Dad, Musician, and Nerd
I use my fork like an east European smoker holds his cigarette. For I am the Claradactyl.
I often dreamt about being the first bass player in space, the impact of this video is of such magnitude I cannot express myself adequately. The Colonel is a scientist, a photographer, an astronaut, a singer, a guitar player, a blogger, and an earthling. I’m as proud as proud can be to be a part of a society that put a man into space who then sang a song about a man in space, written by a rock star who was dreaming about a future where space was as beautiful as it seems to have turned out to be.
SKIRT STEAKS AND WATER TABLES
This past weekend, the family broke out a couple fun summertime devices. The Water Table, gifted to me from my sister and her husband, is something I would have loved as a child and it is very fun to watch Clara splash around. I would have played with the water slide for hours, but for now Clara is enjoying standing (full stop, no need to continue) and holding the toys up in the air in a full on gesture of triumph.
We fired up our little Webber, placing it on our pair of metro-shelves with a plank of wood for stability. It is the first time in my grilling experience that I had enough room for everything, prep, tools, and service combined. I almost shipped my pants when Clara went for the shelves, luckily it was the opposite side from the grill and we caught her well in time.
It was my first attempt at skirt steak, and unfortunately it showed. We marinated in:
After cooking each side for 4 minutes or so, the steak was done and we sat down to eat. Unfortunately, the meat turned out to be very chewy, so much so that it almost ruined the meal. A little research turned up what our mistakes were:
I’m eager to try grilling skirt again, knowing what I know now, but am also happy to grill other cuts of steak, too. Perhaps this is the summer of the Sunday steak dinner?
You grew up tough, or at least wishing you were. You were a boy, and you grew into a man. One of the many things that defined you was your gender, and that gender was manly. Testosterone ruled your teens and early twenties, you have a hairy chest, not a great deal of hair left on the top of your head, and you consider yourself an old fashioned, insensitive and brutish American man.
So why is it the Publix commercial wherein a mother and daughter are making grotesque pinwheels causes my eyes to water, why is it the dad who won’t let go of his daughter before she goes into surgery makes me desperate to find and hug my own, and why oh why do I suddenly feel the need to go out to the store and CONSUME? I’ll tell you why. You’re a dad now. Becoming a dad colors all of your perceptions. It is as though someone has taken a pink lighting gel and permanently affixed it to both your glasses and your contact lenses.
Modern media is well aware of these heartstrings and pulls them religiously, almost with a fervor. I just was never affected before, I wasn’t immune, but I could handle it. Now I can’t. In the same way that I can not look at Clara without smiling, I can’t watch a terrible commercial without relating it to my paternal experience. I recognize that the commercial is terrible, I vow to keep it out of my consciousness, and yet I think about these heartstring commercials. Unbidden, they rise into my foremost thoughts, pushing out less important things like networking details, IP addresses, necessary passwords, and/or my own phone number.
Ready to go back to work?
Fruit & Cheese
Chewy, you cheeky bastard!
I am a street photographer in New York City. Several months ago, I was approached by a representative of DKNY who asked to purchase 300 of my photos to hang in their store windows “around the world.” They offered me $15,000. A friend in the industry told me that $50 per photo was not nearly enough to receive from a company with hundreds of millions of dollars of revenue. So I asked for more money. They said “no.”
Today, a fan sent me a photo from a DKNY store in Bangkok. The window is full of my photos. These photos were used without my knowledge, and without compensation.
I don’t want any money. But please REBLOG this post if you think that DKNY should donate $100,000 on my behalf to the YMCA in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn. That donation would sure help a lot of deserving kids go to summer camp. I’ll let you guys know if it happens.