Back in my bagel baking days, I used to know a thing or two about yeast.  My game has been shamelessly rusty of late, so I have started @ Genesis with a catch new work with a straightforward title: "Artisian Bread in Five Minutes a Day".

A collaboration between Jeff Hertzberg (kind of a regular dude) and Zoe Francois (kind of a kick ass chef), it presents ex-bakers like me a Class II rapid on regaining our game. 

The book is presciptive and slightly technical for righ-brainers, but keep on it!  As Collette Tatou chides Alfredo Linguini, "Follow the recipe!"

Baking bread is soulful, tasty and transportive.  It is floured-out therapy for a high-fructose corn syrup world.

Yesterday, our sweet Bubbeh Lu passed on peacefully after 91 amazing years of Life.

As we made our pilgrimage to Florida (where else) to shepherd her through the transition, I learned many things:

1. Hospice care is truly amazing; the caregivers are kind, intuitive and filled with grace.  Curiously, Hospice in the U.S. (which now serves 1.2M citizens each year), got it start under the Reagan Administration.
2. Being with someone when they pass on is a mitzvah.
3. Grandparents matter.

So on #3, my analogy is this; if parents are like video footage, tracking every moment from the most minute to the big ones, then grandparents are like cover-of-Life photos. 

When I consider how my Bubbeh and I meshed together, it seems to be a highlight real.  The perfect Florida holiday, replete with that moment when I would splash her "Friday hair-do" in the pool.  Taking me to the PUB ROOM in Miami Beaching and allowing me to select the audacious rum raisin dessert log from the tray of delights (yes, I got sick).  The journeys ot Sea World, Disneyworld and EPCOT Center (yes, got sick there too, thanks to the cotton candy Grandma Lu would score for us). 

Lipstick on my cheek at my Bar Mitzvah.  Lipstick on my cheek at my brother's Bar Mitzvah.  Lipstick on my cheek for graduating from Penn.  Lipstick on my cheek for graduating from Penn.  Lipstick on my cheek just because.

Driving on A1A near South Beach and calling out another driver as an A-hole.  (Grandma Lu would henceforth admit that she sometimes employed the "F-word" while driving.  "I don't say it, Adam.  But I think it!"

I cannot recall a single savory dish that my Bubbeh made in the kitchen.  But I do remember that she ordered Dover sole at fancy joints, and that she baked the meanest mandel brot this side of Keltz.

All the Yiddish. . . seiz keit (sweet thing), shana punam (pretty head), a glic gut mier gatrufen (how lovely for you . . . as in "thanks for interrupting our discussion to share about your new promotion at work. A glic gut mier gatrufen!"

Talking on the phone instructing her how to operate the new Sony VCR we had gifted her one year.  In the end, it was simply letting her know that the green button curiously labeled "Power" was a good place to start.

By now, it is my hope and expectation that you are waxing nostalgic over your own highlights of why your zadies, bubbehs, nonnas, abuelitos, oji-san's, pop pops and grandmas matter.  They are that singular soul who spawns endless,, grand memories.

With Grandma Lu's passing this week, a nod to the *nosher* in all of us:

Tea ceremony --
fragrant steam perfumes the air.
Try the cheese Danish.

Testing the warm milk
on her wrist, she sighs softly.
But her son is forty.

“The medium is the message.” 

 

So quipped Marshall McLuhan in his 1964 treatment “Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man”.  From an early age, I have nurtured a not-so-secret fascination upon the art of communication.  Timber, posture, tone and timing.  In concert, these elements of delivery act as a kind of sticky glue for our brains.  We are transfixed and utterly content to absorb most messages as long as the conductor of the train is engaging. 

 

Historically, sticky media have been put to sinister use.  We need only look at fascism in the 20^th century to understand this. Yet, in most respects, laudable communication is a force of good in the world. 

 

Case in point, Benjamin Zander’s relentless argument that classical music (Chopin?  Time for a nap.) can appeal to the very pith of all of us (Chopin?  I am craving the E!).  Zander, appearing at the 2008 TED, sends up the art as an analogy for nurturing with care and focus, the Art of the Possible.  It’s 20 minutes, but worth it.

The sparrow brings home
too many worms for her young.
"Force yourself," she chirps.

Last week I found myself surrounded . . . by row after row (wall after wall) of crazy, cool, funky, blusey, hand banging, finger tapping electric guitars! 

The place was (sweltering hot Orlando, FLA), and the host was the Hard Rock group, purveyous of $16 hamburgers and scores of all things rock.

If you cannot make it to the "Guitar Annex", I reco trying Deep Zoom, a great way to experience all of the legendary axes in between borishly lame budget meetings.

An amazing graphic map tracing the movements of a black bear in BALLARD!

I feel much better, knowing that we are not the only one's encountering these days.

With a short window of time, Megumu and I decided to go hiking close to Seattle on Mother's Day.  We selected Coal Creek Park just south of the I-90/I-405 interchange.  Known for its shady glenns and gentle elevation gain, it started off as the perfect 4-miler.

At about mile 1.7, we were dazzled, humbled and stunned to encounter a mother black bear and her cub lumbering in our general direction!  Luckily, it was a sighting and not an "incident"!

The link to our Garmin 405's shows the precise point of the encounter.  Notice how close to suburbia this all was!  Further, notice how much our pace quickened and how much our HR BPM jacked!!!

           How beautiful the
        tulips in the garden are
            My allergies. Oy!