You Heard Me!

A Poison Tree

2012-01-28T18:03:00.000-08:00

WilliamBlake

HOWL! THE FULL WOLF MOON SHINES!

2012-01-09T22:39:00.000-08:00

"Now the hungry lion roars, and the wolf behowls the moon." -Shakespeare, A Midsummer-Night's Dream, v.1.379
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repost from 2007- The New Year! Here's to Sloth, Drunkenness and Gluttony

2011-12-31T20:47:00.000-08:00

As the New Year approaches, I'm fashioning the resolutions which are made by so many of us, with the best of intentions and the least amount of hope for completion. What lofty promises shall I attempt this year? Hmmm... perhaps I'll exercise more (that'll be easy, since I exercise zero at the present time) lose 20 pounds (need to get rid of my armour-plated bra and jewel-encrusted tiara), procure a fulfilling job ( no comment), be nicer, more patient and less crabby (oh, yeah!), save more money for retirement (that would be another zero), see the dentist more often, follow through on projects....jeez, those all seem so very unglamorous and daunting! How does one go about making reasonable promises to one's self? It's so much easier to continue the routine of sloth, drunkenness and gluttony.

So, here's my 2008 No-Fail Resolution Plan: What if I promise not to exert myself more than necessary (perspiring can be so, well, sweaty), spend money on trivial things, swear like a sailor (done!) and eat more dairy(√), sugar (√) and salty cashews (√)? I will be Jabba the Hut with an attitude and style! I will not envy my neighbors wife, husband, children (twits all), hybrid car (puh-leeze!), or landscape designer. I will simply roll out of my front door, with my botoxed forehead (never), freshly manicured nails (never), expensively highlighted tresses (never), and whore-couture clothing (not intentionally). Jazzercise, schmazzersize! I'm going to have my belly fat sucked directly into a pipeline to a deserving third world nation so that they can produce enough energy to manufacture fair-trade jewelry and sweaters, which I can then buy at a 1000% mark-up! Additionally, I will be globally guilt-free and feel doubly wonderful about myself!
Screenshot from the film Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace (1999)

Speaking of which; I recently asked a salesperson at the local Whole Fools Grocery store about a simple, tea-dyed, hand-knitted Croatian hemp sweater that was for sale. "$198", she replied with breathless excitement. As my eyes widened and my jaw dropped, she quickly added, " Don't you just love how our clothes have a conscience? " Yeah...it's good to know that inanimate objects have evolved to the point of consciousness! I wondered if the gold ring through her nose had a feeling about its position and function.

Anyway, I am simply unmotivated to alter my finely-honed daily routine of bad behavior. I'm increasingly irritated by the social pressures to accept the supposition that I have caused global warming! As long as Al Gore flies around the world in his private jet, living in several multi-thousand square-foot homes and continues to drive a fleet of 4x4 SUV's, I am not going to go into debt by purchasing a hybrid automobile, use only one square of toilet tissue and stop using deodorant. Look, I'm still darning socks and resoling my husband’s work boots! I dig out the last bits of my lipstick, turn the heat off at night and cook all of our food from scratch. What else do you want- bring back the rickshaw?
So here is my list of 2008 New Year’s Resolutions:

1. I will keep my resolutions at least until the next big holiday-Is Arbor Day an official holiday?
2. I will think about doing some exercise.
3. I will hope that I don't eat too much fat, sugar and salt.
4. I will try to understand my children's point-of-view (even if that requires a lobotomy or a bottle in front of me!).
5. I will attempt to get my taxes in on time.

6. I will enjoy Nature's bounty and be thankful that I even have the opportunity to make resolutions! [Photo by Carol Brandt]

So there! Cheers and good luck with your resolutions and have a happy, healthy and productive New Year! Or not...

Thank God, It's Christmas!

2011-12-25T20:08:00.001-08:00

When Santa Ruled the World...

2011-12-12T11:30:00.000-08:00

San Francisco, Macy's Department Store Santa Claus

The Night Before Christmas
By Clement Clarke Moore

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;"Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN! On, COMET! on CUPID! on, DONNER and BLITZEN!To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around, down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know, I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew, like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"

CRAB SEASON IS HERE!

2011-12-05T15:47:00.001-08:00

Bodega Bay, CA

If you like to eat crab, there isn't a finer place to find fresh Dungeness Crab than Bodega Bay, CA. North of San Fransisco, off of Highway 1, you follow the winding road to the town of Bodega and hang a left onto Eastshore which descends into the harbor area. Turn right when you reach t Bay Flat and continue around until you see the Spud Point Marina on your left on West Shore Rd.

We parked in the farthest public parking area so we could walk along the marina, looking at all the different boats and enjoying the beautiful vista. It was a wonderfully mild December day and we didn't even need a jacket.

Once we made our way down the dock, past the rows of bins filled with crab, we were greeted by a very amiable young man who took care of us. He fished out the crabs with professional ease and then weighed them. He bagged them in a black garbage sack and off we went. Easy peasey!

A fisherman recommended that we leave them dry for at least four hours before cooking them. This, he said, softens the joints. By the time we got them in the pot it was about four hours. We heated the large pot of water outside on the barbeque side burner and added about a cup of Kosher Salt when it came to a boil. Grasp the crabs very carefully (they are fighters) from the rear end of the shell-between the legs- and toss them into the boiling water (try not to think about their suffering) and when they return to boil, time them for 20 minutes, until the backs lift slightly. Remove them and immediately plunge them into iced water. This helps to remove the crabmeat more easily from the shell.

See how lovely their color is.

Cleaning and Cracking your Crab: click

This seasonal delight is like no other! Sweet and succulent, you can dip the crab in melted butter, garlic and lemon juice and enjoy it with a loaf of local freshly baked sourdough and a green salad.

Axe me nice...

2011-11-29T20:32:00.001-08:00

With so much cooking and baking, I nearly forgot to post! I hope it was a lovely Thanksgiving feast for you all. Autumn seems to be the nicest time of year for me. The days grow shorter and the sun sinks beyond the hills surprisingly early as we move deeper into Fall. Glorious leaves announce their last showing; turning vibrantly gold, purple and red, falling from trees and dancing onto the streets below, and as the last fruits and vegetables are harvested, the world seems more alive than at any other time of year. Chilly evenings beckon us into the fragrant and warm kitchen for cozy evening suppers, and the first fire in the wood stove helps to ward off the cold. The anticipation of 'get-togethers' with family and friends, and reminiscing of times past, are cherished now- more than ever. I am blessed and thankful for it all.

My Thanksgiving Apple Pie photo:Karin Kascher

Yeah! I'm Talkin' to YOU!!! I Put A Spell On You!

2011-10-30T09:06:00.000-07:00

image:Ray Villafane

On this All Hallows Eve, I'm gearing up for a monster celebration with Sreamin' Jay Hawkins!

Howl! It's A Full Blood Moon!

2011-10-11T23:32:00.000-07:00

“The moon, like a flower
In heaven's high bower,
With silent delight
Sits and smiles on the night.” -William Blake

In Memorium- September 11, 2001

2011-09-11T18:23:00.000-07:00

Sound of Silence," on the occasion of the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks....

Amazing...enjoy!

2011-08-30T20:58:00.001-07:00

Birds Flyin' High...Nina Simone

2011-08-27T08:39:00.000-07:00

Birds flyin' high, you know how I feel
Sun in the sky, you know how I feel
Breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel
Its a new dawn, its a new day, its a new life for me
Yeah, its a new dawn its a new day its a new life for me
And I'm feelin' good.

Fish in the sea, you know how I feel
River runnin' free, you know how I feel
Blossom on the tree, you know how I feel
Its a new dawn, its a new day, its a new life for me
And I'm feelin good.

Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what i mean, dont you know
Butterflies all havin' fun, you know what I mean
Sleepin' peace when day is done, that's what I mean
And this old world, is a new world and a bold world for me.

Stars when you shine, you know how I feel
Scent of the crime, you know how I feel
Your freedom is mine, and I know how I feel
Its a new dawn, its a new day, its a new life for me.
Oh, I'm feelin' good....

Baby Got Back! Lounge Against The Machine-Richard Cheese

2011-08-24T18:51:00.000-07:00

I want that jacket! As my mother always said, "Dahlink! Animal prints will never go out of fashion!"

If you think this rendition is hilarious, check out the original tune. It'll knock your eyelashes off!

Here it is:

What is Hip?

2011-08-11T20:27:00.001-07:00

A little East Bay Grease served up by Tower of Power!

These talented boys are from my hometown area in what is known as the East Bay. The most original music with some unbeatable talent.

I Don't Believe A Word- Motorhead

2011-08-02T20:54:00.000-07:00

Don't talk to me, I don't believe a word
Don't try to make me feel alright
All the love in all the world
Is not enough to save my soul tonight
Don't be my friend I'm not a fool
Don't talk of things that we cannot see
When all the ones that sing the blues
Sometimes I think of how it used to be
I have seen the Devil laugh
I have seen God turn his face away
I have nothing left to lose
I have nothing left to say
I have seen the sky turn black
I have seen the seas run dry
I have nothing that is yours
I have nothing now that is not mine

Don't look at me your eyes are cold & hard
Don't wonder that I turn to you
All the grief in all the world
Is not enough to make me comfort you
Don't tell me lies, I'm not a dog,
Don't talk of love it seems to me
All the people that we rob
Sometimes I think of how they used me

I have seen the fires of Hell
I have seen Angels with flaming swords
I have nothing that is mine
I have much that could be yours
I have seen the eye of God
I have heard lies that are true
I have nothing for myself
I have nothing I would give to you

Don't say that word, I know it's only fools
Who do not know their fate is just
All the JUSTICE in the world
Is not enough to buy my faith &trust
Don't make that face I won't be pleased
Don't make a sideshow of yourself
All the people we released
Sometimes I think you're someone else

I have been where none have been
In the empty howling rooms
I have everything I need
I have everything you stand to lose
I have seen the diamond worlds
I have seen the shape of space
I have nothing but the world
I have nothing to take its place
I don't believe a word, I don't believe a word ...

Hilarious Craigslist Ad...No Sugar-coating!

2011-07-16T11:28:00.000-07:00

The other day I placed an ad for FREE DIRT on Craigslist. Believe it or not, I received quite a few responses.

Undoubtedly, the photo of the dirt helped validate the authenticity of my offer. Curious, I perused a few ads in the same category, and came upon this gem. If foul language offends you, please read no further.

Click on image to enlarge.

Great Idea! Eat Locally Grown Food!

2011-07-07T17:35:00.000-07:00

The idea of food cooked with local and regional ingredients is starting to take hold here in California and across the United States. In Italy they've been dong it for centuries!
Italian cuisine is usually fresh, local, not fussy and delicious!

Fairview Gardens in Goleta, California present their delicious organic produce weekly at the local Farmer's Market in Santa Barbara on Saturday and in Santa Monica on Wednesdays.

(photo-Dark Roasted Blend)

On the other hand...

Paranoia...I'll annoy ya!

2011-07-03T22:14:00.000-07:00

Just cuz you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're NOT out to get you!

The Kinks in concert, 1973

Feel The Heat! "Welcome To The Jungle"

2011-06-19T19:05:00.000-07:00

Sulic and Hauser

My sister, Ericka...born May 18- R.I.P.

2011-05-19T07:24:00.000-07:00

Ericka and Karin

Justice...It's not settled, until it's settled right- Miss Marple

2011-05-05T21:19:00.000-07:00

Attorney Perry Mason (Raymond Burr) always managed to outsmart and outwit the "bad guys" in the popular television series, Perry Mason, which ran from 1957-1966 and produced 271 shows. Paul Drake (William Hopper), his always hunky and always cool private investigator, managed to dig up the most obscure information, along with, Della Street (Babara Hale), Perry Mason's dedicated and very hot secretary. Della Street often aided Perry in detecting various shades of lipstick and trendy fragrances, sometimes worn by the murderer.

Filmed in black and white, the show had a certain noir feeling, although the sets appeared awkwardly staged at times. With his quintessential wry smile, Perry Mason's large eyes would fixate on the criminal and using his deft skills, he would often shake them into a blubbering confession. There was always a surprise revelation at the end of the hour and when justice was served and the murderer was trapped, we all felt good. His arch rival, Hamilton Burger (William Talman) played the indefatigable district attorney, who week after week lost to the enigmatic and formidable defense attorney, Perry Mason. Last, but not least, was the venerable Lt. Trag (Ray Collins), whose tireless police work and gruff manner belied his admiration for the clever attorney.

You may recall that Raymond Burr, a talented and multi-faceted actor, portrayed quite an opposite type of character-than that of Perry Mason- as the cunning wife-murderer, Lars Thorwald in Alfred Hitchcock's film, Rear Window(1954), starring James Stewart and Grace Kelly. His treachery is discovered by complete strangers, Jimmy and Grace and Jimmy's housekeeper, Stella (played by the awesome, Thelma Ritter), who live opposite Lars' apartment. Jimmy Stewart plays the wheelchair-bound photographer, with plenty of time on his hands and an imagination to boot. He observes all the comings-and-goings in the building complex, often involving himself emotionally with some of the tenants. His borderline voyeurism pays off when he and his girlfriend, put 2+2 together. But, when Lars discovers that he is being watched the drama escalates! The amateur detectives alert the police and their suspicions are dismissed, however, they continue to spy and gather evidence; eventually bringing him to justice. Ahh...sweet justice!

Here is the movie trailer:
http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi2157838617/

Nowadays, that judicial certainty is often clouded and many "bad guys" seem to escape the proverbial noose through loopholes, slick defense tactics and sometimes just plain luck. I'd like to think that justice takes its own sweet time and eventually it is served with a plate of whoop-ass on the side.

Here is the kick-ass theme song from the old Perry Mason show! I love the lazy tempo and the subtle soulfulness...

Enjoy!

Fuel Prices Rise...

2011-03-21T19:07:00.000-07:00

WHAT A CROC!

Diesel fuel in Sonoma County, CA hits $4.59 per gallon!

Yes, I know! I should ride a bicycle (yeah, yeah, yeah), but it's not just my individual use that I'm thinking about-especially since I drive very little. Truckers use diesel fuel and guess how all of your food gets to your local grocery stores? Rising food prices, along with all of the other passed-on costs, will pinch the proverbial pocket now, more than ever.

Oh, and by the way...how 'bout we drill in our own backyard for a change, rather than continuing to be hamstrung by the Middle East and North Africa?

It's My Party And I'll Cry If I Want To!

2011-01-12T13:56:00.000-08:00

BACK TO BLACK...

Welcome to 2011!

2011-01-04T22:56:00.001-08:00

New Year's Eve-1962-63, San Francisco, CA (my mother, Helena, second from right). Time to find a hat and glamorous frock!

I wish you all a happy and healthy New Year! May your troubles be small ones and your happiness' be many.

Blessings, Peace & Good Music

2010-12-17T09:34:00.000-08:00

R.I.P. Elliott Charnow 1942-2010...Oscar Peterson, "There Will Never Be Another You"

2010-12-06T16:51:00.000-08:00

Elliott, there will never be another you...I want to imagine that you and Oscar are now jamming up a storm and that there's plenty of ice and Scotch whiskey there.

Few people make a dent so large and deep in the lives of people as did Elliott Charnow. Those of us who knew him as music teacher and mentor are now reflecting on all of the significant contributions he made to us. Personally, I would not be at all who I am today, nor would my children without this wonderful man.
It is not only through his musical influence and guidance that we were blessed, but his ability to convey humor and insight to all who knew him. His extraordinary wit and charm made learning and playing music a joyful experience, one that was exponentially gratifying. There was not one person under his tutelage who did not strive to perform to the best of their ability under his baton. He raised the bar for excellence and treated us, mere teenagers, as professionals.

Expecting us to be on time, learn the music and perform as a cohesive group, Elliott provided us important lessons that we continue to carry through our lives, regardless if we became professional musicians, teachers, insurance salesmen or housewives.

I will always think about Elliott as Mr. Charnow, the man who gave me and so many others a chance. As a freshman at Castro Valley High School, I was nearly hopeless as a violin player. I was so bad that after the first rehearsal, I went home and told my parents I was quitting. They didn't give a hoot about my feelings and told me to get my butt back in there. So I did, and after a few months of watching and listening to Mr. Charnow, I must have done something right, because he commented on it. After that, I was a devotee and worked hard to play for the first time in my life. I tell you that from my perspective, but I know that there were umpteen similar stories in that orchestra, band, jazz band, string ensembles, etc. Elliott made us all feel that he was listening to each one of us.

Castro Valley High School Jazz Band, First Place Reno Jazz Festival 1969

One of the most loving and generous gestures was when Elliott lent me his father's treasured violin to take to Atlantic City for the Miss America Pageant. All Pomp and Circumstance aside, it meant so much to me, including carrying around that awesome crocodile violin case! He told me to be sure to put cymbals between my knees and strap on a pair of maracas to really impress the judges! We had a good laugh when it turned out the other violinist, Miss Oklahoma (two violinists???) in the competition was playing "Hot Canary" in a screaming, bright yellow feathered gown! I NEVER stood a chance!

Elliott was one in a 100 million and there will never again be such a man. We all carry a piece of him with us and hopefully we can try in imbue those qualities to the next generation.

Come Hither and VOTE!!!

2010-11-02T08:11:00.000-07:00

All Hallows Eve-Screamin' Jay Hawkins - I Put A Spell On YOU!!!

2010-10-31T11:54:00.000-07:00

In my next lifetime, I hope I get a set of pipes like this guy! The dramatics are wonderful as well.

Karin Kascher Plays Violin With The Latin King's, Oct 15th at Yoshi's, San Francisco

2010-10-19T16:26:00.000-07:00

It was a magical evening for me! Getting the opportunity to play with legends in the music business.

WE ROCKED IT! Funk, Latin, Jazz...Yoshi's was packed! OMG, pinch me! I was definitely playing with the Big Boys; band members from Tower of Power, War, Sly and the Family Stone, Malo, Jorge Santana, legendary percussionist Bobby Escovedo and many, many more top notch musicians and singers!
I was in heaven.

Yoshi's, San Francisco, October 15, 2010

Mmm...

2010-10-11T15:10:00.000-07:00

KARMA IS A BITCH...

2010-09-27T22:18:00.000-07:00

And live concert....haunting isn't it?

Northern California Surf-Film by Michael Kascher Lindemuth

2010-09-23T16:41:00.001-07:00

North from Michael Lindemuth on Vimeo.

So Glad...

2010-09-19T23:17:00.000-07:00

Hot Time, In the [Hungarian] Summertime!

2010-09-07T15:19:00.000-07:00

Lake Ballaton, Hungary (all photos by Karin Kascher)

Lake Balaton is the largest freshwater lake in Central Europe and a prime holiday destination for many in and around Hungary. Located Southwest of Budapest, in the Transdanubian region of Hungary it boasts of a 48 mile (80 km) shoreline. While visiting Budapest, my husband happened to glance at a map and found this enormous body of water about an hour's drive from our hotel. Neither of us had heard of it, so we quickly did a google search and decided that it was worth of the journey.

The next day our family headed down the motorway, which soon became clogged with fully packed cars of rather pale vacationers heading for the lake. This just had to be good.
.

My daughter couldn't get over the "banana hammocks", as she fondly referred to them, which were prominently displayed.

I guess everyone in Hungary wants to go to

Lake Balaton during the warm weather and who can blame them! The other nearest, largest body of water is the Adriatic Sea or the Black Sea. Apparently before World War II, only the elite of Royals had access to this lake and its numerous large villas which dot the shoreline. It was a favorite meeting place for families separated during the Soviet occupation of Hungary and the Eastern Bloc countries.

Once there, I observed an odd and fascinating leisure activity, that of encapsulating oneself in a large, colorful, and translucent rubber sphere. Mind you, the temperatures were very warm, hovering well above 90ºF and the humidity rivaled a Turkish steam room. Yet people stood in line to take a turn in one these fun balls. How they're able to breathe is beyond me. Call me crazy, but that would be sheer torture for a claustrophobe like me.

Here you see a woman leading her globed honey around with an attached rope and giggling all the way. He seems content to pretend he's surfing. It was sheer entertainment that money can't buy!

GUNS BLAZIN"

2010-07-18T12:15:00.000-07:00

I'm curious....what does this photo mean to you?

I'll write my thoughts after a few of you comment. Don't be afraid!

"Summertime"....with Janis Joplin in Groene Lund-Stockholm-1969

2010-06-21T19:41:00.000-07:00

Breaking in the Summer Solstice!

"This Song Goes Very Very Good WIth Brown Whiskey"....Janiva Magness "Don't Let Your Memories Make A Fool Of You

2010-06-04T09:14:00.001-07:00

Janiva Magness makes me want to be a sing-er! Band includes Benny Yee, keys, Gary Davenport, Bass, Matthew Stubbs, guitar, and Chris Rivelli on drums.

Can't Stop Cryin'....more Janiva!!!

Missing you....

2010-05-10T15:36:00.000-07:00

He who binds to himself a joy doth the winged life destroy. But he who kisses the joy as it flies lives in Eternity's sunrise.- William Blake

Karin and Ericka, playing in our backyard ( San Francisco, 1956)
Castro Valley, California

Nearly one year has elapsed since my younger sister passed away. This "I Love Lucy" clip was one of our favorites!

One Hundred Years Ago in San Francisco

2010-05-02T09:45:00.000-07:00

UPDATE: OCT 19,2010; from 60 Minutes.

Old Man, Take A look At My Life...

2010-03-27T19:14:00.000-07:00

Lizz Wright Band live in Basel, Switzerland November 2005. Lizz Wright with Marvin Sewell-g, Ede Wright-g, Massimo Biolcati-b, Rock Deadrick-d.

Dances With The Daffodils...

2010-03-15T14:19:00.000-07:00

Photos by Karin Kascher

Daffodils a poem by William Wordsworth (1804)

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they

Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

CAPTION THIS!

2010-03-12T11:10:00.000-08:00

Image from

Dark Roasted Blend

My Foolish Heart...

2010-02-14T08:11:00.000-08:00

To all of the foolish hearts out there.

" 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. "
Alfred Lord Tennyson

Few musicians are able to convey their depth of emotion as well as Bill Evans. Many years ago I had the priviledge of seeing Mr.Evans perform in a tiny, smoke-filled bar in San Francisco. His hands were plump from his apparent heroin addiction, however, that didn't inhibit his purity and artistry.

Bill Evans August 16, 1929- September 15, 1980

This New Year-2010...What'ya Gonna Do?

2010-01-11T13:56:00.000-08:00

Image from Dark Roasted Blend

This new year finds me asking, "What you Gonna do?"

20/10 sounds like a oil additive for my car. I'll have to check my dip-stick more often, I guess.

Each year I propose new goals and this year I've tried to simplify them to ensure a more reasonable chance of success. Less is more; frown less, drink less, worry less, eat less and look up at the stars a bit more often.

The last year was oh-so sad for me. My Aunt Mitzi died and then my mother passed away a month later. Five months went by, when my younger sister suddenly died. Thus, I'm looking over my shoulder a lot, hoping a wrecking ball doesn't accidentally snap my head off.

It seems that time is never distributed with any measurement of equanimity, (Aristotle, wherefore art thou?) so, perhaps by making time a priority I will extract more juice from life. Procrastination is no longer an option. I see the writing on the wall! Not easily accomplished by one whose path has waited for positive indicators before venturing out. Gotta eat me a bowl of confidence!

Here's my favorite depressive, genius songstress, belting out a soulful tune about life...Oh! And Happy New Year!

2009-12-29T09:11:00.000-08:00

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas...

2009-12-23T16:16:00.000-08:00

Hey, Norman! How ‘Bout Us? by Karin Kascher

2009-12-02T07:45:00.000-08:00

First published: December 1995 Tiny Lights Publications
paintings by Norman Rockwell
photographs by Karin Kascher

They’re back! The holidays. One of Norman Rockwell’s merrily contented families enjoying a delectable feast pops into my mind when the approaching festivities are mentioned. I can see someone’s Uncle Bob, sober as a judge, carving the succulent, evenly browned beast with white paper tassels atop the plump and juicy drumsticks. His calm and blissful expression is emulated by all the eager guests seated around the perfectly set table. And who should appear through the swinging kitchen door but sweet Aunt Dorothy, white-haired, rosy-cheeked, wearing her simple, dark blue dress, dotted with tiny pink roses and a neatly starched apron. She is proudly presenting her freshly baked pies to the sounds of oohs and ahhs, and respectful squeals of delight!

Come to think of it, when did dear Aunt Dorothy find the time to single-handedly stuff and bake turkey, make the scrumptious twenty-three side dishes, clean and decorate the house, polish the silver, wash the dog, shovel the snow and arrange the table’s cornucopia centerpiece? Why, she probably set out Uncle Bob’s clothes, matched his socks to shoes, tied his tie, brushed the lint from his jacket, trimmed his nose hairs, and kissed him gently on the cheek before their forty-two relatives arrived!Suddenly my eyes do a quick flutter and roll upwards as I plunge both of my fists firmly into my eye sockets. Flashes of light and sparks of reality burst into my consciousness. Hello. Light years beyond Norman Rockwell’s idyllic portraits of the holidays lies my experience, a fitful mixture of panic, humiliation and joyful expectation.

Memories of Christmas at my house were the kind you’d think I made up. The carefully coiffed, silver-haired matron was, in fact, my mother, an immensely glamorous woman, born and raised in Transylvania, Romania. At age 15, Helena escaped the Russian Red Army and fled to Austria during World War II, before making her way to Ellis Island with my father on New Year’s Eve, 1949. Despite her harrowing refugee experiences and the eventual relocation to a rather casual lifestyle in California, she retained her elegance and never allowed a “bad hair day” to tarnish her public persona. Helena would pull her jet-black hair so tightly into an Audrey Hepburn chignon that she was unable to fully smile without hairpins flinging in all directions. My mother’s lips were magnanimously tinted the most vibrant shade of Helena Rubenstein® jungle red and there was always a crimson smear across one of her front teeth. Her yellow-green eyes were haphazardly lined with Maybelline® black-black charcoal pencil with boingy wings at each corner. The solid black arches crayoned over each savagely plucked eyebrow gave people the impression that she had X-ray vision and could read their minds.

Helena never left the house-even to get the mail- without being properly dressed. She had a great fondness for exotic animal prints -especially leopard and zebra skin- and held a strong opinion that “floral patterns” were for peasants and far beneath her illusory royal stature. Her charming accent was an amalgamation of Bela Lugosi and Zsa Zsa Gabor. "Daaahrlink! Eeet! You ahrr skeeeen and bohnz!” Yes, indeed, if I’d wanted to have enormous bosoms like hers, I’d better have another dollop of sour cream on top of that sweaty plate of stuffed cabbage.

My father had assimilated more successfully to the customs of the new homeland, learning how to barbecue hamburgers, smoke Pall Mal® cigarettes and drink beer from an aluminum can. My mother, however, strongly resisted the pressures to become a “teepeekal Amereeekan Vuhman”. Naturally what I wanted most was for our family to be quite typical and to blend in as much as possible.

The pillbox hat era of Christmas in California during the 60’s meant pink and blue aluminum trees prominently displayed in most of the front windows in our suburban neighborhood. Seemingly identical painted plastic cutouts of Santa Claus and reindeer and Frosty the Snowman adorned our neighbors’ rooftops and front lawns. Artificial icicles and bulbous colored lights hung from eves and gutters. The effort to recreate a wintry alpine scene always fell short somehow in the near 70 degree, dry-as-a bone weather.

Our house, alas, stood apart from the rest. Our window had white shoe polish murals of the Austrian Alps and our “Tannenbaum” did not appear until a few days before Christmas Eve, as was our Olde World tradition. Finding a tree whose pine needles were not entirely desiccated was not without its challenges. My father however, was elated to find the last few trees on the tree lot, reduced in price for quick clearance! What a deal!

Despite the many holiday traditions, that I had believed were part of my unique Eastern European Heritage, I gradually discovered that my mother had liberally improvised upon them to suit her own peculiar needs. For instance, it was not unusual for me to return home from school any time of the year and find Helena burning black candles to protect her from her many perceived enemies and evil spirits. The sight of a black spider or black crow at dusk precluded any hope of luck for the ensuing day. If the sun shone while it was raining, well, that meant that the devil was fighting with his wife. I never knew what that meant but, without protest I would wear my garlic sashay and try to avoid the “evil eye”. You get the picture Norman?
The inevitable display of zany holiday antics depended largely upon which of our relatives were speaking to us in any given year. We were not of the “hold-your-tongue-and don’t-hurt-anyone’s-feelings crowd. Our celebrations included, loud, obnoxious, opinionated, verbally abusive banter. Frenzied discussions, were accented with fists pounding the table, false-teeth flying across the room and the surreptitious pinching of broad behinds.

The men gorged themselves with mounds of garlic-laden sausages, sinus-clearing sauerkraut, headcheese drenched in vinegar and raw onions and pickled pigs-feet drowning in sour cream. As the women served and cleared the table, the men told jokes that made no sense and drank throughout the feast, never becoming drunk it seemed, and would consume copious amounts of a homemade Transylvanian concoction called “Ţuică ( 80 proof Romanian Moonshine). It was made from fermented plums, smelled like cheap gasoline, instantly melted ice on contact and produced visible rising vapors from their glasses. Naturally they would have preferred that the main course be wild boar or venison, but in order to be good American citizens, Norman, they ate the lowly, hornless turkey.
The highlight of the holiday, in my recollection, was Christmas Eve. After church service and a soulful rendition of “Stille Nacht” on my violin and a prayer to "Kristkringle”, my sister and I would patiently wait to open our packages. But not before my mother would descend the staircase, a spectacle to behold in a sleek and sinewy lizard skin ensemble. With joyful glee, Helena would hang Fourth-of-July sparklers on the various limbs of our once evergreen tree. Then she proceeded to light them, one by one, standing back to view the radiant display.
Some years the tree only burned at the top, and other years we lost the back half. One never knew what to expect, but I still hold my breath when I think about it.

My mother, celebrating her very own" burning down the tree" tradition.

On The Rise...Baking Bread!

2009-11-22T11:38:00.000-08:00

As cold temperatures beckon, the idle mind starts to wander-more than usual- that is! The very thought of a simmering homemade soup and the smell of bread baking evoke a comfort that money can't buy! Of course with the hefty rise in bread prices, making it yourself is an huge incentive.

My mother and Aunt Rosi (Rosi Tante) both baked bread each Monday morning. My mother's bread was very, very substantial (think brick) and she never veered from her original recipe. My Rosi Tante had a much more nuanced depth in her bread making, and she tended to experiment with various types of flour and yeasts; resulting in a more tasty and palatable loaf. I think there must've been a bread baking rivalry between them, but it didn't matter to me because, ultimately I was the one who had to take the sandwiches to school which my mother had baked. And, ohhhhh! Those were sandwiches! Old (Transylvanian) school, that is. Not everyone at Proctor Elementary School had 1-inch thick and unevenly sliced pieces of heavily-buttered bread, slathered with copious amounts of liverwurst and sliced radishes.

My mother did vary the ingredients from day to day; thick and chunky salami,

Speck (salted/smoked bacon with garlic and paprika) topped with brown and grainy mustard. I drew the line at pickled anything though. Those were the days when I longed for other kids' lunches made with Wonder Bread® , packaged Oscar Mayer® Bologna and something called mayonnaise (a product that never passed my lips until after high school). And what about those perfectly fluffy, pink and white coconut mounds called Hostess® Snowballs or the chocolaty cupcakes with that inviting, white squiggly line across the top? They looked beyond yummy. No one wanted to trade for my dried-out prune tart slices. But, I digress....

A few days ago I decided to experiment with some bread that I used to bake. I needed starter dough, but alas, I had to develop my own starter. It's what gives bread it's unbelievably good taste. My husband had opened a bottle of beer and set it down after finding out that it was a dark stout...no likey, very much! So, I used it to start a new batch of starter dough:

Karin's Dark Stout Reject Starter Dough (not bad for an experiment)

Combine:

2 Cups warm dark beer

1 Tbl. maple syrup, sugar or honey

2 Cups all-purpose flour
1 Tbl dry yeast

• Beat all ingredients together in a 2 qt bowl.

• Cover bowl with slightly damp cloth towel and place it in a warm place. It will double in bulk, but as fermentation develops, it will settle down.

• As the mixture sits, stir the liquid back down once a day for 2-5 days. When the bubbling begins to diminish and you notice a sour, yeasty aroma, you can use it .

Refrigerate remaining starter dough in a sealed container. Each time you use some of the starter, replenish with equal amounts of flour and water and allow it to sit in a warm place for 12 hours to allow the yeast to grow again. Place back in the refrigerator until the next time. It will keep indefinitely-and make sure to stir it every week or two.

Because I used the beer base, it gave me an extra shot of yeast (whoops), much like that which Lucille Ball experienced. Her cooking antics always give me a huge belly laugh and influenced me a bit too much...

THANKSGIVING- CHANGE I CAN BELIEVE IN-Bumped from last year!

2009-11-15T08:00:00.000-08:00

About the only things moving today are my fingers. The days of cooking, shopping and preparing for the family feast have come to an abrupt and bloated end. They came, they ate and they helped to clean-up. It's amazing how much three college kids can consume! The truth be told, I have a difficult time sharing and delegating when it comes to my kitchen. I insist on doing it all-except for peeling the potatoes. My food prep-area is fondly called the Bermuda Triangle, meaning, STAY OUT!

TO STUFF, OR NOT TO STUFF...

This year, I turned my back on Martha Stewart's tried-and-true recipe for Roasting the Perfect Thanksgiving Turkey. Frankly, ever since her unfortunate incarceration, it hasn't had the same caché. I've been using Martha's method for years, which involved reams of cheesecloth, immersed in m(p)ounds of butter and bottles of Chardonnay, culminating in a messy basting ritual every 30 minutes. So, after watching the Food Network's knowledgeable chefs weighing-in on various turkey matters, I decided to heed their advice and NOT stuff the bird and roast the damn thing with old fashioned aluminum foil. The mere mention of turkey blood and galactic juices dripping onto the stuffing and not getting the thorough heating to fry the bacterium, convinced me to leave the bird cavernous, except for a few sliced apples and sprigs of thyme.

BRINE EYES HAVE SEEN THE TURKEY...

I also decided to brine the beast. This turned out to be a good choice as the turkey was infused with extra delicious flavor that basting simply cannot achieve. Sorry Martha.

Why brine? Salt changes the structure of the muscles tissues, breaking down proteins and allowing the flavorings to be absorbed, which result in a more tender piece of meat. So why not brine?

Here's an easy brining recipe:

Start the day before you cook the turkey.

You will need: One clean 5 Gallon container ( food grade material, preferably with a handle ) with lid. Try to scrape and remove all dry wall plaster, paint or whatever from container!

For the brine:

1 cup kosher salt

1/2 cup light brown sugar
1/2 cup sugar

1 gallon vegetable stock
1 tablespoon black peppercorns
1/2 tablespoon candied ginger
1 gallon iced water

For the aromatics:1 red apple, sliced or 2 lemons, quartered

1/2 onion, sliced
1 cup water
4 sprigs thyme
6 leaves sage

Directions:
Combine all brine ingredients, except ice water, in a stockpot, and bring to a boil. Stir , then remove from heat, cool to room temperature and refrigerate until thoroughly chilled. Do not add hot brine to your container/bird!

Combine the brine and ice water in a clean 5-gallon bucket. Place the thawed turkey breast side down in brine, cover, set in cool area for 6 to 16 hours. You can turn the turkey over once, half way through brining if you wish. Remove bird from brine and rinse inside and out with cold water. Discard the brine.

Drain bird and pat dry with paper towels. Add steeped aromatics to cavity along with sliced apples or oranges, rosemary and sage . Tuck back wings and tie the drumsticks together with string. Sprinkle salt and fresh pepper and baste with melted butter.
Roast on lowest level of the oven at 500 degrees F. for 30 minutes. Remove from oven and cover breast with double layer of aluminum foil, insert probe thermometer into thickest part of the breast and return to oven, reducing temperature to 350 degrees F. Cooking temp around 170 degrees. A 14 to 16 pound bird should require a total of 2 to 2 1/2 hours of roasting. Let turkey rest, loosely covered for 15 minutes before carving.

As for FN's recommendations regarding the type of potato to use, they're full of tofu! My opinion is that Russet potatoes are not as flavorful as our local Yukon Gold potatoes. Yukons have a natural butter-i-ness and texture that the bland old Russet cannot touch!

Lest I forget, is it not a wonderful blessing that we have so many offerings from which to choose? Next year it may be Spam Turkey!

And the Oscar Goes to....

2009-11-10T17:17:00.000-08:00

"The Man I Love" ! Oscar Peterson, Ray Brown and Ed Thigpen-Live in Italy- 1961

A perfect interlude on a semi-gloomy day.... the bread is baking, the chicken soup is simmering and these guys are cookin'!

20th Anniversary Of The Fall Of The Berlin Wall!

2009-11-09T16:01:00.000-08:00

"Freedom has many difficulties, and democracy is not perfect, but we have never had to put up a wall to keep our people in, to prevent them from leaving us!" John F. Kennedy -June 26, 1963

And so, you say, the wall came down. A wall kept people in? Yes, those cold grey walls topped with concertina wire and guarded by a brutal and vigilant totalitarian military , so frightening that few dared to attempt to cross it. The tyranny and brutality of the Soviets seemed to be unbeatable; their oppression over the Eastern European satellite nations, mind-boggling. Secrets about neighbors, friends and even family activities were passed to Stasi officials to gain favor or special treatment, chipped away at the morality, civility and pride of a once cohesive and industrious people. Medicine, food, clothing and shelter remained at Post WWII levels, with rationing being the norm. All-the-while, their Western European counterparts flourished and enjoyed freedoms which, for those behind the iron curtain, were out-of-reach.

Some of my family escaped before the wall went up; one family to Vienna, another to West Berlin, while the rest remained in the Transylvanian Alps of Romania, where a few cousins live to this day. My parents immigrated to the United States in 1949, became citizens and then I was born in San Francisco in 1952. Letters to my relatives in the Eastern Bloc were read and inspected before my aunts, uncles and cousins received them. Some letters and packages never arrived; useful items that were certainly sold on the black market. Corruption and suspicion was rampant.

Following the fall of the Berlin Wall and the Soviet Union one expected another miracle; that of returning to how it used to be. But, that, was not so easily achieved. With each subsequent generation, stories and memories faded and history was diluted. Additionally, a dependence had been fostered by the communist state to provide everything, no matter how paltry. Now, the people expected to be taken care of-no matter how bad it was!

Such destruction and evisceration of families, culture and nations will require at least a few more decades to repair-if ever.

History needs to be remembered, so that we don't allow it to repeat .

BEWITCHED!!!

2009-10-30T20:25:00.000-07:00

Doesn't this capture the whole feeling of Halloween? This is my daughter, Anika, at the tender witchy age of six. She is all of nineteen years now, and just as bewitching!

William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
from Macbeth

[A dark Cave. In the middle, a Caldron boiling. Thunder.]

Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,—
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Halloween Approaches... Let's Do The Monster Mash!

2009-10-29T09:35:00.000-07:00

"The Zombies were having Fun! The party had just begun!"
"They played the Mash! The Monster Mash! Tell them Boris sent you..."

Being 100% Transylvanian (no kidding) makes this a special time of year for me, however, in Siebenbürgen (trans.Transylvania) each and every day might be considered a hallowed event! Burning a black candle for protection, wearing a necklace of garlic and watching out for ominous black crows is just a casual habit with moi.

Are You Prepared for H1N1?

2009-10-26T21:01:00.000-07:00

Photo: Imagno/Getty ImagesOct 14, 1932

Seems a bit of a dilemma; this pandemic influenza threat. We're all in for it, no matter what! Even if I were to decide to get inoculated, it appears that only a small fraction of the vaccine has been shipped to various states in the U.S.A. California has 36,553,215 residents and only 836,900

doses of vaccine have been shipped. What's up with that?

So, it looks like we'll have to do the usual excessive hand-washing, garlic wearing, avoiding-crowded-places-kind-of-stuff!

Hilarious! Why email was invented!

2009-10-20T18:02:00.000-07:00

Dedicated to my dependable mail carrier, Shawn, who always has a biscuit for my dog Quinn!

2009 Fall Airstream Rally in Jackson Rancheria

2009-10-07T19:37:00.000-07:00

Blue Airstream photo: Cam Fraser

Jackson Rancheria is located in the Northern region of California in "Gold Country" at the foothills of the Sierra Mountains. Warm days and cool nights make this a perfect camping spot.

The full moon rising cast ominous shadows on the low slung, silver-tipped clouds and the autumn temperatures quickly dropped, urging additional sweaters, hats and wooly socks. The steaming cups of coffee tasted mighty fine.

The following evening found us scampering for shelter as an unexpected storm blew in. Campfires were quickly extinguished and musicians packed up their guitars and I, my fiddle. Rain, lightening and thunder swept across the campground as we hunkered down in our aluminum vessels.

Andres Torres Segovia ~ Asturias

2009-09-21T09:21:00.000-07:00

Andres Segovia, the astonishing Spanish Guitarist-b.1893-d.1987

Artistic Beauty...continued

2009-09-17T17:48:00.000-07:00

My son, Michael's latest video, captures artist Eli Slaydon as he paints and creates in his Petaluma barn.

Art for Show from Michael Lindemuth on Vimeo.
Meet the artists this weekend!

Art Exibition at Mare Island:

Eli Slaydon and Sean Paul Lorentz

Saturday, September 19, 2009
2:00PM - 9:00P

Mare Island- Officers Mansion
900 Walnut Avenue
Vallejo, CA
Map

Paint from Michael Lindemuth on Vimeo.

Artistic Beauty

2009-08-31T19:13:00.000-07:00

I'm finding that I need fewer and fewer words....

Seniya Simonova is a Ukrainian artist who creates all that needs to be said with her hands.

Hot Town! Summer In The City!

2009-08-22T14:10:00.000-07:00

Here's a "mono" sound recording of the Lovin' Spoonful's 45 RPM hit record, "Summer In The City". This is exactly how I remember hearing this smokin' hot tune! Warm Summer nights... riding around in a turquoise blue, 60's convertible Mustang with my girlfriends!

Goodbye Les Paul [1915-2009]...we'll miss you!

2009-08-13T13:01:00.000-07:00

The world lost a great musician and innovator today. Sadly, Les Paul has passed away at the age of 94. A self-taught guitar player and electronics wizard, he developed and revolutionized the world of music.

His invention of the solid body guitar, and the development of multi-track recording has influenced musicians the world over. In fact, many young guitar players today, may have no idea that their guitar has got Les Paul written all over it. This wonderful man will be missed.

It's Saturday night...no talk. Just listen.

2009-08-08T22:08:00.000-07:00

St. Germain-Rose Rouge

It's just not fair...

2009-08-05T11:57:00.000-07:00

A Little Stan Getz & Astrud Gilberto...Corcovado ( Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars )

2009-07-31T08:24:00.000-07:00

The Bounty Of Summer!

2009-07-30T15:40:00.000-07:00

Doesn't this just make you smile? Yesterday I took a little trip out to Point Reye's Station, a small community in Marin County, CA. This is a photo of Toby's, a store filled with all sorts of goodies; local jam, honey, candies, fruits and vegetables. Hay is sold in back.

Public Swimming Pools...

2009-07-20T18:23:00.000-07:00

Here's another reason I detest public swimming pools. Then again, no one would notice me in a bathing suit!

Rain!

2009-07-17T07:59:00.000-07:00

My friends in England and Germany have complained to me of a dismal Summer thus far. Here in California we suffer from the opposite conditions; lack of rain. Regardless, here is an homage to RAIN!

Live, in concert, Perpetuum Jazzile, perform Toto's Africa, at Vokal Xtravaganzza 2008 (October 2008). Arranged by Tomaž Kozlevčar.

Crank the volume, close your eyes and get blown away!

Apricot Harvest

2009-07-13T20:36:00.000-07:00

How lucky can I get! A bumper crop of sweet, juicy apricots...yum!
I didn't even fall off the ladder.

Update: After eating lots of apricots, making marmalade and sharing with the neighbors, I still had a few left over. Then I remembered that one of the most delightful taste treats I had in Austria was a liqueur made from "Aprikosen". It is called Marillen Likör and is difficult to find ( in fact, the company went out of business), so I decided to whip up a batch of Apricot Moonshine. Vodka based, it will take a minimum of three months to ferment, but I can't wait to see if I came close to what I remember drinking.

4th of July Celebration!

2009-07-05T21:00:00.000-07:00

Pineapple Princess! Annette Funicello!

2009-07-01T00:12:00.000-07:00

I'm putting aside all thoughts of impending geopolitical gloom 'n'doom [ well, for a moment... ] whilst recalling the good ol' clueless days of Summer!

This song stuck in my mind from waaaay back, when I was a pre-bikini'd, four-eyed "dork", who wanted to grow up to be as glamorous as Annette Funicello! The hair! The boobies! The men going ape-sh*t as she oils up "Moon-doggie" with suntan lotion in that positively, sexy, see-through, white fishnet bathing suit!

BLAST-OFF! IT"S SUMMER!

2009-06-27T16:15:00.001-07:00

The Beach Boys sing Surfin' U.S.A. [1964]

Even though it is claimed to be Chuck Berry's melody (thanks Chuck!), the Beach Boys made this song into an American rock'n'roll classic! Listening to music performed live, as it used to be, makes one appreciate their raw talent. Another Beach Boys classic was, Fun,Fun,Fun ! All I can say is, kids, put down your iPhone /Blackberry/what-cha-ma-callit, stop texting for a moment, go outside and enjoy your Summer!

Still crying...

2009-06-04T21:33:00.000-07:00

Craphead Genius Phil Spector Sentenced "19 to Life"

2009-05-29T15:51:00.000-07:00

From this...
...to this!

and he deserves every bit of it ...but that "Wall of Sound" by the Ronettes will live forever!!!

My sister Ericka and I had similar pairs of those "go-go boots" and I know we thought we looked pretty "boss" in them! Never could get my flat hair to poof-up like that though...

R.I.P. Ericka Kascher 1954-2009

2009-05-24T07:40:00.000-07:00

The Sunflower-William Blake

"Ah, Sunflower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime,
Where the traveller's journal done;
Where the youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my Sunflower wishes to go!"

Helene Grimaud Bach: Chaconne in D minor, 1st movement

Goodbye....

2009-05-14T19:31:00.000-07:00

Here's another film that my son, Michael, crafted for a class assignment. He chose a location/setting that is close to his heart; his Grandfather's ranch, in Clearlake, CA. I think my father would have enjoyed seeing this very much.

Happy Mother's Day! Big Mama Thorton Sings It!

2009-05-10T22:13:00.000-07:00

Big Mama Thorton belts it out like a good Mama should! Buddy Guy on guitar (1965).

If Dishes Were Wishes...

2009-04-29T10:52:00.000-07:00

I got such a kick out this film-short that my son, Michael made for one of his film classes at San Francisco State University. After living with a few clueless slobs, he finally gets it!

Volvo-Meets Les Paul ( Guitar)-Meets Ollie Hemmingsson! Go, Ollie,Go!

2009-04-24T19:07:00.000-07:00

A couple of month's ago, I discovered Ollie playing violin and guitar with his awesome Volvo tractor. Many of you may recall taking music lessons and using the oppressive metronome. The metronome, for those who've never heard of one, helps a musician to practice and keep time. This often leaves little room for overt expression, however, it comforts those whose cultures (like mine) demand adherence to precise time-keeping and offers assurance by its restraints. Ollie, who is of the Swedish persuasion, has an Osh B'Gosh® ability to play synchronized duets with his farm equipment. Please... to listen to... the fantastic Mr. Ollie all the way through his video. He starts cookin' after the second set and finishes with a pulsating flourish!

I may get my husband to restore our Cat DII so that I can have someone to play with!

Get Crazy! Celebrate Earth Day...

2009-04-23T09:05:00.000-07:00

I love trees just like the next guy. Rocks too. But seriously, what the f**k is wrong with these people? I see....pampered, egocentric and disturbed individuals; products of an over-indulged and egocentric society . Do these guys think they'll get laid if they cry lke a little girl? Do these women think they'll "hook-up" with one of these drum-beating wimps by shrieking like hysterical banshees? Odds are pretty good they will.

Hey, if you think I'm intolerant and harsh, it's my blog, my rant and my politically incorrect opinion. So there!

*I apologize to my readers for using the F-word, however, as I often told my kids, use that word parsimoniously, as not to minimize its profundity.

Again, I am a lover of trees, nature and I'm a vigilant recycler. These Earth First PETA types are unhinged loonies!

Have a nice day.

Susan Boyle... the 47 Year-Old UK Singing Sensation!

2009-04-14T08:32:00.000-07:00

Here's a story that will inspire anyone who may harbor the feeling that, they're too old or too whatever to pursue their dream.
47 year-old Susan Boyle shocked Great Britain last week in the "Britain's Got Talent 2009" contest. The never-been-married, never-been-kissed, unemployed matron, whose dream of performing in front of a large audience, courageously stood in front of a cynical and critical audience and belted out the performance of her lifetime.
She said she wanted to make the audience rock.
They certainly did:

Susan Boyle on Britain Got Talent

Here's Susan Boyle singing Cry Me A River in 1999 for a charity CD, which only sold 1,000 copies.

Good Morning

2009-04-13T20:52:00.000-07:00

Italian/Swiss Spring Harvest

2009-04-01T11:14:00.001-07:00

That's as far as I'll go with an April Fool's joke. When I was a kid, my dad would wake me up every April First and tell me that it was snowing! And every year I'd scramble out of my bed and run to the window, throw open the curtains with great anticipation, only to find that I'd been duped. The San Francisco Bay Area only gets occasional snow; maybe once every ten or fifteen years. But the big question remains. Why did I fall for the ruse every year! Duhhhhhh......

Pismo Beach, California in March

2009-03-27T14:04:00.000-07:00

Some people may think that we're crazy for living in California, what with the potential earthquakes and human disasters; so-called fruits and nuts", however, you can't beat the weather most of the year. Even in the Northern part of the state, where, believe-it- or-not, it snows, it is only a temporary occurrence.

Silver Sunset

Friday Night Listening Pleasure...

The Gypsy Kings: Hotel California

The Rite Of Spring!

2009-03-19T09:19:00.000-07:00

Here are two divergent homages to the Rite of Spring. The first is a photo that I surreptitiously photographed on my mother's porch. I call it, Spring Love on Astro Turf®.

The video below is a brilliant performance of the The Rite of Spring (Le Sacre du Printemps), Part IV (Glorification de l'Elue through Rituelle des ancestres), by one of my favorite composers, the audacious Igor Stravinsky and performed by the Los Angeles Philharmonic and conducted by Esa-Pekka Salonen, October 23, 2003

To hear one the other four movements, you can click on the YouTube Icon and choose. They're all terrific!

Saturday Night with Amy Winehouse! Raw!

2009-03-14T19:34:00.000-07:00

This woman is an unbelievable powerhouse of talent and soul! Before I actually heard Amy Winehouse sing, I'd only read about her drugged-induced escapades and narrow brushes with the wrong side of the law and paparazzi. The second video is one in a series of songs whereby she sings in an office without much, if any acoustical accoutrements. I truly hope that she finds the strength to overcome her demons, because I, for one, am "ga-ga" about her!

I love this woman!

...plus, she mentions Tanqueray® in this song. Pass the Schweppes® and twist of lime [clink-clink].

Musique Fantastique!

2009-03-12T21:07:00.000-07:00

Airstream Travels...

2009-03-09T09:44:00.000-07:00

Rolling across the Golden Gate Bridge is always a challenge and towing an Airstream trailer is an added thrill!

Sunset at Pismo Beach, California

Some of you have asked me about the Airstream Rallies. Here are a few photos from the California Silver Sisters Rally, March 6-8, 2009 at Pismo Beach, CA, which I

attended. As a rule, there are no rules! We all just get together, eat lots of food, experiment with wine, vodka, gin, tequillia, etc. and talk endlessly about our aluminum trailers and travels. No two Airstreams are alike! Each owner has decorated the interior to their liking, old or new.

The newer Airstreams are very cool; many are built with very slick new materials, such as bamboo and LED lighting. Airforum Rallies often have older Airstream models dating back to the 1950's. Our Airstream is a 25 ft. 1978 International Tradewind and came with all of the brownish 1970's plastic interior. The outside is the shiny aluminum type and requires regular polishing and sealing. If you like the vintage Airstreams, they are a lot of work, mainly because all of the electrical/plumbing systems gradually break down, rivets begin to wiggle out and axles need to be checked. But, the reward of travelling in one, makes up for all of the woes! My husband says we should've named it the "CAN-O-WORMS".

Depression Cooking with Clara

2009-02-27T23:39:00.000-08:00

Whenever I hear that we're heading for the next Great Depression I wonder how this generation will cope. Listen and watch as 93 year-old Clara Cannucciari teaches us how to cook a typical meal from her Great Depression family kitchen and recants her stories of the struggles and joys that she experienced as a child.

Clara's webblog

If you enjoyed this cooking lesson, check out her other videos, which were filmed by her grandson Christopher Cannucciarri. Her Sicilian Christmas (Cucidati Fig &Nut) cookie episode and her Poor Man's Feast are especially wonderful. With each video Clara sprinkles her cooking with nuggets of wisdom and honesty about the hardships of those years, yet she remains joyful and delighted to share these treasured recipes and memories. What a wonderful spirit!

You can also listen to this song, Blue Moon, written by Rodgers & Hart in 1933 and performed by the great jazz violinist Stéphane Grappelli in 1990, with Martin Taylor on guitar and John Burr on string bass. Talk about cookin'!

Our Sun

2009-02-24T14:46:00.001-08:00

Thank you NASA for this incredible photography

This weeks muscal link: Marianne Faithfull- The Ballad of Lucy Jordan

Give it up for Nina Simone! Ain't Got No...I Got Life!

2009-01-28T16:49:00.000-08:00

Nina Simone-Harlem, 1969

If you get a chance, take a listen to, I PUT A SPELL ON YOU.
Now, that, is what I call a soulful singer!

Raising A Few Eyebrows!

2009-01-24T08:44:00.000-08:00

And now, ladies and germs, for your enjoyment....

The Bitch Is Back!

2009-01-15T21:06:00.000-08:00

I WILL SURVIVE!

Sadly, my mother, Helena, passed away this past Christmas Eve. It was a drama of CSI proportions, as were most of her 81, tumultuous, Transylvanian émigré years. Finding her deceased on Christmas day, after the sheriff was forced to kick in her door (she was too paranoid to give me a key to her house), proved to be, beyond surrealistic. She had not planned to die, so left no directives for her demise and protected her fortress with stunning effectiveness.

The Walnut Ranch in Kelseyville, CA

This past Sunday, we all drove to my parents’ walnut ranch to ceremoniously scatter her ashes. While waiting for my sister’s arrival, our dog, Quinn, who relishes the freedom of running at full-throttle and chasing squirrels and rabbits on the rural expanse, was romping with my son, Michael's golden retriever, Millie.

The two dogs were madly chasing each other and then attempted to jump up and over a retaining wall made of stacked obsidian rock (cooled volcanic lava), which is, essentially a naturally occurring glass and as sharp as a surgical scalpel. As the dogs leapt toward the top of the wall, Millie, who is twice Quinn’s size, clipped her sideways, causing Quinn to lose her balance and catapult her into the rock wall with full force. As Quinn seemingly recovered and limped away, Mark thought she had hurt her leg, but soon Michael noticed that she was, indeed bleeding, and immediately tried to stop the flow with his shirt and hands. Mark then asked Michael if he could take a look at the wound and when he briefly removed his hand, the blood squirted an 8" stream from her neck.

As Michael reapplied pressure and held onto Quinn, we scrambled to find a towel to stop the bleeding. Within seconds, we found one raggedy towel in the cab of the truck. I anxiously approached Michael, but he told me not to look; that the gash was "really-really deep". Meanwhile, my daughter, Anika, and my husband frantically tried to get a cell signal to phone a veterinarian in the area, with zero results. Being Sunday, they were told, the nearest emergency animal hospital was more than 2 hours away. I knew right then, that Quinn was not gong to make it. I crumpled to the ground, burying my face in my hands. Mark asked if I wanted to go with them, but I knew I would only make things worse with my emotional hysteria. My sister was due at any minute, with my mother's ashes and would not know what happened, so I decided to stay. Mark

assured me that Quinn would be OK and proceeded to carefully help load Quinn into the truck for the two-hour ride to the Rohnert Park Emergency Animal Hospital. I couldn’t look up at the truck as it pulled away. I thought I would never see Quinn alive again.

As the truck sped away, my sister, simultaneously arrived with my mother’s ashes. She must’ve wondered where they were going. She found me squatting against the outbuilding, in the dirt, sobbing next to a bloodied toilet paper roll, which I had used to wipe the blood trickling down from Quinn’s leg. Two bunches of limp Gladiolas lay scattered next to me. Later, my sister told me that she thought I was taking my mothers death pretty hard. We both agreed that my mother was probably insulted that we brought our dog to her memorial service. That, and I was wearing blue jeans. Not really acceptable for the burial of a queen.

Michael held the wound tightly with that same rag for the entire ride; nearly 90 miles of curvy, mountainous roads, never once releasing the pressure. Needless to say, he was saturated in blood when they arrived at their destination. Quinn underwent emergency surgery and the doctor capped her jugular vein (you have two, but need only need one).

Amazingly, Quinn had severed 270 degrees of her right jugular vein. Michael’s holding-pressure on the gaping wound for the entire, 2+hour drive saved her life! I didn't think a 39 lb dog could survive, having lost so much blood. But, in fact, she did not require a transfusion!

Update on Quinn: Mark and I picked Quinn up the next day from the emergency Animal Care Center in Rohnert Park. She playfully scampered out to meet us, full of her usual enthusiasm, her neck wrapped in a pretty cotton-candy pink bandage. The Vet said that she had never seen anything like it in her entire 15 years of practice! Her survival was nothing, short of, miraculous. I hugged, Dr. Laura Slater-perhaps a bit too hard- and thanked her for saving our Mighty Quinn. When I described the circumstances of the ordeal, I detected a slight rim of moisture in her eyes. They see a lot at these places, but this one, at least, had a very happy ending.

Dr. Angela J. Smith post-op check-up. Petaluma Veterinary Hosptal

My mother hated most living creatures and especially Quinn, because, she claimed that, on Thanksgiving Day, after our last visit with her, Quinn took a "dump" (she had a more colorful term) in her carefully, coiled-up, garden hose...so much for the Transylvanian smiting on an innocent, helpless, shelter dog.

But, seriously, the timing of everything was simply bizarre. That evening, the temperatures were unusually warm (72º F) for mid-January. The luminous, blood-orange, full moon aptly captured the mood of a day and the lunacy of it all. My sister and I are convinced that Quinn did indeed survive the “Bitch-slap” from Hell[ena].

The Mighty Quinn Lives! Michael checks up on his little buddy a few days later

At Midnight, Feb.17, 2009, all televisions will switch from analog to 100% digital!

2009-01-07T20:31:00.000-08:00

I hate change! What was wrong with the old rabbit ears method?

Of course, when the next major solar flare knocks out all electronic communications, everyone will be moaning about how great the old dial phones, T.V.'s and radios used to be. I can barely read my cell phones incoming calls, much less text! I have a feeling it's all about charging for the things that used to be relatively free. Am I right, or what?

¡THE MIGHTY QUINN!

2008-11-20T17:45:00.000-08:00

This joke made Quinn crackup!

Q: "What do you get when you cross an insomniac, an agnostic and a dyslexic?

A: Someone who stays up all night wondering if there is a Dog.”

~ attributed to Groucho Marx

...and now for your listening pleasure...

2008-11-17T09:21:00.000-08:00

Herbie Hancock (1973) Album: Headhunters

Watermelon Man

Featuring Bennie Maupin on horn, plus and a funk-ified rhythm section: Paul Jackson, Harvey Mason and Bill Summers.

When I listen to this piece of music it makes this crazy world a bit more calm and enjoyable. Let me know what you think?

Some Things Are So Very Thong

2008-10-01T18:52:00.000-07:00

photo images:UK Daily Mail

Humankind never ceases to amaze when it comes to the ingenuity and torturous methods applied to the improvement of the female form. The newest development, aptly named the Double-O Thong, is the latest piece of personal hardware to evoke clandestine sexiness with which to snag a man.

Just a few nano seconds ago, being stick thin was the preferred look. Then, it was thin with gigantic boobs. And now, it's thin, with big hooters and a round, lush tushie. One out of three is not good enough. You've got to have all of them. All of these physical attributes involve some sort of pain and for those fortunate to have them all naturally, the inevitability of their loss is no consolation.

Of course, as it is with the Wonder Bra, that crafty, uplifting device which renders flat chests into perky protuberances, the conundrum becomes problematic as the romantic juices begin to flow, and the clothes start to peel off. Now the jig is up. But, The Double O Thong which, enhances and lifts the sagging buttocks, presents an even more catastrophic dilemma. Say, that by some small miracle you manage to wriggle out of the contraption without alerting the poor schlepp; now there are are those nasty creases which have been embedded into your skin-plus the redness of the constricted blood flow. The light definitely needs to be turned off!

I'm going to invent an at-home, shrink-wrap, vacuum device that encases my entire body in cellophane, sucks out the air, smoothes the wrinkles and leaves me gasping sexily. Of course, I'll look like a sausage, but then, men like that too.

Honey, get the lights will you?

Click here to listen to"I like Big Butts"

Autumn Leaves

2008-09-22T22:55:00.000-07:00

It doesn't get much better than this...
Cannonball Adderley, Miles Davis,Hank Jones, Sam Jones & Art Blakey

North Coast California-Bodega

2008-08-31T09:35:00.000-07:00

Summertime and the living is easy...

2008-08-25T21:37:00.000-07:00

The Ray Brown Trio featuring Gene Harris at the piano

Emerald Bay at Lake Tahoe, California

Thank You America!

2008-07-04T08:10:00.001-07:00

Today, July Fourth, is a day which reminds me of all the good fortune that the United States of America has bestowed me. As the child of immigrant parents, who fled the Russian Army, became refugees in Austria and ultimately made their way through Ellis Island, I reflect upon this day how lucky I was to be born here. My cousins, aunts and uncles in Transylvania suffered decades of brutal dictatorship under Nicolae Ceausescu and Soviet domination. My relatives in West Berlin lived inside mortared walls crowned with concertina wire for 40 years.

My parents, Hermann and Helena had the guts to leave everything behind, enter a new land, work their way up the ladder from chicken farmers and cleaning houses, learn a new language, take night classes for U.S. citizenship and after five years they proudly exclaimed that they too, were "Americans". They didn't receive welfare and didn't expect it either. That was for people who needed help. My sister and I were taught to respect the country that graciously took us in, retain our language, however, be mindful that speaking another language in public was rude and that people would think that we were talking about them.

Photo: My mother (foreground) onboard the ship to Ellis Island, Christmas Eve, 1949

Today it seems that some Americans are ashamed to fly the flag, sing the national anthem and say the Pledge of Allegiance. I am not. Whatever grievances an individual has, there is no other country in the world that allows you to voice them, blog about them, or simply hold a different opinion. Its imperfections are certainly there, however, it is a work in progress and well worth fighting for! You can criticize a president, step on the US flag and protest until you have to finally come down from that tree-but you have the right to do it and you also have the right to say, "Thank you America", thank you soldiers, thank you Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln and all of our prescient forefathers for creating a constitution and an opportunity for a government that has astounding possibilities an opportunities unlike any other!

Happy Fourth of July!