Then my favorite childhood pasta, Ronzoni's mostaccioli rigati.
Then the layering fun begins—pasta, sauce, cheese.
Now, everybody eat!
Sunday, October 17, 2010
sunday dinner
Today I really wanted to make a pasta casserole. Maybe it's because it's fall, or the relatively "cooler" weather (78 degrees!) Anyway, I started with making a sausage and mushroom sauce, for one of the layers.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
no comment?
I find myself reading more and more blogs these days, but recently, commenting less and less. Everyone everywhere says that if you want to get more blog traffic for your own site, you should comment more, and I know it's true. But more than just racking up traffic, I like the interaction and the opportunity to acknowledge someone's post—how it may have interested or amused or even inspired me.
The enemy to commenting is of course, shyness—it's so much easier to lurk—and then, most importantly, time. If I had endless amounts of time and energy I would be writing more, reading more, commenting more. taking piano lessons—you name it. My only excuse for not leaving a comment is that I'm doing the best that I can, trying to hold up my blogging end as well as all the other ends in my life. A real conundrum towards leaving a comment came up recently when I was catching up with some older posts on a blog I like and I was suddenly struck by something in a post that made me want to comment. But how useful is it to comment on a weeks-old post? I know the internet never really expires. There are some old posts on my blog that still get a perplexing amount of traffic, mostly due to images and pop culture subject matter, I guess. But should I be polite, still drop a line, to say I've stopped by? Late as it is? Or will the blogger's traffic-meter tell them that story? I know that for me, sometimes a quick check of my stats is enough, to know that I am not just a voice crying out in the wilderness. What is the proper blog comment etiquette in this situation?
Being an artist, a writer, is first and foremost, a solitary activity. When all is said in done you are basically doing it for yourself, because even if no one else, not even your mom, reads it, you'd still be drawn to do it anyway. That's what being an artist is for me. Being compelled. BUT ... the other side of this is the need to communicate. So when you find that folks have seen or read your work it is extremely gratifying. Even if at first it is just a handful of loyal or coerced friends and the googlebots. It still helps.
So you steam on, inspired by that teeniest bit of encouragement, as well as your racing mind, which inevitably jumps from one topic to the next—"if they liked that, then they'll love this"—or just the desire and ability to share. I have often wondered, in my new, internet life, at the plethora of forums available to me and whether I should expand or contract, or to concentrate. I don't have any definitive answers. I think with " new" media there really aren't any limits—anything goes as to where you should post or connect. But the same questions have come up regarding my content, too. Different forums require different types of sharing. Some folks have counseled me that I should make my blog about something quite specific. I have thought long and hard about that. Is it a diary? A platform for pop-culture review? A way to keep friends and family up-to-date on my family's doings? Yes, yes, and yes. Sometimes it's just a photoblog, sometimes it's a rant. Sometimes a nostalgia piece, sometimes a critical review or opinion piece. Just like me. Like others in my jack-of-all-trades family, I just can't and won't be limited to one style. And I'm OK with that. Anyone who just wants to check in for some recent photos can get that. If those bore them and they prefer a critical take on a book recently read or a movie recently seen, they can skip ahead.
But back to the commenting. A work colleague told me that she attended some web 2.0 conference last year where one of the speakers was saying that comments were "over" and that most blogs would be disabling them in future. I'm not sure what future that speaker was talking about, because I haven't really run across any blogs where you can't post a comment, or this non-trend. If anything, the ability to comment is what is driving blogging and social media. The comments section is the new letter to the editor. If you know the person, and are commenting on their blog or their facebook page, you are replacing email. Lots of the blogs I read, I read expressly for the comments—to gauge if other folks think like me about what the writer is saying. Many blogs I used to check out I have also ceased to read for the same reason—the comments. Blogs mainly centered on celebrity, like tmz or dListed, I once considered entertaining, but now I no longer visit, because their comments are just an excuse for anonymous folks to get nasty or stupid. Salon, which used to have interesting articles, now seems to have stupid articles with interesting comments.
I guess this is a long way of saying that I am going to try to take the time to comment as much as I can in the future. If I can read, I can comment. Again, I think I should be commenting for myself first, because I think that's the right thing to do. If someone comments back on my comment, or clicks my name to check out my blog, my writing, then that's just icing on the cake. In fact, I think I am going to take it a step further and when I find a blog or a post I like, I'm going to not only comment, but feature that post or blogger on my blog. Blog it forward.
Being an artist, a writer, is first and foremost, a solitary activity. When all is said in done you are basically doing it for yourself, because even if no one else, not even your mom, reads it, you'd still be drawn to do it anyway. That's what being an artist is for me. Being compelled. BUT ... the other side of this is the need to communicate. So when you find that folks have seen or read your work it is extremely gratifying. Even if at first it is just a handful of loyal or coerced friends and the googlebots. It still helps.
So you steam on, inspired by that teeniest bit of encouragement, as well as your racing mind, which inevitably jumps from one topic to the next—"if they liked that, then they'll love this"—or just the desire and ability to share. I have often wondered, in my new, internet life, at the plethora of forums available to me and whether I should expand or contract, or to concentrate. I don't have any definitive answers. I think with " new" media there really aren't any limits—anything goes as to where you should post or connect. But the same questions have come up regarding my content, too. Different forums require different types of sharing. Some folks have counseled me that I should make my blog about something quite specific. I have thought long and hard about that. Is it a diary? A platform for pop-culture review? A way to keep friends and family up-to-date on my family's doings? Yes, yes, and yes. Sometimes it's just a photoblog, sometimes it's a rant. Sometimes a nostalgia piece, sometimes a critical review or opinion piece. Just like me. Like others in my jack-of-all-trades family, I just can't and won't be limited to one style. And I'm OK with that. Anyone who just wants to check in for some recent photos can get that. If those bore them and they prefer a critical take on a book recently read or a movie recently seen, they can skip ahead.
I guess this is a long way of saying that I am going to try to take the time to comment as much as I can in the future. If I can read, I can comment. Again, I think I should be commenting for myself first, because I think that's the right thing to do. If someone comments back on my comment, or clicks my name to check out my blog, my writing, then that's just icing on the cake. In fact, I think I am going to take it a step further and when I find a blog or a post I like, I'm going to not only comment, but feature that post or blogger on my blog. Blog it forward.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
my life in libraries
Check out the saddleshoes!
I come from a family of bibliophiles (and anglophiles, and Italophiles, but those are different posts.) We love books. We have tons of books. Books are not just things that you read and read again, but they are possessions, identity. Books are passed down from generation to generation. They tell things about us, who we are or were. From the sublime (complete editions of Shakespeare, gorgeous art catalogs) to the ridiculous—well, actually I don't actually consider any of these books ridiculous, but maybe more pop culture inspired—The Monty Python Bok
, old Agatha Christie and Ray Bradbury paperbacks, children's books of my brother's and mine.I have books of poetry and astronomy and American history that belonged to my dad—all enthusiasms of my his. He was a perpetual student. When I was just a child, he immersed himself, at one time or another, in the works of Virginia Woolf, and the life of George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, to name just a few. The rest of the family did as well, as he passed on interesting factoids from his reading along the way. Dad also had an impressive amount of books passed down from his father, primarily on chemistry and biology, but if they couldn't fill in the gaps of his current enthusiasm, his interests were indulged by visits to the local library. And I always was eager to go along. As Dad scoured shelves for what interested him, I did too, bringing home a stack of books on Greek mythology, or embroidery, or the complete Batman comics.
The other library-related wonder of my childhood was the bookmobile. It used to come to our neighborhood every two weeks and we would run with our stack of books, ready to replace them with new ones. It was amazing how much they could pack into that mobile library. I think I read the entire series of Nancy Drew books, as well as Little Women, Little Men and Jo's Boys thanks to the bookmobile. It was heartbreaking when we heard that they weren't going to do it anymore. Budget cuts, I'm sure, but kids don't understand budget cuts. At least Dad was always willing to drive us to the library, which was quite a few towns away.
For a while, post-college, I lost my going to the library habit. If there was a topic or author I was interested in, I would just buy the book, usually at my favorite buy-or-trade used book store. I think it was good to support the small businessman, but the truth is that I have maybe, too many books. (I know it's a definite, not a maybe, but I'm in denial, as are my overstuffed bookshelves.) With the fabulous iBooks app on my iPad, I have also lately been able to download (both free and paid-for) books at the touch of a finger. At least only my virtual bookshelves are expanding.
I even work for a library, and constantly highlight its collections in my daily work, but didn't really use it personally, unless I had some family/genealogical research to do. A wasted opportunity, I know.
But last weekend I got a wild hare to check out the local library. And what a library! Four floors, fairly new, and chock full of books, movies, magazines—you name it. The children's floor is amazing. It's got all the right, fun things that of course the kids flock to first—a small room with a dvd-based-on-a-book playing, computers, fun and cozy lounging areas, fun decorations. I want to hang out there all day myself. But it also has a fabulous selection of books—from picture books to young readers to history, local and world—as well as all the classics and young adult titles. I like that it mixes in some of the popular young adult series titles, like the Percy Jackson and Harry Potter books, even if there is a larger teen-devoted section on another floor. Someone was really thinking about bridging the age gaps, in both directions, when they set things up.
Between my mother, daughter, and myself we could have walked out with stacks and stacks of books, but we kept it fairly simple—five books to start. I mean, we can go back any time. And I know we will.
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