Hot Diggity

Today's New York Times had an article about Amy Klobuchar ... in the food section. It was titled: A Classic Midwestern Dish Becomes a Talking Point in Iowa, and I read it with great interest (even though I think I never want to eat or make said classic dish).

For one thing, is it hot dish, hotdish, or hot-dish? Does it take an article - like, is it a hotdish, or is it just hotdish? The Times article is all over the map - I guess there's no style guide to hotdish?

I was also decidedly unimpressed with the campaign's printed recipe:



Any sane person knows that when you write a recipe, you list the ingredients in order of deployment.

That said, Amy's Twitter feed got the ingredients in the right order:

But one version calls it Hotdish, and the other calls it Hot Dish.

And I just don't know what to think.

Does Elizabeth Warren have a signature recipe?

The Magic Gunslinger

Sometime in December, my sister asked me if I wanted to go to a show. She would get the tickets; it was to be my birthday present. Because the tickets turned out to be for 9:30 on a Friday night, we decided to make an event of it. We checked into a hotel in the late afternoon, had wine and cheese and crackers and pâté in the room, availed ourselves of the rather inadequate sauna and steam room, and took the subway downtown to see The Enigmatist.

It turned out to be spectacular - the kind of "wow" that I can't stop thinking about. It's basically a magic show by one David Kwong - but there are no disappearing women or appearing doves, just card tricks, puzzles, word games and math, all deeply woven together. First things first: when you arrive, there are four puzzles arrayed in the foyer. You are supposed to solve them to gain entrance, and they play a part later in the show. It sets a mood, and primes you for what's next. What's next includes a dollar bill, a kiwi, audience participation, a Scrabble demonstration, and a crossword puzzle constructed on the fly. Wholly delightful, and completely in our sweet spot. Scrabble and crosswords? We're there.

On the way out, they were selling copies of a Kwong's book, Spellbound. I didn't buy one, but I did take it out of the library - hoping for great reveals. There aren't really any reveals, because magic, but the book is not uninteresting. It's published by the business books arm of his publisher - and it has a certain "here's how to get ahead in business" vibe to it, which I wasn't expecting. In essence, control your narrative and stay ahead of your audience - and your magic show will succeed.

I have been ruminating about the one bit part I got roped into: Kwong handed me a book, and asked me to look for a longish word, and write it in a notebook and tuck the notebook under my chair and hand him back the book. Later, of course, he revealed the word - the right word. I think I know how he knew the word...but I don't think I can buy a copy of that paperback book so I can't check.

Easter eggs and other unexpected pleasures

I read. A lot. Maybe not as much as some, but I logged 81 books in GoodReads last year. If I were more organized, I'd be able to tell you the ratio between fiction and non-fiction. But 36 were library books. A bunch were little obsessions:

• 6 of the Mrs. Polifax books by Dorothy Gilman
• the whole of Deborah Harkness's All Souls Trilogy
• 3 Tana French books (two of which I read while watching Dublin Murders and that was probably a bad idea because I was so confused)
• 8 in the British Library's series of reprints of vintage mysteries

Some were books I feel like I should have read a long time ago: I loved Willa Cather's The Song of the Lark and I think of it often. I cracked through nine books in a two week beach vacation - starting, aptly, with Pamela Paul's My Life with Bob: Flawed Heroine Keeps Book of Books, Plot Ensues.

Other notable books read include these that I'd read again:

• The Library Book (Susan Orlean)
• Someone At A Distance (Dorothy Whipple)
• The Nutmeg Tree (Margery Sharp)
• Ninety-Nine Glimpses of Princess Margaret (Craig Brown)
• Uncommon Type (Tom Hanks)

The last book I read in 2019 was The Beekeeper's Apprentice by Laurie R. King. It's the first in a series wherein Mary Russell befriends Sherlock Holmes and becomes his collaborator. My friend Teresa had sent me the first three just before Christmas. Teresa's sent me books before - she sent me all 12 of the Robin Paige mysteries a few years ago.

And what I love about reading the books from Teresa is that she is a die-hard editor: every book that she has passed along to me has at least a few edits (in pencil - only in pencil). She fixes typos. She edits out unnecessary words.

She replaces infelicitous words.

And in A Monstrous Regiment of Women, the 2nd Mary Russell book, which I have just finished, she added page numbers.

It's like finding Easter eggs.

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Recently, someone created a Facebook group of OG bloggers - people who'd attended one or more BlogHer conferences back in the day. Reading those posts is an exercise in a lovely sort of nostalgia, even though I was so tangentially attached - there, but not "in". Teresa never went to BlogHer, but I'd never have met Teresa but for the blogging community. There are so many people - mostly women - that are good friends to this day, who have made my life immeasurably richer, who I'd never have met otherwise. I am so grateful for that, even though the platform is not what it was and there's far less reading and writing of blogs going on. Nevertheless, I persist.

Myriad Poetry

I have been housecleaning (desk cleaning?) in my office, following a complete (and long overdue) rewrite of the employee handbook. I've been tossing notes and samples and articles and whatnot, and today I went through an enormous bound Powerpoint handout from some seminar I once went to, checking for notes in case there was anything I *needed* to keep.

Well. There's a slide titled "The Myriad of Leaves".

I mean, who talks like that?

If it's not obvious, the leaves in this case are not the kind that grow on trees, but rather the different kinds of times off from work.

I was clearly bored and my mind wandered to the other kind of leaves ... resulting in a haiku in the margin.

Myriad of leaves
Falling from the autumn sky
A Powerpoint dream

You write poetry during boring workshops, yes?

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PS Apparently "the myriad of leaves" is not incorrect, at least according to Dictionary.com and Grammarist. But it certainly sent me off on a tangent.

R E S I S T

There was an article in the Times the other day about a new law in California, that mandates "that every public company in the state should have a woman on the board by the end of" 2019. I read it with great interest. It's not that I'm a candidate for a board seat, but I am concerned with gender equity and I've long been aware that many public companies and mutual funds have few to no women on their boards.

I have shares in a couple of mutual funds that entitle me to vote by proxy on various things - including the election of people to the funds' boards. For years, I have consciously voted FOR all of the women, and AGAINST all of the men. I know that 1) it won't change anything because my one vote isn't enough to make a difference, and 2) some of the men are probably great and some of the women are likely awful, but I don't have time to research each and every one of the candidates and (back to #1) it's not going to change anything. It is, however, my little act of resistance and it pleases me enormously.

Fashion

Do I begin with the book or the bag?

Let's start with Bill. Bill Cunningham's death in 2016 left a hole in the heart of the New York Times. He was something else, a charming eccentric with a great eye. Happily Clarkson Potter has come out with a delicious coffee table book, collecting decades of his street photographs and, incidentally, acting as a history of fashion from about 1970 to 2015.

I'm not a fashionista. I'm happy to wear jeans and a cardigan every day, I don't go in for designer labels, and I haven't worn heels since I was 19 and foolish. But those photographs by Cunningham, and the way he assembled them into essays - 4 pictures of people in black & white stripes, or 7 pictures of people jumping over or stepping in puddles, or all the leather jackets, all the skin tight dresses, all the palazzo pants - pure joy. I can love it without wanting to dress up.

Relatedly, and in the department of "I never learned how to be a real girl," is I don't go in for fancy leather bags. I pretty much only use a handbag on the weekend or on vacation (I use a tote bag to get back and forth to work), and usually I tend towards a useful smallish nylon bag with a cross body shoulder strap. I find, though, that when I'm running errands and climbing in and out of the car, I tend to grab the bag by the top - where there isn't a handle - and that kind of defeats the whole shoulder strap thing. So I've had my eye out for a small bag with no shoulder strap, and I haven't found one. Well, that's not totally true - I found a lovely one on line one day, but it's rather out of my price range. But! Not so long ago, I remembered that I had once upon a time bought a small black cotton tool bag, and I rummaged around in the house and I found it! And it was exactly what I was thinking I needed.

Imagine, then, my surprise and delight to find, in the Cunningham book, a 1987 picture of super model Naomi Campbell, in 1987, in which she's CARRYING THE VERY SAME SMALL BLACK TOOL BAG.

I just about plotzed.

Was it a thing? Did I somehow know that little black toolbags were all the rage? Or was it just happenstance? I cannot remember where or why I bought that bag, but I am distinctly amused to own it.

And if you too want to be like me and Naomi Campbell, you can find them online: Military Surplus GI Style Canvas Mechanics Tool Bag - Small

Here's to inadvertent fashion in 2020!