Three weeks until Torino
Really I was looking for an excuse to post this photo from a transalpine flight of a few years back, but the Olympics are three weeks away. I can’t wait to see how many countrymen take home the Olympic donut.
Guilt-free flatulence
My oldest son has manners, damnit. The kid is just polite. Bless you, thank you, may I? And when he farts, well, he’s quick with a “scoo-me” which is the “excuse me” apology for those with little time for extra syllables. Problem is, he’s too polite about it. For some reason he thinks that every part of the fart — every discrete fart quanta, if you will — must be separately excused. Imagine if you will (and please pardon the excursion into the vulgar if you don’t have kids) a child gatlin-gunning flatulence which bystanders cannot hear while saying “scoo-me scoo-me …. scoo-me” for each occurence. (At least he no longer calls the act “passing gassing”. That was just unbearably cute.)
Worse, he thinks he must do it no matter when it happens. He’ll be mid-sentence: “I was swinging at — scoo-me — the park — scoo-me scoo-me — and this kid walked in front — scoo-me — of me …” It is out of control. How out of control? Well, when he’s pooping behind a closed bathroom door you will hear the poor Emily Post mutant crooning scoo-me as he actually defecates. That’s just wrong. The crapper is sacrosanct. Do what you will in there with no repercussions, son. It is your temporary kingdom.
We have told him this. But he’s just so damn polite. Scoo-me.
I caffè dei sorrisi
Smile, you’re drinking authentic Italian capuccino. (Rionero in Vulture, Italy, 2003)
(The site was getting too text-heavy, OK? Had to break it up a bit.)
Conferences call
Gonna be at a couple of conferences in March. If you’re attending and want to meet up, drop me a line.
March 11-14, South by Southwest, Austin. Very first panel. Yeah there’ll be tons of people there.
March 22-25, Museums and the Web, Albuquerque. No paper this year (and no Best of the Web!), just glad to observe for a change.
Oh, also, the video from my presentation at UCLA is available online. Prepare to be rivetted to your seat.
Get in here before we both starve!

In all the RSS retooling I forgot to mention that the original site feed (no comments, no marginalia) has changed. If you follow Ascent Stage in a newsreader and you want this feed please make sure to subscribe to https://www.ascentstage.com/atom.xml. All other feeds are at the bottom of the home page.
Less than a million little pieces
Some things I’m liking lately. (I swear this is all true.)
- iTunes 6.0.2 contains a barely-documented feature (see image near bottom) that I am really loving. iTunes can now stream music wirelessly to multiple Airport Express units running firmware 6.3 or, if you have only one, it can play music from your computer simultaneously with the remote speakers. Shoulda been possible originally, but hey I’ll take it. This is basically the Sonos system without the custom network, custom controller, and powered speakers in every room.
- Gigabit Ethernet ‘tween ThinkPad, Powermac, and Lacie network hard drive. File transfer bliss. Just getting the plumbing right before embarking on mass DVD-ripping.
- Picasa. Hey, I bought iLife ’06 merely for the new iPhoto and it is good. But Picasa, Google’s desktop image catalog, is even better — and free.
- Chandler 0.6. This is the best ical-compatible calendar app for PC that is available. Mozilla Calendar/Sunbird has made virtually no public progress in the last nine months so I started looking around. Not sure if Chandler will make it — and it is a fairly unselfconscious rip-off of Apple’s iCal, but for now it does the job.
- LinkedIn. Social networking/contact management. You know you’re a loser when you join an online networking site because you see your friend using it, rather than being invited by one of the hundreds of people you know who are already on it. I’m off the grid!
Putting the kids to bed
Two tips.
- When exploring the novelty of bathing your children in the master bathroom tub — a novelty because it is a jacuzzi-style tub with jets — be sure to check the cleanliness of said jets before turning them on. After I had recently finished soaping the boys we thought it was time to churn the water a bit so … rumble rumble … up powered the jets. And out spewed chunks of mildew fragments, breaking the surface of the water like so many moldy sub-launched ICBM’s and leaving the boys looking like they’d just had a brussel sprouts fight.
- Check the fishtank in the child’s bedroom for dead/dying marine life before letting him approach for the nighly feeding. You never know when the mundane task of apathetically flushing another dead fishie down the toilet will become a moment of sobbing emotional catharsis. Enough Nemo- or Bambi-viewings and sooner or later the kid will understand that a dead pet is not coming back. My oldest son dropped to his knees, sopping, bawling, and covered in mildew spew, folded his hands heavenward and immediately began telling his recently-deceased great-grandfather how to take care of Fred the fish. (Who knew the kid had even named it?)
Thank me later.
Pasta as pastime
I am able to screw up cooking a meal even when I follow the recipe precisely so it was particularly foolhardy of me to get a jump on my new year resolution to cook more by trying to put together dinner Saturday night based on a short narrative passage in a travelogue. But since I had the kids without wifely backup I decided to at least fill the time with enough potential for mess and chaos as to keep them interested.
Tip: if you have kids and a pasta machine, use it. My boys loved it. Making pasta is hard to screw up in a machine*. Just pour in flour, some eggs, optional dry ingredients and then watch it ooze out of the template you screw on. It looks somewhat excretory or vermiculate or both, which of course is nothing but fun for little kids. Pulling the strands and cutting them off with scissors also scores high marks. How often do you get to use arts and crafts supplies in the kitchen? Next up: Elmer’s Glue.
We made the pasta, called lagane, a type of wide strand noodle from the Basilicata region, out of wheat flour for inclusion in a simple sauce also from the region. Actually everything from Basilicata is simple. It is the most poverty-stricken part of the country (which is why so many of its people emigrated, thanks great-grandpa!) and so recipes are always simple, if sometimes unfamiliar. Great for a guy trying to learn to cook. The sauce was comprised of olive oil, garlic, chili peppers (always in dishes from Basilicata), tomatoes, walnuts, and basil. Turned out wonderful.
The other, riskier dish culled from the travelogue mentioned above is called ciambutella, a kind of omelette of Italian sausage (and pancetta, but we had none), peppers, zucchini, potatoes, onion, tomatoes, olive oil, herbs, and of course eggs. You eat it on cross-sections of crusty bread, like bruschetta or crostini. My guess is that I should have doubled the egg quantity as it seemed to be little more than cooked veggies with sausage. Not bad, of course, especially with the pasta dish, but still.
Lastly, a real crowd-pleaser (remember my crowd): R2D2 Treats. Half of a banana covered in melted white chocolate and chopped peanuts and flanked by two pieces of Kit Kat. This is the droid you are looking for.
Please note: my new year resolution did not include cleaning up the kitchen after cooking.
[*] Unless the machine fails to turn on. At which point I considered panic as the children were all geared up for pasta and the only way to do it was manually. Hand-cutting pasta is only slightly more fun than peeling a carrot with a fork. A Fonzie-like thwack on the side started the unit, thank god.
La Befana

Today the main Catholic church in Chicago’s Little Italy celebrated La Befana, the good witch of the epiphany. The story goes that Befana was a little old lady who took the three kings in for a meal and rest on their way to Christ’s birth in Bethlehem. They asked her to join them but being too busy with housework she declined, only later realizing that she had missed an opportunity to witness the birth of the savior. So she packed up some gifts and set out to find them and the baby, but she never did and continues wandering the earth (a bit creepy, no?) depositing gifts in children’s stockings to make up for missing Christ’s birth. Typically the gifts are treats of some kind. Even the coal is sweet.
For our family, La Befana marks the end of exactly one month of gift-giving mayhem. It starts on Dec. 6. with the Dutch tradition of putting out shoes for St. Nicholas moves through the pagan-Christian-consumerist Christmas festivities and ends with the Italian tradition of La Befana. Phew. Multiculturalism is tiring.
See also: The Legend of Old Befana by Tomie De Paolo, a great kid’s book.
Stork
Confronted with the double-whammy of having to explain to our sons that there was a new baby coming and that the nanny wouldn’t be around as much, we chose the easier of the two. Sat ’em on the couch, pulled up mommy’s shirt (my job) and said, “Boys, mommy has a baby in her tummy.” Blank stares. “Guys, you are going to have a new brother or sister soon.”
“When?” As in, like later today or tomorrow morning? “In May.”
“Oh, that’s great. Can we see?” Now both are off the couch, poking, prodding the belly. The youngest thinks the belly button is the baby.
Then … the question. “So, how did it get in there?”
Mommy lunges for her stack of baby books. Index, index — “Babies, questions on where they come from” — damnit, where is the index?!
I rock back and start in my best 1950’s public service ad narrator’s voice, “well, son, when a man and a woman love each other very much –”
OH NO OH NO! I HAVE TO GO POOPY RIGHT NOW! He darts off for the toilet and completely forgets his question.
Saved by a crap attack. Isn’t it wonderful?