Mark L. Van Name's Blog, page 200
July 30, 2012
On the road again: Bay area, day 1
I am never going to love a day that begins with me getting up at 6:30 a.m., so today had lost my heart before it started.
The rest of the trip went about as well as one could reasonably expect. I was fortunate enough to get an upgrade for the first flight, and the plane offered WiFi, so that leg of the trip was pleasant and productive. In DFW, I had time to do more work and also grab some Red Mango; a day that includes Red Mango's delicious berry parfait cannot be all bad. The second flight was nowhere near as good as the first, but I did have an exit row aisle seat, so I cannot complain but so much.
I can't talk much about work trips, so I'll conclude by mentioning a phrase I read recently, in Nick Harkaway's The Gone-Away World, and quite love: "sheer furious affection." Something wonderful right there, something powerful and wonderful indeed. The paragraph surrounding it is almost as lovely.
The rest of the trip went about as well as one could reasonably expect. I was fortunate enough to get an upgrade for the first flight, and the plane offered WiFi, so that leg of the trip was pleasant and productive. In DFW, I had time to do more work and also grab some Red Mango; a day that includes Red Mango's delicious berry parfait cannot be all bad. The second flight was nowhere near as good as the first, but I did have an exit row aisle seat, so I cannot complain but so much.
I can't talk much about work trips, so I'll conclude by mentioning a phrase I read recently, in Nick Harkaway's The Gone-Away World, and quite love: "sheer furious affection." Something wonderful right there, something powerful and wonderful indeed. The paragraph surrounding it is almost as lovely.
July 29, 2012
Piedmont disappoints
Back in late February, I wrote
I decided to give Piedmont another try.
The menu that came in email looked interesting:
After three in our group sampled this menu, while another ordered off the main menu, I am sorry to have to return a very clear verdict: Piedmont is a shadow of once it once was, and I won't be going back until something significant changes.
The meal started out fine, because the gazpacho of two types of tomatoes was both attractive and tasty, if a bit bland. The salad was also good, though it needed twice as much cheese.
Things began to fall apart with the swordfish dish, in which the tomatoes were lost and the fish merely meh.
The ravioli dish was a failure in every way. The dish featured a single ravioli as big as some muffins. The ravioli itself was chewy, the meat dry--a sin with short ribs, and the tomatoes again lost.
As for the dessert, one of us liked the tomato curd, but the rest were desperately hoping to sneak in some ice cream later.
The service, which was weak last time, was simply bad this time. Our main server was a very nice young woman with good intentions, but she was lost most of the time and failed to get even the basics (such as asking if anyone wanted a beverage) wrong. Another person brought one of our dishes and wandered to all the nearby tables offering it to them before we could flag him down and get it.
An old friend owns the company that owns Piedmont, and I want to support his businesses, but there are so many better restaurants in the Triangle now that I just can't see myself going back to Piedmont anytime soon.
I decided to give Piedmont another try.
The menu that came in email looked interesting:
I admit to being concerned about the tomato curd in the dessert, but I'm always game for interesting food prepared by a good chef.
First Course
Sunburst and heirloom farmer’s market tomato gazpacho, Coastal sweet poached shrimp, radish salad
Second Course
Coon Rock Farm Heirlooms, Chapel Hill Creamery mozzarella, puree of basil, toasted pecans, balsamic reduction
Third Course
Roasted swordfish, byaldi, wilted butter lettuce, Roma tomato confit, herbed butter sauce
Fourth Course
Grass fed beef short rib ravioli, roasted garden heirlooms, Brinkley Farm’s snap peas
Final Course
Tomato curd, peaches, shortbread cookies
After three in our group sampled this menu, while another ordered off the main menu, I am sorry to have to return a very clear verdict: Piedmont is a shadow of once it once was, and I won't be going back until something significant changes.
The meal started out fine, because the gazpacho of two types of tomatoes was both attractive and tasty, if a bit bland. The salad was also good, though it needed twice as much cheese.
Things began to fall apart with the swordfish dish, in which the tomatoes were lost and the fish merely meh.
The ravioli dish was a failure in every way. The dish featured a single ravioli as big as some muffins. The ravioli itself was chewy, the meat dry--a sin with short ribs, and the tomatoes again lost.
As for the dessert, one of us liked the tomato curd, but the rest were desperately hoping to sneak in some ice cream later.
The service, which was weak last time, was simply bad this time. Our main server was a very nice young woman with good intentions, but she was lost most of the time and failed to get even the basics (such as asking if anyone wanted a beverage) wrong. Another person brought one of our dishes and wandered to all the nearby tables offering it to them before we could flag him down and get it.
An old friend owns the company that owns Piedmont, and I want to support his businesses, but there are so many better restaurants in the Triangle now that I just can't see myself going back to Piedmont anytime soon.
July 28, 2012
Two more things to love about the new Gaslight Anthem album
Handwritten, the album that the Gaslight Anthem released last Tuesday, has been on heavy rotation for me since I received it. I've recommended it before, and I do so again, but here I wanted to draw your attention to two nifty facets of it.
The first is, oddly enough, the liner notes intro, which Nick Hornby wrote. (If you don't know Hornby's work, get busy and read some.) In particular, I love this bit, in which he's discussing how you write--the advice applies to songs or books or whatever, though here he's talking about songs and music--in a world in which it's all been done before.
Do not miss this album.
The first is, oddly enough, the liner notes intro, which Nick Hornby wrote. (If you don't know Hornby's work, get busy and read some.) In particular, I love this bit, in which he's discussing how you write--the advice applies to songs or books or whatever, though here he's talking about songs and music--in a world in which it's all been done before.
...you think, write, play and sing as though you have a right to stand at the head of a long line of cool people - you recognise that the Clash and Little Richard got here first, but they're not around any more, so you're going to carry on the tradition, and you're going to do it in your own voice, and with as much conviction and authenticity and truth as you can muster.The second is this bit from the title track:
There's nothing like another soul that's been cut up the same.Yes.
And did you wanna drive without a word in-between?
I can understand, you need a minute to breath.
And to sew up the seams...after all this defeat.
Do not miss this album.
July 27, 2012
A Cosmic Christmas
is the title of an upcoming (due in November) anthology that includes the first reprint of the only solo Lobo story, "Lobo, Actually."
As always, click on the image to see a larger version.
As you can see from this preliminary cover sketch, Hank Davis, the Baen Senior Editor (and friend of mine) who created the book, put me in good company. The final cover, which you can view here, makes it clear that I'm in even better company than the sketch suggested.
If you can't wait until November to read the story, by all means pick up a copy of my omnibus collection, Jump Gate Twist.
This story is my first (and so far only) Christmas tale, and I'm quite fond of it. It's a Dickensian piece with more heart than one might imagine possible from Lobo, but I believe it works. Check it out.
As always, click on the image to see a larger version.As you can see from this preliminary cover sketch, Hank Davis, the Baen Senior Editor (and friend of mine) who created the book, put me in good company. The final cover, which you can view here, makes it clear that I'm in even better company than the sketch suggested.
If you can't wait until November to read the story, by all means pick up a copy of my omnibus collection, Jump Gate Twist.
This story is my first (and so far only) Christmas tale, and I'm quite fond of it. It's a Dickensian piece with more heart than one might imagine possible from Lobo, but I believe it works. Check it out.
July 26, 2012
Where I'll be Sunday night
At the Raleighwood Cinema Grill, where the Raleigh NC Browncoats are hosting--and I am once again one of the sponsors of--the annual Can't Stop the Serenity Event.
From the Browncoats' Web site I just learned that the event is already sold out, but if you happen to be there, come by and say, "Hi."
Yes, I am a big enough geek to not only attend this showing but also to sponsor it. I love this film, and I'm also a huge Joss Whedon fan.
Speaking of whom, Joss Whedon, if you're looking for another project, I know of a great SF series you could do a fantastic job of turning into a wildly successful film series....
From the Browncoats' Web site I just learned that the event is already sold out, but if you happen to be there, come by and say, "Hi."
Yes, I am a big enough geek to not only attend this showing but also to sponsor it. I love this film, and I'm also a huge Joss Whedon fan.
Speaking of whom, Joss Whedon, if you're looking for another project, I know of a great SF series you could do a fantastic job of turning into a wildly successful film series....
July 25, 2012
A new t-shirt slogan
We designed this one for me at the beach.
I'm tall when I'm standing on my angerHell, yeah.
July 24, 2012
You need this album
Yeah, it's another tune from the Gaslight Anthem's Handwritten, which hit the streets today.
Okay, even if you don't need it, I do.
Damn, I love this band's music.
Okay, even if you don't need it, I do.
Damn, I love this band's music.
July 23, 2012
Goodbye, Lyra, goodbye
Lyra was our cat, and yesterday we had to ask the vet to give her a drug that would peacefully kill her. Thanks to morphine, she wasn't in pain, but she was not going to live long, because after a multi-year battle with weak kidneys, she had finally emerged the loser.
Nine years and three months ago, our family journeyed to the pound to adopt a kitten. Lyra seized our hearts--your kittens always choose you--and this tiny ball of gray fur came home with us. The vet said she might be two months old, but she might be younger; my money was on younger. Sarah named her.
Before Lyra was five, it was clear that she was not healthy. She had a heart condition, was prone to infections, and had weak kidneys. We did all we could to keep her alive, and she had almost five more years of life. She never hit six pounds and was always the thinnest cat I've had.
Lyra was all cat, a creature in charge of the world and with a healthy disdain for most of it. Few people warmed to her, and she warmed to even fewer. Like most such cats, she mellowed with age, but she was never a classic lap cat. Her suspicion was always on high, as you can see in this recent photo, courtesy of Jain.
As always, click on a photo to see a larger version.
Lyra was a smart cat, maybe the smartest I've ever had. For example, after playing with the iPad below for a short time, she moved it to check under it, realized no prey was available, and left it.
More impressively, Lyra was the only cat I've had who played catch. Late at night, when the world was quiet and the mood hit her, she would bring a triangle made of a drinking straw to an ottoman, drop it, and stare at you until you threw it. She'd catch it in the air sometimes, and other times she'd chase after it on the ground. She'd bring it back and play again, over and over. If you grew bored and she was still interested, she'd grab it with her teeth, throw it by whipping her head around, and then chase it.
On occasion, she'd crawl into some of our laps and demand affection. This didn't happen a lot, but when it did, you were wise to give her what she wanted.
Despite her small size, Lyra was a great hunter. No roach or mouse escaped her for long.
Lyra could be mean and was always demanding, a dollar-steak of a cat, a wild west gunfighter of an animal.
Lyra was not a simple animal, but of course she wouldn't be; she was, as I said, all cat.
When you lose a pet, even one as cranky and odd as Lyra, there's a hole in your world, a rip that takes time to heal, an absence you can't help feeling. I feel it most at night, when Lyra would play, when her shields would slip a little and she would sometimes turn loving. As hard as she could be to love, Lyra was our cat, we were her people, and we will miss her.
Goodbye, Lyra.
Nine years and three months ago, our family journeyed to the pound to adopt a kitten. Lyra seized our hearts--your kittens always choose you--and this tiny ball of gray fur came home with us. The vet said she might be two months old, but she might be younger; my money was on younger. Sarah named her.
Before Lyra was five, it was clear that she was not healthy. She had a heart condition, was prone to infections, and had weak kidneys. We did all we could to keep her alive, and she had almost five more years of life. She never hit six pounds and was always the thinnest cat I've had.
Lyra was all cat, a creature in charge of the world and with a healthy disdain for most of it. Few people warmed to her, and she warmed to even fewer. Like most such cats, she mellowed with age, but she was never a classic lap cat. Her suspicion was always on high, as you can see in this recent photo, courtesy of Jain.
As always, click on a photo to see a larger version.Lyra was a smart cat, maybe the smartest I've ever had. For example, after playing with the iPad below for a short time, she moved it to check under it, realized no prey was available, and left it.
More impressively, Lyra was the only cat I've had who played catch. Late at night, when the world was quiet and the mood hit her, she would bring a triangle made of a drinking straw to an ottoman, drop it, and stare at you until you threw it. She'd catch it in the air sometimes, and other times she'd chase after it on the ground. She'd bring it back and play again, over and over. If you grew bored and she was still interested, she'd grab it with her teeth, throw it by whipping her head around, and then chase it.
On occasion, she'd crawl into some of our laps and demand affection. This didn't happen a lot, but when it did, you were wise to give her what she wanted.
Despite her small size, Lyra was a great hunter. No roach or mouse escaped her for long.
Lyra could be mean and was always demanding, a dollar-steak of a cat, a wild west gunfighter of an animal.
Lyra was not a simple animal, but of course she wouldn't be; she was, as I said, all cat.
When you lose a pet, even one as cranky and odd as Lyra, there's a hole in your world, a rip that takes time to heal, an absence you can't help feeling. I feel it most at night, when Lyra would play, when her shields would slip a little and she would sometimes turn loving. As hard as she could be to love, Lyra was our cat, we were her people, and we will miss her.
Goodbye, Lyra.
July 22, 2012
Summer night magic
Waiting for our dinner reservation time in downtown Hillsborough, a light rain falling, the penultimate night of my vacation, this appears.
As always, click on an image to see a larger version.
The rainbow framed the old city building and hushed us all as we admired it.
Then another, lesser but still vibrant, joined it.
As I've observed many times before, Bill Watterson was right: Magic is everywhere. We have but to notice it.
As always, click on an image to see a larger version.The rainbow framed the old city building and hushed us all as we admired it.
Then another, lesser but still vibrant, joined it.
As I've observed many times before, Bill Watterson was right: Magic is everywhere. We have but to notice it.
July 21, 2012
And we are home
Coming home after a vacation inevitably yields mixed feelings. It's great to be where you live, but it's also sad to end the time away. I love my job, but I love even more the feeling of having no day-to-day responsibilities beyond organizing the pack of people in the house. And so on.
One feeling that is in no way mixed, however, is the triumph we all feel at besting the Bobcake. Yes, the believers were right, and we skeptics were wrong. The 2012 Bobcake is no more.
As always, click on an image to see a larger version of it.
We consumed more than cake while at the beach, of course. In addition to truly obscene quantities of calories, we also plowed through two dozen DVDs, as you can see below.
If you can find a pattern--other than the fact that I own them--that unites all of these films, you're probably also a believer in the conspiracy to hide the alien remains in Area 51. Nonetheless, I'd like to hear your theory.
Tomorrow, I dig through the mountain of mail, pay overdue bills, and generally prepare myself for my re-immersion into the working world.
One feeling that is in no way mixed, however, is the triumph we all feel at besting the Bobcake. Yes, the believers were right, and we skeptics were wrong. The 2012 Bobcake is no more.
As always, click on an image to see a larger version of it.We consumed more than cake while at the beach, of course. In addition to truly obscene quantities of calories, we also plowed through two dozen DVDs, as you can see below.
If you can find a pattern--other than the fact that I own them--that unites all of these films, you're probably also a believer in the conspiracy to hide the alien remains in Area 51. Nonetheless, I'd like to hear your theory.
Tomorrow, I dig through the mountain of mail, pay overdue bills, and generally prepare myself for my re-immersion into the working world.
