Scout Moves

I was having a chat with a fellow foodie one day, and she mentioned she was thinking about making Johnny Marzetti for dinner. I had no idea what she was talking about, but because I didn't care enough at the time to inquire, I just nodded and pretended to be familiar with Johnny Marzetti. I suspected it was made with ground beef because we had just finished talking about meatloaf. These are the conversations I have. Later, I decided I was interested in knowing about this Johnny Marzetti, so I looked it up. Turns out, it's another one of those regional dishes like city chicken. In the late 1800s, a woman named Teresa Marzetti moved to Columbus, Ohio from Florence, Italy, and she open a restaurant. Marzetti's was a local favorite for Ohio State students and eventually became a four-star restaurant, which will surprise you when you see the recipe. Anyway, at some point in the 20s, Teresa came up with this dish that she supposedly named after her little brother, although some

I can't believe I missed Harper Lee's birthday. It was yesterday, and I spent the entire day being unaware. I acknowledged it last year, so I can only assume I'm slipping. Missing the birthday of one of my favorite authors made me wonder what else I missed yesterday. Here is what I let slip by: Birthdays • James Monroe • Lionel Barrymore • Oskar Schindler • Saddam Hussein • Indian Larry • Jay Leno Yesterday In History • 1789—The crew of the Bounty mutinied against Captain Bligh • 1930—the first night game of official baseball; Independence, Kansas • 1945—Benito Mussolini and his girlfriend were executed. After the War, my father brought home a photo of their bodies being dragged through the streets. • 1952—The US ends its occupation of Japan. That helps to date my china tea cups that are marked with "Made in Occupied Japan." Yesterday was also National Cracker Day and National Poetry Reading Day. I feel as if I let so many notable events and occasions and subject

There has been an online debate of sorts going on in Small Town. The newspaper lets you comment on certain stories online as long as you don't get nasty or call people names. They don't always monitor that very well, but they try. It all started two weeks ago when a local minister wrote a letter to the paper complaining that his 16-year-old son was forced to read The Catcher in the Rye for an English assignment. The boy didn't get far into the book before discovering language that he thought was inappropriate for him to read, so he handed the book to his father, shame-faced and disgusted. Daughter No. 2 thinks the kid just wanted to get out of reading the book, but it's hard to say for sure. Anyway, the father was incensed. He's never read the book, of course, but after flipping through the first chapter, he was highly offended, enough to write the paper and complain. I don't know if he complained to the school or the teacher, who would gladly give the kids som

In my attempt to improve my painting skills, I discovered that I was washing quite a bit of paint down the drain after a session of making a mess on a piece of canvas. I decided to start using the left-over paint on canvas swatches—4x4—and I've discovered I usually like the scrap bits better than the original piece I set out to create to begin with. After painting something that left me with pinks, white, and oranges, this is what the throw-away paint gave me: After a pathetic attempt to paint the head of a tabby cat on a bright green background, here is what I was able to make before washing out the brushes and wiping the pallet clean: and after a simple landscape, one I actually liked in the end, here is what the left-over paint gave me: Here's to not wasting paint, which isn't cheap, by the way. And here's to learning to paint something other than cypress trees.

I'm cool because I now have the coolest bags out there for buying groceries. Like most people I bring home a trunk full of plastic bags when I buy groceries. My grocery store will bag meat or loose onions or anything with a spray trigger and then put it in the bigger bag so you've got even more plastic. I usually save the things because they come in handy when scooping out the litter box, but I have collected such a heaping mound of them, and I don't even want to think about how many I have thrown away. The two stores I shop in sell reusable bags for 99¢ each, although one of them gave me some as a bonus for contributing to a Food for the Needy program. The thing is, these bags are ugly, especially the free ones. That store has no sense of color, and everything is beige. The bags from the other store are emblazoned with the logo of their store brand, and I don't really care to advertise that stuff. I don't buy their products, so I don't want to walk around with

They say you can't trust your feelings, like the ones that suggest you feel like shooting up a shopping mall. "I feel like punching somebody" isn't a feeling you can trust for sure, although "I feel like a sandwich" isn't so bad. Funny, you don't look like a sandwich. You can't always trust your senses either, it turns out. You know that saying, "believe none of what you read and only half of what you see." Ten people can witness one car accident and then present ten different stories of what happened, all from a different angle and with a life time's worth of preconceived ideas. What we want to be true can distort what we see as well. Some people would look at this picture and see a miracle of Jesus. I live with two cats, so I know exactly what it is. What do you see? All kinds of things can interfere with your perception—there is a whole world of clutter out there ready to play games with the signals your brain gets from your sen

...and nice old men. I have a favorite place for joe, and Daughter No. 2 has a favorite place for lunch. She and a girl friend walk to a little sandwich and soup shop next door to her school nearly every day for lunch. The shop is adjacent to the parking lot and very convenient. It's also affordable for kids, and No. 2 has her favorites on the menu. When the woman in charge makes a batch of macaroni and cheese soup, she can bet No. 2 will order a bowl and beg for more. No. 2 also has her favorites not necessarily on the menu, and she knows she can ask them for something special. They know what she likes just like my coffee guy knows that I want a 16-oz. cup of regional blend with no room for cream. This school year, No. 2 and her friend have caught the attention of an older gentleman who eats there for lunch nearly every day, too. I know what you're thinking—"candy, little girls?" But he isn't that way. On his birthday, he gave them cupcakes. On Valentine's Da

The title doesn't seem right to me, but if I remember that people are finished, and cakes are done, I guess it's fine. Anyway, the concert in which we played Pines of Rome was a success. Here is how it went. We began with the 2nd movement of a relatively new symphony inspired by the composer's autistic son, and the composer was actually listening by telephone. For the sake of time and lack of rehearsing, we would not be playing any other movements, but at the last minute—which means during the concert—our conductor decided we should play excerpts from the third movement before hanging up the phone. I had approached this concert with all the confidence I could muster, and I wasn't nervous at all. But when I heard this announcement, the blood left my head, and felt like I was sucking on a wad of cotton. That movement which I hadn't practiced had a little horn thing at the end. It wasn't difficult and was insignificant compared to the bassoon solo, but it was unfam

You know it must be Friday because I'm showing more paintings. While I was reading up on the pines of Rome, I was intrigued by the shapes of the trees. They're more like umbrellas because of the way they are groomed as they grow—canopy trees—and they are often found growing near cypress trees. So, I set out to figure out how to paint them. I started small. Then I worked a little bigger. Then I worked even bigger, but this one was a bust. After it dried, I painted over it in white and started over. The second attempt was better but still not good, so I glued stuff on as a way to salvage it. I scanned in the first page of my Pines of Rome horn music and printed it on textured paper. Then I ripped the paper in strips and laid them out with wire, beads, bits of rusted window screen material, and a tiny horn charm (useless points for you if you can spot it). And I varnished the whole thing. I kind of like it. What do you think? (click on it for a bigger view).

So, I'm standing in my living room letting my mind wander for a minute or two as I stare out the window and watch the day go by, and I see my neighbors walking their dogs down the street. They are nice neighbors who are always friendly and responsible with their property. That is to say they aren't like the other neighbors who heap rubbish behind their house like Ma and Pa Kettle and let their dogs bark for thirty minutes at a time . Anyway, I see the nice people walking their dogs, a big golden retriever who is as sweet as can be and as dumb as a post—he once ate a sock and nearly died before it was surgically removed—and a new golden retriever puppy. Then I see Neighbor Wife suddenly run down the street with the big dog. Then I see Neighbor Husband stopped in front of my house with the puppy on its leash. And then I see the puppy taking a huge dump in my grass. Let me tell you, that is not done in this town unless the dog owner has a plastic bag handy and is ready to pick up

Finally, I get to play in an orchestra concert. I have not played since Christmas because the winter concert didn't include horn parts. Darn that Bach anyway. This Saturday evening we will perform Respighi's Pines of Rome among other things. We rehearsed Monday evening with a guest conductor because our regular conductor lives out of state and can't always make it to rehearsals. We were playing through portions of a contemporary symphony written for the composer's autistic son—the movement is entitled "Play," and it conjures up the almost frantic movements of any small boy who plays in his yard, running from attraction to attraction. There is a stretch where the strings have eighth notes underneath everything going on, and the conductor stopped and pointed out that little boys have constant running eighth notes in their systems. What a picture. Of course they do. Sometimes little girls do, too, but this piece is specifically about a boy. I kept that picture in

I have taken a break from knitting in honor of spring and have spent some time with this painting business, as you know. But I still enjoy wearing my latest knitting project. It's a poncho, like the things you were forced to wear as a kid but cooler. I usually wear it when I step out on a chilly day, or even on a cold day like today when there is frost on the ground. I probably should have worn my winter coat this morning, but it's April, and I refuse to wear a winter coat in April. Sometimes I wear my poncho when I am inside and it's a little chilly. But sometimes I wear it when I am inside just because I like the comfort of it. It's like a blankie or warm cup of tea or cookies and milk after school. It's comfort. Turns out people aren't the only creatures who need a poncho now and then. My cat Tiger likes to burrow under things like the throw on the sofa or a poorly placed jacket (that's short for a jacket that has been haphazardly tossed on the floor inst

Over the weekend, I went with Daughter No. 2 to see the high school's production of The Wizard of Oz. Their annual musical productions are always fun. Several years ago, the music director put together adult pit orchestras, so I got to play for The Princess and the Pea and South Pacific. For the last several years, though, the accompanying music has been almost exclusively keyboard. That's a lot of music for one guy to be responsible for, but he always does a good job. I was impressed with how the kids managed the opening scene—the backdrop of the Kansas farm was painted in black and white, and the costumes were all black and white. But when Dorothy's house landed in Oz and the curtain raised for the next scene, everything and everyone was in color. Kids from the elementary schools acted as the munchkins, and they sang with such adorable enthusiasm and right on pitch. Everyone in the cast sang well, and not one of them seemed to forget a line. You could tell they had worked

Thanks to the advice of Lynn and Dragonfly, I salvaged my crap art by painting over it. I loved the textured effect so much that I just kept layering and layering and not always allowing one layer to dry before slapping on another. I have read that some people don't like acrylics because the colors are so bright until you start blending, and at first I had the same criticism. But now I like the shocking colors and decided to go with them and see what they created. This is what I found (click on the picture for a larger view): These canvases used to look like this .

Klara Pölzl was born in Austria in 1860. She was kind and gentle and set out to live the life of the typical girl of her time and place, intending to become a devoted wife and mother. Her cousin, Alois Hitler, brought her to his home to serve as maid for his children while is wife was ill with tuberculosis. While the wife was dying, Klara became pregnant with Alois's child, and as soon as the man was widowed, they petitioned the Church in Rome to be married. Because they were cousins, the Church needed to issue a special dispensation. Incest is an unpleasant business. Klara and Alois had six children, but only two survived their childhood—a daughter named Paula and a son named Adolf. Yeah, that Adolf. Alois had other children from his previous marriage, but Klara stayed focused on her own. She was so focused, she spoiled them rotten. Her step-son Alois, Jr. asked for money for school, but Klara convinced her husband to save his money for Adolf's education. She wanted him to at

I went out to dinner with some friends the other evening and ordered crème brûlée for dessert. It was lovely—crispy sugar crust and creamy custard underneath. I'm a bit of crème brûlée fan and order it more often than I order any other restaurant dessert, which is not to say I always order dessert—only now and then. On my way home, I remembered I had a crème brûlée kit at home with ramekins, a torch, and a basic recipe. I love the torch. So, now I have made my favorite dessert at home, and I recommend that everyone have crème brûlée. It makes the world better. I used the recipe on the box, which was simple and basic. My only suggestion for improvement is to use less sugar for the caramelized crust. It was so thick, it was like chipping away at glass. An ice pick would have come in handy, or a diamond. Other recipes suggest 1/4 cup to be divided among six ramekins, making just over 1 tablespoon per serving. Crème Brûlée serves 4 1 cup heavy cream 2 extra large egg yolks (I used 3 re

For a few months, Small Town and Small Town Next Door were all hopped up on the new Starbucks that was opening up by the mall. The company announced in January or so they would be building a shop and would plan on opening some time in March. There were debates about how this would affect the local shops—would the competition hurt or help? Would people be loyal to their favorite places for joe, or would they defect? Considering the location, which is a bit out of the way for most people heading to work, I didn't think it would do harm. Now, Starbucks has announced they will not be moving here after all. We are not a large enough market for them, and we are not urban enough. They say that as if they didn't pay us a visit before they chose the spot for their building and gave the builder the idea it was OK to go ahead and break ground. They say that as if they didn't do a lick of research, which I find difficult to believe. I think it might be more likely they just can't a

I must disagree, at least about the athletic abilities part. I'm a clod through and through. " You, my friend, are an artiste! Fueled by a hounding sense of creativity and an untameable desire to express yourself, you see the world through rose-colored glasses one day and then wrestle the curtains closed and turn off the lights so you can ponder life the next. Your dog-eared journal is filled with brilliant ideas about rescuing the universe, yet you have trouble training your noggin on any one of them for any significant amount of time. Your originality occasionally manifests itself as performance art, and you love showing off your amazing athletic abilities in front of an audience. When it comes to taking on the leader of the pack, you’re not afraid to sink your teeth in - and won't loosen your grip until you've gotten your point across."

I have borrowed this meme from Ms. Mac . She answered hers in three languages because she's smart that way. Me? I've got just one. 1. A body of water, smaller than a river, contained within relatively narrow banks. A creek, and definitely not a crick. Or maybe it's a stream. 2. What the thing you push around the grocery store is called. Shopping cart 3. A metal container to carry a meal in. A lunch box. Local phrase: bucket 4. The thing that you cook bacon and eggs in. Frying pan or sauté pan 5. The piece of furniture that seats three people. A couch. If they're skinny people, then maybe they can all fit on a love seat. 6. The device on the outside of the house that carries rain off the roof. A gutter which feeds into a down spout 7. The covered area outside a house where people sit in the evening. A patio if the floor is made of brick or stone or cement. If the floor is made of wood, then it's a deck. This confuses me because these things are often not covered, so

Bette Davis. This isn't just any birthday. It's her 100th. That woman could turn butter to stone. I'm not sure what that means, but it seems like something that would be difficult to do unless you had the power of the universe behind you. She made dozens and dozens of films and claimed to have given the Academy Award statue the name of Oscar because the little guy's bum looked just like the bum of her husband whose middle name was Oscar. The week that Clarence Thomas was approved as a associate justice of the Supreme Court, advocates for women's rights were so disturbed, and the cast of Designing Women showed their disgust. At the end of that week's episode, Dixie Carter and Annie Potts dressed as Davis and Joan Crawford in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane at their worst. It was memorable, mainly because Bette Davis was memorable in nearly every role she tackled. There are a lot of Davis quotes out there, but this one sums up her opinion of herself: "I'm

I have been working on learning how to paint with acrylics and trying to complete at least one small canvas each evening. I bought several 6x9 canvases and have really been going to town. As a way of practicing brush work and color mixing, I have tried to copy some stock photography I borrowed from Corbis. Here is the first photo: And here is my copy: Photo number 2 had too many flowers for me to worry about. Photo: and copy—had a little trouble finding the blue/green background color, and then had a little trouble not overdoing the pink in the flowers: And here is the last one. I have lost the photo, but I kind of made this one up anyway. I really should start working on my own compositions, but those never work out quite right. What is it they say about accomplished potters and the percentage of pots they throw out because of mistakes? Something like 15 duds for every keeper. I'm making that up, but I'll try not to be discouraged by the canvases that end up in the trash.

In 1439, Johann Gutenberg developed a printing press with movable type, and his invention transformed the world. Most people were illiterate, but with this new access to printed books, more and more people learned to read and write. Science flourished. People read the Bible on their own. Ideas were exchanged. Well, there's a new Gutenberg in town, Project Gutenberg. It's a source for free electronic books in the public domain, and it was founded by Michael Hart in order to create and encourage the sharing of ebooks. At www.gutenberg.org , you'll find thousands of books in text and audio form, music like Beethoven's string quartets, and audio sounds. Here is Thomas Edison recording Mary Had A Little Lamb on his own invention. And here is Theodore Roosevelt believing in the rights of the people to rule themselves. Project Gutenberg keeps a list of the top 100 downloads. Here are the top 10 downloaded titles in the last 30 days: 1. The Outline of Science, Vol. 1 (of 4) b

You know how I listen to Sirius radio's classical pops station? Well, from time to time the station airs a piano arrangement of Stephen Foster's "Gentle Annie." This arrangement floats and sticks to the simple style of American songs from the mid-1800s. It brings to mind the lush green of an Appalachian valley, the romantic innocence of country lovers, and the grief the lonely boy feels when his lover dies and is buried in the cold ground. Inevitably, someone must die in order to have a song as sentimental and sorrowful as "Gentle Annie." I set out to find the sheet music for this piano arrangement, and I searched everywhere. I bought one book I thought was what I had been looking for, but it turned out to be schmaltzy 1970s arrangements of music from 150 years ago. A bad style combination. Then I found a song book with original editions of thirty Foster songs, "song book" meaning the melody is in the voice line. I was disappointed, but I have give

Today is April Fool's Day, and for some odd reason, it's the day for practical jokes. There are standard practical jokes—covering every surface in someone's office or apartment with aluminum foil...sending someone into the woods at night for a snipe hunt..."is your refrigerator running." Once, a couple of co-workers and I plastered the inside of every window of an IT man's car with Post-It notes, although I don't recall waiting for April 1st to be naughty. When I was an innocent child at the mercy of my older sisters, I would often fall victim to their cruel pranks. I learned it will not be fun if I stick my tongue on the ice tray. I learned that if someone is uncharacteristically kind and offers you ice cream for no good reason, it might actually be a spoon full of shortening instead of creamy vanilla. And I learned if someone tells you to go brush your teeth and they have already put toothpaste on your tooth brush, be wary. If they say it's a new ki