Ploafmaster General

The following photos are a long time coming, but last October I took Maddie on her first camping trip. It was all part of a problematically-themed YMCA program (though I'm happy to report they're ditching all the problematic parts starting this spring), but it was a great way to introduce her to sleeping in a tent outside in a low pressure environment: a daddy-daughter group excursion to a YMCA camp facility.

It was a resounding success. You can just see it in her face in that black and white photo—a twinkle in her eyes and the hint of a smile almost visible above the lip of her rain jacket, standing there in the drizzle.

  <img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/889f2-e100_camping102018_012.jpg" alt="" />

Despite 40ºF overnight temperatures and howling, gusty winds, my daughter instantly loved the whole camping experience. Whether it was sleeping in a tent, or spending an entire day outside, or simply poking at a fire with a stick, I saw a child in her element. We get to do the whole thing over again in late April, and we're both pretty excited about it.

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="2500.0"]<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/2fb82-e100_camping102018_008.jpg" alt=" I shot this all on my first roll of Kodak’s new E100 slide film, by the way. And I am  loving  the colors. " />  I shot this all on my first roll of Kodak’s new E100 slide film, by the way. And I am  loving  the colors. [/caption] 




   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="2500.0"]<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/d818a-e100_camping102018_005.jpg" alt=" You’d think she was about to try some improvised spear-fishing… " />  You’d think she was about to try some improvised spear-fishing… [/caption] 




   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="2500.0"]<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/239cd-e100_camping102018_023.jpg" alt=" They even had a station for the gals to make their own tie-dyed shirts! " />  They even had a station for the gals to make their own tie-dyed shirts! [/caption] 




   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="2500.0"]<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/eb6a8-e100_camping102018_016-edit.jpg" alt=" Poking at the fire with a stick really was one of the group’s favorite activities. " />  Poking at the fire with a stick really was one of the group’s favorite activities. [/caption] 




   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="2500.0"]<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/c717a-e100_camping102018_021.jpg" alt=" Even with my careful slow-roasting method, Maddie isn’t much a fan of toasted shmallows. " />  Even with my careful slow-roasting method, Maddie isn’t much a fan of toasted shmallows. [/caption]

I recently mentioned Fire & Hops Pizza Co. on this site writing about the "craft" pizza + "craft" beer non-trend I've noticed around Richmond, VA. Well this week I took the time to give it a try. Short version? It was good, and I'd like to go back for more.

I'm no beer expert, but if beer is in (or implied by) the name, I expect to see a variety on the menu. I saw a few reliable favorites, but it was Bingo Beer's lager that caught my attention, and proved to be the right drink for my lunch options. I tried some of their house-made mozzarella sticks (tree trunks, really) which were delicious, but definitely intended for sharing. I feel like we used to see more batter-dipped mozzarella sticks in my youth, but if they're going to be breaded, these were great. I had one and shared the rest with my family at home.

The main event for me was pizza, and my standard practice is trying out a "plain" pie when I eat at a new place. While I think I could have ordered a shredded cheese-topped red pizza from the build-your-own option, the Margherita was the true basic choice since Napoletana pizza is clearly the intended style. And you know what? It was tasty. I gave honest feedback to the...owner? GM?...when he asked; I think a Margherita shouldn't have so much cheese (it has a tendency to all come off at once), and I prefer the fresher, less wilted taste and texture you get when the basil is added post-oven. But the pizza tasted good, and that's what matters most. Flavorful, chewy crust that held its structure without being too thick, just enough simple and tasty sauce, and a bit of leoparding on the bottom.

I'd like to go back and explore other parts of the menu, and even some of the other house pizzas and toppings. A number of the pasta dishes really caught my eye as well. I think next time I'll bring the family.

Here's a shot from my first roll of Cinestill's BwXX film, which is basically Kodak's Eastman Double-X cinema film loaded in 35mm still cartridges. I didn't know whether I'd like this stuff all that much, but it's gorgeously silvery, and the highlights have a soft glow on some of the brighter frames.

So this is Wilson from back in October 2018, just chillin' on the sofa. And I finally sent my film back to good ol' Praus Productions up in Rochester, and I'm sure glad I did. They did a fantastic job on this and some othe rolls. I did a little pre-scan histogram adjustments, and didn't have to do much else other than remove a few specks of dust in post.

At any rate, this is still $10/roll straight from the source. For my preferences, I'd get a similar look from Ilford's FP4 (even though it's slower film) at a much cheaper price. You could buy a 100' roll for $90 and bulk load, which gets you down to about $5/roll. But really, I don't shoot a lot of 35mm anymore, and this stock is only available in 35mm. So it was fun to shoot, I got some nice results, and I still have 1 more roll to give it another go. But that'll probably be the end of it for me.

My family had the pleasure of brunching at some friends' house on Sunday. For this particular group of friends we're all used to bringing something to share, but with limited time to prepare any food, I offered up a brunch cocktail. The hosts approved, so I decided to make the classic Corpse Reviver №2 using a fine recipe from Saveur. This is a bright, citrusy tipple that works well with rich brunch fare, and it's stupid-easy to make because of the equal portions of each main ingredient. The problem, of course, is that I didn't want to hover over a bar measuring and shaking cocktails instead of socializing. So I went for a batch instead.

Normally this cocktail is shaken and strained into a coupe, so I made a standard cocktail the night before but strained into a measuring cup so I could get a sense of how much dilution I was adding from the ice. Seeing only about an extra ounce-ish of volume post-strain, I figured I'd be safe to stir in some ice cubes to a batch pour to achieve the desired strength.

On the morning of I juiced all the necessary lemons and then added an equal volume of the juice and each of the spirits to my pitcher. I wasn't going to shake 1.5 quarts of cocktail, so I sloshed the whole thing around with a whisk to mix it all together. I brought the whole pitcher to our friends' home along with some small, recyclable cocktail cups, a measuring cup, my little spray bottle of good absinthe, and a zip-lock bag of lemon zest strips I'd peeled that morning as well (the linked recipe above calls for orange zest, but I personally like the way lemon zest's aroma plays with the absinthe a little better).

If somebody wanted a cocktail, I could serve it up in about 30 seconds - mist the inside of a cup with absinthe, add a few ice cubes, and measure/pour 4 ounces of pre-mixed cocktail. Squeeze the zest over the cup and use the peel to give the drink a little stir. All done! The whole thing worked out better than I could have hoped, and I even ended up with a little left over to take home, though I'd better finish that by tonight before the lemon juice loses its zing!

[caption id="" align=“alignnone” width=“1440.0”] This picture is from 2010, but I swear to you she’s barely aged since. [/caption]

Our age in years is less a real measure of development than it is an arbitrary appreciation for round and/or culturaly significant numbers. Teens? Fractions of a century? Marking the decades? "Middle" age—whatever that means? Sure.

But 80...well, that's a long, full life. And I'm super fortunate that my grandmother (mom's mom) celebrates 80 years on earth today. Most of my family calls her "Jammie" (courtesy of my youngest brother when he was a bambino), and this spectacular woman is one of the best people I know.

I spent what feels like half of my childhood at her home by the Jersey Shore. I never realized until I was significantly older how much that time was a shield from the turmoil of my parents' divorce, and a point of access to resources and activities we otherwise couldn't afford. Time spent at Jammie's house was time basking in familial warmth - a warmth that spread through her descendents, an animated, humorous warmth that is one of the hallmarks of my maternal family. For 8 years she taught me to play the piano and instilled a love of music and learning that I carry to this day.

I'm also fortunate that my grandma is in reasonably good health at this age. She's been able to welcome many great grandchildren into the family, and it's conceivable that she could live to be a great-great grandmother, depending on whether/when my oldest nephew has any kids of his own. I smile thinking about the impact and influence she's had on her own expanding family and the countless students and parents she taught and interacted with back in New Jersey before she retired.

Happy Birthday, Jammie. I can't wait to treat you to a nice meal on Saturday.

...if you stop any frame it looks like a [comic] panel.

—Patrick O'Keefe, one of two art directors on Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, via Polygon

I've seen variations on that quote all over the place, and I completely agree. Frame by gorgeous frame, Spider-Verse is a comic book in motion. But it's not just the gorgeous comic book homage that makes this one of my favorite movies in recent years. Of course Spider-Verse deserved its Oscar for Best Animated Feature. But I feel like that's one of two narrow lenses through which people view this movie even if they're a fan: it's a cartoon (however innovative), and it's a comic/superhero movie (however different from the MCU).

I could gush about so many elements of this film (The voice casting/acting! The humane dialog! The production design! The soundtrack! The sound design! The New York-ness of it all!), but I want to draw special attention to the "physical" performances. The animated behavior and characterization of people (or pigs, or robots) in Spider-Verse is what makes it a motion picture and not just a series of comic book panels. In comic books, single panels have to do a lot of visual heavy lifting to convey emotion and subtext. Spider-Verse has plenty of individual frames that could do the trick, but the animators really used the whole medium to create natural and affecting movement that supported the truly excellent voice performances.

One of my favorite examples is when Mile Morales listens to some quotidian Spider-Man advice. Sure, you could pick a great still frame to get a sense of how he's feeling:

  <img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/e99bc-milesdisgust.png" alt="" />

But when you combine an animator's characterization and a whole team's understanding of how people emote, you can see Miles' disbelief transition into disappointment and disgust:

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="480.0"]<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/0ffaa-milesdisgust.gif" alt=" “Anything else?” " />  “Anything else?” [/caption] 

The still frame points us to the emotional response. But the movement—that simulated physical performance—helps us feel it through slumping shoulders, half-rolled eyes, and a subtle head shake.

Another great example happens when alt-universe Peter B. Parker arrives at the high-tech hideout of the story universe's Spider Man. Just look at how over-it he feels in a single frame:

  <img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/5319f-peterdisgust.png" alt="" />

The performance really sells it, though. Alt-universe Peter already feels lost and defeated in his own world. Discovering that the story universe's hero had his own Bat—er, Spider Cave, is one more reminder that he'll never measure up to the perfect Parker:

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="480.0"]<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/0bfce-peterpretentious.gif" alt=" “This place is pretentious.” " />  “This place is pretentious.” [/caption] 

These simulated actors with their simulated performances do real work suspending disbelief, drawing viewers into the world of the movie, and connecting with the audience so they have a reason to care about the characters. When I try to figure out why Spider-Verse means so much to me, this is one of the reasons hinting at the bigger picture. This level of cinematic execution and attention to detail is rare (like, Fury Road or Arrival rare) and should be celebrated, and not just because it moves animation forward both technically and aesthetically. Spider-Verse is the result of a huge collection of artists firing on all cylinders, driving toward a common goal. I feel so lucky to see the result.

Sometimes I overthink minor details so much that I interfere with my ability to have simple social interactions. It's a recent problem for me, really. I am so frequently a prototypical introvert that I need social interaction to get going and stay going.

But then a funny thing happened. I'd been a regular at a coffee shop for so many years that I got tired of the thoughtless responses to "How are you?" and "What have you been up to?". I mean, I get why we tend to answer with, "Fine" and "Oh, not much." The greetings themselves are often perfunctory social expectations and so, therefore, are the responses.

My brain won't leave well enough alone. So then I answer every "How are you?" with "I'll tell you after I have this coffee" or some other groan-inducing quip that I'm sure baristas have never heard a hundred times before. And heaven help us both if you ask me what I've been up to. My brain seizes up twice in a row - first trying simply to remember anything recent (this started pretty much after parenthood), and second when I try to provide a meaningful answer that isn't "Not much". It doesn't matter if you're that self-same barista from the coffee shop that just saw me yesterday, or a close friend I haven't seen in months. Invariably I mumble out some stilted response along the lines of "Not a whole lot but that's not necessarily a bad thing when you're just going day to day with kids and school and work and—hey, no news is bad news, right?—and we'll see if I can get up to anything this weekend if the weather plays nice."

I don't even know if it's vanity; I'm not consciously trying to think of clever answers or sound like I always have an interesting story to tell. Anyway.

So how am I? Pretty good, thanks. And what have I been up to? Eh, not much. You?

I don't wear hats. But I bought this hat. When Taber pointed out that Madison, Alabama had a minor league baseball team called The Rocket City Trash Pandas, I couldn't resist.

I am not getting enough sleep.

Every so often I find myself staring vacantly out of the office window. When I catch myself, I wonder how long I've just been standing there like that.

My neck hurts because I've been nodding off while sitting on the sofa while my kids play with trains or legos or whatever. Sleeping on my face at night has exacerbated the pain.

When I'm really out of it, I get cranky/snippy/just plain awful with my family. I'm more likely to snap at people or lose focus when they're talking to me. This isn't unique to my situation; sleep deprivation brings out the worst in any of us.

I don't have insomnia. I don't know whether I have any sleep disorders, so don't go recommending a CPAP just yet. I make my own sleep problems. I stay up way too late on any given night even though I have a 2.5-year-old alarm clock that's guaranteed to wake me between 6 and 6:30 AM. Whether it's reading, playing a game, or futzing around on the internet, I can't make myself go to bed before 11 most nights.

Lately, I have the attention span of a young dog. My consumption of energy drinks has escalated, but I'm not sure whether it's working. Tonight, when my phone reminds me to go to bed by 10:30 in order to get my desired amount of sleep, I will lie to it for the umpteenth time by tapping "I'm going to bed now."

I am not getting enough sleep.

This week was Dr. Seuss Week at my daughter's elementary school, and today they were supposed to dress up as a character from a favorite Seuss story. So my wife helped make a Fox in Socks outfit by way of accessories!

1. A still frame of Daniel Tiger with tired eyes. Caption—in classic Impact typeface—includes variations of "It's you I like...in my belly."
2. The Tree Hugger Challenge: people share videos of themselves hugging trees. One video includes a man chewing on the bark while hugging a red oak. This variant gets 14,000,000 likes on YouTube and 260,000 likes on Twitter. It is taken down from Facebook after being flagged as inappropriate.
3. People too young to have grown up watching Family Matters start sharing childhood photos. They appear to be static images, but after a few seconds, Jaleel White (not in costume, as an adult) slides into frame while the caption, "Did I do that?" blinks at the top of the picture.
4. Brexiting: disenchanted vloggers rage-quitting by live-streaming a video of their camera (or smartphone) being set on fire until the device dies.
5. Office workers start posting their lunch orders for the day with photographs of minor politicians attached—photos taken in the middle of speaking so it appears the politician's eyes are half closed with a gassy, awkward smile.
6. Looping GIF of a cat barfing itself out of its own mouth. The cat has your face.

There sure are a lot of recent restaurants in town with the pizza + beer formula, huh? It's a trend insofar as it seems to be repeating, but not a "food trend" in the way we think about throwing truffle oil on everything or photos of overwrought entremet on Instagram. And how could pizza and beer be a food trend anyway? The #1 fast food in the world paired with America's #1 category of alcoholic beverage barely counts as a formula so much as a common pairing.

Nevertheless, I count at least four restaurants in Richmond that have opened in the last few years whose very names suggest that gourmet pizza and craft beer are the star players. Pies & Pints is a small chain that opened their spot on Broad Street in the summer of 2016. The Hop Craft Pizza & Beer (that's a mouthful) opened up just south of The Fan in April last year with some interesting pizza and a huge retail beer selection. EAT Restaurant Partners, Richmond's peddlers of mediocrity, opened up Pizza & Beer of Richmond (PBR, har har) a month later up the road in the Cary Street Station development. And now Fire & Hops has taken over Stuzzi's old spot in The Museum District.

Are there any others I'm missing that fit this bill? I don't just mean a place like Mellow Mushroom that happens to have loads of taps, or Triple Crossing's Fulton brewpub with their (excellent) wood-fired pizza. If I ever get the time (let's be realistic...I won't), I might search the city's permit system to see whether anything similar is arriving soon. Fancy-ish pizza and microbrews seem like the sort of things that gentrifying developers would love to set up on Brookland Park Boulevard or Hull Street.

What's in a name? I'll tell you what: the potential for ridicule, misunderstanding, preconceived notions, the presence or absence of mystical significance (depending on what you believe)...but most of all, a lack of input from the owner. Most of us don't get to pick our names until we're legally old enough, but all of us are stuck with any potential drawbacks for the name somebody assigned without our opinion or permission.

I read an insightful article in The Atlantic about kids and their involuntary online lives. I was surprised to read about children as young as 7 realizing that so much information about them was available for all to see. My bias is showing, of course, forgetting how much I was aware of the world around me some 30 years ago. I also didn't grow up in a world where my every move from birth to adulthood could potentially end up in the digital town square - without my opinion or permission. The article reminded me of two conversations I'd had around photographing children.

A barista pal at the coffee shop was rather pointed: parents shouldn't be posting photos of their kids on the internet. It wasn't a matter of safety, but a matter of consent. My gut reaction was dismissal because she was in her mid 20s at the time (and folks in their mid 20s frequently think they've solved the world) and had no children of her own. But I didn't have any good reasons for why I disagreed. "Friends and family want to see the photos!" "Everybody does it!" "They'll post far worse things on their own when they're reckless teenagers!" Those are all deflections. It's easy to cling to the notion that I'm the parent, and my kids have no say until they're adults, but I never had to confront some portion of my youth catalogued in public. All my embarrassing childhood photos were in a shoebox in my mom's closet.

The other conversation was with a friend of mine who is a fine art photographer. Much of her grad school work revolved around children not too different in age from those in the article linked above. She told me that she was starting to focus on the notion of consent - whether children could understand the implication of having their image shaped by a photograph, and working to ensure that children were made aware of what was happening and were okay with it.

Let's be clear: I still take photos of my kids, and I still post them on the internet. It's not just the parental impulse to share about your kids; it's the modern, extremely-online impulse to share anything about my life.

But over the past year, I started to notice that my daughter didn't always want her picture taken. And I'm working hard on respecting that. Since her early refusals, I've tried to make a point of asking whether I can take her picture. Here are a few ideas I'm working on in my head to address the situation, some of which come from that Atlantic article.

• Continue asking my kids (my son is almost 3, so I think I can start asking his permission) if it's okay to photograph them.
• Give an age-appropriate explanation to my daughter (who's old enough to understand some of this) about sharing personal information on the internet, and start asking her permission to share photos publicly. If she says "no", I should respect her wishes.
• If my daughter asks me to remove something after the fact, I should respect her wishes.
• I think I need to do some periodic review with my kids as they get older. Minors aren't supposed to be bound by contracts in the United States, and we have laws governing sexual consent, and the consumption of different vices. Not every kid is capable of independent decision making at the same arbitrary age, but I need to accept that my 5 year old may have a very different view of what's okay for me to share than when she's 15.

I don't think of this as ceding parental authority to the whims and moods of my children. My hope is that I model and help them to understand consent in some pretty basic forms now, while their minds are developing. I have no illusions about staving off reckless online oversharing when they get older, but I can at least show them what it means to have some small control over their lives online.

When I think of most men in my family on either side, I'm rather lucky to have a thick head of hair at the age of thirty-seven. By my age, several of my uncles and great uncles had dramatically receding hair lines or significant bald spots on the backs of their heads. My older brother's hair line steadily retreats each year like an army not yet ready to surrender while my younger brother's entire scalp is increasingly denuded with the march of time. My late father's hair line never quite receded, but his hair had so thinned by the age of forty-eight that he had to run sunblock through it in order to protect his scalp on sunny days.

My hair still resembles a sort of natural-grown Brillo Pad, if increasingly gray. And you know what? I looked in the mirror yesterday after a fresh hair cut and realized that I liked the graying of my hair. I could visulaize my enitre head coverd in dense waves of silvery hair, and I welcome its eventual arrival.

[caption id="" align=“alignnone” width=“1080.0”] The Arrogant Rooster [/caption]

My college friend Cassandra Loomis (about whom I wrote in the past) has been painting animals in the style of classic works for many months. Now the above painting, "The Arrogant Rooster", will be part of a group show at the Glave Kocen gallery in Richmond, opening March 1st! I'm happy for my friend, and encourage you to check it out if you're in the Richmond area. And if you're not? You should follow her on Instagram, and see a couple of my favorites below:

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="640.0"]<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/Br3HOozFPrV/" target="_blank"><img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/02/27ba9-navalofficerllama.jpg" alt=" Naval Officer Llama " /></a>  Naval Officer Llama [/caption] 




  <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/Bq7ulT4FuHG/" target="_blank"><img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/02/80678-margaretvanorangutan.jpg" alt="" /></a>

Oh yes. Reading to other people, sure. Every parent does that (or ought to if life circumstances permit). I read to my kids, too. From an early age, I've read board books, explained every page in a picture book, and assisted with lift-the-flap books. But this past month, my 5-year-old daughter has shown the patience to sit through a novel, one chapter at a time, over the course of a few weeks. This is a big deal for me.

I like the sound of my own voice, but more truthfully I really enjoy reading or speaking to other people, adding dramatic flourish to whatever I'm sharing. In high school I competed in storytelling events (I placed well at the state level reading Jon Scieszka's The Stinky Cheese Man). Starting in college, I read books to Valerie before she was my wife. Now I'm terribly unromantic, so I'll just say it was selfishly motivated; Valerie and I were both reading the Harry Potter series, but because we read at different rates, I thought reading to her would ensure we could talk about the books without spoiling anything for one of us. Our couple's reading time continued out of college and into our marriage as we finished up Harry Potter, with a little bit of To Kill a Mocking Bird thrown in to mix things up.

And that was it, for many years. I'm terrible at reading anything these days, and the quote-unquote golden age of television has taken most of our attention when we want to consume some kind of media, especially after full days of work and parenting.

But then at a January book fair, my daughter judged a book by its cover. She saw a chapter book with a mermaid on the cover, and insisted we get it. Before I said anything, she said that she knew it had no pictures except for the tiny illustrations at the top of each chapter, but she wanted it anyway. The book was cheap enough, and we bought it. I read it to her nearly every night for over two weeks, and she was excited to tell me that she was seeing pictures in her mind about the story I was reading. It was a perfectly innocuous young adult novel (the first in a 6-part series, naturally...), but hardly great literature. If she had the patience to sit through this modest story, however, she was probably ready for something better...

A few weeks ago, my daughter told her mother and me that her kindergarten teacher has been reading Roald Dahl's The B.F.G to the class, and she loves it. So last week I went to the library and checked out a copy of Matilda.

Let me tell you, the past week of reading has been an absolute joy for my daughter and me. I'd forgotten just how well Dahl tells a story, and how much the text begs to be read aloud with dramatic interpretation. The book is even filled with extensive descriptions of the tone and posture of various speakers, making for frequently loud and hilarious bedtime storytelling. I see, from the corner of my eye as I read, my daughter alternately hiding under her blanket and bouncing around with anticipation, or cackling at some of the incidents and conversations. The whole thing has reminded me of the fun of my earlier days.

I have to give credit where it's due, of course. My own mom read both The B.F.G. and Matilda to my brothers and me. Those days were filled with howling laughter from my mom as much as us boys. And I can't forget my 7th grade English teacher who spent the second half of the school year reading The Princess Bride to my class. I'd seen the movie a million times by then, but I think there's a reason the film adaptation is framed as a story-telling visit.

My head is swirling with possibilities and books now, and I'm pretty excited about future reading. Of course there are more Dahl books, and C.S. Lewis, and eventually Harry Potter. And that doesn't even scratch the surface of unfamiliar books outside my own childhood or cultural experience. I just hope her own developing reading skills don't make her bored of my voice too quickly.

My pal Zephyr has created his second zine, everything is free ii, made from a collection of portraiture, tour photos, and passing moments. Great stuff all around, well laid-out, and full-size pages which suit my taste for a photo zine.

A few of my faves to whet your eyes' appetite (each links to the Instagram post):

  <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BlazMXxnI_D/" target="_blank"><img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/02/9da01-river.jpg" alt="" /></a>




  <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/Bqm2-QClFJZ/" target="_blank"><img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/02/31f0d-neon.jpg" alt="" /></a>




  <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/Bm_GP-Gnusq/" target="_blank"><img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/02/e8365-work.jpg" alt="" /></a>

Contact Zephyr via the above-linked Instagram account and ask for a copy. $10, well-spent.

I've always loved to cook, and I used to cook as much for fun as for necessity. I've written about it more than a few times on this website back in the day, and some of my friends will still laugh recalling my love for brown butter and "mother" sauces. My wife and my friends have long been willing test subjects when I want to try roasting a spatchcocked turkey for Thanksgiving, or bake a chocolate tart for the first time.

Then I had kids. Despite my best efforts, each of my children are as finicky as you'd expect for their respective ages (2.5 and 5 as of this writing). And, sure, I'd been forewarned by friends and family. Before I even had children, I read about one of RVA's own favorite chefs trying to expand the palates of his own. But having my kids so frequently refuse to try what I put in front of them sucked the happiness out of something important to me. And that was before schedules got busier and meals got rushed.

I've adjusted over time, but more important to me is that I'm starting to find ways to have fun in the kitchen again. Yes, the most important step was recognizing that my children's tastes are developing and that their current opinions of my cooking have nothing to do with my skills. But from a practical standpoint, I've made a handful of changes.

First of all, I've embraced cooking from recipes. Most of my personal cooking history is improvisational, adjusting ideas I learned from family or cooking shows. I learned methodology so I could wing it with whatever I had on hand. I used to feel boxed in by recipes, but what I've come to accept is how much time they save - both in the kitchen and at the grocery store. I still tweak, and I still improvise, but a few times a month I try to make my spin on somebody else's dish. I can have it both ways :-D

I've also leaned a bit more into simpler foods this past year. It's no secret I have a great appreciation for simple foods done well, so I'm trying to do just that in my own kitchen. What are some foods I can prepare that are relatively simple in technique and ingredients, but delivery a lot of flavor? Simple pleasures like cacio e pepe, a good quiche, well-roasted Brussels sprouts, or a rich potato gratin are each satisfying quests for perfection that don't take forever to cook, or are at least simple enough to permit watching my kids in the process.

Of course my daughter is getting old enough to start helping in the kitchen, and that's a different kind of joy. Sure, she won't eat many of the dishes we prepare, but it is one of the great privileges of my life to share something I love with my kid. She has keen senses of smell and taste, too.

And finally, well, baking. Oof. I've had some real stinkers in the past whenever I've tried to bake, and no amount of The Great British Bake Off is going to make me a hobby baker. Watching the show, however, I realized that I want to learn a few utility baked goods. Simple-to-moderately complex items that afford flexibility and customization. So I'm practicing - literally practicing without an occasion - a particular type of cake. Once I'm comfortable with the cake, I'll work on frosting. I already know how to make decent buttermilk biscuits, but I'd like to get proficient at making Japanese-style milk bread (for sandwiches, dinner rolls, etc.).

There are still some fruits that my fruit-loving son won't eat because they're green. My daughter hates my incredible mashed potatoes. Most weeks I'm lucky if I can make something more interesting than a variation on pasta with sauce half the time. But I'm working on it! Little by little I'm finding ways to have fun in the kitchen again, and I'll take what I can get.

At least until it's time to clean the dishes.

1. Smelt It/Dealt It: converts currency into the estimated quantity of aluminum that can be extracted from an equivalent value of bauxite.
2. The Change You Want to See in the World: this one taps into the hot AR segment; lets you see all manner of coins superimposed over your real world surroundings. Live like a pauper, feel like Midas! In-app purchases to display different currencies require real money.
3. Flourless Tort: A nearly complete civil law reference, but excluding any boring case law that has to do with baking, baked goods, bakers, or bakeries.
4. Catching Feelings: a dating app for the niche pro fishing market. No swiping, but you have to wave your phone in a pantomime of casting in order to find matches.
5. The Sound and the Curry: [wear headphones] I dunno, maybe it could be an ASMR thing? Just relax and listen to the sounds of various curries bubbling away as they cook. The free version includes the sounds of pandhara rassa, lamb rogan josh, coorgi pandi, and butter chicken. Additional dishes are available as in-app purchases.

I don't always do a great job, and sometimes I say 'no' (too tired, not enough time for a particularly complex answer, etc.), but I earnestly try to answer any questions my kids ask me. This means sometimes I find myself explaining topics like the nervous system to my presently-five-year-old daughter.

The question seemed simple enough: "Daddy, why does it hurt when I get a cut?" She had a small cut on one of her pinky knuckles.

When I'm feeling particularly alert and adventurous this becomes a big decision tree for me as I start to answer. Are other people in the room (particularly her little brother)? Is she in the middle of watching a cartoon? Is she eating? What's her mood? I try to provide a succinct answer first that will satisfy the basic question and, depending on her attention and reaction, I'll dig a little deeper to provide a richer picture of what's going on.

So yesterday I could have left it at "A cut on your finger hurts because your body is telling you to be careful and protect your skin" or some such. But since it was just the two of us in the car on the way home from Chipotle, I was able to tell her about nerves, and how they take messages to and from the brain (her favorite part - when your nerves are exposed to the outside world, they only message they know how to send is "AHHHHHHHH!!!!!"). I had her continued attention through explanations of the brain sending messages to your finger when you wiggle it, or your heart pumping blood. I was able to explain how you can control some of those messages and some happen without you even thinking about them. We wrapped up it up talking about how your brain is made of special nerve cells that store memories and knowledge.

I'm sure I could have done better, and I'm sure I'd make a physician cringe with some of my explanations, but after I was done and we were two minutes from home, she said, "Daddy, I want to learn science about how the body works."

Sometimes we have fights about why she can't wear a diaphanous short sleeve dress on a cold winter's day. But every now and then I get to play teacher and she gets (I hope) rewarded for her curiosity.

I was prepared to be disappointed by this place. Anywhere I've eaten owned by Eat Restaurant Partners has been overpriced mediocrity drenched in buckets of "local", "natural", and "sustainable" marketing puffery. Fat Dragon, Blue Goat, Boulevard Burger and Brew, Foo Dog, etc. It's not bad food, and I don't pass over food based on price alone, but there are plenty of better options in their respective price ranges around town.

Now there's Hot Chick (har har, another cheeky name like...ugh..."Wong Gonzales"): the restaurant group's take on Nashville-style hot chicken. I adore RVA's dining scene, but we have a habit of picking up on food trends after everybody else has had a turn, don't we? I love spicy food, though, and Nashville is too far a drive for a busy dad to try the real deal that is "hot chicken". My options are limited (but please do check out the fancy chicken biscuit at Saison Market - it's leaning in the same direction), so today I took my daughter to the new joint for lunch.

It's good. Like, really dang good.

  <img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/01/bdf57-hotchickensandwich.jpg" alt="" />

I got the basic sandwich, with a brutally hot fried chicken breast on a sweet and tender roll. I'm picky, so I excluded the pickles and slaw, but this meant it was just me and the chicken. I can't speak to authenticity, nor the difference between its progenitors and the gentrification version of hot chicken, but Hot Chick is HOT. At the very least the chicken breast was dipped in some kind of hot oil or sauce, though there may very well have been some heat in the marinade and/or batter as well. But the crucial element here was the flavor—it was spicy but still tasted delicious. The waffle fries on the side were seasoned to perfection and helped mitigate the heat.

This was a $12 sandwich with a side. That's not cheap for something in this category, but is the quality worth the price? I think so. Hot Chick won't be a regular lunch stop, but I'll go back when I get a hot chicken craving in the future.

Unless you're extremely online, you may not know how easy it is to make your own dang bespoke GIFs from video using Giphy.

Say you lost your mind laughing when Chidi Anagonye freak-out-shouted, "I SAW THE TIME KNIFE!?" and you want that feeling preserved in low-fi, looping digital amber. If you can find that moment on YouTube, for example, you're halfway there!

Giphy makes it super easy to grab just what you want and take it the rest of the way to meme-ready reaction GIF land. You can hit up their GIF Maker page, and as soon as you paste the YouTube URL into the text field, you're taken through a super simple, step-by-step (and not too many steps) process to adjust start time, loop length, and any overlaid text and graphics. Some of the adjustment sliders are a bit fidly, but in no time, you'll be ready to drop a fine non-sequitor GIF into any conversation:

wauxke

adjective

'wōk

Definition of wauxke

1 : fake woke

I thought I was SOOOOOOOOoooo clever quipping this term on Twitter recently, but of course I didn't invent it. A cursory search of Twitter for this exact spelling of my not-really-neologism finds at least a few examples going back to 2016. And that says nothing of "fauxke", used the same way for at least a few years.

This reminds me of back in 2003 when I thought I'd invented "ridonkulous" (or "redonkulous" depending on your dialect) as a portmanteu of ridiculous and donkey (donkeys never really had anything to do with it, I just thought it sounded hilarous). Then I heard Tina Fey say it on SNL's Weekend Update! Then today I read about somebody else on the internet who had the same expereience! Even my memories aren't original.