That's It, Just One Line - Landslide

"Can I sail through the changing ocean tides, can I handle the seasons of my life?" 

The Beatles, Ranked! The Bottom, or the Not so Fab

I'm fighting this too.

I said I'd do it, so here it is. First, some "defend the music" just outside the bottom:

Her Majesty - Her Majesty's is a sweet enough 30-second ditty, but the problem is its placement - The End would have been a stellar, mind-blowing coda to The Beatles. Still, Paul can't leave well enough alone and sneaks this in as a secret track, preventing The End from being the end. Couldn't it have opened side 2 instead?

If You've Got Trouble, a Ringo lead vocal that only appeared on the Anthology 2 album. Ringo doesn't remember recording it, and according to the studio logs, they only did one take. There's a horrible guitar solo, ushered in by Ringo's hapless call to "rock on, anybody!" Its redemption came while driving in the car, for the sheer garage band thrashing good time of it. I can hear the punk rock energy and potential - play it loud.

The bottom 10:

-10

The Word - it's one of the tracks that prevents me from truly embracing Rubber Soul as one of my top four albums. Early hippie peace and love movement stuff that sounds dated to me now.

-9

Maxwell’s Silver Hammer - Fucking Christ, it keeps Abbey Road from being perfect. Saving graces to Maxwell is Mal joyfully playing the anvil and Steve Martin as some delirious dentist in the so-bad-it’s-good rock movie musical with George Burns.

-8

All I've Got to Do - You're not Smokey, John.

-7

I'll Get You - I may blame this one on the cartoon. I just remember ugly black birds doing the singalong, and the bridge was a discordant mess. John's quote: "Paul's attempt to write a song that didn't work out." You're telling me.

-6

Every Little Thing -the only thing I like is Ringo's timpani. Even Paul said: "It didn't have quite what was required."

-5

There's a Place - I mentioned before that this sounds garbled and annoying. It's early Fabs, not all of it was golden, just saying.

-4

Little Child - another one that was ruined by the cartoon and the smarminess of it. Great harmonica though.

-3 

Piggies - I usually love me a disgruntled George Harrison - see Don't Bother Me - but the harpsichord and grunting were a bit much, aaaaaaaand it sent Manson over the edge.

-2

Yes, it Is - not the right vehicle for them, and that wah wah wee and bitching about a red dress. John even admits it doesn't work. 

-1

Christmas Time is Here Again - a Christmas gift fan recording and it's awful. I hate it so much I'm startled by my vitriol. Drugs are bad, Paul. 

Rethinking Black

How can I love a rare steak with crispy bits? Rely on a good chef.

Black is...

Taste: the flavorful, crispy bits on a well-prepared rare steak

Touch: the powder fine ash left after burning leaves 

Smell: the industrial smell of hydraulic brakes

Hear: Pearl Jam, Ten album

Typing Out Loud: For Emily

I hope you are flying across the ice, somewhere

Every year, I have to take the oath "I consider it an honor and a privilege" to be an official in figure skating. It may come across as a little Pollyanna-ish, but I do. How amazing it is to get the best seats in the house to see someone demonstrate to you how much they love the sport. 

And that's why it hurts that there's one less pair of skates on the ice. 

A skater I am familiar with died in a car crash along with her mother and brother on Easter morning. I didn't know her well, I can't even tell you honestly if I have said more than "good job" as I passed her in a lobby going from rink to hospitality. 

Still, my heart hurts. 

She was a lower-level skater and at the age of 16, wasn't destined for nationals. But I knew who she was every time she took the ice. She was an active team member of her high school skating team, continued to compete when and where she could, and demonstrated every time she took the ice how much she loved the sport. I'm pleased I was the one who suggested her to Ginni as a way to expand her team. I was looking forward to her going to college and watching her represent her university because I knew she would continue. 

Like other skaters before her - Hanna, Jenna, India, Megan - I was looking forward to watching her grow into a confident and capable young woman.

USFS frowns upon commenting on skaters on social media, but since this is a memorial, I deserve a pass. If someone sees this and wants to report it, go ahead. Rest in peace, Emily. I'm going to miss you. 

Best Meal I Ever Ate, Soup

I'm still losing my mind over a bowl of soup.

A trip to see the in-laws for what we dubbed "Birthankmas" in 2012 resulted in this glorious concoction, the best bowl of soup I ever ate.

Unfortunately, Facebook check-ins weren’t what they are now and I can’t recall the name of the restaurant, just that it was a hole in the wall near a hospital in Lopezville, Texas. 

It was the day's special and simply listed as chicken soup. 

The broth was rich and hearty, and loaded with fresh vegetables and chicken. I’m a lazy potato boiler and didn’t mind the chunks with the skin still on. Option to add rice if I wanted - which I did. I remember giving Dave the tortillas. It was one of the few times I had cilantro and it tasted great; usually, it tastes like metallic soap. 

I do have to dole out some love for my favorite everyday soup, the hot and sour soup at First Wok. It's been a go-to since I first moved to the Grand Rapids area and the lunch special was $6.50. It's now $13 and I don't even care.

Special shout out to a long-gone favorite in Saint Louis called Applegates. It was a deli with a soup bar, where on any given day you could select one of 24 different soups. My favorite was the tomato basil with cheese ravioli. 

That's It, Just One Line - Burning For You

"Time everlasting, time to play B sides."

Happy birthday to my love, who always takes time for B sides, and whose love is everlasting.

#700: The Beatles, Ranked! The NAs

Er, not quite

Post #700 if I'm counting correctly! 

As posted previously, I dialed down my ambition to rank all the Beatles songs, deciding on a top, a bottom, and this, the mysterious unranked. Why? Because The Beatles Bible and I are kinda murky on how to define them. The songs exist, but some are technically not Beatles tracks, some barely exist, starting life as a Beatles song but ending up with others, and then....? 

Yellow Submarine soundtrack: The symphony tracks are credited to George Martin for scenes from the cartoon, such as Sea of Holes, Pepperland, and March of the Meanies. Part of the lore, but not Beatles tracks. 

Written by and/or performed by others: Lennon and McCartney song credits for Cilla Black, Billy J. Cramer, Peter and Gordon, and of course, band performances backing Tony Sheridan. 

Nonsensical jams: There's just not enough to judge these one-minute or less musical interludes that barely pass as songs. 

Mystery songs: All for Love, a song by McCartney/Harrison; Catswalk and September in the Rain, songs Stu wanted to perform at auditions that never made it to tape; and the holy grail of mysterious recordings, Carnival of Light.  

Secret Life of Objects, Famous Artist Finger Puppet Theatre

What capers can be dreamed up for this Fab Four?

So I got Andy well over 15 years ago as a Christmas present from my sister-in-law Denise, who popped it in a Keith Haring coffee mug. I loved him.

Fast forward to 2017, when I was at a conference in Florida, and Jen and I took a day to wander the Dali museum, and Salvador joined Andy on the corkboard. 

Well, I spotted Pablo at the Art Institute over Christmas and suddenly, there were three. 

Frida sat in my Amazon cart until I was warned there were less than 7 left and I'd better order soon. 

I'm delighted by their personalities and think they will serve as a welcome distraction on days that are short on brain power and ambition. 

Perhaps Famous Artists Finger Puppet Theatre will become a new feature, a series of one-act plays…

Rethinking Brown

I am a sucker for a brown leather bag

Brown is...

Taste: chocolate

Touch: aged, pebbled leather

Smell: a hot pretzel

Hear: soft folk on an acoustic guitar on open mike night

Best Meal I Ever Ate, Sushi

My lunch getaway in Olivette

When I worked in the Central West End in Saint Louis, I was kind of lonely at lunchtime as outside of the occasional meeting or getaway, everyone I worked with did their own thing. The Al-Anon building next door always had stellar burgers and chips for $3. I do remember fondly walking the neighborhood and taking in a few choice spots like the Chase Park Plaza with Judith or hitting the Indian buffet with Prashant, my print vendor.

But I was also the only one at Catholic Charities with a hankering for sushi in a hot, humid climate. 

I can't remember how I found I Love Mr Sushi since it was a hole-in-the-wall in an area I didn't drive through, but Yoshi made it a destination for lunch. "Hello, hello!" he would greet me, gesturing to an open spot at the bar, and feeding me a bite of whatever roll he was experimenting with. 

My favorite item to order there was one of three $10 lunch specials that always included green tea, ginger salad, and miso soup. The extra I always ordered was the salmon skin hand roll - a cone of rice, cucumber, radish greens, spicy sauce, and toasty salmon skin. I wish I knew what made them so incredible, and I haven't had better since. 

This is also where I first experienced vegetable tempura, white tuna, and caviar. 

I'd roll back into the office, full and satisfied but not stuffed. 

It's been almost 20 years since I last ate there. Yoshi moved on to open a restaurant in the western suburbs then he closed up shop without explanation. People still mourn his disappearance. Checking online, the lunch specials at Mr. Sushi are still the same, they're just $15 now. Maybe if I make it back there during the week someday...

That's It, Just One Line - Have a Cigar

"Oh by the way, which one's Pink?"

Secret Life of Objects: My Dempsey Weekender Set

I don't often treat myself like this. Given the story around it, the bag's name will probably be Coach Hayley. 

I took Pia to Chicago over Christmas and sloppily threw things in a tote bag for our overnight adventure. I didn’t like the look. The bag was five years old, an inexpensive striped beach bag from Ron Jon Surf Shop. Things were spilling out and the bag was dirty. 

Then a few weeks ago, I found myself killing time at the outlets making a return and saw this at Coach, the Dempsey 40 tote and matching toiletry case.  The story of my toiletry case is even sadder, a teal plastic train case obtained from Clinique as one of those "free with purchase" makeup bags from 15 years ago.

I walked away because I couldn’t justify the price tag. I thought about the crass commercialism of our culture, need vs. want, and the fact January is the time when I purge cupboards and closets of our excess. Then I thought about excess - I have bags, did I really need another one? I am guilty of the FOMO mentality, the fear of missing out.

I thought about it for the next two weeks. Coach didn't help by geofencing my location and urging me to buy with a daily email nudge. 

I was on my way to a cheer comp near the outlet mall and I remembered my fun money account. I save my judges’ gifts and expense checks for… what exactly?  I squirrel away my cash for a rainy day, using the balance from time to time on a down payment for a car, the cottage, and most recently, a new furnace. 

So I've been a good girl, if not a bit conservative with my savings. 

I veered over to the credit union and made a withdrawal, budgeting myself to a certain amount. On the way to the shop, I debated if I needed it, making the deal with myself that if, and only if, the set was there, I would get it. 

I got it. And instead of being 60% off, it was 75% off. 

Bringing it home, I left it in the shopping bag for a moment before taking it out and removing the tags. It's pretty. It's professional-looking. This new bag allowed me to get rid of at least eight tote bags, including another "free with purchase" overnight bag from Elizabeth Arden that is 20 years old, ripped, and fixed with liberal coats of nail polish. 

With a quality bag, it's unlikely I will purchase another one any time soon. I will also resist the urge to buy other things to obtain the "free with purchase" bags I normally do. I'm also satisfied, which usually quenches the thirst to get more.  

Addition by subtraction. 

I always name my Coach bags, the hot pink purse I'm using currently is Chloe. I'm going to think about this one, as it is closely tied to my experience with competitive cheer. It's Coach and the girls' coach is Hayley. There you go, it's Coach Hayley.  

Typing Out Loud: Judging The Beatles

Opinions can change, I love this!

I had grand plans to rank every single Beatles song that has ever made it to the public's ear. To do so would mean ranking over 300 songs, from In Spite of All the Danger, which was recorded by ambitious teenagers in 1958, to the latest Now and Then, a digital masterpiece that was released in November 2023. 

That's 65 years of music. And while Paul and Ringo have said "That's it," there's now noise about using the AI technology to release Live at the Star Club bootlegs from the Hamburg bar scene, bringing Pete and Stu some more performing credits. 

It was easy to start charting my bottom couple of songs, and then I hit a snag. Working my way up, I went from hate to meh and realized there wasn't too much difference between 267 and 219.  

And my affection for a song can be on a sliding scale, contingent on attitude or maybe a new way of seeing things. A case in point is Come Together, a tedious classic rock staple until Beatles 1+ was released, including the video created to launch Beatles.com, and I fell in love with the song again. 

I also realize I don't want to set my love in stone. If I put Don't Bother Me at #77, I want the right to move it up in case the Foo Fighters cover it or if it's used to frame a key scene in a new favorite movie. 

Finally, there are multiple versions of songs to tackle. It's Only Love from Help! exists, as does the version from Anthology 2. Multiple versions of While My Guitar Gently Weeps; I love the version from the White Album, but then there are the alt versions from Cirque de Soliel's Love, and the remaster in 2018. 

So what to do? 

I have a blog post already written noting what I have listed as the NAs. I think I will roll with a bottom and a top. I'm pretty adamant about my top 10 and bottom 10, the fun may be in the fringes. 

 

Rethinking Red

Align your senses

Red is...

Taste: cinnamon candies, preferably heart-shaped red hots

Touch: warm laundry fresh out of the dryer

Smell: Apple blossoms warmed in the spring sun 

Hear: Lover, Taylor Swift 

Best Meal I Ever Ate, Mexican

With Maggie!

How lucky we are to have access to the best Mexican food at Maggie's Kitchen! 

I was introduced to Maggie's while working at my first copywriting job. Group order and I had no idea what to get so I winged it on the daily special, steak fajita plate.

Man.

Tender and rich, the meat was flavorful and the portions generous, with lots of grilled vegetables, beans, rice, and salad. The tomatillo sauce was so fresh, you could taste the sun. 

I branched out to try the tripe soup (not my thing), tostadas, tacos, and sandwiches but I always come back to the fajitas. 

We've been going there a long time and lucked into attending the 40th-anniversary celebration and got a photo with the lady herself. She was treated like a queen, even the mayor stopped in for lunch. The staff is always friendly and if you haven't been in in a while, they notice. 

Why Art Matters: Art Parodies in Bojack Horseman

Bojack likes Franz Marc too. 

Pia encouraged me to watch the darker-than-the-dark twisted fantasy that is Bojack Horseman. Sorry, a little late to the party, the show ended in 2020, and here I am indulging 4 years later. 

Season one starts really slow, then wait - is that a Franz Marc by the front door? Indeed, the illustrators parodied Marc's Blue Horse. 

Feeding a Rothko addiction.

Then came persuading an actor with an art addiction to take a role for the paycheck by telling him "a Rothko is up for auction next week."

I was addicted, not only to the storytelling but to seeing how many artworks I could spot hiding in the storyboards. 

Rivera. 

Monet. 

O'Keefe.

Haring. 

Kahlo. 

Somehow, it just makes it all funnier.  And darker, especially when you link the artist's themes and meaning with the show's narrative. 

For more, read here. 

Secret Life of Objects: The Obnoxiously Awesome Minidress

Swing out.

This feature was retired less than a month, since I have to rave about this find. It’s the story of a day, as I have owned this for less than 24 hours. 

Pia needed dry shampoo and I needed to get out of the house. Instead of beelining right to health and beauty, she wandered women’s clothing, “Oooooing” and “Ahhing” every pink and shiny thing. Tucked on the clearance rack, I found a collection of pink and brown sequin dresses. I was amused by the sequins but found it immediately appealing. 

With those monster sequins, it’s loud.

It’s an unusually rich, brown color and the perfect foil for my Ember Tieks.

Being short, it’s a minidress of a manageable length.

And it was only $10.

The challenge is going to be how to style it. A cardigan frumps it, so it needs the right jacket or wrap. Pia wants me to wear it to her 17th birthday. Goals. 

Typing Out Loud: What's More Precious?

What would Picasso say about this?

There was a fire at a Seattle art gallery, and many pieces of art may have been destroyed: story here.

The fire was started in an alley behind the gallery as someone built a fire to warm themselves. There are many homeless people apparently unhoused in that neighborhood. The quote that bugs me is: “I feel saddest for the contemporary artists who have trusted us with their works,” Davidson said.

This has created a dialogue online that is ugly, to say the least. Disparaging comments about the homeless and how their lives are worth less than the artworks contained therein. 

I love art. I love priceless art. But I hesitate to say it is more valuable than a cold, homeless human being. 

But I am also a hypocrite as I stood for hours admiring Miro, Marc, Duchamp, and Monet artworks while walking briskly past the homeless asking for a dollar in the streets of Chicago. 

I am heartbroken for all. I don't have answers, but vilifying a homeless person looking for warmth isn't one of them. 

Rethinking Yellow

In desperate need of sunshine this cold and dreary January

Another new feature for the blog, attempting to mix it up!

One of my favorite scenes from the movie The Mask is Rocky Dennis describing the color red to a girl who is blind. He succeeds by carefully offering her a hot potato. He adds that when the potato cools it becomes pink. 

I'm coupling that thought with the conversation I had with my nephew and his girlfriend about the entrance essays they each had to write for the University of Chicago. UoC likes their "weirdos" as they proudly identify themselves; all the questions are geared towards challenging their prospective students to think differently. 

So, I'm trying to think differently in a Rocky Dennis way, and each month this year attempt to describe a color not by what I see, but by the other senses in a way that is both creative, appealing, and logical. 

Yellow is...

Taste: a rich, crumbly shortbread cookie that is slightly browned around the edges 

Touch: soft, creamy, and oily, like far too expensive hand cream

Smell: freshly squeezed lemons

Hear: the clear tones of a trumpet

That's It, Just One Line - Deacon Blues

 "They've got a name for the winners in the world, and I want a name when I lose."

How about that Rose Bowl, Alabama?

Congratulations to the University of Michigan for winning the national championship in D1. Grand Valley and Ferris State have been there a couple of times since 1997, glad you could finally join the party. 

Harvard, The Easy Way

Education for education's sake.

Somehow I ended up getting an offer from Verizon to take free continuing education classes through EdX. Perusing the offerings, I found a couple of leadership and communications classes from Harvard and quickly earned a leadership principles certificate in October. I'm about 80% done with the leading in a remote environment class now too.

I hated, absolutely hated the rhetoric course, where I bantered on yesterday about the cake smashing. It's not that my argument was weak, I just didn't care. I dropped that today.

Regardless of my feelings about buttercream to the face, I have legitimately earned, albeit on the flimsiest of credentials, that Harvard sweatshirt purchased last year at the Black Friday tent sale from Perrin. It was also the flimsiest of motivators to finish what I started, but mission accomplished.

I have access to other courses until October so I think once I'm done with this, I will move on to some other opportunities. Marketing at Babson? Project management at Maryland?

My "alumni" sweatshirt closet will have to grow - go Babson Beavers. 

Typing Out Loud: Do Not Smash

Are we having fun yet?

So I'm working on completing a certificate in leadership and communication at Harvard Online - say it with me: Haaaaaaavarddddd - and I have to come up with a position on a topic. I'm drawing a blank. Since I don't want to do a deep dive into politics, I want to present a position on something I find important and I discovered my topic.

The wedding cake smash. 

How many times have you gone to a wedding, the bride and groom looking impeccable, and when the time comes to delicately and lovingly feed each other cake at the ceremonial cutting, they instead are reduced to a middle-school food fight, and the bride ends up with frosting in her hair and crying.

Neither Dave nor I can stand it.

And it appears this is quite the topic of discussion on Reddit, Newsweek, Martha Stewart Living, and various etiquette blogs.

Simply: don't do it.

Why? From Martha Stewart: "It's been said that the more cake gets smeared into faces, the higher the likelihood of eventual divorce. When a couple is "nice" and gently feeds their significant other cake, it symbolizes their willingness to be partners, and share a household, as well as their commitment to take care of each other throughout their lives. However, when the cake is smashed, all bets are off. Whether both bride and groom embrace the idea or it's only one of them causing trouble, most agree that cake smashing shows a distinct lack of respect, and those marriages have a higher likelihood of failure. Others, however, see the tradition as great fun. Will they or won't they? Guests love the anticipation, and whatever stunt the bride and groom choose to pull is always met with laughter and lots of pictures; isn't that the goal of a reception, anyway?"

Newsweek discourages it from an etiquette point of view (who's cleaning up your mess?), a financial point of view (cake can cost up to $12 a slice), as well as respecting your partner, as one bride confessed she broke her husband's nose in the process: "10/10 do not recommend," she stated remorsefully.

I like to think this practicality was passed down to Will. He was encouraged to smash his first birthday cake, to which he grabbed a corner and just ate it. 

Best Meal I Ever Ate: Ice Cream

Oh, the glory!

Another new feature of the blog is inspired by the show on Food Network. 

One of the reasons I mourn six.one.six. becoming a French bistro is the loss of their dessert chef because she gifted me with the best ice cream experience.

At the end of our meal, we were presented with a dessert menu, which included generous bowls of gelato. I had made the decision not to order because I couldn’t decide. With a shrug, she offered to prepare a flight for me. 

Heaven.

The blood orange and chocolate has to be the best ice cream I have ever had. Creamy, rich, and citrusy? The chocolate and orange were in harmony, and my palette just sang. 

The white peach and lime closely followed suit, as did the mint chocolate chip, and ginger. Pumpkin pie was ok, but oh… the chocolate and blood orange!