Just coming in the last couple of days. The chorus I am just in love with; verses are mumbled pre-shadows of what may or may not come; I hear spartan, smoky sax; bass, of course; maybe background vocals/wails/murmurs; Hammond organ? (why not!); and a much smarter lead guitar player (Jeff Stanley?).
Thank you for listening:
Chorus (I'm tuned down 1/2-step): Am - Bm - E7 - D7 - FM7 - E7 - Am - C - Dm - Am
Oh heck, I've got to include this video of Jeff (website) playing lead - taken by his brother, phtographer Peter Stanley.
Pretty Sure CNN's Twitter Account Has Been Hacked
Why do I say that?
Cuz this (click to enlargenate):
Link - which will no doubt be fixed soon - here.
Time right now: 10:04 AM Sydney time; 3:04 PM U.S. West Coast time.
Update: There were more.
Cuz this (click to enlargenate):
Link - which will no doubt be fixed soon - here.
Time right now: 10:04 AM Sydney time; 3:04 PM U.S. West Coast time.
Update: There were more.
Double Drummer Cicada
Holy cats:
Found this beauty at the tide pool here in Collaroy yesterday. It's Thopha saccata, the Double Drummer cicada, native only to a sliver of far eastern, primarily coastal New South Wales and Queensland. (Wikipedia page here.)
They're enormous:
A good deal larger than the cicadas I knew growing up in Buffalo, New York. (Or in Oregon.)
They're also loud. From AustralianMuseum.net:
In this photo, of our cicada's underside, and still on the subject of sound, you can see where the Double Drummer gets its name:
Do you see those reddish-brown sacs on either side of its abdomen? Those are the Double Drummer's "double drums," as it were. They're the two air sacs all cicadas have and use to amplify the sounds they produce, and while all cicadas have them, they are usually not as large and visible as they are on this variety—hence this one's name.
Also in that belly up photo, you can see the cicada's long, black, tubular mouthparts that it uses to pierce plants in order to feed:
An interesting note about the Double Drummer, from the AustralianMuseum.net link above:
All in all a beautiful bug:
• Here's a good ABC article on Australia's many cicada species.
Note: Thanks to commenter honeyheights below for informing me that this is not a Black Prince cicada. Corrections made accordingly.
Found this beauty at the tide pool here in Collaroy yesterday. It's Thopha saccata, the Double Drummer cicada, native only to a sliver of far eastern, primarily coastal New South Wales and Queensland. (Wikipedia page here.)
They're enormous:
A good deal larger than the cicadas I knew growing up in Buffalo, New York. (Or in Oregon.)
They're also loud. From AustralianMuseum.net:
One of the loudest of all cicadas, the Double Drummer's high-pitched erratic whine sounds a bit like a bad bagpipe player. When populations are dense, these cicadas are almost unbearable to be near when they sing in unison.Here's a good article on how cicadas produce their amazing sounds. And a video. And a recording.
In this photo, of our cicada's underside, and still on the subject of sound, you can see where the Double Drummer gets its name:
Do you see those reddish-brown sacs on either side of its abdomen? Those are the Double Drummer's "double drums," as it were. They're the two air sacs all cicadas have and use to amplify the sounds they produce, and while all cicadas have them, they are usually not as large and visible as they are on this variety—hence this one's name.
Also in that belly up photo, you can see the cicada's long, black, tubular mouthparts that it uses to pierce plants in order to feed:
The mouth parts of the cicada are enclosed in a long, thin, beak-like sheath. The sheath (labium) passes backwards from the lower surface of the head between the legs when the insect is not feeding. It contains four fine, needle-like stylets used in feeding.(Just to note, this cicada appears to have had its butt end eaten off. They normally have a nice pointy end, as seen in the images provided in the links above.)
An interesting note about the Double Drummer, from the AustralianMuseum.net link above:
The Double Drummer seems to have a tendency to fly out to sea. Thousands of individuals have been reported as far as 8 km offshore. Their bodies are sometimes washed up on beaches.Which may be why I found this guy in the tide pools.
All in all a beautiful bug:
Note: Thanks to commenter honeyheights below for informing me that this is not a Black Prince cicada. Corrections made accordingly.
New Song Draft
"Oh, Buffalo."
Used my Mac, and PhotoBooth to get this, and while it's fine on PhotoBooth, during the transfer the video and audio went slightly out of sync. Which drives me nuts. But I redid it three times and I'm not doing it again.
Used my Mac, and PhotoBooth to get this, and while it's fine on PhotoBooth, during the transfer the video and audio went slightly out of sync. Which drives me nuts. But I redid it three times and I'm not doing it again.
Egg Reside Dried in Stainless Steel Bowl, 11-13
Egss were mixed in a stainless steel bowl. [I had originally written that it was aluminum. Because I'm an idiot, as my wife was happy to point out.] The residue remained in the bowl for twenty-four hours or so. It did this. I do not know why it did this.
A few more:
CARROT GREEN-ONION LEEK CINNAMON SOUP
CARROT GREEN-ONION LEEK CINNAMON SOUP
I invented this soup yesterday. It surprised me - and even surprised (the famously fussy) Christine! Give it a go!
Rating: A +++ This makes a thin-brothed soup with just the right amount of cinnamony sweetness—meaning not too much—combining perfectly with the savory zestiness produced by the tomato, leek, garlic, and cumin, all of this going smashingly well with the carrot pieces. Just very, very good.
Ingredients (for 2)
2 fat cloves garlic
1 fat bunch green onions
1 fat leek
1 big fat carrot
2 tomatoes
1 small carton vegetable stock
Balsamic vinegar
Soy sauce
Cumin
Cinnamon
Directions
Heat a few tablespoons of good olive oil in soup pot - good and hot
Chop garlic into very tiny pieces
Chop green onions into smallish pieces, well up into the green
Slice leek into thin slices
Add the above to very hot oil in pot, stir a bit
Chop carrot into big fat pieces
When the garlic, onions, and leek have gone a good bit soft, add carrot chunks, stir
Slice tomatoes into medium size pieces
When carrot has cooked some - 3 to 5 minutes or so - add tomato to pot, stir
Add a healthy splash of vinegar
Add a bit of soy sauce
Throw a good dash of cumin in
Throw a bit of cinnamon in, stir, stir, stir: you are going to want to be able to taste the cinnamon properly, so do not be shy - but don't go crazy, as too much cinnamon = very bad
Slowly add vegetable stock - keep pot noisy and sizzling/bubbling - stirring as you do
Turn heat down and let it cook for a while - and here's an important note: you want the carrots to be pretty firm, but you want them to have soaked up all the goodness of the other ingredients! So use the carrots as a texture-taste tester timer!
Eat, then...victory!
(We ate it with rice.)
I invented this soup yesterday. It surprised me - and even surprised (the famously fussy) Christine! Give it a go!
Rating: A +++ This makes a thin-brothed soup with just the right amount of cinnamony sweetness—meaning not too much—combining perfectly with the savory zestiness produced by the tomato, leek, garlic, and cumin, all of this going smashingly well with the carrot pieces. Just very, very good.
Ingredients (for 2)
2 fat cloves garlic
1 fat bunch green onions
1 fat leek
1 big fat carrot
2 tomatoes
1 small carton vegetable stock
Balsamic vinegar
Soy sauce
Cumin
Cinnamon
Directions
Heat a few tablespoons of good olive oil in soup pot - good and hot
Chop garlic into very tiny pieces
Chop green onions into smallish pieces, well up into the green
Slice leek into thin slices
Add the above to very hot oil in pot, stir a bit
Chop carrot into big fat pieces
When the garlic, onions, and leek have gone a good bit soft, add carrot chunks, stir
Slice tomatoes into medium size pieces
When carrot has cooked some - 3 to 5 minutes or so - add tomato to pot, stir
Add a healthy splash of vinegar
Add a bit of soy sauce
Throw a good dash of cumin in
Throw a bit of cinnamon in, stir, stir, stir: you are going to want to be able to taste the cinnamon properly, so do not be shy - but don't go crazy, as too much cinnamon = very bad
Slowly add vegetable stock - keep pot noisy and sizzling/bubbling - stirring as you do
Turn heat down and let it cook for a while - and here's an important note: you want the carrots to be pretty firm, but you want them to have soaked up all the goodness of the other ingredients! So use the carrots as a texture-taste tester timer!
Eat, then...victory!
(We ate it with rice.)
Underbelly Anniversary
Yesterday late afternoon we were sitting on the veranda reading and chatting and whatnot and Christine said, "You want to go out to eat somewhere?"
I said, "Hmmmmmmm yeah no, not really."
Then I felt bad. We rarely go out to eat.
"Sorry," I said.
Christine said, "That's alright, maybe tomorrow."
Then she said something else.
"Happy Anniversary."
And then she bent her head back to her newspaper, nonchalantly.
The thing that happened in my mind at that moment is almost impossible to describe. I could still see, sort of, but none of what I could see meant anything. My mind was a kind of sharp, white blank you imagine one experiences while being attacked by a large shark. My breathing went shallow. Then it stopped altogether. I felt my mind grasping fat-fingered for something, something I knew was dreadfully important, but that I could not put a name or even a meaning on. It has a shape, I thought. It's big, and block-shaped. It's...it's a MONTH! A MONTH! What is a month? I had no idea. But I knew, deep in my blood, that it was very, very important.
I was finally able to hold this "month" thing in my mind, and determine that these things have names. "August" floated up from the depths of my horror. That's not it, I thought.
Christine was looking at me - queerly - all this time. Several seconds had passed.
Then, I rose, as if a diver, perhaps in Antarctic waters - without a suit - and, in slow, slow motion, broke the surface of the water, with a name on the quivering edges of my mind: "Oc...to...ber."
Oh...dear...
Oc...to...ber...5th...
Oh...no...dear....
"Is it," I asked, in a voice like breaking glass, a far, far away voice that didn't really want to be itself, "October...5th?"
I can only describe Christine at this point as something like a child who has just witnessed several elephants suddenly standing on their hindlegs and expertly swiveling hula-hoops around their hips. She clearly found this torture session of mine a very special kind of amusing.
I of course deserved it.
Thankfully, it was October 4. I had, I must confess, somehow not registered the coming October 5. I kick myself for this. Bad, bad husband.
Christine was of course very forgiving. Did I deserve that, too? Hrrm.
Today we are taking a long city bus ride downtown, to watch one of the largest fireworks shows ever conceived - over the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House.
Just for us.
Happy 11th Anniversary, baby. I love you more than this...
I said, "Hmmmmmmm yeah no, not really."
Then I felt bad. We rarely go out to eat.
"Sorry," I said.
Christine said, "That's alright, maybe tomorrow."
Then she said something else.
"Happy Anniversary."
And then she bent her head back to her newspaper, nonchalantly.
The thing that happened in my mind at that moment is almost impossible to describe. I could still see, sort of, but none of what I could see meant anything. My mind was a kind of sharp, white blank you imagine one experiences while being attacked by a large shark. My breathing went shallow. Then it stopped altogether. I felt my mind grasping fat-fingered for something, something I knew was dreadfully important, but that I could not put a name or even a meaning on. It has a shape, I thought. It's big, and block-shaped. It's...it's a MONTH! A MONTH! What is a month? I had no idea. But I knew, deep in my blood, that it was very, very important.
I was finally able to hold this "month" thing in my mind, and determine that these things have names. "August" floated up from the depths of my horror. That's not it, I thought.
Christine was looking at me - queerly - all this time. Several seconds had passed.
Then, I rose, as if a diver, perhaps in Antarctic waters - without a suit - and, in slow, slow motion, broke the surface of the water, with a name on the quivering edges of my mind: "Oc...to...ber."
Oh...dear...
Oc...to...ber...5th...
Oh...no...dear....
"Is it," I asked, in a voice like breaking glass, a far, far away voice that didn't really want to be itself, "October...5th?"
I can only describe Christine at this point as something like a child who has just witnessed several elephants suddenly standing on their hindlegs and expertly swiveling hula-hoops around their hips. She clearly found this torture session of mine a very special kind of amusing.
I of course deserved it.
Thankfully, it was October 4. I had, I must confess, somehow not registered the coming October 5. I kick myself for this. Bad, bad husband.
Christine was of course very forgiving. Did I deserve that, too? Hrrm.
Today we are taking a long city bus ride downtown, to watch one of the largest fireworks shows ever conceived - over the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House.
Just for us.
Happy 11th Anniversary, baby. I love you more than this...
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