Friday, July 3, 2026

Book Review: Gorgeous Knitted Afghans

Title: Gorgeous Knitted Afghans

Author: Fatema Habibur-Rahman

Date: 2004

Publisher: Lark

ISBN: 978-1579903534

Illustrations: full-color photos

“Gorgeous” is the word for this book. The influence of Indian art is conspicuous. Very bright, clear colors, jewel tones and actual jewels, tiny sewn-on mirrors, make Indian textiles “gorgeous”...and that’s the look of many of these afghans.

Not all of them are bright-colored. There are some subtle effects worked in soft-colored yarns too...but there are enough jewel tones, beads, mirrors, paisleys, and mandalas to make it clear that the three sisters from Bengal are celebrating their artistic heritage.

That’s not the only Islamic Indian influence I see in this book. Why afghans rather than sweaters or shawls? Two cultural factors are involved. One is that, when people learned to knit “in the old way,” they didn’t buy and store a lot of fancy pattern books; they memorized simple “rules” for knitting whatever they wanted to knit, and learned patterns from “samplers,” which might be used as blankets, table runners, rugs...or afghans. The other factor is Muslim modesty. You can recycle these patterns into shawls or sweaters if you want to, but nobody is demeaned by having to pose for a picture in this book. The photos show afghans draped across chairs.

Then there’s the way the sisters write. Their use of English words, including knitting terms, is not incorrect; it’s foreign. Gorgeous Knitted Afghans was edited by its American publisher so that the directions are easy for Americans to use, but some of the discussion is...well...easier to follow than Salman Rushdie. “Ply refers to the number of strands that make up the yarn’s thread”? Technically that’s an allowable way to use those words; it’s just not a way an American would ever use them. . 

There’s also the emphasis on family life. The sisters Habibur-Rahman tell us about their family, not about where they live, where they went to school, what they or even their husbands do (apart from knitting). Typical of Indian Muslims as distinct from Muslims in some other countries, however, they do use their own individual names rather than honorific “Mother of...” titles.

Perhaps easiest for some Americans to appreciate is the concept of afghans for all seasons. Some of these afghans are heavy snowproof blankets, and some of them are light and lacy. 

Others will love just looking at the ways the sisters play with colors and novelty yarns. A plain cable-stitch panel is framed in two shades of heathered “fun fur.” One afghan mixes five different hand-painted yarns. The cover pattern plays two different multicolor fleck yarns against bright contrasting solid colors. Mandalas are accented with tassels on page 59; paisleys are elaborated with mini-mirrors on page 145. You won’t be able to get the same novelty effects this year, but you’ll be inspired to mix up the current novelty yarns to make afghans that are uniquely your own.

What some Americans will love, and others will hate, is the extravagant use of cashmere yarn. Presumably this is less extravagant in Kashmir, or in Bengal, than it would be in the United States. One entire multicolor afghan is worked in nothing but cashmere. Good luck even finding cashmere yarn in that many colors at your local wool shop...in a good year they might be able to order it specially for you. Mohair and alpaca are easier to get and look gorgeous, too, but they just don’t feel the same.

You need to be a fairly skilled knitter to reproduce most of these afghans. This should not be a problem. Afghans don’t have to fit exactly, and people sweating out colds on the couch won’t even care if the panels aren’t perfectly matched. Afghans are the way knitters build those skills. Gorgeous Knitted Afghans will entice you to perfect knitting techniques that may have seemed too much of a challenge when you were trying to knit a sweater. 

Web Log for 7.2.26

What a lot of content I'm not likely to have read or listened to by October...

The day's "update" upheavals (four of them, for a total of about 2 hours wasted on "updates" made me wonder what kind of people think this is an acceptable way to run the computer network, anyway. Maybe reforms should include mandatory retirement for all who programmed "updates," into tiny houses that are gyroscopically destabilized. Approximately every six or eight hours, but never at the same time of day twice in a row, a siren should go off blaring "Update! Update!" and the buildings should make at least one complete rotation and two half-turns, never in the same direction twice in a row. They should have a general idea that if they fall asleep they're probably going to wake up somewhere other than the bed or couch, but no idea where! Sometimes if they put food on a plate they'll be eating food off a plate, and sometimes they'll be picking bits of plate out of food stuck to the ceiling! Sometimes their water-flush toilets will flush, and sometimes... For them that would probably be fun! The kind of "excitement" they craved all their lives! 

Anyway a lot of the "to listen to" was music...

Ludovico Einaudi.




Gotthard.


Tom Petty.



Chi Coltrane. (This song title, and the one by Gotthard, were linked at 
and, if you have a preference for one or the other, you're invited to go there and cast your vote.)


Jefferson Airplane.


Pentatonix. (If you're a strict traditionalist, bookmark this one and listen to it in December.)


Pearl Jam.


Paul Simon. (I'm struck by the resemblance between his tune and "O Sacred Head Now Wounded." Maybe it's just me...I hear "O Sacred Head" as a solemn, even intimidating hymn and don't really like its being...parodied?...as "an American Tune." It's a German tune and it goes with the words "Lord let me never, never outlive my love to Thee." So I'm not keen on this song, but some people are.)


The Beatles. (No controversy there. If you don't like the Beatles you might lose your membership in the baby-boom generation.)


Lot of soccer fans.


John Lennon.


James Taylor.


Parliament.


Mozart.


Silver Convention.


Pam Cavelcanti.


War (Charles William Miller and friends).


Improvisations on a theme by Manuel de Falla, the improviser not clearly identified.


Talking Heads.


Shostakovich.


Jefferson Starship.


Anton Dvorak.


Nick Drake.


R.E.M.


Paul McCartney.


Olexandr Ignatov.


The Incredible String Band.


Dorothy Moore. (I think the only way to sing this song without inducing snarky laughter is very understated, very traditional, NO "ornamentation." I can believe the words coming from a wistful, pensive state of mind; emoting makes them sound like mockery. So, soft 1960s pop, or country, but not "soul," please! Don't mind me. At least I laughed.)


The Beach Boys.


Mix of 1970s pop tunes. I did actually know one person who used to tune her radio to a station that played this kind of thing, all day, every day, when she was at home. I remember it as the sort of music that was piped into some shops and restaurants. Music to select 89-cent paperback books, 25-cent cans of veg, and $5.98 shirts by. 

Bad Poetry: Moche Shield

This week's Poets & Storytellers United prompt invites reactions to works of art. 


According to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, this artefact was molded of copper, decorated with gold, silver, turquoise, glass beads, and originally with woven fabric, by or for a Moche warrior in Peru in the first century CE. The owl image was made separately and attached in such a way that the head moved a bit and the wings fluttered when the shield moved. If nothing else, the complexity of the shield might have distracted enemies from throwing spears or shooting arrows to trying to steal the work of art. 

On his shield he put a night bird,
And it glittered in the sunshine,
And it shimmered in the moonlight,
And its wings flapped when he moved it,
And its head bobbed as if watching
Any who were watching him move.
Every bead and fold of fabric,
Every curve of onlaid metal
(It was all of precious metal),
Every wink of sun through beady
Night bird eyes over his shoulder,
Spoke to all who saw him walking:
"Here behold a famous warrior,
Much admired by all the Moche.
Who strikes him will fight a hundred
Moche warriors seeking vengeance."
And there were nights when a watchman
Told himself, "This is the Owl Man,
Chief among the Moche warriors,
Come to take our gold and silver.
Better not to see him coming
Better say: I saw a night bird
Shimmering in the summer moonlight
As if made of gold and silver.
Let him take what he came seeking.
None of us need fight the Owl Man."
And there were days when a warrior
Said: "Ho! I will fight the Owl Man!
I'll win honor, I'll win glory,
People bow when I step forward,
Hold my feet when I am seated,
Carry my things when I travel..."
And his spear bounced off the owl shield,
And Owl Man returned it to him
Straight and swift, with the curare 
Sinking where it gashed his shoulder,
And the warrior hurried homeward
Ere its poison could destroy him...
If he reached home, if he fell down
On the homeward path, the Owl Man
Never asked, but added his spear
To the Owl Man's own equipment
Honored was the mighty Owl Man
Till at last luck turned against him
And he fell down on the war path.
Then they gathered his equipment
And divided up his weapons,
But the owl shield buried with him.
Never would another Moche
Represent himself as Owl Man.
Owl Man's name was long remembered,
Stories told to younger Moche,
Spirit called on as companion;
Even hundreds of years later,
When the Moche sleep forgotten,
Owl shield says to all who see it:
I belonged to a great warrior,
Loved and feared by all my people.

Thursday, July 2, 2026

Web Log for 7.1.26

Once again...anything from the "to listen to" queue that has a beat may be linked below. 

This is not really a post. This has not really seemed like a day. I've been in the most unpleasant part of a glyphosate reaction. It mixes badly with a heat wave. All I've really wanted to do all day has been lie down and think of ways to produce these sensations in people who don't feel them as simple glyphosate reactions.

Glyphosate Awareness 

It's unfortunate that the Supreme Court upheld restrictions on the liability of corporations that sell poisons. Or is it? People who honestly didn't know glyphosate was making them ill filed their suits ten years ago. The ones still filing today are likely to be bitter clingers,

Time to consider the liability of people who have sprayed poison and thereby harmed other people. We are no longer talking about old farm laborers with cancer. We are talking about people who've deliberately ignored warnings and claimed they had a "right to spray." As those people react to blood tests suggesting they may indeed have cancer, they deserve to be hit with lawsuits from the neighbors they've harmed. They deserve to go into chemo knowing that people who know them are thinking, "If cancer must happen it couldn't happen to a more deserving blighter. I hope he swells up so that he can't even see his feet. I hope all the relatives of anyone put in the same hospital room with him complain because he's constantly covered in blood-flecked froth." They deserve to know that when they come out of the hospital their neighbors are going to own their homes and they should go straight to a homeless shelter, from which they can send the address if anyone feels charitable enough to send any of their personal paraphernalia through the mail.

Goops and How Not to Be Them

Predictably, someone answered ex-President Obama's interview with "Are the slave owners in the room with us now?" Meaning, of course, that although Islam teaches that freeing slaves is a righteous act every Muslim should do, Islam does not actually forbid some people trafficking in slaves in the first place. The usual argument. "Well, you know these people are generally a bit retarded and incompetent--some of them may have been kidnapped for ransom but most of them sold themselves, or their families sold them, so that someone could teach them how to work, which is the best thing for them really," and although many of the Arab countries have officially outlawed slavery, that is still what people know their "guest workers" are there for. Not to be exposed to the roots of their faith tradition.To be beaten and raped and trafficked around and treated worse than the "honest dust" of the earth. In a few parts of Africa people can actually be led out in chains and sold at auction.

Right. But I want to say this as a legally White person. We personally, we Anglo-Americans, have never owned a slave. (Maybe a follower who enjoyed being talked to and treated like one, maybe a college student who reenacted a slave auction as a fundraiser, but that's different. Those people were having fun.) Likely we have never even practiced race discrimination. We think segregation was stupid. We've corrected clerks who turned to us first when someone who looked different had been waiting first. We may have called people to tell them why they ought to hire our Adult Ed students. Some White people who may be reading this have legally Black grandchildren. And we want to help the young Black Americans making all the noise these days outgrow socialism, too. We think "reparations" for bygone generations is pretty stupid, especially when, if people trace their ancestors, some of them are going to come to a handful of Black and/or indigenous Americans who owned English-born slaves. But we would absolutely love to have dinner with Thomas Sowell or share a work space with Tim Scott. We voted for Ben Carson, would have voted for Condoleezza Rice, will be voting for Tim Scott if he ever seeks a promotion...

And. Still. Even though some of the "microtraumas" that perturb the young are "micro" indeed. Even though, considering a different minority pressure group, we think it would be good sadistic fun to watch today's college freshmen explain to Hillary Rodham Clinton exactly how having to ask for access to the computer with the voice recognition program (you know, because the older student working in the library didn't remember that they were the ones with the micro-disabilities) hurt them. Even though the idea of celebrating how slowly the news reached Texas in the 1860s would have seemed silly even if it hadn't been sponsored by Joe Biden.

Can we please, please, take a little time off from ego-defending and consider one way we personally can show good will to some member of some minority group today? Special good will, to help them see what's missing in what they've heard about White Americans being everyone else's enemies?

Music 

War, the band.


Steely Dan.


Aukai.



Headstones.


Matthew Halsall.



The Mamas and the Papas.


Robert Gromotka.


Luke Brogden.


Yeahman. 


Frenic.


Boogie Belgique.


Neil Young.


Emancipator.


Santana.


Ringo Starr.

Book Review: Cooking with Friends

Title: Cooking with Friends

Author: Amy Lyles Wilson

Date: 1995

Publisher: Rutledge Hill

ISBN: 1-55853-383-4

Length: 134 pages

Illustrations: color photos

Quote: “If your guests ask what’s that curry flavor, tell themto shut up and eat or go to their rooms.”

These were, according to food writer Jack Bishop, the recipes the cast cooked and ate on the “Friends” TV show. Bishop supplied the recipes; Amy Lyles Wilson supplied the summaries of the scenes in which each recipe was prepared, consumed, or reminisced about; the Warner Brothers corporation supplied the lines and full-color photos from the TV show.

This cookbook is recommended to fans of the “Friends” show for nostalgia value. Unfortunately, I can’t find much to recommend the recipes, unless you’re trying to help someone gain weight. The arrangement of recipes is clever—instead of the routine sequence of appetizers, soups, meat, fish, veg, bread, desserts, and drinks, these recipes are classified as appetizers, coffee and accompaniments, comfort foods, holiday foods, New York food, vegetarian entrees, and desserts—but the recipes themselves are basic foods with lots of added fat. One dozen muffins would normally be made with two tablespoons of butter or oil; Jack Bishop’s recipe for a dozen corn muffins calls for ten tablespoons of melted butter.

If you buy the book and want actually to eat any of the food, I'd ignore the amounts of fat Bishop recommends dumping into everything. Start with one tablespoon of butter or oil per two servings of anything made with vegetables, fruits, or grain, and just enough to coat the pan for anything made with milk, meat, or egg since these foods already contain more fat than most bodies really need. 

Another way to cut cost and improve quality, if you insist on trying to eat any of these recipes, is to realize that you don’t have to use a food processor to make everything. Actually, if you don’t enjoy wasting electricity while subjecting your friends and relatives to unpleasant noise, you could forget about the food processor altogether. The only foods discussed in this book for which a food processor really saves time and trouble are the “creamy” whipped-oil salad dressings. You could just pass oil and lemon juice on the side and forget about the mayonnaise-y stuff. Picky eaters would thank you.

Otherwise, eggs fluff up about as fast when beaten with an eggbeater, a small hand tool that’s ecologically sound and easy to clean. Vegetables can be chopped more evenly and efficiently with a good sharp knife, also ecologically sound and easy to clean. Mixing dough and batter with a big wooden spoon is one of the main reasons why people bake in the first place; if tennis elbow has put you out of touch with the primal pleasure of beating up food, let a child do it—children instinctively know that beating batter is a treat in its own right. You can save those kilowatts for the actual cooking and find something more enjoyable to do with the money.
 

Wednesday, July 1, 2026

Web Log for 6.30.26

Some cyberchores got done, at the expense of link hunting, e-mail, etc. But I did keep moving through that "to listen to" list, and quite a few of the things people thought I needed to hear were music.

Music 

Neil Young.


Bill Haley and what may be some of his original fans. (Fun fact: this is the first rock song I remember hearing.)


Crosby, and/or Stills, Nash, and Young.



A child called Leona. I'm not sure I believe this is unedited live video, but I've heard a two-year-old sing a simpler melody, almost this long, this close to being on key, many times before. My natural sister was the main attraction of "The Three Bigguns" before, at age six, she lost the ability to hear most of the notes in this treble range. 


Dave Brubeck.


Chet Baker.

Stevie Ray Vaughan.


OntWtf.


Joni Mitchell.


Bob Dylan.


George Harrison.


The Band.


Jesse Colin Young.


Chris Thomas King. 


Terry Reid.


Tom Petty.


Donovan.

Book Review: Seasoned Timber

Title: Seasoned Timber

Author: Dorothy Canfield (later Mrs. Fisher)

Date: 1939

Publisher: Harcourt Brace & Co.

ISBN: none

Length: 485 pages

Illustrations: color frontispiece by Paul Honoré

Quote: “Mr. Hulme...had self-indulgently picked up a magazine instead. It was a Manchester Guardian, a fortnight old, but newly arrived. What he saw in it was anything but inspiriting—an account of recent anti-Semitic brutalities under Hitler—but a familiar feeling of guilt over the passively accepted safety of his own life had made him ashamed not to go on reading.”

During the two school years Seasoned Timber spans, Timothy Hulme, principal of the Clifford Academy in Clifford, Vermont, does a number of things because he would be ashamed not to. Around his forty-fifth birthday, he falls in love with a younger woman. He gets over being ashamed of his eccentric aunt, who compulsively plays classical music to keep down panic, and confides in friends about what makes her so special. He recognizes his feeling for one of the older teachers as a kind of nonsexual love. He rescues a nephew from disgrace. He stands up to a frankly detestable member of the school board. He persuades the town of Clifford to vote against what seems to be their clear economic interest. He helps one of the students launch an idea that may be more profitable for the school. And he buys an old house, fixes it up, and nobly gives it away...but the house is made of native stone. Timothy is the “seasoned timber.”

Dorothy Canfield Fisher wrote one novel for children, Understood Betsy, that won a Newbery award. Understood Betsy is the only one of her novels you’re likely to find in most libraries today. It was not her only one. Nor was it her most interesting one. The first few chapters of Seasoned Timber drag a bit, and gave me the impression that the book was going to be a longwinded, boring, but clean romance. It’s not.  Halfway through the book I’d lost all preconceived notions of where this story was going and actually built up a sense of suspense.

Vermont’s “hillbillies” had a considerable image problem in Mrs. Fisher’s day; she wrote in defense of her people. With this as a goal, I’d say that she succeeded quite well. I nominate the characters in Seasoned Timber as superb examples of the fine art of describing fictional characters who aren’t meant to be perfect, but whom readers would have to like and respect if the characters were real anyway.

The main fault readers might find with this story is that, for too many chapters in the beginning, all Timothy does is passively admire a woman he knows is too young for him; the plot plods and Timothy starts to seem like an old fool. Bear with him. As the plot becomes more interesting, so does Timothy. One could wish that he’d find a woman his own age to love—he is, after all, still the active and healthy coach for all the school sports—but in 1939 middle-aged people were supposed to have put romance behind them.

Timothy’s period-perfect politics naturally add a great deal to the story. The language used in Timothy’s political discussions is authentic--meaning that it would be very offensive today. Educated adults talked very differently in 1939 than they do now.

This novel is recommended to mature readers. It would be no more offensive to high school students than The Rise of Silas Lapham or The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg but it may, like those classics, be over some high school students’ heads.

Web Sites I Wish Still Existed

This week's Long & Short Reviews prompt is "web sites I wish still existed." 

The web sites that I wish still existed are the ones that disappeared because bloggers died. 

Sometimes blogs are kept online as memorials. I like this; at least readers don't lose the whole archive when the blog stops being written.

Sometimes web sites just disappear. You click on a link to a web site you used to frequent and see a message that the site name is available for rent, if you want to set up a site with the same name.

Either way, the living web site is gone when its primary author is. Group blogs like Making Light, and like what this web site originally intended to be, do outlast one primary author as long as other bloggers survive. Too often the whole group are the same age, so the others don't outlive the primary blogger by very long. This web site did start out with the perspectives of two different generations; by now of course it represents only one.

I miss the living, growing Ozarque blog.

I miss Scott Adams' Dilbert Blog.

I miss Vivian Zems' Smell the Coffee Blog.

I miss Barbara Ehrenreich.

I miss Linda Lee Lyberg. 

I don't want to rush back to the "bright side"--facts first, feelings follow--but I will point out that, oddly enough, although I miss the blogs I followed twenty years ago, I still seem to find more worth reading online than I have time to read.

For one thing a lot of people who never used to blog are now blogging on Substack. Gene Weingarten, Dave Barry, Roy Blount, Garrison Keillor--many baby boomers' favorite comedians now have blogs. Poets like Rajani Radhakrishnan, literary novelists like Margaret Atwood, have blogs. These writers are not young. No worries--lots of younger writers are on Substack too. All I can say is, if you open a Substack account (even if you don't publish a'zine there), you'll be astonished at the number of people who you never thought would have blogs, who now have them, on Substack.

I don't look forward to having to starve the monster by pulling out of the Internet...but if that's what it takes to stop the plans for "data centers" to turn our Promised Land, North America, into the sort of toxic waste dump that is now known as Industrialized China, I''ll do it. And so will you. We'll just have to print our Substack'zines on paper and send them out by real mail.

Tuesday, June 30, 2026

Web Log for 6.29.26

So now the Bad Neighbor has officially signed over the acres he'd bought to two neighbors who belong here, but retained the use of the land. They are thinking, bless their hearts, of sharing and forgiving and bringing back the old atmosphere the neighborhood had when we were all family and all Christians.  He is thinking of poisoning them, outliving them, and getting it all. What they're getting meanwhile is a lot of bullets wasted on a fox with enough sense to stay out of traps, and a lot of poison sprayed in the woods where the wild orchids and ginseng grow. And now Serena's down to one kitten. It was crying, whether from loneliness or from pain or on general principles, but charcoal seemed to help. I'm afraid it's male.

History 

Former President Obama reposted this on X and urged everyone to watch/listen. Well, he's the featured guest speaker; of course he wants people to watch/listen. I'm delighted to oblige. I think many of us at this web site are likely to find some points of historical debate, especially if we've read James Macpherson's detailed study of the social history of the Civil War years. Does not mean we should ignore Obama's perspective on being a triracial American. Many White Americans do prefer to tune out from this topic, because it feels like a guilt trip. This web site hereby challenges you to lean into the guilt trip and think, clearheadedly, without buying into Socialist bad ideas, about whether you might be able to do more to show and promote good will. Do you believe that not only States but counties, cities, neighborhoods, and households ought to do pretty much what they want? There's much to be said for that idea but is, e.g.,your city actively working toward proportionate representation in whatever government it has, from sanitation workers to the city council? Is tokenism, in which "DEI hires" are retained on jobs they're not doing well, a detestable thing and an insult to any group subjected to being "tokenized"? It is, but are people starting early to look for qualities that help people to be more than tokens--say, if the city needs more Black police detectives, keen and careful observation--in children and encourage those children to qualify for jobs? 


A few months ago a toddler followed me around his parents' yard, trying to chatter. I listened to the tot's questions and answered them as best I could, and said things like, "Where are your parents? If you want to talk to other grown-ups, it's good to have your Mommy or Daddy with you." That's the kind of society we have become. When people my age were young most of us were told, "If something goes wrong and we, your parents, are at work, you can always go to Mrs. Vanzetti's house." That was the real name of one of the families in one of the neighborhoods where I was told that  Mrs. Vanzetti was not a close friend of the family; she did not particularly like us, even her daughter who was in my class at school never claimed me as a friend, but she worked from home and would let any child wait on her porch if they were locked out of their house, use her phone to call for help if a parent was ill, that sort of thing. I am the kind of adult Mrs. Vanzetti was. I'm not infatuated with all children as such, have never looked at my home and thought "What it needs is a lot of rug rats climbing on the shelves and seeing what happens when they throw stereo speakers into the bathtub," but I would have charged into the house if what the tot had been trying to tell me had been something like "Mommy's lying on the floor and can't get up." Fortunately he was just trying to get somebody to throw a ball back to him. 

Small children have such a craving for adult attention--and are so vulnerable when the wrong kind of adults exploit it. One way to help children resist traffickers and other abusers is to give them plenty of attention from adults of good will, and yet today the mere idea of tossing a ball back into somebody's yard, twice, makes adults of good will feel like Mr. Stranger Danger if everything's not been cleared with the child's parents. 

Later in the day the same tot was in the same yard as someone drove past to drop me off after the day's work. 

"What kind of kid is that?"

"An adorable one.," I said. 

"Adorable now, but wait'll he grows up with everybody giving him a hard time about being a mixed breed."

Gentle Readers, what are you doing to help adorable children feel that most people, decent people, aren't going to give them a hard time if they are mixed breeds?

At some "conservative" sites I see people post things like "I have biracial or triracial grandchildren" and "Of course color prejudice is idiotic." They post supportive comments and links to things people of all types are doing right--everything from quotes from "serious, academic" books to pictures of models and dancers. Then when a certain kind of news story comes up it's "No points for guessing what the criminal looks like," and "You can tell that (person who just embarrassed self) was a DEI hire!" These people are not racists but they don't want to understand how minority-type readers have been trained to read those comments and think they are racists. They say things about some very specific types of behavior observed in various minority-type groups, the way I snark about the very specific (and not necessarily always White) kind of person known as a White Man From Town. Especially when they snark about the bad decisions of the "O Bummer" administration or the pathetic shortcomings of Kamala Harris's presidential campaign. I'm not trying to defend anything about the Harris campaign when I say that these people's grandchildren will have an easier time growing up if they've seen these people campaigning for Tim Scott or Winsome Earle-Sears or some other pollie who looks more like the grandchildren's other grandparents. If they've heard us say, "Of course, Maya Angelou never outgrew socialism," but they've also heard us quote from her collected works, which live in our front room bookshelves.

The books reviewed here are meant to start thoughts or conversations:




I can imagine grandchildren not even wanting to discuss stories in these books because "No worries, Grandpa, I know you're cool." The trouble is that Grandpa's students, co-workers, deliverymen, etc., do not know this.

Music 

John Mellencamp.


John Philip Sousa.


ZZ Top.


Fulton Adventist University College Choir. Don't they sound as American as apple pie? They are Fijian beneficiaries of the Adventist church's tradition of excellence in teaching English--partly through prayers, Bible texts, and religious songs.


Gap Band.


Bob Seger.


Frank Sinatra.


Santo & Johnny.


Sia. One of those videos that show how girls should not sound, look, or act unless they're "celebrities." 


John Coltrane.


Ludovico Einaudi.


Ringo Starr.


Traffic.


Tom Petty.


Petfinder Post: Brittany Spaniels and

Yes, this post has been delayed by glyphosate-related narcolepsy.

As we continue our study of the dog breeds the Bullies, Biddies, & Bossyboots of Britain want to render extinct, we come to something called the Bracco. What's that? It's an Italian breed of pointer--not common in the United States, but being marketed here online. Braccos are another dense, ripped breed who stand about two feet high at the shoulder and weigh 55 to 88 pounds. They are described as stubborn but trainable, affectionate, loyal, and loving to hunt. They're recommended to "hunting families." 

Right. Hunting is a survival skill and needs to be kept alive but this web site does not think of it as a sport. This web site will simply note that Petfinder has no listing for Braccos, or Bracchi. They may be in some shelters, but not enough to be listed on the web site. 

So, next on the list are Brittany Spaniels. I'm not familiar with that breed, either. Show-quality Brittanies stand up to 20" high at the shoulder and weigh up to 40 pounds. Males are a little bigger than females but the size difference is not necessarily as noticeable in this breed as in some. 

The part of France that's called Brittany proudly claims these dogs as epagneuls Bretons but, in the US and Canada, some argue that they're not Real Spaniels "because their primary instinct is not JUST flushing game." Some North American owners and breeders want to refer to the breed simply as Brittanies. Fashion-conscious people of a certain age, however, think of "Brittanies" as a term for their daughter Brittanie and her schoolmates Britnee, Britney, and Brittoni.

What's the problem the British Busybodies have with this breed? They have floppy ears but the problem, according to the Humane Society,"Let's save all domestic animals from the pain of being alive," types, is that too many people think they want a Brittany just for its looks. Like Australian Shepherds and Border Collies, which they resemble in some ways, these dogs need substantial amounts of interesting exercise to thrive. People who aren't willing to keep up with their Brittanies then dump these charming, photogenic dogs in shelters. 

Brittanies were bred to hunt. Their dream jobs probably involve running through the woods beside their humans and helping the humans bring home full bags of game birds. Since even those who still hunt no longer hunt for food every single day, people who want to adopt Brittanies need to have some other way these dogs can put their energy to good use. Getting the family couch potato off the couch is excellent if the couch potato is willing to let  the dog do it. Many Brittanies do well in dog athletic clubs. 

Brittanies' coat colors always include some white--usually white coats with brown or black patches above, sometimes mottled "roan." Like all of my current resident cat family, who are basically white cats with gray, black, or calico spots. This is due to the "dominant white" gene and not the "lethal white" gene, which causes hairs to fail to develop color and can cause other parts of the body to develop functionality. So this week's photo contest will be for cats who are mostly white with some black or orange spots above.

(Although Brittanies don't have the "lethal white" gene, they can have some other problem genes. 
Weaknesses of the heart, joints, eyes, and immune system run in some Brittany bloodlines, as does epilepsy. They are generally a healthy breed who live 12 to 15 years; they usually do well with children but plans have to be made for their care when the children go off on their own.)

Zipcode 10101: Maple from Texas by way of Port Chester 


Maple is a crossbreed with some retriever ancestry, so she's bigger than a purebred Brittany--over 60 pounds. She likes to please humans but someone in the family needs to be able to carry her. She is young, full of energy and enthusiasm, but only minimally trained. You'll need to complete her education to include things like walking on leash, sitting and staying. If you're not up for at least an hour of serious workout time every day, ask about a smaller or older dog. 

Pancake from NYC


Pancake and his brother Waffle were living with a feral cat colony but were brought inside at an early age and have become pretty much house pets. Pancake is white with gray tabby spots; Waffle is white with black spots. They have been neutered.

Zipcode 20202: Bella from Westminster 


Bella is part Beagle, so not oversize for a Brittany. She is ten years old. She has had a good deal of training and has shown one problem. She gets anxious and barks if she's left alone in the house. Her humans tried doping her rather than hiring a dog sitter. Pills didn't work. This dog just wants one of her humans to be in the house all the time. 

Sneaker from DC 


Sneaker and four siblings have "mixed hair." They may be a little less fluffy when they grow up but they'll have extra soft, likely longish hair. Their web pages have been set up individually, but they'd like to  find a foster home together. They are available as foster kittens. If you're not sure which one you want to keep, you can register as a foster parent, take home all five, and get some help with their maintenance expenses while encouraging someone else to take some of them.

Zipcode 30303: Jimmy and Jimbo from Greenville 


Jimmy is black-and-tan and white. He is eleven years old. Jimbo, his son,is light brown and white. He is ten years old. They are considered geriatric dogs who don't need to be neutered. They have spent their whole lives together, most of those years with an elderly male human who died. Separating the dogs is not considered advisable. Take two, they're not very big. Apart from mourning they seem to be in good condition.

Smudge from Chattanooga 


Just another surplus kitten but she seems as if she might be a baby Queen Cat. She reportedly "gets along wonderfully with dogs." 

New Book Review: The Secret Thread

Title: The Secret Thread

Author: Eve Chase

Date: 2026

Publisher: Ballantine

ISBN: 978-0-593-97626-5

Quote (from the galley proof): "[I]nteriors queen Mimi Mott is selling her legendary estate." 

As regular readers know, one stage in the process of traditional book publishing is, when the author and publisher have agreed that the book shall be published, sending a cheap paperback or electronic copy to reviewers so that reviews can be published on the day the book reaches the store. These copies, traditionally called "galley proofs," go out while there's still time to change a word here and there, so publishers remind reviewers not to quote extensively. This book is about what happens when Mimi sells her estate, so chances are that the line quoted above will be in chapter one of your book when you buy it, but it might not be. 

In the world of this novel Mimi Mott's "Mimi House" interior decorating business was not merely a success, like Studio McGee, Kelly Wearstler, or Nate Burkus. It was a household word. Mimi Mott was the influencer of influencers, was to building design what Anna Wintour was to fashion design, became rich and famous. 

Jo, a young writer, really wants to be chosen for the job of writing the book that will go with the sale of Mimi Mott's estate. Mimi has never written a memoir before. In her seventies she thinks she ought to write one, but she needs a real writer's help. Jo wants the publicity Mimi can give her career, and when interviewed she likes Mimi's other assistant, but there's more to her story. She has reason to think Mimi is her great-aunt.

Mimi (originally Miriam) and her older sister Pamela, whom Jo calls Granny, are indeed sisters who've avoided each other for years. They were close; they've missed each other.

Their temperaments were different. Their parents had chosen gardening as a business and a lifestyle. Before "going back to the land" became a trend, the sisters' parents felt that their simple, frugal, rural life was part of their Christian faith. (This is back-story; living members of the family don't talk about their religion, if any. Though forgiveness is a major theme this is not a Sunday book.) Pamela was close to her parents and brother, and wanted to preserve her rustic introvert lifestyle as an adult. Mimi wanted to get out and be a socialite in the city. Both sisters got what they wanted; if that were all of their disagreement they could be happy seeing each other once or twice a year. As things are Pamela's never even told her child or grandchild that she had a sister.

It began, Mimi says, when both sisters liked the son of their clients, and he liked them....and she goes on with the three-generation saga of Jo's family, not consciously aware that Jo is part of that family. 

The ending is not altogether happy (clue: younger sister over seventy years old) but a family that's too nice to be divided, as this one's been, will be reconciled at the end. Not without Pamela, the quiet rural sister, having her chance to get in the last shocking word....

I enjoyed this novel. I came across just one British phrase that I had to google. Mimi remembers liking "Flakes in my Mr. Whippy." By "Flakes" she means Cadbury Flakes chocolate bars, which were made in a small size especially for tucking into "Mr. Whippy" or other forms of vanilla ice cream. The whole family are fond of food, both "healthy" and junk. If your book club chooses this book, everyone will have something to cook for the monthly book-theme buffet party. (A page of discussion questions is also provided for book clubs.)

Recommended to any adult reader who has, or had, or wanted to have a sibling. I wouldn't expect children to enjoy it but there's no serious violence or graphic sex to hide from them. Well done, Eve Chase, crafting a wholesome story that kept me interested through 52 chapters.

Monday, June 29, 2026

Web Log for 6.28.26

After I prodded Google about our foreign readership, the said foreign readership deflated. Did it ever deflate. Total page views dropped by ninety percent. Nine out of ten readers of this web site were bots or hackers? Well, never mind, it's good to have real humans in the audience. 

Animals 

Video of the songbird called a dipper. The dipper is unique. It's been called a kind of wren or thrush, because it has some features in common with wrens and with thrushes, but it's the only North American songbird that swims and it really isn't much like anything but a dipper. It is usually found in the West but I used to watch one at a park in Wheaton, Maryland.


Books 

US readers who have been unable to find copies of Tom Cox's novel Everything Will Swallow You, rejoice! As a temporary promotion this UK store can ship copies to the US with no international shipping charges! Link to order, and first chapter of the novel:


Music 

Traffic...Really youall can read the Meow for yourselves. (Howtomeowinyiddish.blogspot.com is always a good source of music.) I'll try at least to alternate between a music link from that site and one from some other site.


Ella Roberts.


Tom Petty.


Van McCoy.


The Kinks.


Priscilla Block.


Steve Miller Band.


Bobby Horton. This is one of the earliest American songs, thought to have been sung during the Revolutionary War and now beloved of renactors everywhere. At the time rifles were a technological innovation. The British thought heavier muskets would have to work better. History has been the judge.


Robin Trower.

Harry Chapin.


Grand Funk Railroad.


Karunesh.


Donovan.


Charli Xcx. (This link was shared by someone who didn't mind its pushing limits, but used it as an example of how stretched out the limits of how much eroticism the industry demands from young women singers these days. May offend viewers; not recommended for viewing at home, work, school, or anywhere where others might see and hear.)


The Cars.


Tears for Fears.


Buddy Holly.


The Police.


Three Dog Night.


Stryper.


Neil Young. 



The Troggs.


Queen.


Writing 

Although this piece of Bad Poetry is fiction, and seemed like nonsense when I wrote it...


...I suppose it may be worth mentioning that it only becomes "dark humor" rather than "ironic satire" when the characters involved are male. Women have been "suffering to be beautiful," having functional teeth removed and functional fingers broken and functional breasts chopped up to conform to the current idea of what looks good, for a long time. 


That novel is also comedie noire, but serious studies of the cosmetic surgery industry have been being made (and ignored by those marketing cosmetic surgery) throughout my lifetime. People are seriously told--by their employers, if they're in movies or television!--that their work will be more valuable if men have "hair implants" or nose reductions, if women have "face lifts" or liposuction. There's no real end to it; as a child in California in the 1970s I remember noticing a woman who had the tiniest tapered waist I'd ever seen, hearing her tell my mother that she was getting pressure about centimeters of flab her waist had supposedly added after childbirth. I was small and skinny at nine years old and this woman was shortening her last year's jeans so they'd fit me. And she was getting that "You'd be more valuable to some people if you were even thinner" routine.

To imagine guys doing this kind of thing I had to imagine that at least the corrective operation was supposed to relieve pain. Crooked teeth can be painful when impacted molars grow in. 

Then there was a vlog...I forget now whether it was on the Meow or the Mirror or somewhere else, because I didn't originally intend to link to it...about how much the talking heads on TV look alike, "and it's scary," because the combination of "lifted" and Botox-stiffened skin, exaggerated North Asian  type cheekbones, straight European type noses, and full African type lips are not only hard to tell apart but unlike any natural human you're likely to know if you look at them closely. Have we achieved an ideal of beauty, especially but not exclusively female beauty, that can be achieved only through cosmetic surgery? 

If so, how do we go about rejecting it?!

I don't watch enough television to know, or care, whether the talking heads look like siblings or really are siblings. Only in an abstract and theoretical way do I think it would be better if the talking heads looked like the United Nations with a full range of heights, hairstyles, nose shapes, complexions, and ages represented. (And cheers to all those 60-year-olds who look healthier than their 30- and 40-year-old children, but y'know, "The Golden Girls" were not the last women on Earth who looked good and were funny when their hair really was white.) It's for those who watch television to encourage the industry to show us real faces, aging naturally.

Zazzle 

Gentle Readers, do youall believe that Zazzle should continue to be a distinctive site that sells quirky, even one-off, individuals' designs rather than just being another outlet for commercial designs?

Before blinking out of cyberspace entirely I would like to try adding a Zazzle Store page to this web site. I am not asking anyone to put any bank card information online. No. You probably already know someone who already does that, perhaps a storekeeper whose e-purchases are in a store building a good healthy distance from per home with locks and lights and alarms and insurance and all. You should bribe that person to buy Zazzle merchandise for you...give that person the full price and a loaf of homemade bread, or a foot massage, a free seat in a car pool the person wants to join, whatever kind of treats you like to give to friends. And support some deserving artists

Zazzle now pays designers considerably more for marketing our own designs than for marketing other people's designs.I hate that they changed what used to be one of the site's most endearing features. In the interests of preserving the classic Zazzle atmosphere (and perhaps bringing back the classic rule of double payments when Zazzlers marketed one another's stuff), I'll still share some other people's designs.

Zazzle works a bit like Zulily and other online marketers. Since the merchandise is printed on demand it doesn't disappear (from the store, to become bales of waste) after the sale day, which is a MAJOR advantage of Zazzle over Zulily, but your chance of getting anything at anything resembling a reasonable price is one day only. Buy it now or pay more another day. 

The site has hidden a lot of my merchandise because they weren't selling it. Well, what could they expect when they were spamming customers with ads for Disney merchandise and saying nothing about individual designers. What you need to know is that Zazzle is set up to allow you to be your own designer, anyway. Any design you see on a mug? They'll probably automatically show you how the design would look on napkins, coasters, pillows, wall clocks... You can click around and apply the public-domain images I've used to anything Zazzle will print. I'm known for designing plain shirts with just a few words over one shoulder in front and a big picture behind, for all the women Out There who want to encourage people to aim their eyeballs a little further up, but you can put the picture on the front if you want to. 

You can also request a design if you don't see it there. (Zazzle will print adult-content cards and suchlike, though the closest I get is a clingy pink shirt with the words or picture right over the bustline.) Readers have done this and, while one reader's idea for a girly shirt with person's URL on the bustline didn't go anywhere, another reader's suggestion for the "I'm the Mother Not the Maid" shirt actually sold. You can set up your own Zazzle store, or you can save your online time and send me ideas.