Academe was so slow to produce this research because it told the world things that those in academe would rather the world didn't know.

Alarming and interesting news about the value -- or lack of value -- of a college education.

The conclusion reached by The Chronicle: "American higher education is characterized by limited or no learning for a large proportion of students."

And they are taking on massive amounts of debt to pay for this . . . . nothing.

It's no secret that many people are predicting that large numbers of colleges will close shop in the next 10-20 years.

This will be interesting.

How cool is this photo of the main building of the University of Iceland, though?



Photo courtesy vestman at Flickr Creative Commons

Woik!

Yikes, I was busy at work today. And wow, is that ever satisfying. Two of the highlights were:

Final approval of the video we have been working on for months.

Set-up of a special mailbox and successful mailing to about 600 deans.

During my lunch hour, I posted an announcement for the online class I'm teaching, which is one of the main ways I communicate with the class. It's hard to explain how much I want those students to succeed.

Got home, made dinner, and checked email. Offered a different class for the spring semester - just when I was getting totally comfortable with this one! Aaargh. I guess it's not good to be too comfortable.

And . . . . hoping to have some additional good job news soon.

Two quotations about literature

“In literature, as in love, we are astonished at what is chosen by others.” — André Maurois



“The central function of imaginative literature is to make you realize that other people act on moral convictions different from your own.” — William Empson

Soup and snow

Aaaaaand another weekend comes to an end.

This was a busy one for me, since we had houseguests and I did a bit of cooking.

I roasted vegetables to make stock for a thick vegetable soup. Here they are ready to roast.

After roasting they were simmered for quite a while in water (with some added herbs).

Then the stock was strained and cooled. The next day it became the base for a lovely soup.

Soup is a lovely thing in any season, but particularly on a wintry day. We had a little more snow, just enough to make things pretty outside, in the back yard

and the front.

And even my old nemesis, the huge tree at the edge of the driveway that should be taken down, looked quite enchanting dusted with snow.

I graded lots of papers, too. Good weekend.

Your heart walking around outside your body

Many, many congratulations to my Illinois friend, who is once again a happy grandmother.

And now I'm stealing a photo from her blog.

"Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." Elizabeth Stone

A touch of snow last night

Just a touch. This has been a warm winter.

Here are the tomato planters from last summer.

Kind of pretty. It was all melted by the time I got home from work. When will we have real snow?

My Superbowl post

So we woke up on Sunday planning to go to the Museum of Art, and discovered the Neil had a huge blister on his foot. (My broken toe is fine, by the way - but we seem to be switching off on foot problems.)

So we decided to have a cup of coffee and some oatmeal and drive home. Van Gogh will still be here in March.

Oh - and since the closest, cheapest place for breakfast was Krispy Kreme, I did have a doughnut - woo hoo. Haven't had a Krispy Kreme doughnut in years (and it will likely be even more years before I have another).

And I admired the Superbowl doughnuts.

It was probably just as well that we went home a few hours early - the rest of the day was spent grading papers and getting ready to submit midterm grades for my online class.

I want to do well by these students - I admire them very much.

An evening with Bach, Shostakovich, Rimsky-Korsakov, and tacos

Two concerts, continued.

So, after saying good-by to our Perch Pub companions, we walked over to the Kimmel Center. We had purchased tickets in the conductor's circle, above and behind the orchestra. We've never heard a concert from that spot before, and wondered what it would be like. The tickets are a little cheaper than in most other spots, so we thought perhaps the seats might not be so good.

It was spectacular.

Well, Verizon Hall itself is so spectacular. But what a view from behind the orchestra! The hall is designed to make you feel as though you are inside a cello.

When I got back home I used the zoom feature of the camera to get a better look at the score.

The first piece was Bach's Chaconne. It was so much fun to see the conductor, Nicola Luisotti, up close. This was his debut with the Philadelphia Orchestra. He is music director of the San Francisco Opera and principal guest conductor at the Tokyo Symphony. He is amazingly expressive and emotional while conducting. And - don't take this the wrong way -- I couldn't help but think of Bugs Bunny emoting while conducting.

Maestro Luisotti was so energetic he did almost levitate, like Bugs.

Then came the big event of the evening, Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg. She grew up not far from Philadelphia, in Cherry Hill, and is a hometown talent, since she attended the Curtis Institute.

And in spite of being a world-famous musician, she is very down to earth. But not when she is playing. Then she soars, and she soared at the Kimmel Center, playing Shostakovich's Violin Concerto No. 1, her signature piece.

The audience was very, very appreciative. There was an intermission, and then Rimsky-Korsakov's Sheherazade, one of the most enjoyable pieces in the repertoire.

Again, the audience was extremely appreciative. I think this was both because the performance was wonderful and because the Philadelphia Orchestra has been having a very publicly bad year, with recent talk of bankruptcy and losing pension funds, etc.

The naked women in the lobby do not seem to be concerned - perhaps a bit bemused.

And then out on the street and back to Perch Pub for the second time that night, this time for dinner.

I had the pork tacos.

The couple sitting to my left had just returned from the evening performance of Rain, and we chatted with them about the Beatles, shows we had seen, Philadelphia, and the economy.

Back on the street at midnight, walking to the hotel. The streets were comfortably crowded at that hour - not so crowded that it was difficult to walk, but not so deserted that it seemed scary.

Also, the bus stops on Chestnut, which look pretty good during the day, look even better illuminated by night time street lights.

Our plan was to get up in the morning and go to the Museum of Art to see the Van Gogh exhibit, but other events intervened.

To be continued.

Scrambled eggs

Yesterday was the day of two concerts, two trips to Perch Pub, conversations with four strangers, and staying up past midnight (which is unusual for me).

First concert - Rain, the Beatles tribute band, at the Academy of Music.

I knew the answer to this bit of trivia:

The show was very, very good -- not least because I found myself watching through tears at a few points, just being reminded of that time so long ago.

After the show (a 2:00 pm matinee), we walked down Broad Street.

Then we checked in to the hotel. (This overnight stay in the city is a Christmas gift from my son - very thoughtful!)

The hotel is Club Quarters, a very nice downtown location aimed mainly at business travelers. It's the only time I've stayed at a hotel with a little (very little) library of reference works in the room.

I'm sure the books are just for show. I don't think there is a businessperson in the country who is not already familiar with the Stephen Covey books, and who needs the reference works when you have a laptop or iPad or smartphone?

Before the next concert, we went to the Perch Pub for a drink. This is the restaurant I have mentioned before, because they served the best martini in the world.

We met a very nice couple and talked to them for about an hour. Chris (actually, his name is Krishna, but he has Americanized it) was born in Malaysia, she in the US. He has a really fascinating point of view - he is a Hindu, believes in reincarnation (and that this world may be hell), is a conservative Republican who is angry with George Bush about the war in Iraq, and both he and she are great people to talk to in a bar!

Oh - and they were on their way to see Rain, the concert we had just seen. But this will be their third time seeing it - they have also seen it twice in New York City. Seems the Beatles were just as popular in Malaysia as everywhere else, and Chris grew up with the Beatles just like we did.

We headed back down Broad Street for the Kimmel Center. Broad Street south of City Hall is lined with theaters and other venues, which is why it is called the Avenue of the Arts.

And so on to the second concert of the day. To be continued.