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Boat Dreams From the Lake

That’s Minnesota right now. Sandy beaches and ice pack. Still no significant snowfall to speak of. I took this snap yesterday while walking around lake Calhoun. I have to hand it to Minnesotans. When it comes to creative outdoor activities that stave off cabin fever, they can’t be beat. To wit, yesterday on the lake, activities included but were not limited to: kite flying with ice skates, where the participant wearing skates is pulled around the lake at a high speed by a large wind blown kite, ice wind surfing, which looks just like normal windsurfing without the soft cushion of the water when you fall. And then there is wind racing. Which looks like this. The craft itself is damn cool and looks like something George Lucas would have created when he was on. I’m not really sure what this sport is called but it looks hella fun. The speeds that you can get on one of these is incredible. Many of the racers were using the ice fishing houses as markers for their course which added to the excitement of the thing tremendously.

New Type in the House
A beautiful new typeface has been unveiled. Neutraface, a well defined architectural font , designed by House Industries, based on the work of architect Richard Neutra, is both very present and beautiful while tipping the hat to one of the masters of modernism. For anyone who has followed the works of Richard Neusta, I think they will find the new type does his legacy justice. More tongue in cheek and a swell value add is the Boomerang Chair that House Industries is offering as a complement to their new typeface.

Elsewhere, Typophile has a nice review of the new Indie Fonts book. Instead of a lengthy diatribe of the book they let the book review itself. And Daidala has a funny story about what happens when you try and talk type/fonts with people who could give a damn. I’m sure you could replace the word font for weblog or actionscripts or ipods and pretty much get the same reaction. Could it be we’ve isolated ourselves in our own world?

Two-K-Three is for cutting
Newly added to the culinary arts section of our ‘kitchen that could’, comes Wusthof Trident knives that really cut. Wow. I guess I just grew accustomed to the fact that chopping vegetables was a painstakingly dull process that required an equally dull instrument. But the Wusthof’s take things to a whole new level. Not since I switched form a Windows PC to a Macintosh have I appreciated the rare satisfaction that one gets when upgrading a daily use item to its supreme possibility. I swear, if I wanted to, I could cut right through my refrigerator with one of these knives. The downside is, I’m deathly scared of them. I’ve already cut myself once. And with the increased quality of the knife comes the real possibility that I could cut through my fingers like butter and not know I’ve done it for like five minutes. I think I may have to sign up for some course. Something like, “Your Knives and You: Appreciating and Caring for Your Wusthof Knives”. Or at the very least watch the video, How to use a Wusthof knife.

Anablephobia
In the final stretch of Twenty-O-Two, I am thankful for the first cup of coffee in the morning and the first beer after work. What a wonderful way to bookend each and everyone of the 365 days that made up this year. A heavy dose of nostalgia hits hard this time of year as I am incapable of looking into the future or making nonsensical predictions or resolutions. Can you ever really ask for a restart? would you really want to? It’s just a lot easier to reflect on the things from the past.

I found myself at the Mall of the America the other day in search of a replacement power cord at the Apple Store. My third power cord for this machine. Entering the mall from the Pineapple parking level I sashayed into Bloomies, wondering aloud what I was doing entering a mall so soon after the holidays. I immediately found the answer to that question staring me straight away in the dinnerware department — Fiestaware. Specifically, the new shade, Shamrock was looking real good. My grandparents used to have a shade that was real close to the shamrock color only far less brilliant. I guess it was more of an avocado. I used to think my grandparents were so hip having Fiestaware. I had no idea at the time that this kind of dinnerware had a name or that it was as common as Christmas. You see, for me, as an eight year old running around the woods of my grandparents estate in Moose Lake Minnesota, Fiestaware had come to represent freedom.

Everyday at my Grandparents was ten hours in the woods traversing a maze of huts and thatched forts built by my father and his childhood crew who grew up and played a generation ago. Deep into the woods, the trailheads and huts were all marked with intricate but decaying signs that hung high on the trunks of bending birch trees. Each sign still tacked up with a single rusted ten penny nails. All the signs were colorfully painted in a Yogi Bear theme with messages and characters that hinted at the mystery of summers past. For an eight year old city kid it was an enchanted forest. Who needed to read Tolkien novels when they had woods like these?

One of the best parts, and the one I shamefully looked forward to when I learned that we were heading up north for a visit, was knowing that I would have the freedom to eat Fruit Loops with my grandfather. Sugar cereals were a forbidden element in my house as a kid and it was only my grandparents and their blind eye towards rotted teeth that allowed my brother and I to gorge ourselves on fiesta bowl after fiesta bowl of Fruit Loops. We needed to fuel up for our big Yogi Bear adventures and Special K or Granola would not cut it in those times. We needed sugar on top of sugar. I can still remember the color the last splash of milk and Fruit Loop dust took on as it swirled around in the reflection of the avocado Fiestaware. It was very similar to the rainbow oil slick that always hung tightly around the outboard motor of my grandfathers fishing boat. It was also very similar to the clothing that we wore at the time. The footprint Hang Ten tops and the Classic Op shorts had more unnatural colors than natural. An altogether brilliant time. So tonight on the eve of ’03, I will raise my fiesta ware glass to my grandparents, Yogi Bear, those who created huts in the woods, and to the person who ever dreamt up a cereal of sugery rainbow circles. Amen. See you next year.

Signs of Santa
End of the year weather around Minnesota is fantastic. Feels like spring. Strolling about yesterday, I ran across two homemade signs that left me scratching my head. The first indicates that Santa lost the keys to his sleigh. The second, indicates that someone was the victim of some nasty grinch-like activity. I wonder if they are connected.

About a Boy named Schmidt
Naming a movie with a preposition seems to be all the rage with the kids in Hollywood this year. It may have started a nasty trend. As Nick Hornby writes in his latest, Songbook:

“My advise to young writers: never begin a title with a preposition, because you will find it impossible to utter or to write any sentence pertaining to your creation without sounding as if you have an especially pitiable stutter, ‘He wanted me to talk about About a Boy.’ ‘What about About a Boy?’ ‘The thing about About a Boy…’ ‘Are you excited about About a Boy?’ And so on.”

And so it was that the book About a Boy became the wonderful movie About a Boy. Just as it seems the book About Schmidt has become the masterpiece movie About Schmidt. I am absolutely in love with this movie. I realized continually throughout Jack Nicholson’s performance that I was wearing a permanent grin on my face. He must get an Oscar for About Schmidt. My favorite thing about About Schmidt (I hear ya Nick, that is kinda weird to write) is the absolutely slow pace of this movie. The minimalism of the shot gave me time to interact with the scene and digest the meaning. No, that’s wrong. The pace of the movie gave me time to play with the scene, look at it from different angles and find similar parallels to my own world and life. Having been to so many movies lately where the story is crammed down my throat or where the pace just moves too fast for me to understand, About Schmidt was a welcome return to film making at the speed of life. Jack Nicholson just is this movie. I really enjoyed watching Jack act. He can say more in a facial expression than a thousand words of dialog can. There are several long scenes in About Schmidt that are simply close ups of Jack as he silently contemplates questions, answers them, questions again his answers, feels guilty about the answers and repeats the process. Just great. The rest of the cast is dynamic and pro. Kathy Bates is a riot. About Schmidt also brings back one of my favorite powerhouse actors: Howard Hessman. I always wondered what happened to Howard and am glad to see he’s back on the big screen. Alright, that’s enough. Go see this movie. It’s good.

Having a Hard Time with Mr. Honeybear
Settling in last night to enjoy one of the good books delivered by Santa and the elves, I went through the ritual of preparing a cup of peppermint tea. Ever since Belize, I have added honey to peppermint tea. The combination is completely rewarding. When getting the honey from the pantry, I noticed for that Mr. Honeybear had again bled his own sweat and sticky juices and adhered himself to the panty shelf. Oh why do you do it Mr. Honeybear?!? Every time I use Mr. Honeybear I make 100% sure that he is leaking not one drop of honey and there is no residue left on his clear plastic bear skin or yellow pop top. But nothing I do stops the the inevitable from occurring. As the sun rises and sets, so doth a honeybear spill its contents. I am at lost for strategy. Will it ever be possible to save a Mr. Honeybear?

Land of Ten Thousand Lemmings
Ok. A review of this mornings news indicates that holiday shopping is getting mixed reviews and not enough people are buying things at Wall-Mart, and dammit people are not gobbling up enough high ticket items and therefore the economy is going to have a bad day on the streets of wall. It’s our fault. We aren’t buying enough crap. We only have two more days to right our wrongs!!! Well luckily people, Afrojet is here. A sane and comforting voice to speak clearly through the endless noise of cash registers, HDTV 7.1 surround sound demonstrations, and mouse squeaking one-click shopping. People. Put away your credit cards. The economy is doing just fine.

Venturing out yesterday into a sea of humanity that clawed over each other to get that precious last minute gift, gave me deep horrible flashbacks of when I was a skinny ten years old tight-end for the Phalen Park Raiders. In the big game, I fumbled the ball on the 2 yard line and ended up at the bottom of a pile so crushing that I almost wet my pants.

All pretense of Christmas cheer has been wiped away from the faces of all, replaced by gnarly grimaces and desperate attitudes. Trying to get into the parking lot of a major electronics dealer yesterday, I was confronted by law officers roping off whole sections of parking lots with criminal Police Line Do Not Cross yellow tape. When they were questioned as to why they were doing what they were doing, they mumbled back, “Because, they pay us to do it.” Jigga what?!? Since when? Isn’t there more pressing criminal issues than securing parking lot space for mega electronics companies. Am I missing something here? Walking into said store, I was greeted by a 14 year old bleach spiked topped pimple freak child laborer, who welcomed and then asked oh so insincerely how we were doing, no doubt repeating a line some training video tape had burned into his mellon. Stopping in the midst of the endless flood of humans pouring into doors, I stated that I was, “doing well thanks and how are you doing?” As I stood there he did not even acknowledge my presence a mere 18 inches in front of his face. He simply looked over my shoulder and greeted everyone else with his holiday poetics. I swear I may have seen a microchip just behind his left ear flashing periodically.

And so it was that I wrestled with the lemmings to secure items for my loved ones. I stood shoulder to shoulder with people in the DVD aisle and, not having the patience to actually think logically and critically what DVD’s would actually be a good match for friends and family, I just punched my hand through when I saw an opening. I was content to buy whatever ended up in my hand. Rob Schnieder movies for everyone. The economy doing bad? Consumer confidence down? No way! The shelves were practically empty. I went to find one popular CD for the missus and found six of those empty place cards with the bands name above it holding back nothing. No product. Sold out. A search for a major appliance revealed that not only did this store not have any of that item in stock but no store in Minnesota had that item in stock. This was the trend of the day. Everywhere we went. People hungrily buying. Either the economists are lying through their teeth or we are all going to wake up with one hellova January shopping hangover. I already feel a bit queazy.