Monthly Archives: January 2008

The day I “met” Barack Obama

August 6, 2005 — a regular segment called ‘Not My Job’ on the NPR news show Wait Wait, Don’t Tell Me — and the guest panelist is a senator by the name of Barack Obama. It’s long before he announces presidential aspirations, but there is already buzz about this guy. Eight months earlier, he had won his U.S. Senate seat by the largest margin in Illinois history (70% to 27%). And after hearing him banter with the show host and the other panelists, and perform rather well in a quiz on a topic that he was unlikely to know anything about, I like him. He sounds like he has a good head on his shoulders. He’s charming. Is it enough for me to base my vote on this November? Hell, no. But it certainly got me looking in his direction, and the more I look, the more I like what I see.

At the very least, it’s 13 entertaining minutes wherein you can listen to a now-candidate (rather refreshingly) talk about some things that have absolutely nothing to do with politics:

Sen. Barack Obama joins the panelists to play a game called You’re in the Lunatic Hall of Fame: three questions about the superstitions of Baseball Hall of Famer Wade Boggs.

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Lessons from Lutefisk

The following is taken directly from PrairieHome.org, and I am using it here with no permission whatsoever. I was compelled to reproduce it because I recognize more than a bit of myself in Sarah, and I also recognize some of my more interesting friends in the response. It’s a lesson worth learning.

FRESH LUTEFISK

Dear Garrison,
As an honorary Minnesotan (my Mom’s from here) visiting Stillwater (on the St. Croix) for our annual New Year’s family gathering, I am wondering — What is “fresh” lutefisk? This question arose as we shopped at Brine’s Meat Market (a Stillwater institution — check it out) yesterday, and saw the sign advertising it. I didn’t want to show my ignorance at the local store (I could pass as a Minnesotan most days, with my heavy coat and snow boots). Isn’t lutefisk by definition, not fresh? I would hate to see/taste/smell less than fresh lutefisk.

Any help on solving this mystery appreciated!

Sarah R.
Newcastle, CA

Ah, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. “I didn’t want to show my ignorance” — that’s the wrong road for an intelligent young woman to travel. Showing ignorance is how we learn, it’s how we get strangers to tell us their stories, it’s how we experience the world fully. False sophistication — putting on a front of cool knowingness — is the road to ignorance. You should never ever be afraid to say, “What is that?” No need to preface it with an apology. I say this from bitter experience, Sarah. I wasted some of the best years of my life in pretending to a worldly sophistication that stopped my education right in its tracks. Even today, people looking at me imagine that I know all sorts of things that in fact I’m stupid about. Such as fresh lutefisk. I imagine it means that Brine’s makes their own lutefisk and isn’t selling stuff in plastic bags that was manufactured a year ago in China. I know Brine’s Meat Market well. I used to shop there almost thirty years ago, before you were born (I assume, though I don’t want to ask), before our radio show was broadcast in Newcastle, before Brine’s was selling lutefisk, when they were mainly selling lean ground round and enormous pastrami sandwiches. Bud Brine would’ve been thrilled if a young woman from California had asked him about fresh lutefisk. He’d have invited her back behind the counter and offered her a taste of it and told her the whole story. Remember this little life lesson, Sarah. Some of the great journalists of our time have found that nothing works so well in gathering information as a display of ignorance. Happy New Year.

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An official Red Ryder carbine action two-hundred shot range model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time.

“You know that scene in A Christmas Story, where the kid is visiting Santa…”

“Ralphie?”

“Yeah. And he’s going down the slide but he pulls himself back up and asks for the BB gun and then gets that big smile… I hope you don’t mind, but his expression… it made me think of you.”

/grins/

“Yeah! That’s it!”

ralphie.jpg

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Shopping With Scott

My friend Scott needs new clothes. Diet, exercise, and pining for a distant girl have left him a few pounds lighter and leaner, and his current wardrobe just doesn’t fit as well any more. So today, we went to the mall.

Dedicated readers of my blog may recall that the last time I kept Scott company on a shopping trip, he bought a bookshelf and I bought a fekking sofa. With that in mind, I told myself that this time there would be NO PEEKING at the women’s wear.

Ladies, did you know that men’s pajama bottoms have pockets? I loves me some pockets! I gleefully (yes, pockets really bring me glee) pointed them out to Scott, who replied, “That’s because men wear more practical clothes.” Which I can’t argue with as a whole, but when, exactly, is a pocket practical while sleeping? Do you put your keys in there? Your wallet? Maybe your favorite Thurman Munson baseball card? I think not.

Final tally: Scott bought a grand total of two pairs of jeans and three very cool pearl-snap shirts (and nearly a cashier’s phone number) while I wound up with a thermal, two Ts, and a pair of pinup-girl-in-a-martini-glass pajama bottoms (with pockets); all from the men’s department.

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Filed under fashion, shopping