all the news that isn't

Adrienne had to work in the City today, so I had the pleasure of staying home with the girls. It was a great day: zoo in the morning, an ok lunch, Hannah napped well and Mal had fun playing by herself during quiet time. We painted and then went to the playground, where Mal really wanted to show me how she could climb the ‘spider web’. She does a great job, and Hannah’s no slouch either! Then we come home and I start making dinner. They both ask for some granola to tide them over, so I give them a small bit each with milk. I’m in the kitchen making pasta with shrimp and mushrooms (and a butter/Parmesan sauce). Mal loves shrimp, so I figure it should be a good dinner, even if Adrienne isn’t home yet – which I figure she’s running late. No problem. The girls start making some spitting noises and laughing – they are known to do this – so I remind them not to and go on with my prep. They continue making the noises but I don’t think much of it. A minute or two later I go back to the dining room, and there’s Mal, drinking milk out of Hannah’s bottle, then spitting it out – on to the floor and table. After which Hannah takes a cloth and wipes the table. Needless to say, both went to bed immediately with no dinner, about 6:45pm vs. their normal 8pm bedtime. Adrienne still wasn’t home, so I got a dinner alone by myself. Some would be ecstatic about this, but it really made me sad – a bad end to a great day. And I really like eating with and just generally spending time with the girls. Probably because I don’t get to, in the grand scheme of things. And then comes the hard part – sticking to your guns. Hannah screaming from her crib after she’d thrown her pillow and blanket and babydoll out. Mal coming down the stairs and saying she’s hungry. That’s the hard part. The good part is I know I’ll remember the spider web climbing and the carousel ride at the zoo, but the dinner alone will quickly fade.

Perhaps the beginning of a series – all starting with the phrase.

What is your favorite everyday pancake recipe? What do I mean by everyday? Primarily must not contain buttermilk or other exotic ingredients that one is not likely to have in the kitchen?

Leave your recipe or link in the comments!

Two days ago, any time Mal would want help going down the stairs or walking on uneven terrain, she’d reach for my hand and grab a finger. Yesterday, when I put my hand out she grabbed my whole hand and held it like… a big girl. And she’s done so every time since. Ah, how it all changes so quickly!

Us Midwestern Protestant-ish types don’t seem to discuss politics (or is this really religion?) in our familial circles. Or really, maybe it’s just us Tallacksens! Anyway, here’s an anonymous poll, hope you’ll take part. Just wanting to get a general snapshot of how you loyal readers feel on a current topic.

I’m doing some basement organizing – never done! – and crank up some Dave Matthews Band (Crash) to make the work more enjoyable. I think no other singular album brings back such vivid and specific memories for me. This is probably because this is the music of my formative years – high school – and thus I have a high level of association. But it gets me thinking about other albums or songs that really puts me there – that I have a high level of association with. So here’s a short list off the (mostly) top of my head:

J.J. Johnson – The Eminent Jay Jay
Carpenters
Collective Soul
Stuart Davis
Pink Martini
Me First and the Gimme Gimmes
Phillip Glass – 1000 Airplanes on the Roof

It occurs to me that it’s sad that most people’s (definitely mine!) musical associations take place when their musical exposure is not that wide or deep. Though only three (including DMB) of the above of my list are from high school era. One from before, the others from after.

So: what is the music that puts you there? And, as much as you’re willing to share – what’s the association? I’ll kick the comments off with my associations.

A few days ago I had to write a quick professional bio to be included in a grant application for work. It took me a while (or at least a lot longer than it should have) to write it up, as I weighed how it fit would into the grant etc. While I was working on writing that, I very quickly wrote an alternate take of my bio. Here it is, unedited:

David Tallacksen fell in love with radio as a young child listening to a static-y Bruce Williams late at night on AM radio. A Sony Boombox with 5-band parametric EQ, received for Christmas, elevated his love for sound when he realized he could remove the speakers for greater stereo separation and imaging. Hearing NPR’s All Things Considered story, “My So-Called Lungs” in high school cemented for him the need to share his passion for Public Radio. After receiving his Bachelor of Arts in Music from Northern Illinois University, David began a professional life sharing that passion; first at affiliate KMUW, where he re-coded websites and hosted news shows. Now at WBGO, he oversees all technical operations there. David enjoys biking to work, listening to the hifi, and well-written manuals. He hopes to build a brick pizza oven some day.

So, if you had a similar chance to write a short “alternate take” bio (professional or otherwise), what would it say?

I still get some interesting pieces of mail every now and then:

As always, click for bigger…

I love TED. I’m not talking about the now-defunct airline. I’m speaking of the conference that has become, in my mind, a ministry of thought. I’ve linked to videos before. You should subscribe to the podcast. There’s great stuff to be had. I recently listened to Barry Schwartz talk about the real crisis: our loss of wisdom. And then today, I had this happen to me:

I rode my folding bike to work, and thus home as well. This evening I passed through the turnstiles with folded bike in hand, and proceeded to the back of the train, my usual spot. As I was to enter, a policeman stopped me and told me bikes weren’t allowed on the the trains until 6:30pm (an arbitrary time when rush-hour is apparently complete). I’ve never had a problem taking a folding bike on the train, and asked him if the rules had recently changed; he said no. I then consulted a PATH train employee, and he indicated while the rules do prohibit bikes, they typically let folding bikes pass. The policeman said he only stopped me because he got chewed out by his superior yesterday. So did I wait the 20 minutes? No, I left that entrance, went down the stairs and back up where I could enter from the other side of the train, and headed towards the front, away from the policeman. Two minutes later the train left the station, where another guy with a folding bike was still waiting for time to pass.

But here’s the thing: in my car, there were 10 empty seats. I was among two people standing, in a car that’s 51 feet long and more than 9 feet wide. There was space to spare – I could have ridden my bike in the car! That amount of people is normal for that train at that time, i.e. there’s always room for bikes, especially bikes that fold. So why was I stopped? Because rules have over-ridden practical, everyday wisdom.

Self portrait, with folding bike

These are the kind of people who make me hate New York.  The people who have lived here for years but have never ventured to Brooklyn, let alone a foreign state like New Jersey!  I almost stopped reading this article after the first sentence of the second paragraph in which the writer felt to compelled to not-so-casually drop the names of the brands she was wearing (like so many people do here), but I soldiered on until the end.  You may remember David’s post where he also expressed exasperation with the people here.  I’ll just echo his “c’mon people.”

I can’t say listening to Paul Harvey’s ‘News and Comment’ lead to my eventual vocation, but it is my first memory of listening to the radio: sitting at the dining room table, eating the lunch Mom had made before I went off to afternoon-kindergarten, the Zenith radio on top of the refrigerator tuned to WROK. Some may point out the fine line he rode between his news and commentary, but no matter your politics, Paul Harvey really was a living legend; a great story teller and the best salesman to grace the airwaves. He deserves every bit of praise that will fall on him these next few days as the world remembers his life.