I am growing to despise my other job, at least this summer, when I’m doing it for the lordly sum of $0. A certain amount of pro bono I can handle, but now it’s Wednesday, I haven’t done my grocery shopping for the week and now I have a news explosion to clean up after.
Fortunately, bloggage galore:
Another listicle from Cracked.com, worth passing along: 8 words you’re confusing with other words. They missed one of my pet peeves — defuse/diffuse — but they got the biggies, including phase/faze and reign/rein and tenant/tenet. Oh, and people? “Tack” is a sailing term; it refers to the zigzag course that boats must steer to move into the wind. A tacking boat changes direction frequently, hence the phrase “take another tack.” Not “tact.” Thank you, that is all.
The longer I write on a keyboard, the less I can write by hand. Still, I love notebooks of all sorts, and so does the keeper of this blog.
If I had to choose between the two New Yorker film critics, David Denby and Anthony Lane, I’d be on Team Lane all the way. But Denby makes some good points in this essay on computer-generated effects. Nut graf:
Storytelling thrives on limits, inhibitions, social conventions, a world of anticipations and outcomes. Can you have a story that means anything halfway serious without gravity’s pull and the threat of mortality?
I remember watching “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon,” a movie with many pleasures for me, until it arrived at a climactic sword fight in a shadowy bamboo forest. Suddenly the characters, who had been grounded, gravity-limited human beings, were able to run straight up the sides of bamboo trees as slender as a pool cue. It was all staged as a dreamy ballet, but it took me out of the story, frankly. Oh, we can run up the sides of trees now? OK, let me file that one away.
A guy I used to work with lost his father recently, and is sharing brief remembrances of the man via Facebook. (Facebook grieving: Now there’s a master’s thesis.) I was amazed to learn that after the death of his mother, his father had married Peg Bracken. Many of us are boomers here, and likely remember her as, first, the author of a great book of whimsy, the “I Hate to Cook Book” and later, as spokeswoman for Bird’s Eye vegetables. She introduced herself in the commercials: “I’m Peg Bracken, and I hate to cook.” She was such a hoot. The remembrance inspired me to do some googling, and I found her obit from the NYT, in 2007. From her recipe for Skid Row Stroganoff:
Start cooking those noodles, first dropping a bouillon cube into the noodle water. Brown the garlic, onion and crumbled beef in the oil. Add the flour, salt, paprika and mushrooms, stir, and let it cook five minutes while you light a cigarette and stare sullenly at the sink.
I love to cook, but a woman who had the ovaries to write that in 1960 is one after my own heart.
OK, I think that’s it. Off to restock my larder. How come no one says that anymore? “Mom, I want breakfast.” “Check the larder for some Cheerios.” A question for Peg, maybe, but me, I’m gone.