My daughter is picking violets and daffodils to bring to a funeral for four dearly departed brine shrimp named Fred, Fred, Fred and Fred, respectively, until recently the darling pets of her schoolmate. She's also prepared a carefully monogrammed cardboard gravestone bearing the following epitaph:
"R.I.P. Fred, Fred, Fred & Fred. Though their lives were short, their love was powerful.
b. 2010
d. 2010
Fred 1,2,3, & 4, we will miss you."
Burial will take place tomorrow at the big tree on the playground, at recess. All the mourners are planning on wearing black, and will listen to funeral music from the chief mourner's iPod.
For anyone who's been wondering about the whereabouts and welfare of Kathy'sWindy, fret no more because I think we found her. We just ran into her on a trip to Israel, where she's been hanging out at a military memorial. She sends her love and reminds everyone that cacti are ouchy.
1/2 cup packed fresh mint 1/2 cup packed fresh parsley
1/3 cup packed fresh basil
2 garlic cloves, chopped
2 scallions, white and green parts, sliced
1 1/2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
Pinch kosher salt, more to taste
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
1/2 cup Greek yogurt
1/4 cup mayonnaise, optional
Raw chopped vegetables or pita chips, for serving.
1. Place dill, mint, parsley, basil, garlic, scallions, lemon juice and salt in a food processor and process until finely chopped.
2. With motor running, drizzle in the olive oil until incorporated. Add feta and process until smooth; pulse in yogurt. Taste dip and add more salt, if desired. If you like a creamier, richer dip, add mayonnaise and pulse to combine.
3. Serve dip immediately with vegetables or pita chips or cover and store in refrigerator for up to 3 days.
Thanks to encouragement from Roger Ebert, I frequently blight my own movie-watching experience by tabulating movie cliches. For example, take the Seeing-Eye Man:
"Function performed by most men in Hollywood feature films. Involves a series of shots in which (1) the man sees something, (2) he points it out to the woman, (3) she then sees it too, often nodding in agreement, gratitude, amusement, or relief."
Or the Hot Justice Syndrome:
"All trials that are held south of the Mason-Dixon line take place during the summer in a non-air-conditioned courtroom filled with people airing themselves with fans from a funeral home. Heroic lawyer always mops neck with big white handkerchief. Slimy defense attorney never sweats."
Now very many (but not all) of these painful cliches have been incorporated into this video, which I found at Urlesque, a charming site that allows me to waste more time each day than I ever thought possible. The video was created by BriTANick, two guys who:
"decided that they didn’t want to use the knowledge and experience they garnered in college for anything but creating short stupid videos that would make them laugh."
But wait -- I have one more cliche, which I'm sure will be added to Academy Award Winning Movie Trailer, Part II.
You know a scene occurs at a school because, as the scene opens on the inevitably picturesque multi-story brick building from the 1920s or earlier, the bell will always ring.
Have a movie cliche you'd like to see memorialized? Lay it on me.
Remember the 2010 Winter Olympics, where Lindsay Vonn fell out of bed, cut herself shaving, slipped on a banana peel, took a wrong turn, missed the bus and fell off her bicycle, bloodying both her knees in the process and laying her up in the ski lodge with huge packs of frozen peas and a mug of hot buttered rum? or something like that?
And remember how the weather was all wet and cloudy and foggy and misty and drippy and slushy so our regularly scheduled skiing could not take place as planned? And remember how Lindsay had a couple of days to rest up and actually won one or two medals?
Well, the weather gods used up all their goodwill on Lindsay (like she needed more medals), and therefore had nothing left in their arsenal to favor me and my family, as we packed bags and bags and bags for a family trip to somewhere (have you guessed yet?) over Spring Break.
My trip preparations always include getting the house into better order than it's normally in when we're at home (strangely ironic, isn't it? Like when you're getting your house ready to put on the market and you have everything painted and repaired and updated that you haven't bothered to paint or repair or update in all the time you've lived there). As soon as we get up we load every shred of clothing into the washer and manage to squeak it into the dryer before leaving the house. Sinks are clear, dishes are run through the dishwasher, trash and recycling are emptied, refrigerator is empty, kitchen table and counters are swept clean, furniture is in place, shoes are in closets. We return to a house that's tidy and welcoming, until we dump our clothes, bags and souvenirs in the laundry room and start the cycle again. It's a lot of work and I always pine wistfully for one more day to get ready, but that never happens.
Until yesterday.
The flight to Newark was delayed two hours. Then another two hours. And another two. Trees and power lines fell, streets flooded, winds blew at up to 75 miles per hour, which qualified them as Category 1 hurricane strength. The flight was canceled. Then the airport closed.
And there we were, ten of us, at the airport for going on six hours, with all our bags and snacks and magazines and iPods and we're all like: "Never mind."
So we did everything in reverse: reclaimed luggage that had been checked and weighed and xrayed; rode home in cabs driving backwards the whole way; turned on the heat and off all the lights we'd left on at home to fool potential burglars into believing there really was someone in the house.
You try rescheduling travel arrangements for 10 people over Spring Break, flying through the East Coast when the entire eastern seaboard is inundated with rain and winds and flying tree limbs and falling houses. Go ahead -- just try. I guarantee you'll still be on the phone 24 hours later (thanks Dad). As it is, we're flying out (maybe) Monday morning at 6:20 am, which means getting to the airport by 4:30 am, which means getting up at some time with a 3 in it, which I usually do only if I have to go to the bathroom. Meanwhile, there are dishes on the sink and clothes in the hampers, that will all still be there when we return home.
So -- that extra day to make sure everything's ready? So not worth it.
I'm out of the office out of the country out of touch with reality for the next ten days or so. Anyone want to hazard a guess as to where I'm going? And Linda, no fair telling because you already know.
Making personalized calendars even more personal with the addition of memorable dates; here are some for March
FeeFiFoto was one of the first web sites to offer a service for customers to upload photographs, design, create and edit their own customized calendars. This was a vast improvement over relying on Kinko's to:
miss some knuckleheaded mistake requiring them to rerun the entire project
repeat until you finally gave up because you were tired of driving to Kinko's
Creating your own photo calendars online is so easy that you could make a different design for each recipient, leaving out the birthdays of yucky in-laws on calendars for all other relatives.
You want your personalized calendar to be such an entertaining memento that the reader not only will keep it but will refer to it over and over just for its entertainment value? We're making that part easy too.
Did you know March 20 is Festival Of Extraterrestrial Abductions Day? How could you not make this special event a centerpiece of your annual gift calendar?
See below for other interesting March dates:
March
1
National Pig Day Peanut Butter Lover's Day Harry Caray, b. 1914
2
Old Stuff Day Dr. Seuss, b. 1904
3
I Want You To Be Happy Day Peach Blossom Day National Anthem Day Alexander Graham Bell, b. 1847
4
Holy Experiment Day Knute Rockne, b. 1888 Antonio Vivaldi, b. 1678
5
Multiple Personalities Day
Shouldn't multiple personalities be entitled to more than one day?
6
National Frozen Food Day Lou Costello, b. 1906
7
National Crown Roast Of Pork Day Maurice Ravel, b. 1875
Defrost your crown roast on the 6th; see above
8
Be Nasty Day
9
Panic Day Amerigo Vespucci, b. 1454
10
Festival Of Life In The Cracks Day
11
Johnny Appleseed Day Worship Of Tools Day Ralph Abernathy, b. 1926
I know I have talents. I know I have abilities (but probably not far beyond those of mortal men). I'm a decent writer; for example, I know not to use a preposition to end a sentence with. I can knit. I can cook pretty well, and even better if I pay attention. What's more, I can sometimes make people laugh, even without having to slip on a patch of grease on the floor.
But -- as much as it distresses me, I cannot produce these or anything like them:
I love design magazines and blogs; these logos and more came from webdesignledger.com
Can you produce anything like them? If so, don't tell me because it'll just make me feel sad and inadequate.
Many commentators agree that the Number 1 advertising campaign of the 20th century
was Doyle Dane Bernbach's Think Small campaign for Volkswagen, begun in 1959. Advertising Age describes this campaign as "a watershed, discernibly changing the culture of advertising or the popular culture as a whole." Think Small is cited regularly by advertising analysts for its simplicity, minimalism and cleverness, which defied generally accepted standards of the time that ads should be packed with words, garish images and exhortations to consume conspicuously. It's difficult to reproduce the print ads in a blog so as to make them readable, so click here for an excellent article about the VW ad campaign.
I remember these ads. My mother, a former advertising copywriter, still raves about their creativity and innovation. The ads were lovable and they made the VW Beetle lovable too. I've always had a soft spot in my heart for VW Beetles because of the understated cleverness of the Think Small campaign.
But lately I'm beginning to question my affection for VW, precisely because of their advertising. Specifically, I'm starting to hate this commercial that appeared during this year's Super Bowl:
Want to know why?
Because ever since this ad appeared, my kids insist on punching me, or each other, in the arm whenever they see a VW.
When a Jewish boy becomes a Bar Mitzvah, he usually wears a yarmulke and a tallit during the service. A yarmulke is a skullcap worn mostly by Jewish men, although some women do choose to wear them.
The Pope wears one too, but I'm fairly certain he's not Jewish.
There's no specific law or commandment requiring Jews to cover their heads; rather, Jews who choose to wear yarmulkes wear them as a continuous reminder to respect G-d. As Jews we're all about respecting G-d. Respecting G-d is the basis for everything we do. That, and food. We Jews are also all about food.
A tallit (or tallis) is a four-cornered garment with precisely knotted fringes attached to each corner. Jewish men (and some women) wear tallit in fulfillment of the commandment to wear fringes at the edges of garments as a reminder of the 613 mitzvot (laws or commandments) Jews are required to follow throughout each day and year. You might ask yourself, Why are there 613 mitzvot?
Look! A squirrel!!!
Generally the mitzvot make a lot of sense. There are commandments to love other Jews and not to hate them (two separate commandments; guess this concept is important), not to be superstitious (yeah, tell that to my grandma), and not to muzzle an ox while plowing.
I have to wonder why the prohibition against murder doesn't appear until #482. I thought this one would be important enough to show up in the Top Ten.
What? Shut up.
In the olden days, when my mother was attending high school with Julius Caesar (thank G-d my mother doesn't read this blog), most garments consisted of large squares roughly the size and shape of bed sheets, so it wasn't difficult to attach fringes to the corners. These days finding an appropriate way to place fringes on men's clothing is a bit more challenging, unless you had this in mind:
I love this coat. I might even dream about this coat.
In cases where it might not be suitable to wear the knee-length indigo denim masterpiece, men can wear tallit.
So why am I bothering telling you this?
Because I made this for Robespierre:
It's his own personal tallit. For his impending Bar Mitzvah.
This was supposed to be the back but Robey likes it as the front.
His tallit, his choice.
I knitted it. Each row contains 300 stitches, so if you multiply that by the number of rows you come up with somewhere in the neighborhood of eleventy-billion stitches. In fact, I enjoyed making it so much that I made it twice. From start to finish. Because the first time the edges came out curly and it looked girly* so I tore it apart and started allllll over. I had a rabbi tie the fringes but I didn't want to put it on the floor with the fringes to take pictures of it, so these are the BEFORE shots.
I'm pretty proud of it, and of Robespierre. It looks great on him and I know he'll do it justice when he reads from the Torah in June.
Soon I have to start knitting one for Cupcake. Hers will have pink.
*Why isn't girly in my dictionary? Spellcheck wanted girdle or Giraldo.
