We're hunting wabbits! We loaded our SUV with equipment, children and snacks for said children, picked up a trusty native guide, and set off in search of game. In short, we did some house hunting this weekend. It was both interesting and annoying.

First, to all you real estate brokers out there: Stop calling them homes. I supply the home, you supply the house. The house is what we are shopping, tentatively, for. We will put the home in the house. The house is merely the wrapper for the home.

Second, when asked a question about a negative aspect of the community. Don't over sell me. Don't say, "I can't deny that X is a problem", and then go right ahead and finesse it or deny it. That behavior just makes me suspicious. You see, I am trained to ask questions and listen carefully to the answers. That is a big part of what litigation is all about. Ask, listen, and test the answer against what you know or think you know or the common sense understanding you have of the rhythm of the transaction in order to pick up on discordant notes. So, when you elide an issue, Ms. Broker, it trips that spidey sense and makes me question your candor and listen more carefully. I don't particularly enjoy that.

Finally, house hunting is both exhilarating, mildly, and sobering, majorly. You can get more for your money if you move out of overpriced suburb close to NY City and move to overpriced suburb farther from NY City, but you need to spend more, too. It is kind of exhilarating to see all the new space and the greater amount of space and the amount of land and to imagine yourself living in it. It is sobering to realize how much money is required to do so. Other parts of the country have it better in this regard, there is no doubt. For instance, Fort Worth, Texas. I could buy a five bedroom house in Fort Worth for a lot less than what I am spending in the NY metropolitan area.

You know what? I think that someone, somewhere, knows I am thinking about selling my house. I've just spent the last 20 minutes on the phone and off the phone with the plumber, authorizing him to put in a new hot water heater in the house. The old one has just dumped a quarter inch of water in my basement. How come I couldn't get away with the old one for, say, another three or four months? Also, how come I never have a problem with this house under the four figure range? Huh? Why is that?

Frustration level with house: High.

I miss my apartment in the City. I really do. A nice superintendent. I was a more equal pig than others since I was the Vice President of the Co-op Board and always was attended to promptly. I sure do miss that. *sigh*

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:38 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
Post contains 504 words, total size 3 kb.

1 Been in your shoes RP. Hang in there!

Posted by: Wicked H at February 07, 2005 10:58 AM (iqFar)

2 Been there too. It's tough. I know you'll find what you need and want. Be patient. Keep being picky; the right house will appear! :-)

Posted by: Amber at February 07, 2005 01:52 PM (zQE5D)

3 Are you saying that replacing a hot water heater cost you four figures? Yikes! Maybe you shouldn't call a local plumber. I'll bet a plumber from my area would gladly make the trip and do the job for less than half of that.

Posted by: Tuning Spork at February 07, 2005 09:14 PM (DLwY5)

4 Thanks, y'all. Everything is a trade off, unless you have unlimited resources. We don't really have that. What the heck, life goes on!

Posted by: RP at February 08, 2005 09:57 AM (LlPKh)

5 As a member of the legal community in Fort Worth (I work for the largest firm in the county and will finish law school in May), I say come on down!

Posted by: David at February 08, 2005 01:31 PM (8MmTs)

6 Thanks, Dave! I'll let you know how things turn out in that regard. I suppose I'll know a little bit better tomorrow.

Posted by: RP at February 08, 2005 01:57 PM (LlPKh)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

People say that when something bad is happening, its like time slows down and they can see every aspect of the bad thing right down to the texture of the paint on the car or whatever. They say that, while they are powerless to change the outcome, it all goes so slowly.

Not always, I discovered.

Sometimes, it is almost over before you know it.

I fell today while carrying my son. I fell on some black ice while turning from the sidewalk into my driveway. I fell so fast that I didn't realize I was falling until I was already down. Nothing slowed down for me; it all sped up. The Boy Child fell from my arms, missing the concrete retaining wall by six or eight inches and went belly up onto the gravel driveway. He was just a little scared, not hurt at all. I was up to get him so fast that I didn't even realize I had cut my elbow or that I had even come down on my elbow. I just wanted to see if he was ok. Only later did I realize that I had hurt myself, my hip, my elbow, my back, and really given a wrench to my left shoulder and arm, the side I was carrying him on when I went down.

I expect I will be pretty darn sore tomorrow. But the Boy Child is ok and that was really all that mattered to me.

It was just so fast. Me on my side looking at him face down on the gravel. I've had better days. I just hope that, with respect to my boy, I don't have worse.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:37 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
Post contains 295 words, total size 1 kb.

1 Ouch. I hope it's not too bad tomorrow. I know exactly what you mean though - you don't feel the pain until you see the child isn't hurt. When Bear was 1 1/2 he had a fall down our stairs. Completely my fault - I was at the top encouraging him to climb up to me. He was bubbly with excitement and stopped to clap his hands. Unfortunately there was nothing under his butt when he sat down and he tumbled backwards. I jumped from the top landing to the bottom one with a slight contact about half way down. I landed at the bottom on one foot and a knee. The stairs were padded and carpeted and about as dangerous as a stiff accent pillow. He was fine. I checked him over and calmed him down. I picked him up and started to stand up and then fell back on my ass. The knee didn't work. At that point I felt the pain. It was the size of a melon within an hour. If we could bottle parents' child-in-danger anxiety endorphins we'd have the most potent pain killers the world has ever known.

Posted by: Jim at February 05, 2005 10:41 PM (MDLz3)

2 i am so glad to hear the boy child is alright. i can only say - i can begin to imagine that feeling. i am also glad to hear...you weren't hurt too badly. i hope this morning finds you achingless than you thought you would.

Posted by: standing naked at February 06, 2005 07:33 AM (IAJcf)

3 Glad to hear Boy Child is alright and wishing you a speedy recovery.

Posted by: Wicked H at February 06, 2005 12:48 PM (BQhBn)

4 OUCH - Good to hear your son is OK. RICE - Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation.

Posted by: Mark at February 06, 2005 01:24 PM (jSnvf)

5 Thank god you're alright! Black ice can do that to you... now I bet that if you had slipped down a hill for 20 meters, things would have gone in slow motion. But black ice is all about... surprise tactics. Take care of yourself... and hoping your not too sore to continue typing...

Posted by: Philippe Roy at February 07, 2005 12:54 AM (nGiV1)

6 I too am glad your son is ok. But you did show off the bruises as war wounds to the Mrs, right? Ask for a kiss for the boo-boos, ask to have breakfast brough to you in bed? I would've done that. Those have "wounds of bravery" written all over them, especially since you were so concerned about your son you didn't even realize you had hurt yourself. I think it commands rewards, should you ask.

Posted by: Helen at February 07, 2005 06:13 AM (y74Wc)

7 Oh Random! So glad the BC is okay. And you too. Those things happen. :-( That doesn't make it any easier, knowing that, but it does happen. Always made my heart stop.

Posted by: Amber at February 07, 2005 01:51 PM (zQE5D)

8 Whew. So glad you're both okay. Wow. I can't imagine how you felt when you looked over at him. Again, happy you're okay.

Posted by: C at February 07, 2005 09:10 PM (UvR2t)

9 Great that the BC is fine and hopefully you're not to achy. Perhaps a slip and fall seems not to happen in slow motion because when we fall we a) are surprised, and b) don't feel a force acting on us so we can't make sense of it; our minds go blank until the ground slams up into us. I dunno. A couple of weeks ago I was walking, at night, along a poorly lit sidewalk and carrying to heavy bags of groceries. I got to spot where a tree root had pushed the black pavement up quite a few inches. I didn't see it, and my left foot was stopped cold and then my right. My upper body and the groceries were still moving forward at a brisk pace, of course, and I tried to get my feet under me. I moved them faster and faster, which only thrusted my upper body faster and faster and with a split second I running forward with my feet not quite under me yet. I finally had to just drop the bags, fall forward and land on my back. Slo-mo all the way. Never felt a thing except po'd at the sidewalk!

Posted by: Tuning Spork at February 07, 2005 09:39 PM (DLwY5)

10 Thanks very much for all the comments, stories, and expressions of concern. Everyone is fine. My arm and shoulder are still sore, but are getting better every day. It really was very kind of you all to chime in. I actually had considered closing comments on this post because I did not want to be seen as fishing for sympathy. I'm glad I didn't as I enjoyed the comments very much.

Posted by: RP at February 08, 2005 09:59 AM (LlPKh)

11 I found this website because I did a search on "seeing in slow motion." My Dad experienced this twice in his life. The first time was a rather mundane event; my sister knocked a bowl of ice cream of the table, and he saw it fall in slow motion, and then grabbed it and put it back on the table. The second time, he was running behind my other sister as she was riding a bike for the first time. She fell down, though, and he thought as he was running, "Oh no, I'm going to trample her!" Then he started seeing things in slow motion and was able to jump over her. My sister remembers seeing him jump over her, and he was literally airborne - arms stretched forward and legs back like Superman flying in the movies, but only three feet in the air. It's almost like the first incident was a test run, to make sure it would work, so the second event would definitely be avoided.

Posted by: Derrick Campbell at June 23, 2005 12:41 AM (cM93H)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

Yesterday, I posted my thoughts about time and it really isn't money and I received, thank you very much, some very thoughtful and interesting comments. By the way, I heart comments and especially the excellent comments y'all left yesterday.

But here is another way to look at time and its value: Through the eyes of the lawyer who bills by the hour (I am reproducing the contents of that page below the fold here just in case the link stops being live, for whatever reason): more...

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:40 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 999 words, total size 6 kb.

How often have you heard that? A lot, if you live in NY, I bet. But is it really true? I was kicking the thought around this morning and decided I'd write about it to see if I couldn't come up with a more disciplined result. As one old professor of mine once said, you don't know anything until you write it down.

First, you can save money but you can't save time. Saving money makes sense. Spend less, put more money in the bank or the market, and watch it, hopefully, grow and maybe even compound. Time, on the other hand, you can't save. You can rush around all you want, get stressed about making a deadline or catching an earlier train, all with the over riding goal of being more efficient and saving time. Well, what do you do with the time you save? You can't put it in a bottle (thank you, Mr. Croce), you can't store it up until a more convenient moment. It won't grow like money does in the bank. No, you can't really save time. Consequently, I suppose, you need to live more in the moment. You need to live fully and thoughtfully so that you can extract the maximum amount of value from the time you do have. It is a finite amount, after all, you just don't know how finite.

Second, if time were money, or at least a commodity, you'd have to be able to value it. How much money, I was wondering, would it be worth to me to buy time? Let's say I had a million dollars. How much of that million would I spend to buy an extra hour of life? An extra hour to say goodbye or visit with my loved ones. What is that worth? A lot? A little? Let's complicate things. What if, in making this calculation, you know that your heirs apparent need this money that you will be leaving behind. Does that factor into your calculations about how much your hour is worth to you? Is this too hard? What about buying an extra five minutes? Is that worth less? How do you assign a value to time?

Let's try something easier, something market driven. Travel costs. Travel costs are often a matter of assigning a monetary value to time. Flights at undesirable times often cost less, right? The reason seems clear, to entice you to fly when no one wants to. But what is it worth to you to fly at an inconvenient time? How much are you willing to spend in order to have more time at the office to prepare for a meeting, or to arrive at a more convenient time at your destination so that you are rested for the upcoming event? Hundreds? Maybe. A thousand? Who knows, right? Depends on the circumstances. But what if the timing of the flight may mean the difference between spending time with an aging relative who you may not get to see again. How much is that worth to you when you run your little balance sheet calculations? Can you put a value on the time? Sure. Its the difference in cost between the convenient ticket and the inconvenient ticket. The market set that price difference, but what is it worth to you to pay it?

Beats me. I don't have any answers. Well, maybe I have one answer. Time is precious, even if I can't set a price for it. And good health is beyond price. So, spend some time, time you can't save anyway, tending to your health. Go to the gym, get a physical (you know, the one you've been putting off), and eat smarter. This may turn out to be a big dividend paying investment as the years roll on.

Did this post make any sense to anyone?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:54 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
Post contains 647 words, total size 3 kb.

I went, on Sunday, to attend an open house in the town next over from mine. The kids were napping, my wife was installed with the Sunday crossword, and I took myself off. It looked promising on paper: 6 bedrooms, .6 acres, walk to the train, all in a very nice town with a great school system. The advert didn't warn me to be prepared to be sad, which is too bad, because I was.

The house, you see, was an estate sale. It was being sold by the children of the previous inhabitants. The "children", the broker told me, were now all in their 50's and the previous inhabitants had lived there for many, many years and raised their family there. And then they died. But they didn't vacate the house.

They were there all around me, the ghosts. The clothes left hanging in some closets. The well worn books in certain book shelves. The family photos left on tables and hung on walls, many of them of such an obvious age that they must have depicted people long dead themselves. The papers left out on the desk in the home office. Their traces were everywhere, if you looked carefully.

The ghosts were there in the sadness of the house, in the way that the house had just been left there, and not all shined up for sale. The way the wall paper was peeling in certain rooms and the way the plaster walls in the master bedroom had been left cracked and stained from a roof leak. No way the previous inhabitants would have wanted their house to be shown like that. No way.

I felt more creeped out the longer I was in the house and I did not linger after I finished my tour.

What is it about an empty house, a dead house, that you can feel even before you go in? I suspected it was an estate sale just from the way the walk was poorly shoveled.

I felt like I was walking with ghosts the whole time I was there. I don't think I could own such a house.

Besides, it needed, easy $250,000 worth of work and was on a busy street which is a no-no with small children.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:58 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 387 words, total size 2 kb.

Why? You ask. Because, sometimes, just sometimes, when you leave the house in the middle of a snow storm (small one, but still a storm), one neighbor will call your name and, when you turn around, will tell you that there are train wires down at the station, or so his wife has just heard on the radio, and there are no trains in or out of our station. So, as you stand there in the middle of the street thinking, "SHIT!!!", you then hear your kind neighbor say, "my wife is driving me to the next station up the line where I think that there are trains, wnat a lift?" And just like that, your day goes from disaster to SAVED, Hallelujah!

Thank you kind neighbor/benefactor!

We make it to the station where we then sprint over to the other platform on the New Haven bound side where the New York bound train is just pulling in. It is so crowded that I check every door for room, from the first door to the last door before finding just enough room to squeeze in and stand for the remainder of the journey. At least the guy next to me as reading something interesting, which I could read over his shoulder. Although he did read too slowly so I kept having to wait for him to catch up and turn the page.

Still, finally made it. I have no doubt that if I was not normally nice to my neighbors, I'd still be standing at my local train station waiting for the next train.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:30 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 280 words, total size 1 kb.

Today is Australia Day. Go wish Simon a happy Australia Day and buy an Aussie a beer!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:39 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 29 words, total size 1 kb.

I have a bunch, well, a small bunch of things I have been thinking about, none of which rise to the level of a full post and I've decided to simply let them all out here, for better or worse:

* Who would have thought that sometimes a broom is better for getting snow off of your sidewalk than a shovel? Came as a pleasant surprise to me. Much less effort and a much cleaner sidewalk. It snowed last night and I was out there at 5:45 this morning getting it all clean for the day.

* How come, when it gets really cold and you're waiting for the train, the cold starts licking at your feet with the big toes first?

* Running committees for non-profits is like herding cats. I am now heading up three different, major, committees for three different non-profits and I am astounded, sometimes, that I have any time for my paying job.

* The State of NY is perilously close to overtaking the Great State of Louisiana in my mind for Most Dysfunctional State Government. I am seriously contemplating fleeing to Connecticut where, at least, taxes are so much lower and, Greenwich aside, I can get a lot more house/land for the money. Something to think about.

* The Girl Child goes today for her annual tune up and oil change -- the birthday check up. That reminds me, time to get a physical for myself.

* Ok, physical now scheduled for next Monday. Why is it, that whenever I make an appointment for a physical, I immediately want to start watching what I'm eating? Like its going to make a difference now.

* Attending nursery school "pyjama party" for a picnic and sing-along is a divine way to spend the evening. Is there any better smell in the whole world than an almost two year old boy's hair which still smells from last night's Johnson's Baby Shampoo as the little one sits on your lap during the songs and you bury your nose in his hair? Anything better? Not really.

* Sitting cross legged on the floor for a half an hour reminds me that I ain't as young as I used to be. Ridiculous, isn't it? On so many levels.

* I really need to do something about the damn banner, or lack thereof, on this site.

* I am quietly pining for Summer, for the beach, for the wind on the bare chest on the beach, for chasing kids in the sand, for cocktails next to the water, for sand in the car and not under the car on the roads, and for just a longer day between sunrise and sunset. This surprises me since I've always loved Winter. I have no guesses as to why this is.

* The February social commitments list is getting longer and longer and I'm feeling like I'm falling farther and farther behind. What else is new?

* Does anyone really think that because they send me an email with an attachment and the re line reading either, "Your Bill", "Your Document", or your "Account Statement", I'm just going to open it? Please.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 03:01 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 534 words, total size 3 kb.

1 My favorite is "You've won!" I never open them, just bask in the illusion for the 1.2 seconds it takes to delete it

Posted by: Elizabeth at January 21, 2005 01:39 AM (eDdcE)

2 brooms - also very good for brushing off a very big truck...when you are 5 ft 2.

Posted by: standing naked at January 21, 2005 06:17 AM (IAJcf)

3 Despite being a huge New York supremacists, I've often pondered the prospects of Fairfield County and western Connecticut as well. And if you get bored, you could always join the Governor's Foot Guard. (1st Coy.: http://www.governorsfootguard.com/, 2nd Coy.: http://www.footguard.org/).

Posted by: Andrew Cusack at January 21, 2005 01:52 PM (xuV6d)

4 Aah, Connecticut: Where the smart New Yorkers live! Welcome to the neighborhood?

Posted by: Tuning Spork at January 23, 2005 11:26 PM (L9A/j)

5 Great post.

Posted by: Jester at January 27, 2005 12:49 AM (yS8Mo)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

I posted, a couple of days ago, about white truffle oil and I received some interesting comments, many of which inquired generally about white truffle oil. So, I thought I'd post about it. First, the good stuff is high quality olive oil infused with white truffles so that the aroma will knock you over and the taste, when you add it to cooked food, for you don't really want to cook with it because the heat from the cooking will destroy the aroma and the taste, is divine.

These people say it best:

Truffles are one of the world's most complex and mysterious foods. Truly exceptional truffles (almost all of which from Italy) are costly, perishable and hard to find, but truffle oil captures the essence of Italy's best truffles without the expense. This truffle seasoning, made with extra virgin olive oil and a slice of real white truffle, is a flavorful enhancement for steak, pasta, fried eggs, mushroom dishes and cheese.

This olive oil is infused with the exotic flavor of white truffles sometimes know as the "fruit of the woods" and comes in small bottles because a little of its very strong truffle flavor goes a long way.

A few drops of the truffle olive oil will give the final touch of class to an unforgettable dish. Drizzled over a sliced loaf of warmed bread, it makes an unusual, deeply flavored variation of garlic bread. It is an excellent ingredient of the "primit piatti" or first course, particularly with risotto, pasta and fish dishes or just pour a few drops on a simple salad. Truffle oil is often poured at the table, so that the full aroma can escape and do its thing on your guest.

What is a truffle?
A truffle is a fungus that grows 3-12 inches below the ground at the base of certain trees and can only be located by pigs or dogs. Of the nearly 70 known varieties, the most desirable are black truffles (often from Umbria) and white truffles (from Piemonte). Fresh truffles are generally available from late fall to midwinter.

Bear in mind the truffles are horribly expensive. I got my oil at the spice sellers in the Grand Central Station marketplace where it was not ruinously priced, but not too cheap either.

I hope this answers some of your questions.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 04:10 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 396 words, total size 2 kb.

1 A truffle is a fungus that grows under trees? Why was I thinking delicate, fluffy, chocolate? At any rate; I'm not completely turned off by the fungi factor. Not COMPLETELY. I think. :: gulp :: Something to try, definitely.

Posted by: Margi at January 19, 2005 01:33 PM (zalxZ)

2 Here I go being nitpicky again, but I have to differ. A truffle is not a fungus; it is a tuber. A most delicious tuber, but a tuber nonetheless. Why so many people think it's a fungus is beyond me.

Posted by: GrammarQueen at January 21, 2005 02:32 PM (X3Lfs)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

I am convinced that your idea of bliss changes as you age. Before, I mean before I had kids and my views of the world narrowed, I suspect bliss was an ice cold Bombay Sapphire martini and a Cuban cigar. I've always loved that combination.

Now? Now, bliss is waking up before everyone else in the house, as I did this morning, slipping downstairs without waking anyone, and having the kitchen to myself. I brewed an enormous pot of coffee that was so strong, it practically lifted my big mug up when I poured it. I took out all of the vegetables I chopped up last night (while dancing to 8:00 80's on WPLJ) and started cooking up a vat of chili since I know I will have no time at all to cook this weekend. In case you're wondering, cooking commenced at 6:00 this morning. It was lovely to cook away all by myself this morning, just me and my coffee.

Then, while the chili bubbled away on the stove, I made myself a lonesome, solitary breakfast that was simply sublime. I scrambled two eggs with diced prosciuto, melted muenster cheese on top of it and added, while on my plate, a thin drizzle of white truffle oil. White truffle oil is simply the greatest way to turn blah into luxe, calme et volupté.

It was bliss. I cooked, ate lovely eggs perfumed with truffles, drank strong coffee and was all alone to curse out loud to my heart's contentment at the morning's NY Times. Having children has changed me. I'd like to think I'd have appreciated this time alone before kids, but now, it was just blissful.

By the way, the chili appears to have turned out to be nothing short of fabulous.

Best wishes for a great weekend, y'all!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:48 PM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
Post contains 312 words, total size 2 kb.

1 It sounds blissful enough! Hope you have a great weekend!!!

Posted by: Mick at January 14, 2005 02:04 PM (VhRca)

2 Must find this white truffle oil. I wonder what would happen if I poured it all over . . .anyway. Heh.

Posted by: Margi at January 14, 2005 03:32 PM (zalxZ)

3 Sounds like a wonderful morning--love peaceful mornings--Never heard of White truffle oil

Posted by: Cathy at January 14, 2005 04:21 PM (Bomwi)

4 Recipe please?? How about a fair exchange of recipes?? I will give a CA breakfast salad recipe in exchange for your Chili?? Let's see enough consideration to make this binding, dependent on the will of the parties?? Have a great day!!

Posted by: Azalea at January 14, 2005 08:49 PM (hRxUm)

5 I'm jealous. My mornings either consist of a blaring alarm clock, showering and scrambling (usually futilely) to get to work on time. Weekend mornings consist of the little guy waking me up, and I'm what seems like dad and mom for the weekend. Of course I've never been a 6 am person, I enjoy nights when everyone is asleep and it's just me rambling about doing things.

Posted by: Oorgo at January 15, 2005 02:06 AM (4R+lz)

6 Breakfast at RP's next weekend. I'll bring the coffee!

Posted by: Mark at January 15, 2005 08:18 PM (mk4dk)

7 Hope the chili is even better in a couple of days - you do realize chili improves with age, right?

Posted by: Hannah at January 16, 2005 06:43 AM (7dELN)

8 Eggs and mozzerella I got (Meunster is very close to mozz, so, no prob there). But what is this "white truffle oil" of which ye speak? Can I find some 50 miles west? It sounds too divine for my neck of these woods...

Posted by: Tuning Spork at January 16, 2005 09:14 PM (CrEda)

9 You pour white truffle oil on your eggs? Seriously? Dude. RP's posh. Here I am just using ordinary salsa...

Posted by: Helen at January 17, 2005 03:06 AM (uFX1z)

10 White truffle sauce? I've heard of truffles (which are some sort of fungus right? Like mushrooms) but not white truffle sauce. Wow, talk about an exotic meal! Hope the chili is great; I love chili. Chili and crackers. Great, now I'm hungry again.

Posted by: Rachel Ann at January 17, 2005 02:56 PM (Vb1uJ)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

Some days are just sadder than others, aren't they? Some days just turn your armor, that tough, calcified layer that keeps you from getting too bruised by bad news into a gossamer thin micro coating of tissue paper. Maybe its the result of having too good an imagination, something I think all good readers are blessed, sometimes cursed, with. Sometimes you can guard against those days. You take precautions. You deliberately don't read about the horrific tsunami and the death and destruction because those numbers are so great that they are statistics and you don't want to know the individual stories because it would be too much. And so you turn that page in the newspaper and you move on to the Sports Section, where life has rules and you can understand it and it won't haunt you, no matter how many times the replay shows that the kick went wide right.

Sometimes, though, your precautions fail. Sometimes, like today, you read a story and you wish you hadn't. What made me so sad today? The story of the death of a nine year old boy in a laundry chute in an assisted care facility in Harlem. The boy, his name was Frashawn, was born prematurely at six months and was seriously disabled with Down syndrome. His death is a mystery since this little boy, who only "could walk for short periods with crutches", managed to get past two nurses, through a closed door, and open a difficult to manipulate laundry chute, where he then died, wedged in the bottom. Frashawn did not have a whole lot going on his life. He had been living in this facility since he was 2 months old. His whole life, really.

Frashawn was about three and a half feet tall and weighed 100 pounds, said his mother, who visited him once a week. He attended Public School 138 and liked watching cartoons and playing his toy drum, she said, adding that he could not talk but could make loud noises.

Those who knew Frashawn said he liked to wake up early, was curious, and was among the more active patients in the 50-bed ward. In fact, many of the patients are so ill that they cannot get up from their beds, much less walk.

But Frashawn almost never missed his early-morning exploration, officials said. It was an unstructured stroll, meant to help make confinement feel a bit less confining.

At this point, I knew that even that little bit of tissue paper was gone. Why? Because I began to imagine what his death must have been like. This is what I mean about being cursed with an imagination. I imagined that this little boy, who lived a very structured life, died alone, maybe not so quickly, in a place and circumstance that he may not have been able to understand. I worry that he was scared, you see, and it positively lacerates my heart to think about that. He couldn't even talk. Its too much. I stop here.

Maybe it is self indulgent, or something else not very good, to let myself feel this for Frashawn when so many children are dead or dying all over the world. But you see, I don't know them and this article made me feel like I knew Frashawn, at least a little.

Frashawn's brother, Shamar Jones, 23, said that the family had more questions than answers. "If the Lord wanted him to go," Mr. Jones said, "he would have taken him at 6 months."

I agree, Mr. Jones. And I'm sorry for your loss.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:08 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 612 words, total size 4 kb.

I was perusing the obits again today in the Daily Telegraph, reading about the life of Professor Martin Robertson, a noted classicist and expert on Greek art. Sounded like a very interesting person. Professor at Oxford, wrote a lot of great looking books, and was heir to a long tradition of classical scholarship in his family. Only at the last line of the obit does the curious reader discover that the Professor's son is Thomas Dolby of the "She Blinded Me With Science" fame and that the Professor appeared on roller skates in, I presume, that very music video. Cool, no?

Now we get to the difference in emphasis. If this man's death was reported in the American press, I have no hesitation in assuming that it would have been reported under the headline: "Father of Thomas Dolby Dies". Can anyone really doubt that? No. The good Professor's life would have been swallowed up in the son's musical career. But the Telegraph does not turn this man's life on its head in that way. The Telegraph waits until the last line of the obit, thus not allowing the accomplishments of the son to overshadow the very justly celebrated accomplishments of the father. That is how it ought to be. Only the reader who perseveres to the very end will discover that the son is, or was, famous, too. I think it is a difference of emphasis and I rather like it.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 04:01 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 249 words, total size 2 kb.

Back from Guatemala, safe and sound, with a tan and no worse for the wear. The in laws were well behaved, I was well behaved, even the children were well behaved.

Actually, before I continue, a quick Girl Child interchange from our last day there. I was reading when the GC came running over to bother me about something. She plopped down on the chair next to me and looked at me expectantly. We had the following conversation:

Me: What are you doing here? Why aren't you in the pool?

GC: They won't let me swim.

Me: Why not?

GC: I don't know.

Me: Well, go forth and gather some information and I'll see if I can't solve your problem, ok?

GC: Ok! [runs off and then returns]. They say I can't swim because I keep splashing people.

Me: Fine. Tell them you won't splash anymore and then they ought to let you swim. [she runs off again]

GC: They still won't let me swim! I THOUGHT you were going to SOLVE my problem!

Doomed, I am. Simply doomed.

In any event, New Year's Eve was fun. We arrived home from Guatemala on the 31st at around 1:00 a.m. I slept for a couple of hours and went into the office for a little bit. Then picked up some supplies and headed home because we were expecting some friends for dinner and a sleep over. Good thing they slept over, by the way. Four adults consumed, over the course of the evening, several tequillas, 5 bottles of wine, and some aged rum. A fun time was had by all.

We spent Sunday at the Bronx Zoo with the children and it was lovely to watch them run around and get excited by all the animals. The monkey house was, as always, a big hit and the Boy Child was practically beside himself..

Today is the big day my wife goes in to resign her current position. She received a job offer while we were gone in Guatemala for a job she thinks will be cool, for a company poised for growth, and which will offer good visibility since it reports directly to the Chief Financial Officer. In case you can't tell, this is good news.

She has decided to accept this job because we are not moving to Miami. The position was offered to someone else. No, I don't know why but I plan on speaking to them to find out. I was, on balance, a bit disappointed. Not the end of the world, but a bit disappointed just the same. See, here's the thing. I like corporate litigation. I like the issues and I really like doing fraud cases. I would have very much wanted to do this work where I had the power to put some people in jail. Now, I am just a cost of doing business. But with the power of the federal government behind me, I am a threat. So, life goes on. In fact, it goes on in a really busy way. This will be, I am told, a very high pressure first quarter of the year at the office and won't be any easier at home with the wife taking a new job. Something has to give somewhere, so I've decided to put the children up for adoption. Just kidding. Actually, adoption will be the subject of my next post so this makes a nice lead in.

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday. Thank you all for the comments you left while I was gone. I enjoyed reading them. When I get a little time, I will post some pictures I took in Guatemala.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:04 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
Post contains 610 words, total size 3 kb.

1 welcome back so glad to hear your trip was enjoyable. and yes.....i agree you are doomed.

Posted by: standing naked at January 03, 2005 11:30 AM (/Kj2M)

2 Glad you're back, Random! Good bloggers have been slim pickins lately. Sorry about the position going to another, but I'm a big believer in things happening for reasons we don't understand at first. Maybe something even better is in the wings. :-)

Posted by: Amber at January 03, 2005 12:46 PM (zQE5D)

3 Hi Ho!! Welcome back!!! I certainly have missed reading your perspective on things-be it NYC or the world. I agree with Amber re: Miami, something better is on its way!! You really wanted to live in Miami?? How is your Spanish?? Peace and prosperity to you and yours in 2005.

Posted by: Azalea at January 03, 2005 02:45 PM (hRxUm)

4 Wow, sounds like you had a great end of the year and already an exciting start to the new year. As I have already said to someone else, I am hoping for a little less uneventful year this time around. Unfortunately, my new year's eve was not full of alcohol because of being under the weather. It's just as well. Watching all my drunk friends was just as entertaining. My husband brought some Patron (since we're talking tequilla) to the party...so that was his choice of spirits. I love going to the zoo with kids. It makes the whole trip full of wonder again. Sorry about Miami, but really psyched about the wife's new job. Mazel Tov! Welcome back!

Posted by: Linda at January 03, 2005 02:57 PM (9Pzdi)

5 Doomed, indeed. But you'll enjoy the trip, I'm sure! As for the job thing: I'm a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. So, for that situation, I will just state for the record that this OBVIOUSLY means there's something better in store for you. Just wait and see! Love, Pollyanna (heh)

Posted by: Margi at January 03, 2005 08:59 PM (rKX9f)

6 Welcome home RP!! Glad you had a grand time.

Posted by: Holly at January 03, 2005 09:14 PM (Wkg+N)

7 Thanks for all the nice welcome home wishes! And frankly, I am kind of relieved that I did not get the job, although I would have really liked the work.

Posted by: RP at January 06, 2005 08:50 AM (LlPKh)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

I have not had time to scroll through my usual suspects, my daily reads, but I suspect that the reaction to the tsunami which has claimed in excess of 40,000 lives in Asia has been sympathetic and appropriate. Indeed, I probably have nothing of any value to add. Merely, I want to register my horror and my sadness. As always, I am particularly moved by the deaths of the children, by the stories of parents who had their babies torn from their arms and drowned by the waves. Particularly, my hearts go out to those parents who survived such an experience. I try, fruitlessly, to wrap my mind around the enormity, the incomprehensible enormity of such an experience and I wonder whether and how these parents will live with the guilt, the feeling that they failed their children when their children needed them most. The parents are, of course, without blame. The waves are reported as being supernaturally strong and I don't mean to suggest that the parents are to be blamed for having lost that struggle. No, not at all. But I do think that these parents, however blameless, will still feel guilt and still believe themselves to be at fault. I assume I would and I generalize from that.

My heart goes out to all of those forever changed by this unimaginable tragedy.

Pax tibi.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:06 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
Post contains 229 words, total size 1 kb.

That's right. We are off to Guatemala tomorrow morning on the dawn flight. We have to be at John F. Kennedy Airport at 5:00 in the morning. I shudder at the thought, frankly. We will be gone for a little less than 2 weeks to visit my in-laws who are stationed there. To review, a trip to the in-laws is not vacation, even if you have to take vacation time from work to take the trip.

I expect to have sporadic access to a computer there and will write, therefore, only occasionally. So, just in case I can't do it later, let me wish you all now, a merry Christmas and a happy and a healthy New Year.

By the way, don't you just love the character Hank Azaria played in that movie?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 07:58 AM | Comments (12) | Add Comment
Post contains 149 words, total size 1 kb.

1 omg...yes...i think i have seen the movie a trillion times... and have a good time...on your not vacation. we will all look forward to those few times you get to write.

Posted by: standing naked at December 16, 2004 08:58 AM (IAJcf)

2 I hope you have a safe flight and at least decent trip to the in-laws, I'll be heading to Utah to visit my in-laws, so I sympathize with you Merry Christmas and Happy New Year RP!!

Posted by: Holly at December 16, 2004 09:38 AM (Wkg+N)

3 Best wishes for a safe and fun trip! And best wishes for that hellishly early flight time tomorrow as well. Have a great New Year, and Ben sends his best as well. See you next year!!

Posted by: Mandalei at December 16, 2004 09:58 AM (LcyhB)

4 Be safe! Happy Holidays! Happy New Year!

Posted by: Wicked H at December 16, 2004 11:48 AM (iqFar)

5 Happy Holidays!! Happy and Prosperous New Year!!! Fabulous movie which have seen a number of times!! Hackman did a wonderful job in his role.

Posted by: Azalea at December 16, 2004 02:47 PM (hRxUm)

6 Hope it becomes a wonderful vaction for you. Take care of all.

Posted by: Rachel Ann at December 16, 2004 04:31 PM (STjaP)

7 Oooh! I hope I didn't miss you! 1) I love Hank Azaria. 2) I love Birdcage. 3) He was so danged CUTE in that movie. 4) Have a happy holiday! 5) And a happy new year! xoxo

Posted by: Margi at December 17, 2004 06:02 AM (rKX9f)

8 Hiya RP! Which airport? I'm flying out of town tomorrow morning too! Maybe we'll pass each other! Have a safe flight and Happy Holidays to you too.

Posted by: indy at December 17, 2004 06:47 AM (5PkrR)

9 Safe travels! And take pictures. ;-)

Posted by: Jim at December 17, 2004 08:53 AM (tyQ8y)

10 Happy Holidays! Hope you guys have a wonderful time!!!

Posted by: Mick at December 17, 2004 03:55 PM (VhRca)

11 Um, yes, and safe trip!

Posted by: ALEX at December 17, 2004 10:01 PM (MNwPu)

12 Thanks for all the good wishes, y'all! I'll try to post a report every now and again.

Posted by: RP at December 18, 2004 04:40 PM (Ss8by)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

I was reading an article on the train this morning about the old timers in the NYC Police Department who still prefer to keep their .38's as opposed to using the newer semi-automatics. The article actually kind of fetishized the .38's and the beauty of them in sort of a disturbing way. But there was this little assertion I thought was fascinating:

The grips still echo the earliest revolvers, designed in the 19th century to feel like the handle of a plow in a man's hand.

Isn't that an interesting bit o' design history?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 07:49 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 104 words, total size 1 kb.

So. Damn. Cold. This. Morning. The wind really did feel like it had the power to lacerate my skin, to neatly dissect and lift it off of my face. Although sometimes it caressed me, gently, before it kind of curled around and smacked me in the ear. I hate it when it does that. In order to distract myself, I got to thinking. What is wind? What causes it? So I set out to find out.

Wind is defined several different ways:

wind, air current, current of air -- (air moving (sometimes with considerable force) from an area of high pressure to an area of low pressure

or

The horizontal movement of air in relation to the earth's surface. Wind direction tells where the wind is blowing from. For example, a "north wind" is coming from the north and is blowing towards the south. There are four components of wind that are measured: direction, speed, character (ie - whether it's a gust or a squall) and shifts.

or, finally,

Wind - horizontal motion of air near the surface of the Earth.

Well, so that's what wind is. Air moving. Ok, up to this point, I kind of knew that.

But what causes wind?

A simple answer:

Wind-A result due to the differences in air mass pressures (temperature). The wind blows as a result of nature trying to balance the differences. The larger the differences between air masses, the stronger the wind.

I understand it now. The wind blows my ass off at the train station because someone is likely warmer at that moment than I am.

I have to say, intuitively, I already understood that.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:00 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 295 words, total size 2 kb.

1 LOL I like your way of putting it.

Posted by: Hannah at December 20, 2004 08:22 AM (0tNIc)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

If you grew up when I did, you know, high school and college in the 80's, then you remember Rice a Roni, the San Francisco treat!. Please note, I did not say fondly. You may not remember it fondly. But you may, I suppose. I'm rather neutral on it and kind of don't remember the taste but for an overarching impression of copious amounts of sodium. But the song, the jingle, that is engraved on my memory, slotted just underneath the old Mounds jingle: Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't . . .. That one is a killer.

But I got to wondering, in a pure free association moment yesterday brought on by being awakened by cries from the monitor of "more water, please!" (points given for saying please at 12:30 a.m. and then again at 3:00 a.m.), why is it a San Francisco Treat? Why not a Newark Treat? Or a Santa Fe Treat? You see where I'm going, of course. Well, I just had to know, so I fired up Google this morning and have the answer, straight from the company website: the company was founded there.

In 1912, Maria persuaded Charlie to set up a pasta factory, Gragnano Products, Inc., in the Mission district in San Francisco. The successful business sold 25 and 50-pound boxes of pasta to Italian stores and restaurants in the area. Four of Charlie's sons, Paskey, Vince, Tom and Anthony, worked with him to build the pasta business.

In 1934, the oldest brother, Paskey, proposed a new name for the company based on a newspaper ad for "Golden Grain" smoking Tobacco. The family agreed that Golden Grain was a good name for macaroni and the name "Golden Grain Macaroni Company" was adopted.

A neighbor's Armenian style rice pilaf recipe inspired the original idea for RICE-A-RONI®, a mixture of rice and macaroni. Tom's wife Lois served the dish at a family dinner, and it became a favorite of the DeDomenico families. In 1958, Vince mixed a dry chicken soup mix, made at the plant, with rice and vermicelli to create the San Francisco treat which he named RICE-A-RONI. The unique preparation of the dish, and its wonderful flavor and convenience, made the dish one of America's favorite products. The RICE-A-RONI jingle, The San Francisco Treat® slogan, "Saute and Simmer" and scenic San Francisco became familiar to every household in America in the 60's as the product was introduced through television advertising.

The company offers no apologies for the creation of Noodle Roni, instead seemingly laying blame on an otherwise blameless restaurant in Rome.

A trip to Italy in 1964 inspired Vince to develop Noodle Roni Parmesano based on the classic "Noodles Alfredo" dish served to him at Alfredo's restaurant in Rome.

There should have been at least a recognition that they did their best to kill an important piece of Italian culinary history.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:45 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 494 words, total size 3 kb.

The sun was still not up yet when I exited Grand Central Station this morning and it was feeling quite cold, despite overhearing a fellow commuter relate to his buddy that the Wall Street Journal reported today that this Winter was 5% warmer than the preceding 10 year average. Of course, I immediately wondered about the geographical area included in this average, but no matter. No, I sit here in my office, cold, preparing for what might be the final day of trial in this $30 million loan guarantee case (we go today from 9:30 to 1:00)and also preparing for a hearing (2:30-??) in the bankruptcy court to try to stop a very culpable party from weaseling out from under an $18 million judgment we have against them. In the bankruptcy, I am special counsel to the trustee and will be attending as co-counsel so while someone else is carrying the laboring oar there I still have a lot to do.

Gonna be a long cold day today.

Is it any wonder that the recently advertised job post for a position as an Assistant United States Attorney in the District of the Virgin Islands looks blindingly good right now? A motion and a daiquiri, anyone? A jury charge conference and a planter's punch?

Actually, all kidding aside, this information I quote from the above link is kind of interesting, despite the use of the phrase "very unique" which is just bad English (this just proves I need to get out more, I know, I know):

The District is very (sic) unique in many respects. First, the District Court of the Virgin Islands is not constituted under Article III of the Constitution but rather under Article IV, Section 3, Clause 2. Consequently, the district court judges serve eight-year terms rather than appointments for life. Second, the District has no permanent bankruptcy judges. Bankruptcy judges from the Third Judicial Circuit are temporarily assigned to hear bankruptcy matters in the District of the Virgin Islands.

This is the only Judicial District which is not mandated to utilize the grand jury. Until 1993, no grand jury was used in the District. The Bill of Rights does not necessarily apply to residents of the Virgin Islands. Virgin Islanders do not have the right to vote in United States elections. As a matter of policy, however, the USAO uses the grand jury except for routine cases.

The District contains separate customs zones. Unlike Puerto Rico, when persons leave this District they are required to go through U.S. Customs. Goods are duty free up to $1,200. Duties which are paid go to the Territory of the Virgin Islands. The Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) office in this District is very active. This is the only District which prosecutes all illegal alien cases. Recently, it was noted that the District had the 8th largest number of Immigration cases of all of the nation's 94 districts.

The District Court of the Virgin Islands will not permit use of local pretrial detention facilities due to a standing court order concerning substandard conditions of confinement. As a result, all federal detainees must be transported to and from San Juan, Puerto Rico. Finally, income tax returns from the residents of the Virgin Islands are filed with the Territory of the Virgin Islands, which keeps all tax revenues except for Social Security taxes.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:02 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 582 words, total size 3 kb.

Ever hear that phrase? "He had a good war"? The British use it to describe someone who was decorated or otherwise distinguished himself, usually during WW II. It also means someone who did something dashing and in the best traditions of not letting the war inconvenience your life, too much. You don't hear it much today. Today, people don't talk like that.

I was reminded of the phrase by the following extract from a British obituary.

Shortly afterwards Carey, painfully aware that "the parlous state of our Hurricanes was showing" and that communications with Calcutta had broken down, attempted to reach the city in a broken down Tiger Moth. But he got only as far as Akyab, where he hitched a ride as spare pilot in a Vickers Valencia transport and arrived in Calcutta, and went down with malaria.

By then he had started to attract press attention in Britain as the RAF's cockney pilot. His recovery was aided when he was awarded a second Bar to his DFC and was charged with forming a defence wing for the city.

As enemy raids increased Carey turned the Red Road, the main thoroughfare across the city, into a fighter runway. "One advantage," he recalled, "was that it was quite possible to sit in Firpo's, the city's fashionable restaurant, and take off within three to four minutes. I managed it on several occasions."

Can't you just see it? Stop in the fashionable boite to have a quick bite and a drink, hop in the plane and off within minutes back to the war. Makes you think he had a good war, doesn't it?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:05 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 281 words, total size 2 kb.