Not quite Willie Wonka...

I may have gone just a teensy bit overboard with my Christmas gifts this year. It’s my tradition to make candy of various sorts; in recent years that’s been limited to fudge, toffee and a couple of types of spiced pecans. This year…

Since I started last Saturday, here’s what I’ve produced:

Toffee—five batches

Fudge—one batch

Garam Masala pecans—three batches

Spiced pecans—four batches

Caramelized chocolate almonds—one batch

Peppermint bark—one batch

Coconut bark—one batch

Truffles—one batch

I’m not exactly sure what happened; like Topsy, it just…growed.

Roughly I’ve used about nine pounds of chocolate, six pounds of sugar, seven pounds of pecans, one pound of walnuts and varying amounts of ancillary stuff. I was already sick of chocolate after the second batch of toffee—I don’t know how I do it, but I get that stuff on every surface of my kitchen and my person and it just becomes revolting.

For the past week, I swear I've become an Oompa-Loompa Lady Macbeth, continually washing chocolate off my hands.

I’m not showing you any photos of my kitchen. I’m never going to win housekeeper of the year awards, but this is seriously beyond the beyond. I actually decided to stop making candy today because I cannot bear the floor any more. (And there’s not much point in mopping while you’re still in production, because the instant you start on the next recipe, you’re crunching sugar and dribbling chocolate over everything.) I've run the dishwasher every single day and lost count of the number of times I've washed the stove top. 

Why? Two words: burnt sugar.

While making those almonds I realized that I was using four bowls and three pans. It was like putting on Thanksgiving dinner, for heaven’s sake.

So, I collected it all and looked at it…and realized I’m made all this stuff for nine people. I, uh, I kind of overproduced. Well, it's not the wildest I've ever got; that would be the year I made 17 kinds of candy for 21 people. That was either the acme or the nadir. Either way, I don't like to think about it.

(Here’s the irony: I started making candy because I calculated that Christmas cookies were too labor intensive. Ha, ha, ha.)

It'll take me a couple of days to package all this stuff up in the little cellophane bags, and then I can bring out the vac and the mop.

Well—I suppose my friends will appreciate it. I know I’ll appreciate having my kitchen back.

And now a word from...

Well, alrighty, then—let’s close out the week with a product advert that reminds me why—occasionally—we should actually pay attention to television commercials:

Yes.

Turning to the Dark Side

Yes. Through the generosity of a friend, I am finally in possession of an Apple product. Viz.: a 64Gb iPad Air 2. I decided that I needed to get my head around iOS so I don’t appear to be so last-century when I speak with with-it thought-leader Ninja-rockstar innovators here in the Valley They Call Silicon.

And—I was getting a bit uneasy that my friend Amy would refuse to speak to me if I didn’t cough up some Apple app-ness. :You might not think it to look at her, but you do not want to get on the wrong side of Amy’s expectations of tech cred.

I actually went looking into iPads in August, and they were fine and all. But when I asked about using Swype (I wouldn’t be able to do anything on a virtual keyboard without Swype capabilities), the Apple-boy told me that iOS 8 would have it, so I told my generous friend that I’d wait for that. And he replied that if I wanted to wait a little longer, the Air 2s would be out in October…

When I saw that those would have anti-glare screens and that totally cool fingerprint access, well…

Yes, I can be as shallow as the next guy.

Naturally, you get this beautifully designed package, containing only the tablet, a power cord and outlet connector. Nothing that in any way might resemble any sort of user manual, no—either you’re meant to pick this stuff up in the air or…I suppose there are YouTube videos.

(And, BTW, Apple—a unique connector for this device, which means I have to use this one specific cable and therefore have to take this one specific cable with me when I travel. To add to all the other connectors I need for MP3 player, cameras, laptop, etc. Thanks so much for non-interoperability; such a great design concept.)

And I got it set up (pretty much), although so far I’ve found their interface pushy and heavily geared towards upselling me on add-ons.

Here’s what I’ve done in the slightly more than 24 hours that I’ve had it:

Been forced to get an Apple ID. (After which they sent me an email congratulating me.)

Been forced to sign up for iCloud. (Email.)

Been forced to sign up for iTunes. (Email.)

Been unable to download Firefox. (Doesn’t support iOS.)

Downloaded Kindle app. (Email.)

Downloaded Twitter app. (Email.)

Downloaded Facebook app. (Email.)

They also heavy-handedly tried to get me to give them all sorts of PII, and credit card information, which activities ought to have a “get stuffed” option.

Okay, I'll confess that the fingerprint unlocking mechanism is really cool; especially the process you go through to set it up. I may have to go through it for all ten fingers, just to watch it populate all the ridges and whorls. Yes, I am easily amused.

I’m going to have to break down and go to one or more of their “how to use our incredibly cool and intuitive devices if you’re not cool and intuitive enough to pick it up through the air” classes.

I’m sure that at some point the device’s capabilities will outweigh the corporation’s capacity for pissing me off.

Meanwhile, I'm really enjoying the exploration process, and I'm massively grateful I have the opportunity to join the cool-kids table, even if it's kind of under false pretenses.

Need for speed

There’s been a bit of a hoo-ha about the Oxford Dictionaries naming “vape” as its word of the year for 2014.

It evidently refers to…something to do with e-cigarettes: the device itself and the vapor it causes. (Color me clueless, because I’ve not experienced this so far.)

I did find this “explanation” of the choice from Casper Grathwohl, president of the dictionaries division at OUP kind of cringeworthy: “I particularly love watching a word like ‘vape’ create linguistic knock-on effects, like hearing the word ‘tobacco’ now used to qualify ‘cigarette. But this year ‘vape’ also served as an insightful window onto how we define ourselves.”

Maybe onto how you define yourself, Casper. I don’t even know what you just said.

And anyhow, for me “vapes” will always refer to the moisture discharge that whooshes off the wings of an F-14 Tomcat as it’s breaking the sound barrier.

The little trendoid e-cig yappers got nothing against that.

Opening the season

Yes, indeed—spammers are warming up with the “undeliverable parcel” scam.

It’s a sure sign that we’re heading into the holidays.

Kind of like the old Salad-Shooter commercials.

Gratitude Monday: Something to revel in

Okay, today my gratitude is a little…well, I’m grateful and I’m not grateful.

You may recall the Eastern European adventures of my friend Dick and his wife—which included the surprise addition of a stay in a Dresden hospital and an aborted break-out plan from those of us who heard about it via clandestine messages tapped furtively and under the influence of pain meds on his iPod.

Really—there does need to be an opera about that.

In my post last June I mentioned that Dick performs in the Washington Revels every year, and he had to work his audition for this year’s Celtic-themed show around the Ostmark trip. But his “Eileen Aroon” did the trick, as witnessed by the Revels’ Facebook frisnic this week about him:

If you’re not able to access the page, here’s the opening graf:

“Dick's only Irish connection is marriage to a direct descendant of Daniel O'Connell (an Irish political leader in the first half of the 19th century who was known as The Liberator or The Emancipator). It isn’t really the Irish that attracted him to this show—it’s the Revels—Dick performs this year in his 17th show, with his first appearance being 1993. His role this year-- an antique Irish peasant—mirrors his first Christmas Revels appearance as an Irish antiquarian scholar. He has also been a kilted Scot, a Victorian toff, a medieval royal counselor, a sword-wielding Elizabethan yeoman, a French Canadian village elder, an Andalusian rabbi, and as a peasant in various times and climes.”

I’m so grateful that social media enabled me to see this story (and amazing photo) of my friend. What I’m ungrateful about is that I’m 2500 miles across the continent from this show and won’t be able to see him.

But if you’re anywhere in the DC area—if you can still even get tickets—go.

The poppies flow

Okay, one final story out of the UK for Remembrance Week.

Last month staff at GCHQ (Britain’s intelligence and security agency; roughly the equivalent of our NSA) formed a human poppy in the atrium of their headquarters in Cheltenham. 

They put on red rain ponchos to form the petals, with a few folks in black in the center, and a bunch of people in cammies holding up tarps for the stem. Really pretty visually effective, and interesting that they did it, because the only visual impact comes from the air.

I like it because it’s another form of installation art—ephemeral, so you have to take hold of it when it appears. Rather like life, actually.

And here’s how they put it together:

The official “remembrance” period has passed. But I hope you take some of this week’s sights and sounds with you throughout the year, and spare a thought now and then for the men and women who go in harm’s way in our behalf.

Sod off, sunshine

Ah, hell. British actor Warren Clarke died yesterday after a brief illness, according to his agent. At age 67 he was way too young to stop engaging us on the screen.

In his career Clarke gave us everything from the psychopathic (in A Clockwork Orange) to the servile (an episode of Inspector Lewis). 

I loved him in the series Sleepers, about two KGB agents who’ve been in deep cover for so long in the UK that they’ve become quintessential Brits. And he creeped me out as that menacing Corporal Dixon in The Jewel in the Crown.

Of course, mostly for me he was the personification of Chief Superintendent Andy Dalziel in the BBC series based on Reginald Hill’s Dalziel and Pascoe novels. I’m told that he wasn’t quite Hill’s notion of the vulgar, relentless, chain-smoking, heavy-drinking, vastly politically-incorrect Yorkshireman (not fat enough); but he certainly got the job done for me.

The man had a voice that rumbled like a West Riding thunderstorm and a face that looked the Afrika Korps had run over it. And his body was definitely more by Pillsbury than by Fisher. So I thought he was pretty damned good as Dalziel.

(Yes, I think the series jumped the shark with Season 8, and Clarke himself seemed to come somewhat artistically unhinged. But, damn, he was good until then.)

Everyone from Malcolm McDowell to the cast of Call the Midwife has spoken of what a great guy Clarke was to work with—professionally and personally. In a fear-driven and ego-based industry that’s saying a lot.

I believe a small splash of single malt is in order. Because I miss him already.

The prime of our land

On Sunday I mentioned that there’s a traditional set of music played at the Remembrance Sunday ceremony held every year in Whitehall. For some reason I’ve had a couple of the regulars floating in my head since then, so I’m sharing with you.

You’ll recall that “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary” is in honor of the Connaught Rangers. I’ve always liked this song; perhaps because it didn’t originate as a military march. It was actually written to be performed in music halls (basically the British version of Vaudeville; even though Vaudeville is before my time, I’ve seen Marx Brothers movies and therefore I know the drill)—so, meant to be lively, raucous and sung-along with. It predates the outbreak of World War I by two years, and became quite popular during the war.

The connection to the Rangers is that in mid-August 1914 a Daily Mail correspondent observed the regiment singing it as they marched through Boulogne. Apparently this was the first instance of British soldiers singing it (at least in front of reporters), so it stuck with the Rangers; although it did spread through the British Army, and (later) the American as well.

(As a sidebar, this song is associated in my mind with the first, very elaborate and elongated pun I can remember hearing. It cracked me up no end, I assure you, notwithstanding its rather mournful end, and I still laugh at it. But I won’t repeat it because it’s somewhat along the lines of elephant jokes and I’m pretending we’ve risen above that sort of thing.)

Its music hall roots may explain some of “Tipperary’s” popularity. Unlike a lot of songs written specifically for soldiers heading off to wars, there’s nothing at all martial about it. It’s all about home, and hopes of returning there. There’s longing, of course, but the upbeat tempo prevents it from getting sloppy. It’s a great tune for stepping lively, even if you’re schlepping a 65-pound pack on your back.

The other piece I’ll “play” for you is “Flowers of the Forest”, such an extraordinarily powerful lament that I don’t think you need the lyrics to understand the sorrow it expresses. The melody dates from at least the 17^th Century, and lyrics were added in the 18^th marking the Scots fallen at the Battle of Flodden Field. (Killed by English soldiers, but we won’t go into that right now.)

Because Highland regiments formed the backbone of the British army in so many wars over the centuries, what started out as a lament for Scots slain by Englishmen has been transmuted to a universal piece that accompanies the bodies of British soldiers home from the battlefield. It has had rather a workout in recent years, as it marked British and Canadian deaths in Afghanistan.

I understand that many pipers only perform it in public at funerals.

And at services on Remembrance Sunday.

On watch

For Veteran’s Day, my offering to you is visual—members of the 3^rd Infantry Regiment standing watch over the Tomb of the Unknowns at Arlington National Cemetery.

They do it around the clock and every day of the year, regardless of the weather, as you can see.

There are plenty of videos of the changing of the guard, which is indeed a moving ceremony. But I like the image of the lone sentinel standing watch over the dead, no matter what the weather.(And from the YouTube information I'm kind of extrapolating that a mother shot it of her son.)

Yeah—I’d rather we spent money to send our men and women into harm’s way with the best equipment and protective gear, and then give them adequate medical care and emotional support when they return to The World. And it pains me that, even as they were placing the first Unknown in the tomb in 1921, we as a nation have fallen short on this (with the possible exception of World War II).

But I also recognize the symbolic value of this ritual. It is beautiful to watch—peaceful, reassuring somehow. Those measured steps, the pauses, the focus.

I also find the placement of the tomb exquisitely appropriate, as you look beyond it onto the city of D.C. Which means that the Unknowns—and their sentinels—are metaphorically watching over our seat of government. However high or low regard you may have for the current components of that government, it’s rather nice to know that these soldiers are still doing the job they signed on to do.