Tango Snacks

It's that time of year again.

Damn Girl Scouts.

Just like the tulips that emerge from the frozen soil, just like the bears that awaken from their long winter's naps, just like the spring robins that start to build their nests, it is that time of year.

Girl Scout Cookie Time.

No, I like the Girl Scouts. The two little ones that were freezing their tiny bottoms off in the cold outside of the train station were very sweet and very organized. I know they will be very successful pillars of their communities someday.

(I was never a Girl Scout. I was an Indian Princess, which was a short-lived, not very PC-sounding group that a bunch of wives invented to get their husbands and daughters out of the house from time to time so that they could have some private moments for themselves, or to play mah-jong. Hey, it was the Seventies. I don't make this stuff up. The only thing I remember about the Indian Princesses was learning to rub a paper grocery bag against itself long enough so that it felt like suede--don't ask me what we did with the suede/paper afterwards because I don't remember--and when my dad flew my kite into a tree at an Indian Princess picnic. Unlike the Girl Scouts, I don't recall doing anything that would earn me a badge or help me become a better person, unless wearing a paper headband with a feather stuck in it counts as something.)

Anyway, the reason that I say Damn is only because now I have to buy Thin Mints cookies again. (Don't even tell me that Caramel Delights are better than Thin Mints.) They should name them Crack Thins and be more honest about what one of the main ingredients might be.

I have always felt somewhat guilty about my cookie intake at this time of year because Thin Mints are to be treasured (even if you freeze them, they can't last forever) as a seasonal delight, like chanterelles or truffles.

I am (finally!) going to a milonga tonight so I have decided to make Thin Mints my Official Tango Snack. Normally my tango shoe tote bag (yes, I have a tote bag of shoes because I can't just pick one pair) has several types of chocolate bars, in addition to a shoe brush, bandaids, mints, and gum.

So, if you see me tonight and you know the secret of the tote bag (wink, wink, nudge, nudge), I may very well give you a Thin Mint and share in the bounty of the season.

Or maybe not. It depends.

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I should add that Thin Mints do have some medicinal value and can help reduce vomiting, because I used them in such a capacity during an unfortunate incident that involved discovering a boiled slug in an artichoke. Never mind.

It's Always Something

I am not even going to go into it right now, but let's just say that sometimes I feel just like Roseanne Roseannadanna.

It just goes to show you.

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PS. When I was in 8th grade, my hair looked like this. But you'll never see the pictures.

PSS. Why are there no Gilda Radner clips on youtube? That seems very wrong to me. Even if it is illegal.

Hello Out There

"Sometimes the internets are magical... little gossamer hellos spun across the world."

--tangobaby

I just wrote that in a comment on my own blog. But after I did, I thought hmmm, I like how that sounds, if I do say so myself.

The sound of one hand typing.

So now I am quoting myself. Is that like talking to yourself? I don't know if I'll ever say anything that makes me want to quote myself again, but I guess when you have your own blog, you can do whatever kind of navel-gazing you want...with yourself.

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Plus, it made me find these ultra-cool photos of spiderwebs, to illustrate my point.

Pics from wierdomatic.com.

Quickie

I really have to try to get some work done today, but now thanks to dutchbaby, I am totally distracted.

This is the coolest website ever.

Dutch people must be way way more fun than other people.

What Does Love Mean?

This question was posed to a group of children ages 4 to 8. Here's what the kids had to say:

"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love." Rebecca, age 8

"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth." Billy, age 4

"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other." Karl, age 5

"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs." Chrissy, age 6

"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired." Terri, age 4

"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.'" Danny, age 7

"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss." Emily, age 8

"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen." Bobby, age 7

"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate." Nikka, age 6

"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday." Noelle, age 7

"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well." Tommy, age 6

"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore." Cindy, age 8

"My mommy loves me more than anybody You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night." Clare, age 6

"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken." Elaine, age 5

"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford." Chris, age 7

"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day." Mary Ann, age 4

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"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones." Lauren, age 4

"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." Karen, age 7

"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross." Mark, age 6

"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget." Jessica, age 8

.

***

Okay, people, play nice today. And if you live in San Francisco, the sun is shining! Go outside!

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Thanks to my baby sister for sending me these quotes this morning. She was my first love and still is.

Passing Notes in School

I've decided that the only way I am going to survive today--and perhaps for an undetermined number of days to come--is for all of the sarcastic, funny, smart people I know to write amusing emails today (to me, of course) to distract me.

I am going Office Stir Crazy.

For those of you who have already been sending me such welcome sass notes, thank you. You know who you are.

For those of you who haven't started yet, look at this as your Good Deed for Today and some sort of humanitarian public service.

Happy Birthday, George

“I think people who can truly live a life in music are telling the world, 'You can have my love, you can have my smiles. Forget the bad parts, you don't need them. Just take the music, the goodness, because it's the very best, and it's the part I give.' ”-- George Harrison


I remember where I was when I heard that John Lennon was shot. It was in the evening and I was watching Hill Street Blues. The program was interrupted to broadcast the news, and I told my mom, who was in the den, talking on the phone.

I don't remember where I was when I heard that George Harrison had died, but I do remember how instantly my eyes filled with tears and how terribly sad I felt.

I was never old enough to be influenced by the Beatles when they were together, and when George released his first solo album, All Things Must Pass, I was only three. But for some reason, I always loved George, even before I knew anything about him.

As a person I was drawn to him, and as a musician, I appreciated him in all of his incarnations, from the "quiet" Beatle to his Dark Horse days, to the Traveling Wilburys.

I don't know what it is about some people that draws us in, makes us feel like we can instantly relate to them, (maybe we see something of ourselves in them?) or how we can feel attached to people we will never really know, but that's how it is sometimes.



What I love about this video (besides the song) is that it's pure and simple. It makes you remember the days when music came on actual records.

Official George Harrison website (lovely)
Wikipedia entry about George
Rolling Stone article about George's greatest moments in music
The Traveling Wilburys website
George's induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame
BBC pages devoted to George

His last words: Love one another.

Laughing Hard at The Purple Onion

I was going to call this post "Laughing My Ass Off at The Purple Onion," but then I thought that didn't sound very ladylike. But "Laughing Hard at The Purple Onion" isn't a very good title either because it just sounds like I was laughing at an onion that happened to be purple. Like I'm losing my mind in the produce section.

So I may re-title this post at some point in the future when I can say what I really mean.

What I really did mean to say is that:

1. I went to a comedy club in North Beach on Friday night (yes, back so soon) called The Purple Onion.
2. While I was at the comedy club, I laughed so hard that had I still been sick with the most recent cold, I probably would have coughed up a lung. (That is meant as a total compliment to the performers. I laughed really hard.)

The Purple Onion is one of those classic places where some really great comedy talent has taken the stage (Lenny Bruce, Woody Allen, Richard Pryor, Mort Sahl) and when you walk down those crazy, narrow stairs to enter the club (I worry a little about the 2-drink minimum and going up the even crazier staircase to the ladies' room--someone is going to break an ankle there), you feel like maybe this is what it would be like to go to The Cavern Club, where the Beatles first played.

This club has some serious historic atmosphere. You can feel it coming out of the brick walls and low ceiling overhead (how charming to be in an old unreinforced brick basement in Earthquake City.)

***

Anyhoo, we went to see Dan Piraro, the creator of the comic Bizarro (and a subject of one of my favorite posts, The Food Baby). He's a syndicated cartoonist and I'm sure you've seen his work unless you have no sense of humor or you live in a place where the local newspaper has banned his work. He's incredibly warped, sarcastic and funny as hell, and he even finds the time to be a vegan and an animal-rights activist (although as a devoted carnivore, I will keep that information to myself).

The comic who opened for him, a local guy named Johnny Steele, was hilarious-- especially if you have grown up or lived in the Bay Area for a while.

The clip below is a mini-documentary about Dan and his art and his comedy. You can see parts of his previous show, some of the material he also used in this one. The best part of the night was when he read his hate mail to us, but unfortunately we don't get to see that on the clip. But you should watch it anyway--it's a cool little video. And if you think you'd like to see him, get on his mailing list.





Picture of The Purple Onion was something I should have taken myself if I had a proper camera, but instead I got it off of flickr from someone named Sophiesunset.

If Only Tony Had Tangoed

Or, When Dance and Movies Collide (inspired by recent comments/posts by Tangocherie and Alex).

An early morning musing: What if Tony Manero had been walking to a milonga instead of to a disco? No BeeGees perhaps, and I sure would have started dancing tango a lot earlier in life.

Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers didn't inspire me to dance because they were so perfect and beautiful that I couldn't aspire to be like them. But John Travolta and ahem, Sally Potter, made me get out on the dance floor and give it a shot because I could relate to them as being normal people who like to dance.

I will admit that I have soft spot in my heart for The Hustle. And the above clip might be one of the best openings to a movie, ever.



Come on, admit it. You like this too.

Now I'm going back to bed. Sitting in front of a computer at 6am on a Saturday is insane.

The Red Balloon (Le Ballon Rouge)

I don't think of myself as a particularly nostalgic person. Strangely, I seem to have more nostalgia for people and places and times other than my own personal experiences.

I don't know what made me think of this movie today. Perhaps because I think about Paris a lot. Or perhaps because I just wrote this post about color versus black and white in filmmaking, and now I'm ready to contradict myself immediately as I am wont to do at times.

Whatever the reason, I wanted to share a rainy-day elementary school moment with you: Snuggling hordes of small bodies, sitting cross-legged on the flat, nubby carpet, waiting for the AV assistant to thread the film through the spools on the old metal projector. Giggling and whispering. Listening to the scratch and crackle of the audio through the boxy speakers.

Loving Le Ballon Rouge every time and wishing for rainy days so we could watch it.

I hope this brings you a smile for whatever reason. The entire film is posted below.

Amusez-vous.



Part 1





Part 2





Part 3





Part 4 (fini)

Sometimes Life Looks Better in Black and White...and Grey

Last night, I was watching these Murat and Michelle videos again (see below), and I wondered why they were so appealing to me, more than some of the others I watch. I love watching this couple, and their musicality and interpretation is swoon-worthy.

But I realized that part of what draws me in is that these videos are filmed in black and white.

There's something about the black and white aesthetic that allows us to focus on the nuances, the shadows: the visual equivalent of those ineffable parts that make tango what it is. Black and white reveals an inner life. There's a privateness to it.

It's the same reason why I love black and white movies so much. Faces are more interesting, more beautiful to me that way. Locations have more depth, more character.

Look at Rita Hayworth in You Were Never Lovelier (one of my favorite films ever), and then again in Cover Girl. Same gorgeous woman, but her face is incomparable in black and white.

Glorious color has its place, to be sure, but it also provides a distraction to the eye that can take away from the intensity of the action or the intimacy of the moment.



Murat and Michelle dancing in Tango Amor show in Maui, August 2007. The tango is "Remolino" by Francini Pontier and Raul Beron.




Tango improvisation by Murat and Michelle at the La Belle Epoque Milonga, New York City, June 9th, 2006. Music: "En Esta Tarde Gris".

Red Moon Rising

From the San Francisco Chronicle:

The start of a lunar eclipse could be seen over Coit Tower in San Francisco on Wednesday evening, but as the moon rose higher, the total eclipse - the Earth's shadow covering the moon completely from 7:01 to 7:51 p.m. - was obscured by clouds and fog. Ancient Greeks first observed the round shadow of the Earth crossing the moon's surface and deduced that the Earth itself must be round, not flat. The next total eclipse of the moon visible from California will occur on Dec. 21, 2010.

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Coit Tower is one of my most favorite SF landmarks to see at night. The tower is beautiful all by itself, but I'm sure with the eclipsed moon rising behind it, it was...heavenly.

I guess I was inside enjoying my macchiato at the time. Oh well. I'll try to be a better observer three years from now.

Chronicle photo by Frederic Larson.

A Little North Beach Love

Not much to say.

Just meandered around North Beach tonight, all bundled up, eating cannolis and drinking caffè macchiatos.

Looking towards the financial district with the tall buildings all lit up, the moon above half-covered by wisps of clouds.

I could live in North Beach real easy.


Thanks to The Boy for his stylish pic of his favorite pizza spot.

For My Hoochie Choochie Man

When are you gonna play this song for me? (Your harmonica was asking about you.)

Those Who Are About to Eat, Salute You

This post is part PSA and part curiosity-seeking on my part.

Being in Buenos Aires on a typical tango two-week jaunt, I felt like I was always running from a dance class (once I could peel myself out of bed and dress myself) to a shoe store to a milonga. Food was secondary, even though I didn't mean it to be and anyone who knows me knows that food is never secondary to me. But tango definitely came first.

So in amongst all of that running around, my meals consisted of a lot of empanadas. Pretty much all kinds of empanadas. And a little pizza. I remember having some okay risotto, an okay steak, and a lot of cortados.

I came home with a lot of wonderful memories, a suitcase full of shoes, but no clue about the food of Argentina. I know I missed out as far as the eating is concerned and I didn't plan my restaurant-ing the way I normally would. Reading The Tango Addiction's recent adventures made me see that I didn't know where to go to get a really good meal.

I found this food article by Gael Greene, New York Magazine's "Insatiable Critic." It's her Hot List for Buenos Aires, and I'm really curious to know if any of you agree with her reviews because I'm much more inclined to try something written by a food critic than something I found in a random travel book. I read a lot of food writing and so that's where my tendencies lie.

And, for those of you who are planning a trip to Buenos Aires soon or might already be there, perhaps some of these restaurants would be of interest to you. I sure wish I had tried a few of them. Tina--there's a place called Persicco Ice Cream that has nine kinds of dulce de leches! Did you go there yet?!!! (J. Salguero 2591 T: 4808-0888)

Bon Appétit!