Tag Life

So Much For My Life As An International Jewel Thief

Yesterday, I had an experience I hadn’t entirely anticipated having at this stage of my life: I got fingerprinted by the Cambridge Police Department.

The biotech company where I work part-time is planning to start selling products that require them to have a particularly lethal neurotoxin on premises, as well as some other chemicals that can be used in the creation of narcotics. Those substances will be kept in a secure area, but anyone who has to have access to said area has had to go through a security clearance process that includes having fingerprints on file with the FBI’s bioterrorism unit. As one of the IT guys, I will have to have access to the Chamber Of Death, so off I went to the Cambridge PD at lunchtime. There, in a small room, a young woman firmly took each of my fingers, rolled them on an inkpad, and pressed them onto a pair of cards to be sent to the Feds.

I remarked to her that I was surprised that the process had not gone digital. Digital fingerprinting is actually pretty common these days. She informed me that they do, in fact, have a digital system in the booking area where arrestees are processed because it’s faster and easier, which is key when dealing with uncooperative people, but the traditional ink print is still preferred. The room where she fingerprinted me was only just around the corner from the front entrance of what is a fairly large building, so it must be a common enough procedure to do non-arrest-related prints.

As I alluded to above, I also had to have a basic criminal background check, the result of which is that I now have some clearance number from the FBI that I can use if I go to another job that requires such things. I assume the same holds true of the prints — once they’re on file I doubt they ever have to be done again. Now that I’m marked man, though, whatever madcap crime spree I may or may not have been planning will be all that easier to foil. Curses!

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Yeah, It’s Kinda Like That

Since last summer, I’ve been dividing my time between my personal business providing at-home tech support to a clientele that is primarily senior citizens and a part-time job doing much the same thing for a biotech company. It’s a little schizophrenic going back and forth between an office environment and the homes of my clients, but at least the basic tasks are largely the same. The biggest difference is the level of appreciation I get from my clients and my co-workers. Not that my co-workers don’t appreciate the things I do for them, but the response I get from my clients is more like this, without quite so much Jello salad.

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That Sounds About Right

Back in the summer of 2010, we made a little weekend getaway to South Deerfield, Massachusetts to visit the Yankee Candle factory store and see Old Deerfield. As things turned out, the visit to the historic village got washed out by rain, but we did spend an afternoon at the candle store, and one of the highlights of that was when Bridget had a wax casting made of her hand (as you can see above).

After Bridget was done, Charlotte wanted to give it a try, too, but as soon as she stuck her hand in the molten wax she had a change of heart. We tried to convince her it was okay and that she should go through with it, but I guess we must have left a lasting impression on the guy running the activity, because I read this post at the funny Not Always Right.com blog the other day, and it sounds SO MUCH like my charming wife that it HAS to be about us.

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Reviving The Undead

Through the magic of Netflix, Charlotte has recently discovered those sitcom evergreens of my childhood, “The Munsters” and “The Addams Family”. Growing up in the 1970s, I mostly missed the afternoon kid’s TV blight of animated advertising like GI Joe, He-Man, and Transformers and instead spent my afterschool hours watching Bugs Bunny cartoons and re-runs of 1960s sitcoms. Forty years later, the animated advertising is still there, sorry to say, but the chestnuts of television comedy aren’t — they’ve been relegated to night-time cable channels like TV Land, where people my age continue to watch them. The cultural disconnect is huge because the shared vocabulary of knowledge of our shared past is lost. I know much much more about life and pop culture of the generation ahead of me because I spent hours watching their leftovers. Charlotte has very little reference to life in the 1970s or 80s and no tie at all to those older times. So I was more than a little bit pleased that not only did she watch those two shows, she *loved* them. She devoured both series, watching every single episode of both of them over the period of the last couple of weeks.

Meanwhile…with Christmas on the way, we’ve been trying to find a “big” gift item for her, but frankly have been left cold by the idea of buying another electronic gadget or pointlessly excessive toy. Every time we have a purge of unwanted/broken/outgrown stuff around here, it feels like we would have been just as well served to make a pile of dollar bills and light them on fire for the warmth. Then, last weekend, as I was scouring Boston.com looking for things we could do for amusement on Sunday, I noticed that the Broadway adaptation of “The Addams Family” is coming to Boston in February. As is usually the case with recent Broadway shows that tour, the tickets aren’t cheap, but as soon as I saw that I knew it would be the perfect “big” Christmas gift. We all love to go to live performances, Charlotte has never seen a real Broadway show, it will be a big night out for all of us, and, I hope, an evening to remember. Plus, the timing of having it be “The Addams Family” is just perfect. The only downside will be having to wait seven or eight weeks to actually go.

So, while all that is going on, the scuttlebutt from Hollywood is that the guy who wrote and produced the show “Pushing Daisies” a couple of seasons ago has been given the greenlight by NBC to do a “reboot” of “The Munsters”. Of course, there has to be a modern twist, so the advance word is that the show will be an “edgy” one-hour drama, no doubt to cash in on the popularity of the fairy-tale drama “Once Upon A Time” and the slightly more horror-tinged “Grimm”. Which is too bad, because it means the whole thing will be a complete and utter failure; if it even makes it out of pilot season, it will die a horrible death after two episodes in prime time, because everyone LOVES the goofy antics of Herman and Grandpa, and will be completely put off by some gothic monster story. The reason there even IS a Broadway musical version of “The Addams Family” is because the several Hollywood film versions of it stuck very very close to the cherished shtick of the sitcom. “The Munsters” rebooted should embrace Fred Gwynne’s mincing Herman and Al Lewis’s New York-inflected Grandpa and find a way to make that work for an audience that loves nothing better than to reconnect with well-loved characters. Next thing you know, there’ll be a reboot of “Gilligan’s Island” that tries to be like “Lost”. I think Mary Elizabeth Williams’ take on it is probably the wisest: stop with all the remakes and find an original idea already.

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Noisy And Stinky

(post “after the jump”)

Read more

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Have A Steak, Have A Steak, Have A Big Ol’ Steak

Writing at The Awl, Brent Cox considers the enduring appeal of the mighty steak dinner, following in the footsteps of former New York Times food critic Ruth Reichl, who wrote a classic piece on New York steakhouses almost 20 years ago.

A steak dinner for one at a fancy-schmancy Manhattan steak house will set you back anywhere from $50-$100 these days, depending a bit on the place, the sides, etc. The steakhouses remain the province of the One-Percenter Wannabes — the overpaid, overprivileged, overfed middle-aged white men who still really run things in this country — and the menus (and prices) reflect that.

A number of years ago, back when the wolf was not always figuratively, and literally, at the door, Bridget and I indulged ourselves with a dinner at one of Midtown’s long-standing steakhouses, Morton’s. The service and the shtick were worth the price of admission: the waiter actually wheels out a cart full of meat and does a show-and-tell for you so you can pick your own steak*. The dark-paneled walls, the Frank Sinatra on the stereo, the preponderance of older men in very expensive suits, it’s all there like scene in a movie. Whenever I have had one of these moments in life — encountering some situation so stereotypical it CAN’T BE real, and yet there it is right before my eyes — I’ve had all I could do not to laugh out loud, and that evening was undoubtedly one of those moments.

(* Those of you who will recall that Bridget does not eat beef will want to know that they even had some non-steak items on the menu, and, if I recall correctly, she had fish. Alas, they did not bring out a cart full of whole fish for her to choose from, more’s the pity.)

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One More For Charlotte’s Christmas List

It’s a Paul Frank air filter. We’ve already bought virtually everything at Target that has Julius the monkey on it.

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Well That Takes Care Of Christmas Shopping For Charlotte

Why, yes, that is a recirculating ketchup fountain. Thank you for noticing.

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Random Links

Yeah, one of those posts.

For my birthday back in August, Bridget and Charlotte bought me an Apple TV. You’ve probably read that Saint Steverino of Cupertino considered Apple TV merely a hobby, mainly because what he was really after was a way to reinvent the whole television, not just some box to deliver iTunes. Fast Company says that apparently His Holiness was on the verge of something Insanely Great, but now that he has gone to live in The Cloud, can his minions left here on Earth be trusted not to fuck it up? (Oh, and we really like the little Apple TV hobby box, but I don’t know if I would buy an Apple television set).

Continuing with the shtick of tying these links to my personal life, last week I took Charlotte to the pediatrician for her annual flu shot. Well, not a shot, actually. She gets the nasal version of the vaccine, which is one syringe-ful of vaccine up each nostril, like shotgunning Flonase. Flu shots are a crapshoot — the CDC or the WHO, or some other three-letter-organization tries to guess which flu will be The Big One each spring so they can start making vaccine to have ready in the fall, and they don’t alway guess right. On top of which, the vaccines are effective for as little as 30% of the people who get them. But now researchers are closing in on an all-purpose flu vaccine that would eliminate the guesswork and be more effective to boot.

Okay, can I do this one more time? Let’s see. If you are one of the people who stalk me on Facebook, you might remember that a couple of weekends ago we took Charlotte for her first dim sum brunch in Chinatown. She tried almost everything, including one tiny, reluctant bite of the chicken feet (which were utterly delicious). Now that she has reached the ripe old age of 10, we can take her to more interesting restaurants than we could when she was wee. She LOVES pho, enjoyed her Australian meat pie at KO Catering in South Boston, chowed down on smoky shredded chicken with cayenne at Sichuan Gourmet, and loved the Korean tacos at Gogi in Portland. What this all means is that we bascially NEVER have to eat at chain restaurants anymore unless we are desperate. I could go the rest of my limited days on Earth without ever stepping foot again in a Chili’s, Applebee’s, or TGI Friday’s. So I am not exactly heartbroken to read that the Great Recession Mark II is killing them all off.

Hey, whaddya know? It worked!

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Cursive’s Not Dead

This Morning News post argues that cursive is dead, that it wasn’t really all that great to begin with, and who could make those crazy capital Gs and Zs anyway. It’s kind of an interesting piece from a historical perspective, explaining how handwriting standardized in the 19th century, competing almost from the beginning with writing machines like typewriters and other mechanical processes. Cursive has hung in there anyway for 150 years, and even though the author, Graham Beck, obviously falls on the “get rid of it” side of the aisle, I can say from firsthand experience that it ain’t dead yet. While 44 states have adopted the Common Core Standards which get rid of the requirement to teach cursive in favor of keyboarding, in our local school system it is still going strong right alongside keyboarding. Charlotte began learning cursive in second grade, and was *required* to use it for almost all of her homework and classwork in third grade. In Charlotte’s own personal case, learning cursive was a great boon to her. She has a problem with her fine-motor pincer grip, and her printed handwriting was terrible; cursive let her write more fluidly, which made it easier for her to grasp the writing implement. Her handwriting improved from illegible to reasonable, and when she was allowed to return to printing, even her printing had improved. I am not the least bit sorry that she learned cursive, even if she spends the bulk of her life keyboarding.

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