Mother’s Cookies closes abruptly. They were a mainstay of my childhood, and now of my lunch-packing years. These frosted sprinkled circus animals were my favorite:
Trivia fact for the day: these little round sprinkles are called “hundreds and thousands” in Australia and New Zealand.
Image from codswallop. Story via Slashfood.
PeaceBang belts one out of the park:
… we go through life thinking we’re being regarded through critical eyes and that it is for our gaffes that we are likely to earn the most attention and generate the most energy. Meanwhile, God and people who look through the eyes of love are watching us when we are dancing in the third row, moving with confidence and joy because there’s no pressure to be perfect yet. And they are noticing, and they are loving our moves.
My take-away, which may resonate with you: When people are watching us closely, it isn’t always to judge and assess, to learn or to get something. Sometimes it’s just to groove on our goodness, and to wish us well. Ain’t that a good news? And wouldn’t you like to pass that spirit along?
God, in your grace, transform the world.
… but they also have that British breeding thing going on, so you know this is a spoof: an Economist cover that might be appropriate for the week so far. (Note: Language!)
Weekend America had an interesting interview with a composer named Peter Fish, who is apparently the go-to guy for TV news themes.
Fish described how the different networks’ news themes express their personality (if you will). For example, CBS is very traditional with lots of strings; FOX’s theme, on the other hand, is full of musical anxiety and conflict (I’m paraphrasing freely here). At the interviewer’s request, Fish demonstrated how he might go about composing a theme for economic meltdown stories (minor keys and a bit of dissonance, if I understood him correctly, not being a musician). It was fascinating and made me newly aware of how even a very short musical piece can express mood and set up expectations.
Did you know that this sign has a name?
It is called an obelus.
Confusingly, “obelus” is also another name for the dagger footnote symbol.
For some reason, this reminds me of how disappointed I was when I discovered that there was no cool name for the at sign.
My paternal uncle lived in Tulsa, Oklahoma for most of his life. He was handsome (in later years he sported a gorgeous head of white hair), roguish, and generous. He dropped in to visit his aging mother every day. He wore beautiful turquoise belt buckles. He was an occasional bootlegger, and I’d bet anything he packed heat on a regular basis.
I only saw him on my infrequent trips to Tulsa, but he always took time to connect with me, however briefly. One of the ways he did this was by catching my eye (often across a packed and noisy room) and slipping me an elegant, understated wink. I thought of him when I read the following passage in Robertson Davies’ The Cunning Man:
It was a sophisticated wink, not one of your grimacing winks that contorts the whole of one side of the face. It was the slightest descent of the upper lid of the left eye, but it spoke eloquently of gentlemanly derision.
Compare:
According to Howie Klein at DownWithTyranny!:
This morning I woke up and heard partisan gladiators for the Republican Party, Inc — Pat Buchanan, Rudy Giuliani and Joe Scarborough — talking about how Sarah Palin had passed a test and proven she had what it takes to be president. She proved no such thing. She proved she could do a reasonable impression of an ill-tempered mynah bird and the only thing that was proven is that Pat Buchanan, Rudy Giuliani and Joe Scarborough would rather see our country continue down the road to ruin than see Barack Obama as president.
The whole Infotainment/reality show mentality has trivialized American democracy. Why not elect George W. Bush? Why not elect a trained mynah bird?
Khitan General: Conan, what is best in life?
Conan: To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentations of their women!
Conan the Barbarian (1982)
Our elementary school chess club met for the first time this morning before school. It was a bit chaotic, as first meetings usually are, but a good-sized group of kids and the high-school-age coach did well.
This year we have several boys from the 5th grade football team, and one boy’s dad stayed to watch. I didn’t get a chance to chat with him, but after the meeting was over I happened to overhear him ask his son, “Did you beat him?” This threw me a bit: first, that it mattered at all (these were “for fun” matches, not even recorded), and second that the question wasn’t “Did you win?” or “Who won?” but “Did you beat him?” That competitive thing must run deep.
T-shirt spotted at the super-discount bag-your-own grocery this week: “I’m not rude, you’re too sensitive.” OK then!
