Voted Off the Island

30 Days Hath November

When this blog launched for real in October I had no idea what I'd write about, no idea if I'd like this medium, and pretty much no idea about how things work in the blogosphere. 

Then came November and I took up the challenge of NaBloPoMo, National Blog Posting Month.  Post every day for a month and you get . . . . .

Well, nothing actually, but the satisfaction that you've met the discipline of posting every day, and perhaps a bit of street cred in the blogosphere. 

It's been a trip and I've learned quite a bit. Tending this little blog has been like planting a garden with words as my seeds.  It is yielding strange but tasty fruit.  In the process I've only pissed off a few members of my family. :-) 

Today at the end of NaBloPoMo, I feel a bit like Sally Fields -- you LIKE ME!  So let me thank my chief tuteur de blog, the extraordinary Margalit, for teaching me a few tricks and suggesting that I'd find this fun.  I have.  I'm here to stay.

Million Book Project

Let's hear it for for Carnegie Mellon University whose Million Book Project, an effort to digitize every book in print, hit 1.5 million titles yesterday.

The so-called Universal Digital Library project, launched in 2002, set out to digitize nothing less than all of humanity's published works. In 1000 years, the plan is, there will be a complete record of all books from the Gutenberg Bible to today's latest romance novel by Danielle Steel.

I'm inexplicably moved by this project, particularly at a moment in time when the future of book reading is under intense scrutiny.  I recently  commented on the disappearance of reading among teenagers on my group blog, Mid-Century Modern Moms. As new media options roar forward, is reading for pleasure truly at risk?

Two important stories last week:

• New York Times story on NEA's report on the plunge in test scores attributed to less reading for pleasure
• Launch of Amazon's Kindle, a handheld device that will allow downloads of up to 90,000 book titles, blogs, newspapers and periodicals.

Will Kindle encourage serious reading . . . or just be another portable device for enabling us to read more short, redacted, trivial and ultimately disposable writing. Will it be an entertainment device?  An information device?  Does Kindle have the potential to save the novel?

It all has me thinking about Ray Bradbury's dystopian novel Farenheit 451?  Did you at least see the film?  It depicts a time in the future when civil society is ruled by a totalitarian regime and all printed materials are banned.  (Farenheit 451 is the temperature at which a book catches fire.) In an effort to save the written word, an underground of book lovers memorize important literary and non-fiction books to keep learning alive.  Importantly, Bradbury has stated that the novel is not about censorship; he states that Fahrenheit 451 is a story about how television destroys interest in reading literature, which ultimately leads to ignorance of facts.

 

Drive Time Radio ATL

We all have our radio station-presets and drive-time listening habits.  Mine are pretty unwavering.  I mainly listen to NPR or WCLK, our local (and excellent) jazz station. I also have presets for 92.9 DAVE-FM, 91.1 WREK, the Georgia Tech student station, 101.5 WKHX for country and 102.5 WAMJ, for Soul/R&B.

Driving to work in the morning things get interesting for me. I have a problem with our local NPR station WABE, which plays 6 hours of classical music a day, starting at 9:00 am. Nothing against classical music, but I'm an ex-New Yorker, bred on outstanding locally produced public radio  programs with brilliant hosts like WNYC's Brian Lehrer and Leonard Lopate.  Six hours of classical music isn't just too much classical, it's lazy programming.  But that's another post.

So every morning, precisely at 8:56, WABE's Lois Reitzes comes on and promos the start of WABE's classical programming.  Lois' lilting voice is distinctive. She is truly a cultural treasure, but my radio finger knows that this is the moment to punch in rock station 92.9 DAVE-FM, and hear Holly Firfer deliver The Hollywood Dirt at 8:57.  Gotta have my dose of dirt.

The moment Holly's dirt is over, things get interesting. I click to WAMJ, "Grown Folks Radio," and listen in to The Steve Harvey Morning Show. It's a nationally syndicated show aimed at the mature African American audience. I feel like a complete voyeur listening to the show. Like, what is a white woman doing listening to this?  But it's addictive. The studio cast is a foursome -- comedian Steve Harvey and his sidekick Nephew Tommy. There are two lovely ladies, Carla somebody and Shirley Strawberry who keep the boys in line. Steve does characters, Steve does shtick, and the sidekicks laugh at his jokes.  Steve's got a line of clothes, he plays golf, he runs the Hoodie Awards, raises money through his foundation, and most courageously, supported the National Blackout no-shopping day in early November and the recent march to Washington DC and the Justice Department. What can I say?  I'm hooked.

Jott Gets Even Better

Now you can Jott™ to Amazon®! No need to add Amazon to your account, it is already there in your contact info for your convenience. It’s easy to use, and will make holiday shopping fast and convenient.

Jott:  “Who do you want to Jott?”

You:  “Amazon”

Jott: “Amazon, is that correct?”

You: “Yes”

Beep!

You:  “iPod Nano” (Please only state the product or item name; just like you'd type it on Amazon's website).

Jott will send you an email with the top 5 results for your search, complete with price info and user ratings. Click one of the items in your email and you will be sent right to the product details on Amazon, where you can easily add it to your Wish List or shopping cart.
Shop Amazon on-the-go with Jott! For more details on using Jott to Amazon, click here

See my earlier post on Jott

My House or Michael Vick's House?

My house in Atlanta is for sale. . . in the worst real estate market in recent history.  The house is in Druid Hills, a historic and preservation-minded intown neighborhood.  I've dropped the price twice and am now asking  $775,000. It's absolutely the best deal in Druid Hills.  My house has 5 bedrooms, 4 full bathrooms, a gourmet kitchen, a full dining room, an office, sunporch, a main floor bedroom suite, and tons of Craftsman-era character. The closets are excellent.  There's a walk-in pantry. You can walk to Emory University, Virginia Highlands, and Emory Village.  Out back there's a detached garage, a prolific fig tree and a funky outdoor shed that your kids will love as their own play-house. There's even room for a pool. And I too have a gated driveway, if that rings your bells.

Michael Vick's house is also for sale.  Mike's asking $4.5 million. It will set you back about $23,000 a month. OK, he's got 7 bedrooms and 8 and a half baths, but look at the place! Is there any comparison people?  Where is the curb appeal?  Where are the shrubs? Where is the character?  And, more importantly, where the hell is Duluth? 

According to a listing posted at Realtor.com, the suspended Falcons quarterback's seven-bedroom, 8.5-bath mansion at 2927 Darlington Run in Duluth has an estimated monthly mortgage payment of more than $23,000.  According to Gwinnett County property records, Vick purchased the home in April of 2005 for $3.77 million.The European-styled home inside the prestigious gated Gwinnett County golfing community features two fireplaces, a "four-plus" car garage, Cathedral ceilings, his and her closets and master bath, a "12-plus seat" dining room and hardwood floors on its 1.5 acres. Property taxes are approximately $26,700 per year. 

I'm just giving you the facts.  Mike's house or my house?  Like O'Reilly says, "We Report. You decide."

 

Wonders of the South: The Lap Tray

This is a bamboo lap tray, a party item I never laid eyes upon, much less owned until I came south. Good Atlanta hostesses have dozens stacked away, ready and waiting for company.  You use your lap try at a buffet dinner so you don't have to stand around with a plate and a glass of wine trying not to dump lasagne on somebody's carpet.  You use them when the ladies come over and there's not enough room at the table. It's so civilized and so very southern.

I've been buying up lap trays at tag sales and now have about a half dozen. Being made of bamboo, a simple rinsing cleans them up beautifully. In my kitchen, all the frequently used condiments and oils now live on a lap tray, my own little mise en place.

Southern hospitality is an awesome thing.  People here entertain at home and don't consider it an act of extreme unction to do so. Unlike the north shore LI suburbs they don't invite you to a restaurant and then pick up the check when they want to reciprocate.  They cook. They fuss.  But they don't make it feel like a big deal.

When I was sick 3 years ago and folks who barely knew me were delivering meals to my family, they actually apologized for things like, "the dessert isn't homemade," or "the salad came from a bag."  On Long Island -- well, for sure in 11050 -- people helped in times of trouble, but rarely was the food homemade.  More often it was delivered by a takeout place from a delivery truck, not by the actual person. 

If you need to borrow a lap tray, ya'll know where to come.

 

LittleDemocrats.net

I clicked on a Google ad, Why Mommy is a Democrat, (subtitle: The Book George Bush Doesn't Want Your Kids to Read) and landed in moron land -- a place called LittleDemocrats.net.  If you go, leave your brains at the door.

The book, touted to the skies by dewey eyed parents and Democratic party stalwarts, promotes a simple-minded and propagandistic view of what it means to be a Democrat.  Democrats, like Mommies, are for education.  Democrats, like Mommies, make sure everyone is safe.  Democrats, like Mommies, make sure we all share our toys.

Gag me.  And I am a Democrat.  And a Mommy.  And a proud liberal.

      

Why Mommy is a Democrat brings to life the core values of the Democratic party in ways that young children will easily understand and thoroughly enjoy. Using plain and non-judgmen- tal language, along with warm and whimsical illustrations, this colorful 28-page paperback depicts the Democratic principles of fairness, tolerance, peace, and concern for the well-being of others. It's a great way for parents to gently communicate their commitment to these principles and explain their support for the party. I am not about simplifying or trivializing complex issues for my kids.  I want nuance, even in a child's book. The whole idea of promoting one party over another, do-or-die, is offensive to me, and I say this as a lifelong Democrat who grew up stuffing envelopes, watching parents attend local fundraisers for deserving candidates, and who loved the annual ritual of closing the polls with my father, a Democratic Party Committeeman in the 1960's. You can guess what's coming next, according to the site:  Why Daddy is a Democrat.  This Mommy isn't buying it.

Go Dawgs? Go Jackets?

Today is the UGA vs. Georgia Tech Game.  Go Dawgs!  Go Yellowjackets!  It's a huge deal around here.  I don't know who to root for, but thanks to a Georgia miracle called the Hope Scholarship, which offers free tuition to B+ students who are admitted to a state school and maintain their average, my younger son might actually attend one of these fine southern institutions. So I guess I'll root for both of them.

Football isn't on my mattering map. (Note to any J-date or Match.com guys reading this blog . . . I'll cook for you, I'll read a book while you watch the game on tv, but please never make me go to a football stadium.) For 22 years I was married to a man who literally didn't know who was playing in the Superbowl, and took pride in that. 

I don't get the art or strategy of football. I'm such a pathetic northeastern liberal that I honestly get uncomfortable watching big beefy white coaches with headsets, bossing around the big beefy African American players. Basketball has artistry and finesse. Baseball is wonderful and poetic. Football just messes with my head. 

I'm not a total football dweeb. I loved Braveheart. But when I watch football I don't see the formations, I don't know the plays. Here's what I see when I watch football:  Huddle.  Line up. Snap. Catch.  Run, run, run, run, fall down. Repeat.

I can get excited seeing a lean, lithe running back (?) get the ball and snake his way down the field while his gigundo teammates block and defend.  And I like having an actual person to root for. A woman I work with has a son, Patrick Jones, who plays defensive tackle for the Arkansas Razorbacks.  Unfortunately Patrick is a freshman and doesn't get played much.

I grew up in a town with competing high schools, Great Neck North and Great Neck South.  Their twice a season matches were a Jewish version of Civil War reinactment. There were pep rallies and parades.  I didn't have much pep, and I certainly never had a boyfriend, much less a football player to root for. I think I went maybe twice in four years.  I once went to a Jets game at the Meadowlands on a freezing day in January when Joe Namath was  a star. That will never happen again.

Tell me why a nice Jewish boy from the Bronx like Arthur Blank isn't content to lavish his Home Depot bucks on his beautiful young wife, give money to hospitals and universities and run a wonderful Foundation benefiting youth and the environment. He has to go buy the Atlanta Falcons?  Sheesh, I see the guy in synagogue sitting with his mother on Rosh Hashana. I see his adorable little kids at sunday school, and his accomplished wife raising money for important causes. In Atlanta they are football royalty.

Living in the south seems to have caused some genetic mutations in my own family. My cousin Leslie has lived here for 30 years and raised her kids here.  She's inviting me over today for a post UGA/GA Tech meal. (I am instructed to bring coleslaw for brisket sandwiches. Jewish football food, I love it!) Leslie's kids, A.J. and Melanie and their spouses are serious UGA fans.  A.J. is a season ticket holder and alum who loved UGA so much, he still lives in Athens, GA. He and his wife Heather have reserved place in the parking lot and elaborate system for tailgating on game days. They're always inviting us to come, and maybe we will.

Tailgating, now that appeals to me. A winter picnic, a goyish version of picnicking at Tanglewood. I could get into that.

 

Ugliest Gourmet Contest Winner Is . . .

Over at Not Eating Out in New York, the Ugliest Gourmet Contest has wrapped.  It was a tough field of finalists, but good ole eggplant came through.  Here's the winning entry, Spicy Honey Aubergines, a hurl worthy lookin' dish if there ever was one, but I bet it tasted great. Be sure to have a look at the finalists and plan to make Kitty Box Cake for your child's next birthday party.

Great greenish gobs of . . .Spicy Honey Aubergines! And that’s our official theme song for the finale of the Ugliest Gourmet blogging contest. Huzzah to The Blog That Ate Manhattan for creating what this blog’s readers have deemed the ugliest delicious food of the bunch. All told, the results were nail-bitingly close to a four-way tie, with three votes each for the Gnocchi, Corned Beef and Tomato Pie, Kitty Box Cake and Maraq Molokheyia bil Dajaj.

Meanwhile, back in Thanksgiving land 11 people DEVOURED a 18 pound turkey, and I get to take home the carcass!  Yessss! 

Now I am off to yoga to move my flesh and meditate on how much wine I drank and stuffing I consumed. Om shanti, y'all.

Give Thanks In Hebrew

From Velveteen Rabbi a.k.a. Rachel Barenblat

Reb Zalman Schacter Shalomi has released a special blessing for Thanksgiving, intended to be inserted into the birkat ha-mazon (Grace After Meals) in the same place where one would insert a special blessing on other festivals such as Sukkot or Purim.  Even if you don't say a formal birkat at the end of your Thanksgiving feast, this lovely short poem of remembrance and gratitude stands on its own.

 

Reb Zalman Schacter Shalomi has released a special blessing for Thanksgiving, intended to be inserted into the birkat ha-mazon (Grace After Meals) in the same place where one would insert a special blessing on other festivals such as Sukkot or Purim.  Even if you don't say a formal birkat at the end of your Thanksgiving feast, this lovely short poem of remembrance and gratitude stands on its own.