verbatim

Friday iPod Random Ten

1. Louisiana 1927 - Randy Newman
2. Moon Song - Emmylou Harris
3. This Is Radio Clash - The Clash
4. Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
5. Jailhouse Tears - Lucinda Williams
6. An American in Paris - Leonard Bernstein; New York Philharmonic Orchestra
7. Corpus Christi Bay - Todd Snider
8. Murder in the City - The Avett Brothers
9. Tennessee Jed - Levon Helm
10. This Tornado Loves You - Neko Case

Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?

Here's my favorite Twitter exchange from today:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hi Mom!

Things my mom does when she and my dad visit:

1. Bring me dark chocolate in a bag so the kids won't see it.
2. Patiently quiz Julie on all 50 state capitals (since I have already done it 64 skytrillion times this week).
3. Watch Pete give an encore performance of a presentation he did at school in June.
4. Eat with great enthusiasm everything I prepared for cocktail hour and dinner.
5. Help clean up.

Connecting

Whenever I speak to someone who doesn't "get" Twitter (or blogging, or the Internet Tubes in general), they always seem to focus on "all those people you don't even know." Well, I'm here to say that I know some of them better than people I see every day, and vice-versa. There are certain times when I try a recipe, hear a song, read an article, see a photo, etc., and the first person I think of to share it with is one of my cyberpals. And that's because I hang with a much more diverse crowd online than I do in real life. Editors! Folk music junkies! Adventurous home cooks! You name it, I know someone who "specializes" in it.

As you know, I'm focusing these days on drumming up some new business. It's tough out there! But time and again, "all these people I don't know" are coming through for me. Just tonight, I got an email from someone I'd contacted via a dear cyberpal. Based on that "in," this person is already planning to hire me when the next suitable project comes along!

But wait, it gets better. It turns out that I will need a particular piece of software that I don't have. I figured I'd have to bite the bullet and spend the $300, hoping all the while that this gig would indeed pan out and become lucrative. But I first asked on Twitter whether there was by any chance a "lite" version available for free, or any other way around this expense. Well, sure enough, a minute later another cyberpal said that he owns the software but doesn't need it (meaning he hasn't used up the license), so he'll give it to me! Just like that! He's uploading it to his server for me right now.

This sort of thing happens over and over again, in terms of both professional networking and personal enrichment. I would have an emptier life indeed without the many connections I've made online.

Cowpunks

The last two CDs I bought both feature country music written and performed by former punk rockers. And I love both of them! You know I can't get enough of what's often called "alt.country" music—it's roots/Americana with an edge, or punk with a twang.

I'm a huge fan of Elvis Costello's 1981 CD "Almost Blue" (re-mastered and re-released in 2004 with many additions that make it worth the re-purchase). It originally came with the label, "WARNING: This album contains country & western music and may produce radical reaction in narrow-minded people!" Indeed, Elvis had written at least one of the songs to be included on his debut, "My Aim Is True," but his producers wouldn't include it because it was "too country." There are many gems there, including live performances with George Jones ("Stranger in the House") and Johnny Cash ("We Oughta Be Ashamed").

Now Elvis has come out with "Secret, Profane, and Sugarcane," which was produced by T-Bone Burnett and features some of my favorite country/bluegrass musicians, like Jerry Douglas and Stuart Duncan. It includes mostly original songs, including two Elvis wrote for Johnny Cash (one of which Cash recorded) and one co-written with Loretta Lynn. So far I'm loving it, and I also really enjoyed this interview with Scott Simon last month.

The other CD, "Country Club," is by John Doe (of X fame) and the Sadies (Neko Case's band of choice when she's on tour). Doe has the most heavenly voice, and it just works so well with this kind of music. I can't stop listening to this CD. I got a huge kick out his "Fresh Air" interview in May; Terry Gross was just about as giddy as I've ever heard her that John Doe and the Sadies were in the studio performing and chatting with her for an hour. It's really worth a listen.

A Blog About Nothing

I said to Andy earlier tonight, "I haven't blogged yet today, and I don't have a topic in mind." He suggested that I not impose this strict schedule on myself—why blog every single day if you don't have something to say? The thing is, usually I do have something to say. And sometimes I think I don't have much to say, but I say it anyhow, and I get a few comments (or even one) thanking me for that post, or asking me a follow-up question, or leaving a well-thought-out response. Whereas other times, when I carefully plan what I'm going to say and expect to spark a spirited discussion ... nothing. So who am I to deprive my readers of my wit and wisdom just because I can't think of a compelling topic?

But, more importantly, I like the self-discipline of knowing that I have to write something every day. If I allowed myself to say, "Well, this is only the germ of an idea; I'll hold off," then I fear I would never post anything! The perfectionist in me would instead labor over every post and fail to feel satisfied with each draft.

So, as I mentally compose a few meatier posts, today you just get this report on my (cyber-)navel-gazing.

Mail Call

One of my favorite things about having Steph away at camp is that it gives me a reason to look forward to my daily visit from Patty, our letter carrier. I mean, I look forward to it all year 'round, but I'm just about always disappointed. Besides my New Yorker magazines, it's mostly just bills (and not even that many anymore, since I do most of that stuff online) and direct-mail marketing crap. But it's so ingrained in me to leap from my seat when I hear the mail drop through the slot in the door that, even after all these years, I still get excited to see what might await me. In the old days, there were letters and cards, and even catalogs were more interesting in the pre-Internet era.

But, when Steph goes away, that thunk at my front door usually means a missive from camp! What was she doing three days ago, how was she feeling, did she get our letters? We get one pretty much every day, and more often two or more—she's a good letter-writer, that one. But last week we got nothing on Tuesday. Nothing on Wednesday. Nothing on Thursday! And then, for the first time in three summers at camp, on Friday we got a "I'm kind of homesick" letter. I'm not surprised—that whole business with the rabies shots was really disruptive, and of course she knows that now she's up there for the duration. I couldn't wait to get the mail on Saturday, hoping I'd see the usual, "Camp is so awesome!" but again, not a single letter came! And of course no mail today. So tomorrow I'm betting on a big stack, and I'm crossing my fingers for lots of smiley-faces and exclamation points.

As for me, I write to Steph every single day, regardless of whether I have any news or not. I remember all too well that getting mail at camp is the biggest deal—or, rather, not getting mail. One perk of this habit is that I get to use up that lifetime's supply of ugly notecards that people have given me over the years, plus those address labels sent to me unsolicited by charities (especially the ones with the Christmas trees on 'em, thanks so much!). I also send Steph a package every couple of weeks—no food, of course (not allowed!), but maybe some books and magazines, a new lip gloss or flip-flops, stationery, that sort of thing ... oh, and usually a pack of gum hidden in there somewhere.

I now believe that the pickup times listed on mailboxes are just vague guidelines. As Andy points out, how could so many mailboxes around town all be emptied at 5pm, or 5:30pm? Sometimes I race to my local mailbox at 4:55, and the mail truck is already driving away; other times the guy is just getting there at 5:10. It makes sense that these aren't rigid deadlines, but I still sort of imagine them that way, don't you?

iCamp, uCamp

Pete and a bunch of his buddies spent last week at iCamp. They each chose from a variety of projects to work on for the week, from designing a computer game to making a stop-motion animation video to creating a Lego robot and programming it to battle others (Pete chose that one, 'natch). He came home the first day with a look on his face that I couldn't quite decipher. I said, "How was it?" He looked at me and breathed, "AWESOME. EPIC AWESOME."

At lunch time every day (except Tuesday, when it rained) they walked to a nearby park and played long games of Capture the Flag and LARP (something like Live Action Role Playing) and other wicked cool stuff. Pete loved that.

Yesterday afternoon parents were invited to come in and watch a video showing the result of each kid's week-long project, and then a group video project they all worked on together. Each kid also got to take home a thumb drive containing both their individual project and the group project.

I don't think I'd want Pete to spend more than one summer week mostly inside in front of a computer or Lego bin, but it was a great way to spend that week. He's already talking about what project he wants to work on next year.

Friday iPod Random Ten - with Lyric Snippets

We haven't done this in a while, have we?

1. Feats Don't Fail Me Now (live) - Little Feat

Don't the sunrise look so pretty
Never such a sight
Like rollin' into New York City
With the skyline in the morning light 

2. I'm Your Toy (live) - Elvis Costello & The Attractions

He may feel all your charms
He may hold you in his arms
But I'm the one who let you in
I was right beside you then

3. Hurtin' Me, Hurtin' You - Steve Earle

I never, ever meant to be bad to you
I never meant to be cruel or untrue
I'm just hurtin' me when I'm hurtin' you

4. Radio King (live) - Jeff Tweedy

I'm still wondering
If I know who you are
I hang on every line

5. Will It Go Round in Circles (live) - Martin Sexton

I've got a story, ain't got no moral
Let the bad guy win every once in a while

6. Miss You - The Rolling Stones

I've been haunted in my sleep
You've been starring in my dreams
Lord I miss you

7. Crash into Me - Dave Matthews

Sweet like candy to my soul
Sweet you rock
And sweet you roll
Lost for you, I'm so lost for you

8. I'm Losing You - The Temptations

It's all over your face
Someone's taken my place
Ooh baby, I'm losing you

9. After It All - Cat Power

After it all, when it's said and done
Will you come back to me
And tell me that
It never was up to you or up to me

10. Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder (live) - Loudon Wainwright III

Things weren't easy when we were together
We had plenty of days of lousy weather
But now I'm in a hurricane

Miscellany

This is "art," apparently, which makes me realize that I don't know anything about art. It shows a woman in a huge bed that takes up an entire room. But anyhow, it reminds me of a trip Andy and I took to Spain many years ago (long before kids). We stayed for a night or two in Madrid in a hotel that had such tiny rooms that when you opened the door, you had to immediately get on the bed. Then you could roll across to the other side of the bed and step off into the bathroom. There were some drawers and shelves set into the wall, but no floor was visible. You were either on the bed or in the bathroom. We still giggle about that.

You know the cartoon caption contest they have every week in the New Yorker? Well, it appears that I'm not the only one who thinks I am much cleverer than some of the winners. Check out some of Roger Ebert's losing submissions. (via Nancy—that's her blog)

Here's how Sarah Palin's resignation speech would have gone if she'd had a decent editor. (also via Nancy—that's her Twitter page)

Remember I told you about all the cases of the flu at Steph's camp? Check out this article from the Times. (For the record, her camp is in New Hampshire, not Maine.)

I'm not surprised that Jon Stewart is still considered America's most trusted newscaster.

There was a fun meme circulating on Twitter today: "Things I Learned from Movies." Mine was "If a guy's been shooting at you for two hours and finally corners you, fear not: He'll stop to talk it out first."

Scrubbed Down

Back in April, one of my birthday gifts from Andy was a spa gift certificate. Andy knows that I rarely treat myself to such luxuries, but he also knows that I do occasionally enjoy them. I used part of it to get a bikini wax when swimsuit weather finally rolled around, but he reiterated that I was supposed to use it for something relaxing and enjoyable. (How does he know that having hot wax poured on your upper thighs and then getting your hair ripped out by the roots isn't fun?) I had my eye on one particular treatment, an aromatherapy salt-glow body scrub, but I still couldn't bring myself to make the appointment. Then, I got an email saying that that very treatment was being discounted 30% just for July, so I knew I had to do it.

It was great. First they exfoliate you from shoulders to toes with a pleasant-smelling salty-oily mixture, applied with scratchy loofah gloves. Then they wipe it all off with hot, damp towels and apply moisturizing lotion. It was very relaxing, and my skin feels really soft now.

I Blog with Integrity

As my regular readers know, now and then someone (usually the lovely ladies over at Mom Central) offers to send me a product to try out and review here on Verbatim. Often the product is compensation enough (as when I get a free Nintendo game for Pete); sometimes I'm also given an Amazon gift card (if, for instance, I'm asked to review a free service or website, or I'm given a smaller item, such as a sample of a cleaning product). I always let you know when I'm being paid to do a review, and I never, ever let my compensation sway my published opinion. I haven't yet had to post anything truly negative, but I have been honest when my kids didn't like the new cereal or found the game boring. When I'm asked to review something I know I have no interest in, I simply decline to participate. It's not that I won't post a negative review, just that no one is helped by a "review" such as "I don't buy anything containing high-fructose corn syrup, so I think this is an awful product."

Many bloggers also have advertising on their blog, and these ads pay out either via page-load counts or on a per-click basis, but I don't think that's news to anyone out there. (I don't happen to carry ads on my blog, but I don't have a problem with those who do.) Someone might complain that ads are distracting or annoying or unattractive, but surely one can't fault a blogger for trying to earn a living.

Recently "mommy bloggers" have been unfairly targeted by others in the media for this system of compensated review. I say unfairly because we as a group have been portrayed as spineless sell-outs. I suppose there are some out there who will give a positive review to anything they get for free, but they represent a tiny minority—and I have to believe that most readers are savvy enough to figure out who's who. I mean, would you rather read a blog that consists of only glowing raves or one that presents balanced, well-thought-out reviews?

Moreover, journalists have pretty much always received compensation (beyond a salary) for doing reviews and feature articles. They get sent on trips, they receive armloads of swag, they accept free meals and party invitations, and of course they are given products to review. A good journalist—like a good blogger—should recognize and avoid a potential conflict of interest. It becomes pretty obvious when someone is simply a walking-talking(-typing) infomercial. But it's the bloggers who have been taking the heat lately.

Enter Blog with Integrity, the brainchild of some bloggers who were tired of—and angry about—being criticized for receiving compensation for their work. See that new blue badge in my sidebar? It signifies that I have taken the Blog with Integrity pledge:

By displaying the Blog with Integrity badge or signing the pledge, I assert that the trust of my readers and the blogging community is important to me.

I treat others respectfully, attacking ideas and not people. I also welcome respectful disagreement with my own ideas.

I believe in intellectual property rights, providing links, citing sources, and crediting inspiration where appropriate.

I disclose my material relationships, policies and business practices. My readers will know the difference between editorial, advertorial, and advertising, should I choose to have it. If I do sponsored or paid posts, they are clearly marked.

When collaborating with marketers and PR professionals, I handle myself professionally and abide by basic journalistic standards.

I always present my honest opinions to the best of my ability.

I own my words. Even if I occasionally have to eat them.

If you're a blogger, you can sign the pledge here, get your own badge here, and see the growing list of bloggers who have signed here.

Further Confusion

Remember when I confessed that I can never keep track of which half of the year is Daylight Savings Time and which is Standard Time? And that whole business with wide-screen versus full-screen DVDs? Well, here's another mixup to add to that category, courtesy of my Honda's dashboard:

In the bottom right, which icon represents the front windshield and which the back? Neither of my windshields is tapered at the bottom and wide at the top; they both are are mostly rectangular. (And the orange versus white? No help.) I generally end up just pressing both and hoping for the best defrosting-wise.

Need an Editor?

I don't know if I've mentioned it, but my editorial clients are dropping like flies. It used to be the case that I occasionally had to turn away projects; in the leanest of times, I'd just have to make a couple of phone calls or send an email and I'd have work on my desk. Not anymore—especially in traditional book publishing. Publishers are cutting back on their lists, skipping entire production stages, doing everything in-house, or just plain going belly-up.

Last week I got an email from the managing editor at the only publishing house that sends me cookbook manuscripts to say that her position had been eliminated and she'd be leaving at the end of the summer! She told me who my new contact there would be but warned that they were drastically reducing their list for next year.

As much as I despise networking—and have almost no experience with it since I've never had to do it—I finally joined LinkedIn. I'd been ignoring invitations to "connect" with others for years, but so far it's not as awful as I imagined. Indeed, I can already tell that I prefer it to Facebook (but not to my beloved Twitter). I've joined a few groups there, including publishing types, freelancers, editors, and Wesleyan alumni. I haven't exactly figured out how the whole thing works, but I'll get there. In the meantime, if you wish to "connect" with me, here's my profile, which is still under construction.

Several friends and colleagues have forwarded promising leads to me, and I guess it's time I also started doing some of the dreaded cold-calling (and cold-emailing). I'm not very good at self-promotion, and I really didn't expect to have to be doing it at this point in my career, mais c'est la vie. Oh, and I'm also considering branching out beyond my comfort zone—for instance, I currently write just for fun, but perhaps someone would pay me to do it? You never know.

A Poet in the Air

Last night we watched "Man on Wire," the documentary about Philippe Petit, the man who, in 1974, rigged a cable between the World Trade Center towers and walked across it—eight times. And danced, and ran, and knelt, and lay down, and juggled.

Somehow there was a lot of old footage available of Petit and his pals orchestrating the event, which was no small feat. Petit first heard of the plans for the WTC many years before ground was even broken and knew in his heart that they were being "built for him." It took many years and much scheming to figure out how to gain access to the rooftop with all their equipment, and how to get the cable across the 200-foot span of sky. The old footage is interspersed with modern reenactments and interviews with Petit and his accomplices.

Half the time you're thinking that Petit is a complete and utter idiot to attempt such a thing, and the other half you're admiring him for his passion and commitment to fulfilling his dream. All in all, it was a breathtakingly foolhardy stunt and a magnificent achievement.

Regardless of whether you've seen the film, I recommend that you listen to this brief interview from last February, when Scott Simon talked to Petit after "Man on Wire" won the Oscar for Best Documentary.

Early on in the film, there's footage of lots of workers on the site of the WTC. I assumed it was the clearing of the wreckage after 9/11, but in fact it was the early stages of construction. I read Roger Ebert's review of this movie, and he initially thought the same thing. And he had this to say:

9/11 is not even mentioned in the film, which is the right decision, I think. "Man on Wire" is about the vanquishing of the towers by bravery and joy, not by terrorism.

I have to agree. As bloomsday16 said on Twitter, the movie was "like a love letter to the Twin Towers."

Home Sweet Home—Until Tomorrow

Steph has so far today: gone shopping for a few new tops at Marshall's and some needed items at CVS, visited with her grandparents, watched a few innings of the Sox game, had Bill's Pizza and J.P. Licks ice cream, taken a very long shower, fooled around on the computer, gotten all the photos on one disposable camera printed, and is now watching the Simpsons. Not a bad break from camp, eh?

She looks and feels great. Camp just agrees with her. So, as much as it feels right to have her home, I'll be happy to drop her off again tomorrow so she can continue to thrive there.

Furlough

Tomorrow's the big day: Visiting Day at Steph's camp! Now, when I was at camp, your parents (and grandparents and younger siblings, if any) arrived bearing a huge cooler, a blanket, and even a few beach chairs. You ate a big picnic lunch of all your favorite (kosher) foods that you'd been pining after for a month, then we put on a show for all the families, and we walked around the camp showing off the tennis courts, arts & crafts cabin, etc., and introducing all the families and friends and counselors to each other.

No more. Now you pick up your kid at noon and take them out of camp until 4pm! But where do you go? Apparently, the mall, where you eat at Bertucci's and then wander around for a couple of hours and smile at all the other camp families wandering around. We, however, will drive straight home, because Steph is going to stay overnight so she can get her fifth and final rabies shot first thing Monday morning. Then we'll zoom her back up to camp before everyone leaves without her for an outing.

I assume she'll want either lunch or dinner at Bill's Pizza, a chance to see her grandparents, a long shower, an hour or so on the computer, and ... what else? I don't know. I feel bad that we have to disrupt her camp experience yet again, but I'll be glad to have her here with us for those few hours. And then she'll go back for a completely uninterrupted second half of camp.

For Pete's Sake

This was Pete's designated Week of Nothing. Julie started camp on Monday, but Pete doesn't start until next Monday (and hers ends a week earlier than his does, so she'll have her Week of Nothing in August).

We didn't do much this week, Pete and I. I wouldn't take him anywhere that Julie also wants to go (like the Museum of Science), because then I'd have to go again with her, which ends up costing a fortune—plus it's more fun when we do things like that together. I had originally promised to take him to see the second "Transformers" movie, but that was because I accidentally typed in "Terminator 2" instead of "Transformers 2" when I checked the reviews, and it seemed OK. In fact, the "Transformers" movie is reported to be extremely scary and gory and violent (more so than the first one, which Andy took Pete to), and also contains a great deal of inappropriate sexual material. So once I got that straightened out, forget it. And there were no other movies playing that he wanted to see. None. On top of all that, I had work to do.

So Monday Pete went into Charlestown with me and played on the computer while I reconciled the month's bank statements. Tuesday we ran a ton of errands (Staples, Trader Joe's, etc.). Wednesday he had a long playdate with a friend who just got back from vacation. Thursday and Friday ... we did nothing much. He watched some TV, he ran around outside, he played on the computer, he read, and he started making two decks of trading cards, one medieval and one futuristic, each with more intricately drawn weaponry than the last. For some reason he declined to go to the pool with me even once.

But you know what? I don't feel bad about it, not one bit. Nowhere in the instruction manual I got with my kids does it say that they have to be kept entertained every minute of every day. I don't want my kids to expect to have something interesting and fun planned every day, or else they'll be disappointed and at a loss as to how to occupy themselves. Pete didn't complain at all this week, and indeed I think he appreciated having a nice long stretch of downtime for a change.

Friday iPod Random Ten

Hey, no one noticed that I forgot to do this last Friday?! Well, I guess I've only been doing it every Friday for more than five years....

1. Happy - The Rolling Stones
2. Late in the Evening - Paul Simon
3. Chained to the Couch - The Devil Makes
4. Hold On - Los Lobos
5. Let The Mystery Be - Iris Dement
6. If You Were the Woman (live) - John Prine & Cowboy Junkies
7. Faulkner Street - Hayes Carll
8. That's Right (You're Not From Texas) - Lyle Lovett
9. I Turn My Camera On - Spoon
10. Make Me a Pallet - David Bromberg

Car Talk

Remember a few weeks ago when I knocked the passenger-side mirror off my car? Well, then I noticed that the glove box door didn't shut properly, there was a piece of weatherstripping hanging off the back windshield, and the light behind the odometer hadn't been working for quite some time. So, I figured it was time for a service appointment. I also couldn't remember the last time I'd had the oil changed or any kind of maintenance (more than a year ago?), so it seemed like a good time.

The 70,000-mile service (including oil and whatever else they do) cost $200, plus another $70 for the wheel alignment and $125 for the power steering fluid flush. The replacement mirror (parts and labor) ended up costing $215. They fixed the glove box door and loose weatherstripping for free. They said that the odometer light is a pain in the neck to get at and ends up costing a fortune, so I declined that. They also said that I could really use new rear shocks (estimated cost $450) and new swaybar links and bushings (howzat? estimated cost $300), but I decided to hold off on those. Why? Because:

They strongly urged me to replace the timing belt. It usually goes after about 7 years, and my car is 8 years old. And when it "goes," you can very likely end up needing a whole new motor. Problem is, although the belt itself is only $50, they have to take apart the whole fricking engine to get at it. And, while they were in the neighborhood, it seemed like a good time to also replace the water pump, compressor belt, power steering pump belt, and something called an automatic adjuster, and flush the coolant. Parts = $410, labor = $700.

Oh, and while they were in there, they couldn't help noticing that two of my motor mounts were broken, to the tune of another $575 parts and labor.

Moving on. Compliance bushings? Shot. ($475) Exhaust heat shield? Kaput. ($240) Rear brakes? Gonzo. ($250) Tires? Fuhgeddaboudit. ($500)

I don't think it's even remotely coincidental that I now have a horrible headache and upset stomach.

Linkapalooza

1. Here are some fun photos of the Prez at last night's All-Star game.

2. Behold, the Michael Jackson Pantone Color Guide.

3. If you are a fan of both Neko Case and "Wait, Wait ... Don't Tell Me," then I hope you didn't miss last week's episode. Neko had to play "Not My Job" and answer questions about Necco wafers. She is really funny and was slinging Civil War jokes left and right. And I liked the way she described her genre of music: "Modern-Independent-Loud." (I also enjoyed Robert Earl Keen's appearance for the same segment back in May.)

4. If you're reading Infinite Jest, you'll appreciate this Flickr set of photos taken in and around Boston, each accompanied by a corresponding quote from the book.

5. I've become a wee bit hooked on this video in which a very talented musician plays all the instruments for the '70s hit "Long Time" from Boston. And the vocalist he got to do Brad Delp's part is outstanding. (The intro, "Foreplay," goes on for about 2 minutes, but you'll recognize that too.)

That Fickle Trader Joe's Merchandiser

As I've whined before, it seems that every time I fall in love with an item at Trader Joe's, it's discontinued. The most recent item I had to bid farewell to was the Nutty American Trail Mix, which contained nothing but cashews, almonds, raisins, and chocolate chunks. We all ate it by the handful. The other TJ's trail mixes all have icky dried fruits or peanuts or other unwelcome ingredients. Peh.

I tweeted about my disappointment and (not surprisingly) found that I'm not alone. Within minutes, I heard from others grieving the loss of TJ's pear sauce, fig-flavored Greek yogurt, frozen shelled garbanzo beans, concentrated vegetable broth, GuavaBerry VitaBoost, chipotle sauce, key lime pie, and more.

How about you? What TJ's item did you swear to love until death only to find that it was gone the next day?

"Ewww" and "Ewww: The Sequel"

"Ewww"
On Saturday, I noticed that my car smelled kind of fishy. And I don't mean fishy as in "suspicious," I mean "seafood-y." I figured it was perhaps an errant napkin from our jaunt to Woodman's on Saturday or just our briney beach bodies in need of showers. The next day, however, it seemed obvious that a whale had died in my car—and not recently, either. We looked all over, even under the seats, but couldn't find anything. Then we unloaded the back, and Andy found a pail full of Julie's seashells. Oh, and broken crab claws. Yep, apparently one or more of them still had a little raw crab meat inside 'em, now two days without life-blood or refrigeration. It's hard to describe what a huge stench came from such a tiny little critter-part, but man! As soon as we removed the offending pail from the car, it was sweet again. Well, not sweet but, you know, old-Honda-smelling.

"Ewww: The Sequel"
Yesterday I was in the kitchen getting dinner ready when I heard a noise. I figured it came from out the window. Then I heard it again. Nope, not outside. Pete came in the kitchen and heard it too. It seemed to be coming from the pantry or dining room or sun porch area, and it was a muffled clattering sound. Intermittent, too—many minutes would go by in between clatters. I made sure all cats and kids were accounted for—check. I stood at the French doors of the sunporch and peeked in, but could see nothing amiss. (Yes, I was expecting a bat, and the beginning of my long stay at McLean's.) I went back to the kitchen, heard the clatter again, identified it as clearly coming from the pantry—specifically the broom/wine closet—and took the kids and the phone outside. I called Andy at the gym and asked him to come home to investigate. He did, and it was as I feared: The mousetrap that has been gathering cobwebs for a year or so in our closet had finally partially trapped a mouse. It was not dead, and it was flapping around with the trap stuck to it, trying to escape. (Now you know why I would not could not open that door.) Andy didn't quite know what to do with it either. Pete suggested throwing a knife at it, but instead Andy scooped it into a shoebox and threw it in the trashcan outside. Ugh Ugh Ugh.

Movies

I tried to love "Gods and Monsters"—really, I did. It just didn't happen for me. I got bored with Ian McKellen and Brendan Fraser, both of whom I usually like very much. McKellen plays famously not-closeted gay movie director Jimmy Whale ("Frankenstein" etc.), and Fraser is his groundskeeper (but not lover). They strike up a platonic friendship, and ... well, that's about it. Many people have told me how much they liked this movie, but I found it under-written and over-acted. I didn't even watch it all the way through to the end. I apologize.

"Songcatcher," on the other hand, was a pleasant surprise. It tells the story of musicologist Lily Penleric, who goes to visit her sister in Appalachia around the turn of the (last) century and discovers a whole body of undiscovered folk music that is at the very heart of the community there. (She also discovers Aidan Quinn, amid much bodice-ripping.) My main problem with the movie was the lead actress, Janet McTeer, who just didn't do anything for me. Plus she was too tall. (Sorry, maybe it's because I'm not quite 5'3", but it looked like the Attack of the Giant Woman to me.) Moreover, her feminist views struck me as anachronistic. But, overall, it was an interesting story and, man, if you like old-timey music, get this in your Netflix queue fast. Beautiful. Iris Dement and Taj Mahal have bit parts in order to showcase their singing, and Emmy Rossum has a major role—I'd never heard of her, but her voice blew me away. Oh, and Emmylou sings during the credits (worth the price of admission, I'd say).

I'm a Copyeditor

Just about a year ago, I explained my reasons for spelling my job title copyeditor instead of copy editor. I greatly prefer it as one word, but I do often feel that I'm in the minority. Job listings generally give it as two words, and I get the dreaded red squiggly line under the one-word version in my emails and Word documents. (Weirdly enough, Webster's Collegiate Dictionary—the dictionary I "learned on"—prefers two words for the noun copy editor but one word for the verb copyedit. Huh?)

As language evolves (and it does, so don't think you can stop it!), the oft-observed trend is that new compounds start off as separate words; then, as they become more familiar, they're hyphenated; and, finally, they're accepted enough that they become single words in their own right. For example, consider this evolution: cook book --> cook-book --> cookbook. Or foot ball --> foot-ball --> football. (I'm too lazy to check the etymology of those words, but they seem like likely candidates for that progression.) So I've already welcomed the final stage of evolution for copyeditor—and many others have, too, as you can see from the lively comments on this recent Language Log post. (Have I mentioned lately how much I love the Internet?)

Camp Sick

I guess it's not surprising that the flu is making the rounds at camp. According to Steph's letters, more than a dozen kids have already been sent home! The camp newsletter says that any kid with a fever and flu-like symptoms has to go home and can't return until after 48 symptom-free hours, and then only with a doctor's note. Can you imagine? They've also suspended intercamp sports and activities.

Beach, Part Deux

Today we decided, a bit late, to hit the beach again. Yesterday we didn't get into Good Harbor and just barely got into Long Beach at about 12:30, and we figured that a Saturday would be even trickier. So we decided to try Crane Beach, which has a huge parking lot, and arrived just before noon. We got in no problem, but it was not nearly as much fun as Long Beach or Good Harbor, mainly because the water was icy and there were no waves. (And, as far as we could tell, they don't allow boogie boards anyhow, even if there was something to do with them.) Crane is a great beach for families with little kids—of which we saw many—but not so much for us. Don't get me wrong, a day at the beach is still a day at the beach, but it was very crowded and the water was no fun.

The Summer Wind

Finally, finally! A perfect day. Sunny, warm, breezy, and not even a hint of a cloud anywhere.

We were sure we wanted to head north to Good Harbor Beach and get fried clams at Woodman's, but in the past we've learned that timing is tricky. If you go to the beach mid-morning, as we like to do, you're not ready to leave by lunchtime—but it's really too long of a day in the sun to wait until dinnertime (and then you have rush-hour traffic to contend with on 128S—even worse on a Friday with all the Cape-bound folks). So today we tried something different. We left the house mid-morning and arrived at Woodman's just as they opened at 11am.

After scarfing down a huge, albeit early, lunch of fried-everything-in-sight, we headed over to Good Harbor. But, oh no! Not surprisingly, since this was the first nice day in ages, the parking lot was already closed to non-residents by the time we arrived. The parking lot dude directed us to Long Beach, about 1/2 mile up the road, so there we went.

And it was wonderful. It doesn't have facilities (bathroom, rinse-off showers, snack stand) on the beach like Good Harbor, but rather in the parking lot, and it's not quite as wide, but it was still wonderful. The weather was perfect. The waves were huge and frequent, and Pete and Julie boogie-boarded for hours—in between digging in the sand, looking for shells, and just plain hanging out. I love watching the two of them play together—it doesn't seem to matter what they're doing, they're just in sync. Moi, I read some Infinite Jest, dozed a little, ate some Fritos ... what else does one need?

Date Night

Andy and I just got home from a long-overdue night out. First we had dinner at Solea, which we had not been to in a long time—so long, in fact, that we had no idea they had expanded it to more than double the size! It's gorgeous! There are many separate rooms (I kept trying to think of excuses to have a private party) and two bars. We had a nice selection of tapas, my favorites being Pato Braseado (roast duckling with berry sauce), Chorizo a la Plancha (grilled Spanish sausage), and Ravioles de Mariscos (lobster  and crab ravioli). We had a nice bottle of Portuguese wine, a 2005 Tinta Roriz Blend, Casa Burmeister Reserva. And I learned something new: The Douro region of Portugal is right next to the Ribera del Duero region of Spain, which produces my favorite wines in all the world. The Duero River is just called the Douro River in Portugal—duh!

Then we went to see "Private Enemies," even though it didn't get great reviews. There really wasn't anything else interesting to see and, well, it did have Johnny Depp after all. [Swoon.] To quote Susan's friend, "The only thing better than Johnny Depp in a movie is Johnny Depp with a gun." He's just wonderful as a bad guy with a soft spot for his sweetheart, but the movie went on too long and all the other guys looked like each other. I couldn't keep track of anyone on either side. And Christian Bale does absolutely nothing for me. They sure wasted their money hiring him for this. Oh, and if there's a movie that used more rounds of ammunition than this one, I'd like to hear about it. So, if you like shoot-'em-ups and/or Johnny Depp, go for it—but don't feel bad if you end up waiting till it's on DVD.

Updates

Rabies: We've decided to get the fifth shot. I know in my heart I would insist we get it if it were more convenient, so that means we should get it regardless. Whenever I can't make up my mind, I imagine the worst-case scenario for each option. In this case:
1. We get the shots: Camp is totally disrupted for all three kids, and all five of us have bizarre reactions to the shots.
2. We don't get the shots: One (or more of us) dies.
Case closed.

Infinite Summer: Man, but I do love this. If you're playing along (or even if you're not), now's a good time to revisit this Onion piece: "Girlfriend Stops Reading David Foster Wallace Breakup Letter at Page 20." Also, don't miss this not-nearly-long-enough essay by the editor of Infinite Jest—yes, really, DFW's editor!

Yes, it's still raining here. Why do you ask?

And, finally, here are my three favorite tweets from today:

• Just emailed an old friend to thank him for taking care of Pete during the hostage situation in my dream last night. [He emailed me back, "I’m glad Pete’s okay. Just doing my job, Ma’am."]
• Andy dropped a rib off the grill and into the bushes, but I rinsed it off and ate it anyhow.
• Every time I see a pitcher & catcher conferring, I think they're saying, "Candlesticks always make a nice gift" (from "Bull Durham").

See? You should be following me.

Rainy Day Shopping Spree

Today was yet another rainy day. I feel so bad for Andy—the poor guy takes off exactly one week per year, and this is what he gets. The forecast's "best" day of the week keeps getting pushed back, but it's looking like Friday will be our beach day, unless yet another "storm system" moves in.

This afternoon Andy took Pete and Julie to see the latest "Ice Age" foolishness (speaking of which, did I show you this look at the difference between Dreamworks and Pixar?), while I moseyed on over to the Apple Store to pick up my brand-spanking-new iPhone 3GS! I'm sorry (you don't know how sorry!) to report that 3G service in my house is no better than Edge service—apparently I live in an AT&T-free zone—but I'm hoping that the signal will be better once I leave the house. I haven't played with it much, but it was very easy to sync everything from my old iPhone over to this one. And, speaking of the old one, I've switched it to "airplane mode" and plan to let the kids use it as an iPod Touch if we're ever on a long car ride or waiting for, say, a rabies shot. (I don't normally feel the need to keep my kids occupied every time they have to wait for something, but there's nothing wrong with a quick game of solitaire now and then, right?)

As I walked past Teavana on my way to the Apple Store, I studiously avoided meeting eyes with the lovely salesclerk who was handing out free samples, but I couldn't resist her siren call. Next thing I knew, I was buying a half pound of a mix of Samurai Chai Maté and White Ayurvedic Chai. It was almost as expensive as the iPhone. Oh, and get this: The great state of Massachusetts charged me sales tax on the full iPhone price of $600 even though I paid only $200 for it. Sheesh.

All Done, or Almost Done?

Today we dragged out of bed way too early and headed home, stopping off at camp to pick up Steph for Rabies Shot #4. We were so efficient that we had her back at camp, with bandaid on arm, by lunchtime. I felt bad that she had to miss her morning activities on the first sunny day in a good long while!

Later, when Andy and I went for our shots, we were faced with a dilemma. In a nutshell:
1. When we first went to get our shots, we were told that we needed the initial immuno-globulin thing in our butts, then a series of 5 shots in our arms to ward off rabies.
2. A few days later, my friend Sandy emailed me this article from the Wall Street Journal, which said in part:

The Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices voted unanimously that four shots—all given within the first 14 days after exposure to rabies—are sufficient. The panel advises the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, which issues official guidance to doctors.

Apparently they've been following tens of thousands of people who were known to be exposed to rabies (as opposed to us, who were only possibly exposed). Believe it or not, even in the face of known exposure and 100% fatality in the case of contracting rabies, some of these people still didn't get their full series of 5 shots. But it turns out that none of them died of rabies. It was thus determined that 4 shots is sufficient protection.
3. We mentioned this to the doctor at the Urgent Care Center when we had our #3 shots last week; she promised to check in with the head of Infectious Diseases.
4. We had a different doctor when we went back today, but he said that he spoke to the head of ID, and he now felt confident recommending only 4 shots. I asked if he himself would get only 4 shots, and he said yes.

But I'm still unsure. On the one hand, why not just get the 5th shot and be done with it? Well, for one thing, it is really disruptive to keep having to take Steph out of sleepaway camp for these shots, and the next one falls on the day after Visiting Day, so they said we'd really need to keep her out overnight. She is loving camp so much, and I just hate to keep messing it up for her. Also, Pete starts a new day camp that day, and Julie will be in day camp also. It's a major pain logistically! It's also not cheap—and not painless either. And today when we went, we had to sit in a waiting room containing about a dozen people in surgical masks with god-knows-what symptoms. Who needs that?

So I am torn. I have emails in to two people I know who are ER doctors, so I'll see if they can shed any light. I have a feeling that 6 months from now, it'll be a no-brainer, but we are right on the cusp of this new protocol.

Things You'd Already Know If You Followed Me on Twitter

1. Today was a gorgeous day, weather-wise; unfortunately, shortly after feasting at Polly's Pancake Parlor, I found myself balled up on the couch with cramps like my worst enemy shouldn't know. Andy and Julie went canoeing at Echo Lake; Pete didn't feel like going anyhow. Tomorrow in the (very early) morning we'll pick up Steph at camp for Rabies Shot #4 and then head home. And did I mention that Andy's off all week?

2. A few nights ago I had a dream in which I told a joke (funny in the dream, stupid in real life) that had the punchline "Mrs. Howell" (you know, from "Gilligan's Island"). A couple of days later, I was reading Infinite Jest and came across a reference to a yachting cap of the style worn by Mr. Howell. I would say that up until this time, I had last thought or heard of the Howells in the late '70s. Similarly, yesterday Andy was trying to think of the word suborning, and within a few hours I came across it in IJ. I mean, I know that the book is 1079 pages long and contains probably more different English words than any other novel I'm ever likely to read, but still, what're the odds?

3. Speaking of which, I'm just loving Infinite Jest. It's still not too late to join the rest of us for the Infinite Summer—I got a late start and am already ahead of the assigned page count. I was told that the first 200 pages were the hardest going, but I haven't had a problem yet and am already 250 pages in. (Yes, I realize that's only 25% along, but I no longer have the howling fantods about being able to get through it.)

4. Twice since upgrading to Firefox 3.5 last week I have shut down my Mac, replied "Yes" when asked whether I want to keep all my open tabs, and then been horrified to discover upon rebooting that they're all gone. And no, I don't usually keep my history available (although now I will, at least until this problem is resolved). I lost and have no recollection of several job leads, interesting recipes, and more. Phooey.

Happy Fourth

Today we are up in the White Mountains, and we required nice weather for approximately ten minutes, from 1:30 to 1:40pm, during the annual parade. And by "nice," I mean moderately dry at the minimum.

It rained off and on all morning and then was actually sunny around noontime. There were still some menacing black clouds visible in other parts of the sky, but we had pure blue and fluffy white above us. We walked into town, ordered our hot dogs and hamburgers, and waited in line with everyone else. At about 1:27, the sky turned black, the wind started howling, and we had a torrential downpour the likes of which I have never experienced. In addition to the blinding, pummeling rain, there was scary-loud thunder, ziggy-zaggy bolts of lightning, and wind-blown hail that felt like someone shooting a staple-gun at my bare calves.

For god-knows-what-reason, they decided to start the parade anyhow. The fire trucks came by with volunteers throwing Tootsie Rolls out the windows into puddles for kids to fish out, the various community groups' floats with their drenched costumed riders, the war veterans waving from behind the fogged-up windows of their antique cars, and even a full band under a makeshift tent. They drove a little more quickly than usual, and the whole procession was done by 1:37, at which time the rain stopped completely.

We all looked at each other, wolfed down our soggy sandwiches, and walked back home in squishy sneakers to change into dry clothes.

Then we drove to Chutters and bought several bags of penny candy.

Friday iPod Random Ten

1. Radio Sweetheart (live) - Elvis Costello & The Attractions
2. People Got a Lotta Nerve - Neko Case
3. Screen Door - Uncle Tupelo
4. The Tide Is High - Blondie
5. I Can't Make You Love Me - Bonnie Raitt
6. Warm Beer and Cold Women - Tom Waits
7. Walkin' In and Out of Your Arms - k.d. lang
8. Detroit City - John Doe & The Sadies
9. Illegal Smile (live) - John Prine
10. Copperline (live) - James Taylor

[Sound of Finger Twiddling Lower Lip]

What a long, boring day. We woke up to torrential rain—even I wouldn't make the kids go to their swimming lessons in that kind of rain—and soon enough we had the thunder and lightning to go with it. I was sure we were going to lose our power, but we didn't. At 11:00 Julie had her last piano lesson of the year (yes, she finally agreed to take a break for a month or so).

The windshield-repair guy was supposed to come to the house sometime between noon and 4pm, so of course I made sure we were securely house-bound at noon. So we could wait. And wait. They called at 1:30 to say they'd be here at 2:15. Then they called at 3pm to say they'd be here at 3:30. Then they came at 4:05. So you can imagine how thrilled I was to have stayed home with two cabin-feverish kids all day instead of taking them to a movie or something. I will say, though, that it was pretty cool to watch the guy remove the cracked windshield and replace it. (It thankfully stopped raining long enough for him to complete his task.)

Then I had a nice surprise, a visit from a cousin I haven't seen in quite a few years. He was on his way from home in New Jersey to vacation in Maine with his wife and two little daughters, none of whom I'd ever met. I knew that they were going to try to stop by, but I feared that the lousy weather would throw them off. Anyhow, they did come, and it really made up for an otherwise mind-numbingly dull day.

Hello Mudda, Hello Fadda

Today we got 4 letters from Steph! Well, 1 postcard ("You just left but they're making us send these stupid postcards"), 1 family letter, 1 letter just to Julie, and 1 letter just to Pete. To quickly recap: Camp is AWESOME. She loves all the kids, all the counselors, all the food, all the activities, everything. Well, not quite, but pretty darn close.

At dinner tonight we were talking about how happy and cheerful she seemed when we picked her up for the shots on Monday. Pete said, seemingly still in wonderment, "I didn't even think she'd say HI to me!" and Julie said wistfully, "I wished that day would never end."

Well, we'll get to see her again on Monday for the next round of shots. And there's a chance we won't have to get the fifth shot at all, but I won't jinx us by talking about that yet.

And if it ever stops raining ... well, who knows what could happen next?

My Hero

Remember last year when I finally caved and bought Pete a Nintendo DS for his birthday? And then this year when I got him the Guitar Hero game for it? Well, he loves it. He feels cool knowing the songs and doing the lead-guitar thing. He's always saying, "Mom, watch my hand when I do this one!"

So of course I jumped at the chance when Mom Central offered me a copy of "On Tour: Modern Hits" to review. Pete loves it. He says the songs are even better on this one than on the ones he has ("On Tour" and "On Tour: Decades"). He particularly likes "Still Waiting" by Sum 41 and "Miss Murder" by AFI. (Huh? Howzat? Kids these days....). He likes that the songs are really challenging but not impossible to "beat."

I had feared that the hand-held DS guitar grip would be too big for Pete's hand, but he manages it just fine. He uses the other hand to tap the guitar pick on the screen for each chord. It also comes with stickers you can use to decorate the hand grip to personalize your "guitar" for yourself.

All in all, this is a really fun game and Pete thinks it's way cool. Or whatever kids say these days.