Rue Are You??

It's not often we're able to use the quaint little word "rue." You know what I'm talking about, as in: 'I rue the day my sister was born," or "I rue the fact that my sister won't join me in an absinthe-tasting party." In common usage, I think most of us use "rue" as a shortcut for regret, or to imply disappointment.

The primary dictionary definition of rue is to "bitterly regret," such as "I bitterly regret that my sister is being such a jerk about this." Remember the part about bitterly, as that's going to be important in a minute or two.

I love learning about the origin and development of words, or their "etymology" as it is technically called. Do you know what the etymology of etymology is? Like most English words, it comes from a Greek root, in this case "etumos" which means true or truth. Therefore, the study of a word's origin leads us to the truth of its original meaning, which in many cases leads to a better understanding of its current usage, or at the very least, is just plain interesting in the sense of how words can change their meaning over time.

Getting back to rue. While doing my research on absinthe (see previous post), I ran across wormwood, which is a type of herb, the oil of which is often regarded as the second-most bitter substance out there. I can hear you asking, "Well, if wormwood is the second-most bitter substance, what is the most bitter?" I'm glad you asked me that, because that's what this whole posting is about!

According to my highly suspect sources (the Internet), the most bitter natural substance on earth comes from a perennial plant called Ruta graveolens, also known as the common rue, which is an ancient medicinal herb from the citrus family, still valued today for its uniquely bitter properties (often used as a natural insect repellant). The actual word rue (in both its noun and verb forms) goes back through old English, Latin and even Greek, where its basic meanings have remained similar--bitterness, in all its forms.

Somewhere in the early years of Old English's development, the bitterness of the herb came to be applied to people's feelings of regret or disappointment and hence its modern usage as a verb. So now you know that if you want to use the non-noun form of the word "rue" in its traditional sense, your meaning must include an element of bitterness or recrimination, such as "She'll rue the day she decided not to share a goblet of absinthe with me." Have I made my point yet???

Finally, you might also be asking: "Well, Frank, that's all very interesting, but what about the French word rue, which we often hear, and which means street or boulevard. Surely that must come from the same root, but I don't get the connection between a bitter herb and a Parisian street. How do you explain that?" OK, I don't have quite enough time to delve into that, but I'm sure that if I did, it would have something to do with my sister being narrow-minded and petty, so we'll just have to leave it there for now.

Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

It was sometime in college, or possibly a little thereafter, that I first heard about absinthe. All I remember is a friend telling me that it tasted like mouthwash. Well, I liked mouthwash then and I still like it today. The only thing is, now I don't drink it.

Absinthe has been technically illegal in the United States since about 1910, so I never did get a chance to try what is affectionately known as "The Green Fairy," or, if you happen to be anywhere near the Balkans where an inferior version is distilled, "The Green Death."

What is absinthe? Well, you could call it a liqueur, or spirits, or bitters or an apertif. Predominantly produced and consumed in Europe (where the EU has recently legalized it), the best brands are French and Swiss. It is known for its high alcohol content, which often exceeds 150 proof, and for its unique distillation process, which involves the use of several bitter herbs and oils, not the least of which is wormwood, and its primary active ingredient, thujone.

Thujone, as it turns out, has an infamous history. As a component of wormwood oil, one of the bitterest natural substances known to exist, it plays a key part in the absinthe folklore. It is also the main reason that the FDA has banned the distillation (though not the possession) of absinthe in the United States. It seems that thujone is at once somewhat psychoactive, as well as quite poisonous, in large enough quantities. As my sister Sue has said, there are plenty of other foul-tasting alcoholic products on the market, so I guess this was an easy one for Western nations to ban. The fact that wormwood oil was known to cause seizures in epileptics didn't help.

Even in Switzerland and especially France, where absinthe had sort of a cult following with the artistic underground, its possession became illegal after the turn of the 20th century due to fears that it caused insanity, apathy (which was a big deal in the years leading up to the first World War), lessening of sexual inhibitions and last but possibly not least, death.

Still, afficionados found a way to get their fix and distilleries started popping up in Eastern Europe, catering to niche absinthe markets on the Continent as well as a strong following in New Orleans, which often honors the French tradition. Speaking of tradition, absinthe is often consumed, even today, in the time-honored manner where one pours a certain amount of the beverage into a glass goblet, which is then diluted with an equal part of water, poured over a cube of sugar, supported on the rim of the glass by an ornate spoon. This process of dilution produces what's called the "louche," which is a swirling-up of the absinthe's essential oils, intensifying the the drink's green color and producing, it is said, an almost hypnotic state in some observers.

From the little research I've done, it appears that absinthe can be ordered over the Internet from European retailers for legal delivery to the United States. Its cost is about $40-$75 (+ shipping) per half litre bottle. It is also available in parts of Canada, including British Columbia, where the thujone content is strictly controlled. I understand that it is allowable to bring it across the border.

I may be going up to Vancouver in the next couple weeks and I have every intention of bringing back some absinthe. I'm only discouraged by the knowledge that my dear sister Sue has preemptively declared her lack of interest in the requisite absinthe party. She has done her own research and calls the liquor "Vile, contemptible, dangerous and illicit," or words to that effect. And yet she still doesn't want to try it. She did admit, however, that it would probably make an excellent rat poison.

Well, all is know is that if it tastes anything like mouthwash, that's good enough for me. And I hear it doesn't have that minty methyl-alcohol aftertaste, either. I'll give you a full and objective report in a couple weeks. In the meantime, for more information on absinthe, just google it.

Restaurant Review

Just got back from the latest star in Seattle's dining scene, Tutta Bella's Neapolitan Pizzeria in Upper Fremont.

Ironically (for me at least), the massive space this veritable pizza factory occupies is a former print shop, one in which I actually worked. I half-expected the miasma of printer's ink and solvent as I walked up the familiar front steps, but even though it was early evening, the kitchen was humming and the only smell was a delightful one wafting out from the massive twin brick ovens.

Make no mistake, this is a big, open restaurant with minimalist wall treatments, few dividers and little adornment. It's meant to be a loud, family-style bistro, with plain wood tables and unfinished ceilings. Though we were shuffled off to a far corner of the restaurant, the service was excellent. The girls' sodas (bibite) were quickly refilled and our salads arrived within ten minutes of ordering. The Caesar was wonderfully fresh with a spicy dressing. The small easily fed two, while the large, as I was told, would serve 4.

Of course, most people are coming to Tutta Bella's for the impossibly thin-crusted Neapolitan style pizzas. With the fresh tomato sauce and the excellent organic toppings, the eleven inch pizzas are just right for one person. Even my youngest daughter finished hers with no problem. The pizzas matched the decor--tasteful, understated, even Spartan.

Prices for pizza ranged from $7.95 to $10.95. The Caesar was $5.50 for the small or $8.50 for the large. Finish up with the ever-changing gelata specials or the incomparable bucket of tiramisu, big enough to serve three or four, but just right for two. Get a dessert, and a single-shot of Antibassi espresso is complementary.

Other Seattle restaurants have tried to make their fortune in the thin-crust pizza game, but have had to compromise along the way, usually be offering non-pizza options. Tutta Bella succeeds in making the pizza joint a restaurant destination and a special event. Get there early and even then plan on parking on the street, as the parking lot will probably be full. A second Tutta Bella location is in the resurgent Columbia City neighborhood, on Rainier Avenue South. There will probably be more--look for one on the Eastside soon.

Fashion Illustration

I've been after my 14-year old daughter Tiana to take a fashion illustration course since last September. I still can vividly remember some fashion design sketches she drew several years that just blew me away. She hasn't done much drawing since then, but I know she has talent and definitely has an interest in fashion. The New York Fashion Academy, which is located in Old Ballard (not far from our house) each quarter offers a full range of fashion-related courses and though the overall focus of the school is more in the vocational realm, I talked to the teachers and we all felt that Tiana would do just fine with the introductory course.

I had sort of given up hope that Tiana would ever agree to take the class, especially if none of her friends could take it with her. And besides, she is playing softball 2-3 times a week now and has just joined up with the local cheerleading squad, so she is reasonably busy. I was very pleased, however, and quite surprised, when she told me a couple weeks ago that she would take the course.

Last night was her first class. They'll meet every Monday for 2-1/2 hours for the next month and then she can go on to more advanced classes, if she wants. She said last night went fine, even though she was the youngest in the class by about ten years. I'm looking forward to seeing how her interest and talents evolve in the next four weeks. The accompanying pic is a scan of some sketches she made last night, which we can sort of use for a baseline. I'll try to post something that she has drawn after every class.

Table Returns

The table that mysteriously disappeared from my driveway earlier today has magically returned--whence, I know not.

Table Has Legs, Walks Away

This is unbelievable!

I've been meaning to refinish our kitchen table, so when today's weather looked sunny and reasonably warm, I hauled it outside and set it up in the driveway, by the garage.

I totally sanded off the old finish and put on three coats of a water-based gloss finish, waiting about an hour between coats. The sun was shining and the garage/driveway gets a clear south exposure, so the finish was setting up and drying nicely. I'd easily have it done in time for the kids coming home from school.

The mail come early and because I had something that needed to get out, I walked down to the corner mail box to drop off a letter. When I came back, the table was gone!

Because the table was fairly close to the sidewalk (although still clearly on my private driveway), someone must have thought I was giving it away and they just took it. For God's sake, the finish was probably still wet! There was sandpaper, rags and a can of varnish right next to it. Can you freakin' believe that?? I am so upset....

Well, I talked to the neighbors and nobody saw anything. I also put up a sign stating that the table was not free and that it would be nice if whomever took it, brought it back.

Anyway, it's probably gone for good. It was a nice table and looked really sharp after refinishing. Just disappointing that someone would take it.

Hill Climbing in Seattle, Cycle-style

My brother-in-law (Greg) and I met at his Fremont home yesterday (Sunday) morning at 8:45 for a quick two hour tour of some of the city's hills. As I've done more and more riding the last couple years, I've found it increasingly difficult to get a goodcardiovascular workout without going for very long rides, often in the 4-6 hour range. It became really tough to fit in that much time, especially in the standard time months, where daylight hours are at a premium.

Last fall, I started doing some hill-climbs--running style--and found that was a great workout. In 30-40 minutes I could get the heart-rate way up and after a steady diet of that for 6 months, I feel really fit. But running up and down the same hill four or five times a week got a bit tiresome, so I guess it was time to get out on the bike.

The weather yesterday morning was blustery and cool, with a solid 15 mph wind blowing out of the south. The two miles to Greg's place involves a couple little hills and halfway there I already felt like this was going to be a long morning. It's a funny thing about cycling--it can take an incredibly long time to get warmed up. Especially with the wind blowing and the cool temps, I was just dragging. It's a psychological thing you have to get over. Just like riding up a big hill, things always get better on the other side.

We did have a nice break as we rode down Fremont Ave to the bridge. Then it was over the Ship Canal, up a moderate incline (Dexter), until we came to the cutoff that led to the Aurora Avenue underpass, going past Canlis Restaurant. Then another incline as we worked out way up the northside of Queen Anne hill, with a very steep section going up 4th Avenue N.

We made our way to the very top of QA (watertower) and worked our way down the south face to the bottom. Just for fun, we climbed up the west side of the hill and soon found oursevles on the top once again. We rode to the north side of the hill, found Dravus and sped west toward Magnolia. As it goes up the Magnolia hill, Dravus becomes very steep (unrideable?), so we just made it up as far as we could and took a left, heading south. After a few blocks, we found a very steep, but more manageable way up and soon were at Bayview Park, a fairly obscure, but very nice city park with a wonderful view of the Port Area and the north end of Queen Anne.

We made it to the top of Magnolia's east ridge, slid down and headed up the west ridge, toward the watertower. Again the way was very steep and quite long and though we both powered up, it was the most challenging part of the ride and definitely one of the more challenging hill climbs I've ever done.

We headed north to Discovery Park, worked our way through the old parade grounds with its wide open view of Puget Sound, and snuck down toward the locks, following an old road loaded with downed trees, shady and slippery with a winter's growth of moss. We were soon walking through the Government locks, picked a newly-completed section of the Burke Gilman trail that took us to Shilshole Bay and biked north to Golden Garden Park, where we took a winding, unshouldered road up the hill to the top of 32nd Ave NW. Then it was just a short ride home for me (Greg still had to go to Fremont) with the overall time of the ride being about 100 minutes.

FutureMe.org Update

On a website, far, far away, I once wrote about FutureMe.org. Basically, FutureMe is an email gateway where one can write a message to any valid email address, and have it delivered at some future date of the user's choosing, whether it be next week or in five years. If FutureMe is even around in five years is a question I choose to ignore, mainly because their basic premise is so compelling to me that I want them to survive a long, long time. The idea of a successful delayed email delivery may not have flown a few years ago, where most of us were changing their email addresses more frequently than their cars' oil filters, but now with gmail, yahoo mail and other free web-based (non ISP-dependent) email services available, the odds that someone will keep the same email address for more than a few years is reasonably good.

The idea of sending an email on a delayed basis is frought with tingly possibilities. As FutureMe makes clear, once the message is sent, there is no taking it back. As my sister Sue would say (albeit for different reasons), it has a high "cringe factor."

I sent a test message to myself on December 15, for delivery three months later. Sure enough, last week on March 15, I received it. The system works! I would love to send a message to my older daughter, for reception when she was 18 years old. I would say that I hope she's happy and fulfilled and at least somewhat educated. I would also tell her that I hope we're still on speaking terms and that she feels loved. I would tell her that she has no idea how difficult she sometimes made things for me, and for herself, and how I know she didn't understand that the things I was trying to teach her were for her ultimate good. There's a lot more that I would say that I can't go into now, but you get the point. It's a great vehicle for conveying emotions that might otherwise be lost forever.

Apparently, it's also a great vehicle for conveying a bunch of crap. Interesting, and occasionally poignant, crap--but crap nonethless. Have you ever noticed how poor writing and grammar can make the tenderest of thoughts irrelevant? All of that and more are in the public pages of FutureMe.org, where those who so choose, share their future emails. Go there, and prepare to be amused. While you're at it, send me a message to be delivered in six months. I'd appreciate it. A digital divulgence or disclosure would be nice--something juicy!

CCFA Luncheon

Yesterday afternoon found me at the Westin Hotel's Grand Ballroom for the fourth Annual Awards Luncheon for the Northwest Chapter of the Crohn's and Colitis Foundation of America.

As I drove downtown, the weather had me worried, even though the event was obviously inside. If it started raining hard, I might have to park in the Westin's very pricey garage. If it was reasonably dry, I could feed the meters with a pound of coins and walk. Yes, I'm cheap. Luckily, the weather held.

The banquet room was already bursting at its seams when I arrived about twenty minutes early. I was expecting a lot of people but was amazed at how tightly packed everybody was. That definitely added some electricity to the event and made going through the silent auction line somewhat of an ordeal.

We were let into the ballroom right at 12 noon and I was able to briefly chat with the other 9 people at my table, all whom were very amiable. The middle-aged woman on my left reviled me with horror stories of her medical condition, but the only other mild-negative for the whole event (other than forgetting to take some pictures with my cameraphone) was the meal's entree: what appeared on the plate to be a nice, big flaky, piece of fish turned out to be something quite different--I think it was chicken. The lack of a readily-identifiable taste/texture of the questionable creature was somewhat disconcerting, as well as indigestible. But I digress.

The program started off with a bit from Pat Cashman, who handed off to Tony Ventrella, who handed off to my buddy Steve Wright, the foundation's Executive Director. Other speakers included a very poised 14-year old Chelsea Nofield, representing a youthful perspective on living with Crohn's disease (a serious digestive disorder). I was quite amazed that she was able to carry herself so well in front of such a big audience. Equally impressive was Cody Shadle, a guitar-playing teenager, who shared his experiences with Crohn's as well as how much he was helped by the CCFA-sponsored Camp Oasis, which he said was a life changing event. Very cool speakers.

Next up on the podium was Mike McCready, guitarist from Pearl Jam, who has kind of spearheaded the entire luncheon thing and has become a big part of local fundraising and awareness efforts, particuarly since he publicly disclosed a few years ago that he also suffers from Crohn's.

Finally, it was time for the luncheon's featured speaker, Ron Reagan, whom I had really been looking forward to hearing. He bounced up onto the platform, looking very energetic and stylish in his black-on-black linen outfit, the true picture, perhaps, of a professional speaker. His 30-minute talk was at times serious, at times humorous, but always inspirational. The Seattle-area resident touched on things dear to most liberal's hearts, including healthcare reform (universal coverage) and stem-cell research, and how the present administration is blocking both. Very little was said of his rather better-known father, and then it was only in passing, in a very-detached and objective manner. I found his message very appealing, and was somewhat surprised that he was not given a standing ovation.

The event ended with an exciting live auction for an X-box 360 autographed by Bill Gates and four box-seat tickets for next year's Super Bowl, provided by the Seattle Seahawks.

CCFA's mission statement is "To cure and prevent Crohn's disease and ulcerative colitis through research, and to improve the quality of life of children and adults affected by these digestive diseases through education and support." To learn more, go to http://www.ccfa.org/chapters/northwest/ .

Fusion Fizzle

Well, it's been about a month now, since I purchased the new Fusion Razor. By Gillette, as they say. Let's see--a month...that equals about 7-8 shaves for me. That should be a pretty good test.

As some of you will remember from an earlier posting, my first time shaving with the Fusion was rather underwhelming. The shave, while fairly smooth, should have been smoother. I thought there was a bit much pulling and scratching, but the end result was a very, very close shave. Probably close enough where a lot of people wouldn't bother shaving the next day.

But the Fusion started to fizzle, the more I used it. It seemed that the blades dulled rapidly and what wasn't all that smooth a shave in the first place, quickly became even less so. While still cutting close to the skin, the much-touted comfort of the shaving experience wasn't there for me. The large head of the razor was a distraction, requiring too much attention to keep the five blades evenly pressed upon the skin. And because of the razor's width, it was impossible to get right under the nose, or even to make a clean cut on your sideburns. Gillette does include a single blade on the opposite side of the razor for getting into those tight spaces, but I found its use counter-intuitive and again had difficulty finding the optimum angle for that blade to cut on.

All in all, I much preferred the 3-bladed Mach 3 razor, also by Gillette. I found that unit to be very comfortable to maneuver, very smooth, with little pulling. While its closeness doesn't quite match the Fusion's, it was plenty good for me.

Giant multi-national corporations rarely make blunders when developing products like the Fusion, so my dissenting views may not represent the mainstream, nor have I really studied the general public's reception of this pricey razor. I'll just say that, in my humble opinion, Gillette has made a billion dollar goof. If that's the case, look for a new Fusion marketing/advertising campaign and for the price of the razor and blades to start coming down, as the company tries to jumpstart sales. Failing that, the razor will be phased out in a year or two and a new one will take its place. Possibly to "save face," the new razor will be called something like Fusion2 and most assuredly, it will be "new and improved."

Ultimate Frisbee Report

For those interested (and I'm quite sure you number in the high single-digits), Savanna's Ultimate Frisbee team won their opening two games today. The first game of the doubleheader was a forfeit against Salmon Bay, who had misread the schedule. The second game was a very hard-fought battle against middle-school arch-rival Eckstein, one of the best teams in the league last year.

Savanna's team, the Whitman Wildcats, got off to an early 5-1 lead with Savi scoring the second and third points. But like the cold and cruel wind that was blowing across the muddy field, Eckstein would not relent and mounted a cataytic comeback on five straight points, taking a 6-5 lead, mostly due their sudden switch to a zone defense. The game was then tied at six and then tied at seven, at which point I began feeling totally faint (I've been sick--yeah!) and had to leave.

From what I understand, the next few points were epic battles and then with the game again tied at 9-9, Savanna scored on the best catch of the afternoon, leaping high over the opposing team's best defender and snagging the dish, putting the Wildcats in a position to win with one more point. The Whitman defense held and the plucky blue and yellow disc-dishers were finally able to punch in the eleventh and winning goal (which also required at least a two-point margin of victory). The game took over two hours to play, which is almost unheard of in Ultimate Frisbee. Being considered quite long.

Question...

Must we acknowledge just the truth, or the perception of truth?

Dual-booting Mac

As some of you may have heard, Apple is phasing out the long-toothed Motorola G-series of processors in favor of Intel chips. For the first time, Mac and Windows machines will be running on similar, if not identical, chips.

Of course, the operating systems are as divergent as ever, if not more so. The Apple machines are based on the UNIX operating system, and Windows is running--well, Windows.

But the hardware commonalities between the two systems, including not just the chips, but the hard-drives, RAM, CD and DVD drives, external devices and connectivity and networking, present some interesting opportunities, the coolest of which is the idea of a single computer that can boot up from either operating system. This has long been a quest of many Mac users who must co-exist in a world where Windows operating systems constitute 90+ percent of the personal computer market. Emulation software, while popular, just doesn't cut it.

The big news is that just yesterday March 15, 2006), a winner was announced in a coding contest for the first person/group to successfully boot up an Intel Mac into either Windows XP or OS X. To win the nearly $14,000 pool (all of which was contributed by interested individuals and small businesses), the code was independently verified to:

--Boot Windows XP natively (no virtualization) on an Intel Mac
--Allow Windows XP to coexist with Mac OS X with neither OS interfering with the other
--Upon starting the computer, user must be offered a choice of which OS to boot

Undoubtedly the workaround will not be endorsed by either Microsoft or Apple, but the winning code has just been posted on the Internet and is available for enthusiasts to play with. More information, including a link to the winning code, is HERE. The implications of such a versatile operating environment are enormous, if the licensing details can be worked out, and will be discussed in a future posting when more details become available.

Spring Training

The field was muddy and the south wind was biting. Rain was forecast and hamstrings were tight, but "our" first baseball practice of the year was pulled off a couple nights ago at the Loyal Heights field, four days before the opening day of spring.

This year it's really a family affair, with me helping out as the inept but well-liked assistant coach, my brother-in-law Don appearing as the Manager, sister Cindy the misunderstood Player Agent, and of course, nephew Sam as one of the team's star players.

We started off with some warm-up stretches, led by Stu, a real-life conditioning coach, and went right into ten minutes of short throwing. After that was fifteen minutes of fielding practice and we finished with bunting and hitting drills. At 6:15 it was already getting dark and the line-drives were becoming a blur, so we called it quits before someone got beaned (me).

It felt great to dust off the glove and throw on the cleats again, which had been stowed away in the garage since last July. The Little League team will have two practices a week for the next couple weeks and then the games start. Then on this coming Monday, it's the first practice for my girls' softball team, which I also coach. That'll be two days a week, plus one weekly game starting in early April. Last but not least is the men's softball team I play on, whose practices will also start in a couple weeks. So for the next few months, there will be plenty to do.

Savanna's UIltimate Frisbee practices started last week with her first games tomorrow, and Tiana has turned out for cheerleading, so for the first time in quite a while, the girls will also be busy.

Ouch--that hurts!!

A couple nights ago I was driving my older daughter Tiana, and her friend, to a video store. From the back seat, she said, "Dad, you know in the rear view mirror, you really look a lot like grandpa." Well, I was stunned that Tiana, who very rarely makes any kind of observation in the first place, should have observed that. It did make me feel very old. I'm 52 and my dad is 77, has Parkinsons, and probably looks even older. I attributed part of it to the fact that I had just shaved and for the first time in quite a while, didn't have a moustache or beard. But I've always felt much younger than my actual age and probably thought deep down inside, that I looked younger, too. Well, Tiana has burst my bubble and put the lie to any illusions I was under. It's depressing....

Does Anybody Know This Frank?

Found this article from the P-I which ran originally on January 8th of 2004. It's quite interesting since it involves someone or something else named Frank. I have copied the entire piece for your blog-viewing pleasure. Should I have just provided a link to the original online article? Perhaps, but that's what paralegals are for.

By REGINA HACKETT
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER ART CRITIC

Chewed by his appetites, Jim Woodring's fat, pink stand-in for his devolved species lumbers around on all fours. Treating him with the caution he deserves is a guy misnamed Lucky. Lucky's jaw hangs like a dropped elevator, giving his otherwise handsome face a gruesomely vacant look.

Expect to see more of them in 2004, as the Seattle comic strip in which they appear has taken off like a surface-to-air missile. The strip is lean on text, heavy on hypnotic imagery and familiar locally to those who've followed it in The Stranger or seen the original watercolors and ink drawings at Belltown's Roq La Rue Gallery.

The blank-slate star of the series is Frank, a catlike, generic anthropomorph with no mom and two dads, one real and the other faux, both useless. The landscapes through which they move are pristine in their twisted beauty, which makes the more ungainly figures pop out like pimples.

After decades of working the strip side of culture, Woodring, 51, is finally reaping rich rewards. "The Frank Book" is a deluxe, 344-page version of the underground series, published by Seattle's Fantagraphics Books and selling briskly around the world. It features a foreword by Frank fan Francis Ford Coppola, who describes the book as "wordless, timeless, placeless (and) full of its own unprecedented characters and experience."

The Village Voice ranked Frank's book as one of the top 25 released in 2003, the only comic strip-based pick on the list. (The Voice called it a "hallucinatory mindscape in brilliant candy colors.") On a recent trip to Japan, where toy versions of the strip's characters sell in vending machines for 300 yen (about $2.65), so many fans came to get their books autographed that Woodring had to sneak out the back, his hand cramping from the strain.

The experience of being famous is unsettling for Woodring, a classically low-key guy.

"Frank might be getting famous, but not me," he said in the tone of a man fending off an unjust accusation. He lives in an old house in the University District with his 17-year-old son and his wife, Mary, a Metro bus driver and designer of his Web site, www.jimwoodring.com, where, among other things, the toys are for sale.

The previous owner was a pack rat who wrongly considered himself handy in the repairs department. He was the kind of guy who'd brace weight-bearing walls with toothpaste and mend faulty wiring with duct tape.

Although the Woodrings bought the house in the late 1980s, they had so much essential work to do they are only now getting around to decor. Although quick to assure visitors that the old Sears, Roebuck catalog wallpaper isn't there by his design, Woodring said it doesn't bother him much.

The action for Woodring is in his head.

That's where he carried his desire to live in the Northwest when he was a kid growing up in various towns on the outskirts of Los Angeles.

Lying in bed late at night and reading under the covers, he was inspired by Betty MacDonald's "The Egg and I."

"She didn't like Indians and made that plain in the story," he said. "It's part of her raunchy and mean-spirited world view, but as a kid I loved her deeply evocative passages about the Olympics. At night I'd stick my head out the window, close my eyes and imagine I was in that country."

By high school that dreamy boy had turned into his parents' idea of a trial. Failing at school, he was at odds with his dad, disdainful of his peers and addicted to drugs and alcohol.

On the other hand, he drew, mostly figures but also landscapes that turned in on themselves, and he read widely in the literature of alienation.

The drawing and the reading saved him, that and meeting his wife, who urged a cleanup in a kind way, and his exposure to art. Seeing a Surrealism retrospective at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art in 1968 amazed him, the realization that all these artists had found a form for their inner feelings.

"I wanted to know what made Surrealism tick, to understand why one drawing had a lot of power and another didn't," he said. "What was the ingredient that made these things run? I came to feel a good piece of Surrealism was like something that phosphoresces under ultraviolet light. You can't see the rays, but they make it glow. I knew when that light was shining in my own head, it was just a matter of learning how to capture it."

After high school, he headed up to the Olympic Peninsula, where he could live cheaply and catch work when he needed it, odd jobs like helping farmers get the hay in.

By the 1970s, he'd begun his own comics. In 1980 he was hired at the Ruby Spears animation studio in Southern California, working on what he thinks of as some of the worst cartoons ever made, such as "Mr. T" and "Rubic and the Amazing Cube."

After nine years in the industry, he'd made enough to get out. He tried San Francisco but found the atmosphere cold and insular. Then moved to Seattle; he and his wife felt at home right away.

"I already knew some people up here," he said. "I'd been corresponding with Charlie Krafft, who is in my opinion one of the best artists in the country. When he heard I might be coming up, he wrote and told me not to. I think he felt too many Californians were coming. I wrote him back and said I drive an old car, wear my clothes out and don't get more than two haircuts a year. I promised to blend in."

With the success of Frank, Woodring is moving into the top tier of cartoonists, people who are accepted as artists by galleries, museums and collectors.

Does anything about his success make him uneasy?

"Yes," he said. "I don't like Frank to appear as a tattoo. He does, of course. There are tattoo shops in San Francisco that feature him among their standard flash designs. I wish they wouldn't. I can imagine a bloated body on a slab and a faded little Frank winking at the morgue attendant. Aside from that, I'm open to anything."

That's the end of the article. Interested in The Frank Book or other work by Jim Woodring? Here's the Fantagraphics Link.

Playlist #1--Anybody Care?

I have several playlists that I choose from when loading music onto my ipod-wannabe. This is what I'm currently listening to. Sorry for the inconsistent formatting and spelling, etc. It's strictly a cut and paste situation and since much of the music has been downloaded from Limewire, I'm kind of at the mercy of the host's description. And yes, I know that I'm mostly stuck in the 60s and 70s. Some of my other playlists are a little more contemporary. It's an age thing....

Down By The River--Neil Young
My My, Hey Hey (Out of the Black)--Neil Young
Jimi Hendrix--All Along The Watchtower
HEY JOE--JIMMY HENDRIX
Purple Haze--Jimi Hendrix
Foxy Lady--Jimi Hendrix
Jimi Hendrix--Little Wing
Jimi Hendrix--Voodoo Child
Kiss the Sky--Jimi Hendrix
If 6 was 9--Jimi Hendrix
Jimi Hendrix--Machine Gun
Lola--The Kinks
You Really Got Me--Kinks
Picture Book--The Kinks All Day And All Of The Night
Kinks--Waterloo Sunset
Otherside--Red Hot Chili Peppers
Red Hot Chili Peppers--Give I
Mott The Hoople--All The Young Dudes
Is She Really Going Out With Him--Elvis Costello
Wild Horses--Rolling Stones
Elvis Costello--Watching The Detect
Time is on my side--Rolling Stones
Miss You--Rolling Stones
Can't You Hear Me Knocking--Rolling Stones
Don't Stop Rolling Stones
The Beach Boys - I Get Around
Beach Boys - California Girls
Little Deuce Coupe Beach Boys
Barbara Ann Beach Boys
Help Me, Rhonda Beach Boys
CALIFORNIA DREAMIN BEACH BOYS
You Really Got Me Kinks
The Ramones - I Wanna Be Sedated
Brown Sugar Rolling Stones
Smells Like Teen Spirit Nirvana
With Or Without You U2
Creep Radiohead
Brass In Pocket The Pretenders
Soft Cell - Tainted Love
Love Shack (Full Version) B52's
Photograph Def Leppard
Suzie Q Creedence Clearwater Revival
Heard It Through the Grapevine Creedence Clearwater Revival
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band Beatles
I Heard It Through the Grapevine Credence Clearwater
The Married Men Linda Ronstadt / Phoebe Snow
San Francisco Bay Blues Phoebe Snow
No Regrets Phoebe Snow
Time Of The Season Zombies
Itchykoo Park Strawberry Alarm Clock
Incense and Peppermints Strawberry Alarm Clock
Beautiful Day Beautiful Day
Everywhere I Go Shawn Mullins
All in my Head Shawn Mullins
Without You Shawn Mullins
Ballad of Billy Jo McKay Shawn Mullins
You Mean Everything to Me Shawn Mullins
Up All Night Shawn Mullins
Shawn Mullins - Shimmer
Something So Right Phoebe Snow
Teach Me Tonight Phoebe Snow
Shakey Ground Phoebe Snow
Two Fisted Love Phoebe Snow
Harpo's Blues Phoebe Snow
The Beatles (1969) - Yellow Submarine
Hey Bulldog Beatles
Joan Armatrading - Down To Zero
Mark Knopfler & Joan Armatrading - Did I Make You Up
Dirty Dancing Soundtrack - Stay Just A Little Bit Longer
Mongoloid Devo
(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction Devo
Jocko Homo Devo
Working In A Coal Mine Devo
Its A Beautiful Morning Young Rascals
Whip It Devo
Secret Agent Man Devo
Aerosmith - Walk This Way
Bungle In The Jungle Jethro Tull
Skating Away Jethro Tull
Aerosmith - Dream On
Get Up Stand Up Bob Marley
Bob Marley - I Shot The Sheriff
Bob Marley & Sublime - Trenchtown Rock
Beatles - John Lennon - We All Shine On
Bob Marley - Jamaica Rum
Bob Marley - Jammin
Bob Marley - Smoke Two Joints
Break On Through The Doors
Led Zepellin - Kashmir
Whole Lot Of Love Led Zepplin
LA Woman The Doors
Crosstown Traffic Jimi Hendrix
Pussycat Dolls - Stick with you
Sean Paul - We Will Be Burning
The Clumsy Lovers - Stand Up
Phoebe Snow - Midnight at the Oasis
Phoebe Snow - I Don't Want The Night To End
Steve Windwood - Back in the high life again
The Low Spark Of High-Heeled Boys Traffic
The beatles - twist & shout
Groove Set The Clumsy Lovers
After The Flood The Clumsy Lovers
Single Girl The Clumsy Lovers
Magical Mystery Tour Beatles
It's Only Rock 'N Roll Rolling Stones
Here, There And Everywhere Beatles
Don't Pass Me By The Beatles
The Rolling Stones - Sister Morphine
Monkey Man Rolling Stones
Iron Man Ozzy Osbourne
Led Zepplin - Kashmir
Come Sail Away Styx
Tush ZZ Top
Bruce Springsteen - Rosalita
Fleetwood Mac - You Can Go Your Own Way
Poetry Man Phoebe Snow
Hall & Oats - She's Gone
Burning Down The House Talking Heads
Same Old Lang Syne Dan Fogelberg
Longer Dan Fogelberg
Dan Fogelberg Sometimes When We Touch
Black Sabbath - Paranoid
Here, There And Everywhere Beatles
Magical Mystery Tour Beatles

The Internet's Best Recipes

Are you like me, with a dozen cookbooks on the kitchen shelf. collecting dust? Or worse yet, somewhere above the stove, collecting grease?

If so, check out this labor of love called FoodDownUnder, otherwise known as the greatest compilation of recipes on the Internet.

I haven't had a recipe fail yet, and I've tried at least half a dozen, from bread to desserts. The pages are laid out Google style, totally unfettered by staged pictures, banner ads or superfluous graphics. You search for what you're interested in, a list comes up, click on the most promising link, and there you have it: a simple recipe, laid out on a very straightforward page, with a minimum of irrelevant editorial comment and did I mention, no ads?

At last count, they had over 240,000 recipes from around the world, although South America is a little under-represented.

Their food and culinary categories include:

African · Americas · Appetizers · Asian · Australian · Berries · Chutnies · Citrus · Dairy · Desserts · Dried fruits · Drinks · Eggs · European · Fish · Fruits · Game · Grains · Herbs · Leafveg · Meals · Meats · Methods · Miscellaneous · Nuts · Occasions · Offal · Pastas · Pastries · Poultry · Pulsers · Salads · Seafoods · Smallgoods · Special diets · Spices · Stews · Stonefruits · Tubers · Vegetables · All vegetables · All Fruits · Nations of the World ·

with each category being a clickable link.

In the mood for something hot and spicy? Maybe Moroccan? Click African, and this comes up:

african · armenian · egyptian · ethiopian · ethnic · lebanese · middle+eastern · moroccan · persian · turkish ·

Click on Moroccan and up comes 538 recipes, everything from couscous to moroccan pepper and tomato salad.

Yearning for something Yiddish? How about some Knaidlach (matzo balls)? Or better yet, how about a knaidl (that's just one matzo ball).

Feeling Icelandish? Well, neither was I until I saw this recipe for the quaintly named Icelandic Curly Peters, which is a dessert made with chopped almonds, raisins and cinammon in a pastry shell.

The beauty of this site is its all-encompassing, non-judgmental attempt at organizing in a simple, highly-searchable, printable, and consistent way, popular recipes from every corner of the globe. Speaking of their sophisticated search engine, they have one neat feature that automatically keeps track of the latest 500 searches--in real time! It's fascinating to see what people from around the world are searching for, at any given time. And it changes so quickly that you have to wonder how many daily clicks this site is getting and how long they can resist the temptation to accept advertising.

Check it out once and you'll immediately bookmark it and refer to it often. Then throw away those old cookbooks and use the space for something important, like your tins of ancient grains, for that next great bread recipe (see future posting).

Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop

Saddam Hussein sits in his cell, getting daily, if not hourly, updates of increasingly effective insurgent activity from his attorneys. US and Iraqi Army soldiers are dying at an increasing, not decreasing rate. The cost of the war to American taxpapers is already over a quarter of a trillion dollars and official government agencies calculate the total cost may exceed 700 billion dollars. Well over twenty thousand Iraqi nationals have already died (insurgents and innocent civilians). Shiite and Sunni rivalries are threatening to tear the tenuous legislative process apart. Neighboring Iran is not backing down from Western demands to curtail its nuclear research and their troops are infiltrating the undefendable borders. Afghanistan is again threatening to disintegrate into a fractious backwater and in the middle of it all is the Israeli-Palistinian fiasco, which shows every sign of escalating until and unless a wholly new State is created. And bin Laden sits at his laptop, getting daily, if not hourly, updates of increasingly effective insurgent activity.

This was supposed to be a war on terror, a war for democracy, a war for enduring freedom. It has become Operation Saveface. At this point, the exit strategies are being whispered loudly in White House hallways and shouted out loud in the rest of the country and much of the world. Western allies are pulling back or pulling out. The streets of London are filled regularly with war protests. The parents of those already killed are fearing the worse--that their losses will have been totally in vain. New recruits are also fearing the worse--what must have seemed like mop-up duty a year or two ago is now something much more sinister. Any soldier heading out to Iraq today knows that there is a distinct chance he or she will be wounded, or might not be coming back at all.

In the early days of the war, I naievely believed that Iraq, its people and its vast reserves of oil could be quickly liberated. I could see a direct benefit. Mountainous stores of weapons of mass destruction would be neutralized. Saddam and his collaborators found, tried, convicted and executed for crimes against humanity. The incredible legacy and vibrancy of the Persian Empire restored. None of that has happened and little, if any of it, ever will.

Instead, it has been a steady diet of car bombs, insurgent attacks, counter attacks, bombed pipelines, shaky alliances and a judicial quagmire. Worse yet, the tide shows no signs of turning. It's just running farther and farther out and as it recedes, it uncovers more and more distrust, institutionalized violence, cultural intolerance and impatience for a better life, for all the world to see. Nobody and nothing is progressing--everything's regressing. The one pragmatic idea that pumping out more oil would inject hope into the Iraqi economy is a joke. With the threat of insurgent attacks, Iraqi is pumping less oil now than they did during the United Nations "embargo."

It's not even two steps forward and one step back--it's two steps back and one step forward. We're being teased by tiny successes only to be shocked at incredible setbacks. Add to this hopelessness the cost factor in terms of human lives, human suffering and the nearly billion dollars A DAY the war is costing and one realizes that it can't be long before our country's patience is used up. When will our futile efforts become crystalized to the point where everyone can see? Will it again be left to the aging baby boomers to take their Viet Nam era consciences out of mothballs and restart in earnest a neo anti-war movment?

What is the limit of our national patience and what should it be? If we had made a quick strike, helped establish a representative government, gotten the oil flowing and then left, all within a year or two, would that have been cool? What if three years later, or five years, or ten years or twenty years later the whole thing collapsed like a house of cards, leading to a civil war and thousands of Iraqi deaths? Would that have passed the test for acceptability? Probably not.

Well, we're in a far worse situation right now. Is it time to end the war? If not, how will we know when it is? When exactly will we have "won"? The questions are unanswerable. There is no point up to which an unjustified war is OK, after which it is not. That "point" is only knowable in the collective consciousness of the people, which include our elected representatives.

I believe we are rapidly approaching the point beyond which war is politically unpalatable, which of course, is the ultimate determinant for any governmental activity. Will someone step forward and show a little leadership and admit we entered the war under false pretenses? Are we so sure of the much-hyped domino effect in the Middle East, that we can't just leave the entire region to its own devices? Have we not learned anything from Viet Nam? Did the Viet Cong's victory destablize Southeast Asia? Let the Iraqis work it out for themselves. Bring the troops home and if we're so concerned about domestic terrorism, as we should be, put just one one-hundreth of the money we'll save into technology research, focusing on security enhancements and alternative fuels. That's 3.6 billion dollars annually. We just need the commitment. Why can we find it for war, but we can't find it for education, global warming or AIDS research? I don't know, I just don't know....

Ocean Shores Redux

We went to Ocean Shores last weekend for a spur-of-the-moment one-night getaway. We stayed at a "resort-condominium" called "The Polynesian." It was on the beach. We enjoyed it--even the greasy Sunday morning buffet. I just have one question: what happened to the "concept" of Ocean Shores?

Sure, they have the mandatory upscale Native American casino at the edge of town, but besides that and the new convention center, very little looked post-1975. This was supposed to be the last word in planned communities, the model for the state of Washington. I remember hearing about Ocean Shores when I was a kid and all these lots that were being platted on the ocean and on the miles and miles of inland freshwater canals. The town itself was going to be the centerpiece, with wide right of ways for streets with fancy medians in between, underground utilities and a grand arched entrance to let you know that you've arrived someplace special.

Undeniably parts of the development have been a big success with lush estates, beautiful weekend getaways on the canal system and plenty of very pleasant homes sprinkled throughout.

The problem is the town, which looks like it is stuck in a timewarp. Where is the vision that created other planned resort communities like Whistler and Bend and that is producing the spectacular Suncadia Resort in Eastern Washington? The town of Ocean Shores has no intimacy largely due to the extreme width of the streets, which in some places is close to 150 feet. The intersections are poorly planned with lanes going every which way and one seems constantly in a state of confusion as tourists and locals try to avoid each other.

There is not a decent restaurant in the entire town. For entertainment, you better like bowling or renting mopeds or riding the legendarily lethargic horses. The locals walk around like zombies. There are no trees to speak of and no town parks. No brew pubs nor intimate places for a romantic dinner. The streets are in need of repair, the medians are tedious strips of grass and garbage. The low-slung buildings in the commercial district are a hodge-podge of pedestrian design, mostly made on the cheap. Where are the architectural standards or the landscaping covenants that have made other communities so distinctive and user-friendly?

The potential for a fully-realized and built-out planned community like Ocean Shores could have been is unfathomable. Still, most would call the current state of affairs a success. The hotels, motels, shops and fast food joints are packed solid in the spring and summer. The wide and sandy, though non-descript, beaches are the area's raison d'etre and draw in thousands of fishermen, kite-flyers, beach-combers and clammers when the weather gets good and storm-watchers and those who just want to get cozy or out of the city when the weather is bad.

I guess I just don't get the Ocean Shores appeal. The last time I stayed there was nearly twenty years ago and that kind of visitor frequency probably won't make the chamber of commerce proud, but it seems about right to me. Still, there are those who love it and continue to invest in it and as long as the ocean waves roll it, Ocean Shores will probably prosper. But when you think of what could have been....

GM's Woes

I've long been interested in the US auto industry and how they have so consistently been underperforming the Asian car makers. I just read a stat, direct from GM, that totally floored me. According to GM, in 2004, health care and pension costs were a staggering $2223 per car. PER CAR!! Can you freakin' believe that??!! Even worse, because of design, quality and resale issues, GM must undercut foreign builders (mainly Toyota) by an average of $1500 per comparable vehicle. Is it any wonder the domestic auto industry is in deep, deep trouble? And that's not all. Interested in Toyota's per vehicle cost for health care and pension?--$201.

Now I'm not a genius, but I'm here to tell you that unless the big 3 get huge union concessions on their legacy pension and health care costs, they simply won't be big much longer. Once the pride of US manufacturing, it's been more than 40 years since the wine and roses days for the domestic makers. Toyota, Nissan and more recently, Hyundai and Kia have taken leadership positions in the auto market and when the first Chinese-made cars start hitting the market in 2007-2008, you'll have to go through bankruptcy court to get your Ford or GM tuned up.

$40/hour for PAIN

Want to climb Mt Rainier this summer? It'll cost you.

I went to an informational meeting at my local REI store last night, sponsored in large part by Rainier Mountaineering Incorporated, the pre-eminent professional guide service in these parts. The talk WAS very informative--I was informed that I'll have to part with $1200 if I want to join them in a 32-hour experience on Mt Rainier this summer.

Included in that princely fee is a mini-mountaineering class (conducted separately from the actual climb), and the rental of specialized climbing equipment you'll need, unless you happen to have a pair of $350 Koflach plastic boots in the closet, as well as a mountaineering down parka, crampons, ice ax and other goodies that will help make the summit climb do-able.

I'm not complaining, though maybe it sounds like I am. RMI has a well-deserved reputation as one of the best guide services in the country and their presentation last night, though well-rehearsed, was solid and objective. Judging by the standing room only audience, they won't be lacking for clients this summer. They have a very good climber to guide ratio of 3-1 and if anyone can get you to the top, it's them. Already many popular weekends are filled and by the time the real climbing season starts in May, much of the summer will booked.

What does $1200 get you, besides the orientation class, guide services and rental gear? Well, you get to stay in RMI's private hut at Camp Muir where most climbers spend the night prior to making the summit attempt. You also get a virtual guarantee that a summit attempt will be made, in almost any kind of weather, which is important for the many climbers that come from out of state. Last, but not least, your entire mental focus can be on physically completing the climb, putting one foot in front of the other, without the distractions of weather conditions, routefinding and logistics, all of which require a lot of effort when trying to bag a serious peak like Rainier.

Don't have $1200? No problem, just get together some buddies and buy a climbing pass and wilderness camping permit for about fifty bucks. Contrary to popular belief, no training or experience is required to apply for the permit and there is no minimum equipment required. You just have to promise not to climb solo. As someone once said "Just Do It."

Of course, there may be some complications. You might get to Camp Muir and find there's no room in the public hut and since you didn't bother bringing a tent, you'll have to trudge back to Paradise and try another day. Or you might get lost in a whiteout, which above 10,000 feet can happen on any day of the year. Then there's always that pesky crevass you could fall into, or the icefall/avalanche, or you could get sick or hurt and can't continue...well you get the idea. Each year, National Park Service rangers report registered "climbers" attempting the summit in high-top tennis shoes and sweat shirts.

Think you can save a few bucks by going with another professional guide service? Think again. Of the 5 or 6 other licensed guide services on Rainier, they all charge about the same, if not more, than RMI. And unlike RMI, most of the other guides will be much more in your face about conditioning and their insistence on your completion of a very strenuous pre-climb mountaineering course.

Speaking of conditioning, a potential climber asked the question last night: When should she start working out in preparation for a Mt Rainier climb this summer? The somewhat predictable answer was "Yesterday." The RMI guides recommend a minimum of four months of specific and intensive conditioning for the successful completion of the climb. They suggest a regimen of cross-training to include running, stair climbing, swimming, bicycling, etc, as well as upper-body conditioning. Additionally, you must get out on weekends and do some real climbs, complete with a 40 pound backpack, preferably on snow. Highly recommended is at least a couple full-dress rehearsals to the base camp at Camp Muir. Proper conditioning is the prime factor in whether your summit attempt will be successful. Want some inspiration to help get you up those nasty 40-degree slopes? The offical record for the quickest summit climb (from Paradise, round trip--about 18 miles) is a mind-boggling four hours. It took this freak of nature just 36 minutes to make it to Camp Muir, which is normally a 4-5 hour slog.

I've been to Camp Muir maybe half a dozen times and my oldest daughter (who was 11 at the time) probably would have made it if not for a sudden June snowstorm that turned us back at about 9000 feet. It is not an easy hike, especially if you're carrying a full pack and wearing crampons. With some buddies, I've been as high as about 11,000, at which point things get really serious in terms of weather conditions and exposure. Each year around 10,000 people officially attempt the climb and a little more than half, on average, succeed. Of the half that make it, the vast majority climb with professional guides. RMI alone accounts for well over 3000 successful summits in a typical year. Of the non-professionally guided attempts, close to 90% fail, with many of those not even making it to Camp Muir. (By the way, there's an interesting website maintained by the Park Service that shows summit attempts vs successes, dating back to the 1850s. Go to http://www.nps.gov/mora/climb/cl_stats.htm)

I would love to do the summit climb and am sure I will someday, but money's a little tight this year so I may have to put it off. Maybe a September climb will work--we'll see. In the meantime, I'm looking at the next best option. The legendary RAMROD (Ride Around Mt Rainier in One Day) bicycle ride is coming up. Physically, it's just as demanding as the Mt Rainier climb, although it may be somewhat lacking in terms of iconic appeal. But at just $80, the ride is an absolute bargain.