Friday, October 29, 2010

Imaginary

Did I already post this one? I hope not.

A rare word, from Professor Katie LeBesco's post on the ASFS listerv:

Does anyone have any idea when the popular ways of thinking of baking as overly prescribed and uncreative vs. cooking as artful and creative entered the public imaginary?

More, were this word to be posted on Overheard in New York, which venue would have been its most likely auditorium?:

1.) John Barrett Salon
2.) The bar at the Four Seasons
3.) Bathroom at BAM
4.) Regis School library
5.) Elevator at 345 Park Avenue
6.) McCarren Park Pool

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Hery


I bet many people keep a running list of art they'd like to have in their very own dream home of art and music ("DHoAM"). My list includes works by Gonzalo Fonseca and Irving Petlin, among others.

Today I stepped into the Century Club to take a look at Paul Resika's Blue Wave, the postcard of which sits on a desk where I work. The painting is of a lighthouse, a circled sun, and triangles. There is also a prow. I don't know . . . I might like my postcard image more than the actual painting. Maybe the white frame threw things off for me.

Other paintings caught my eye.

Tony Bechara's Self-Portrait turned out to be the first work to add to my DHoAM--although, in truth, I would bestow it upon a friend, ideally for his DHoAM.

Richard Anuszkiewicz's Red Edged Gordian I would keep for myself and likely hang and rehang depending on the season. I like the painting, the title, and, in particular, the absence of a hyphen.

Morton Kaish's New Day I would place over the sofa, immediately.

Louise Peabody's Long Distance Swimmer I I'd probably deliver to Michael's so it could hang out with that painting of the seated man from the back. Kim Somebody is the painter. If I remember correctly.

I was told that there is no Frankenthaler on the walls at the Century Club.

Afterwards I walked over to the Public Library in search of a yellow warbler who's been making news, so said a club member, on invitation-only birder lists. Apparently somebody tried to feed the bird bread, not knowing that one should serve worm, and at some point, the bird dined on a slug taking exercise somewhere between Patience and Virtue.

When I arrived, early afternoon, the little bird was nowhere to be found. "Excuse me," I said to man with a sizable camera. "Are you here to take a picture of the bird?"

He replied, "No, but you're the second person who's asked me."

We laughed and I stood for a moment scanning the lions and the trees, vaguely thrilled to know that the bird had been there at all and also excited to be on such a daffy, pointless treasure hunt merely to make myself happy.

This came after the Century Club.

Pre-Century Club--before the no bird and the mate for the man at Michael's and the Gordian knot I didn't know I was looking for--there was this exhibit on East 53rd Street, at the Arts & Business Council, put on by Studio in a School.

So, then, from the caption on Brooklyn first grader Concheta L.'s collage (mostly paper and raffia, I'd say):

My goat is hery.

Naturally, after smiling at the creative spelling, I thought of the way hedgehog is pronounced in French.





[Note: the hedgehog photo is uncredited because I could not find a credit.]

Monday, October 25, 2010

Champomy

From a menu for the children's table at a wedding.

No pony.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Zigzaggy

From David Quammen's article (Joel Sartore photographer) "Great Migrations", in the November 2010 issue of National Geographic:

They are prolonged movements that carry animals outside familiar habitats; they tend to be linear, not zigzaggy; they involve special behaviors of preparation (such as overfeeding) and arrival; they demand special allocations of energy.

It almost brings to mind Ziggy, who played guitar--not really, though. The word is more attractive hyphenated. I wouldn't have guessed it was a mid-19th century word.

In another magazine the above excerpt might begin: They are prolonged movements that carry animals beyond their comfort zones . . .

Monday, October 18, 2010

Tinkuy

From a listing on the Textile Society of America's website:

The Center for Traditional Textiles of Cusco (CTTC) invites you to participate in a tinkuy, or coming together, of weavers and spinners in the Sacred Valley of the Peruvian Highlands near Cusco on November 5-6.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Tushy

Apropos of my next blog--it's likely this one will go dark on December 31 (why? because.)--the newest country to visit this site is "Unknown--Satellite provider". I can't say that I'm sanguine being visited by a newest country that is a satellite provider.

Back to the y word.

From Joan Richter's challah class at the JCC, which I completed on Friday:

It should feel like a baby's tushy.

She was referring to the way the dough should feel at a particular point in the process.

The OED has an entry only for tush, and its first citation reads: "1962 Amer. Speech XXXVII. 205 Another bilingual children's diminutive, tushie from Yiddish toches or tuches ‘rump’has appeared in phrases like tushie slide ‘a slide down a slope on one's bottom’, the delights of which a group of Midwestern Jewish children have, I am told, expressed to their Gentile social workers." Tushy makes an appearance in the next citation, viz., "1969 P. ROTH Portnoy's Complaint 47 You'd think I was a twenty-one-year-old girl; you'd think I hadn't wiped your backside and kissed your little tushy for you all those years."

(Remember when so many of us used to read "The Conversion of the Jews" and and Goodbye, Columbus? . . .)

Dear Joan (I almost wanted to write, not exactly the way Herzog wrote),

It was funny having hand in dough and hearing you refer to a baby's tushy. Personally I don't know that I would tell a baby or a young tiny that his or her bottom is called a tushy, but, then, I don't know what I would say until I saw his or her bottom. It might be a behind. It might be a backside or a hiney. Probably definitely wouldn't be a booty. Certainly would not be an ass or an arse. The name could well change given the small being and the situation at hand. I think it's nice people have different names for it.

Meanwhile, your class was delightful, and I am going to go to Broadway Panhandler for that stirrer (unless Zabar's decides to stock it).

All the best,
Elizabeth

Tushy

Apropos of my next blog--it's likely this one will go dark on December 31 (why? because.)--the newest country to visit this site is "Unknown--Satellite provider". I can't say that I'm sanguine being visited by a newest country that is a satellite provider.

Back to the y word.

From Joan Richter's challah class at the JCC, which I completed on Friday:

It should feel like a baby's tushy.

She was referring to the way the dough should feel at a particular point in the process.

The OED has an entry only for tush, and its first citation reads: "1962 Amer. Speech XXXVII. 205 Another bilingual children's diminutive, tushie from Yiddish toches or tuches ‘rump’has appeared in phrases like tushie slide ‘a slide down a slope on one's bottom’, the delights of which a group of Midwestern Jewish children have, I am told, expressed to their Gentile social workers." Tushy makes an appearance in the next citation, viz., "1969 P. ROTH Portnoy's Complaint 47 You'd think I was a twenty-one-year-old girl; you'd think I hadn't wiped your backside and kissed your little tushy for you all those years."

(Remember when so many of us used to read "The Conversion of the Jews" and and Goodbye, Columbus? . . .)

Dear Joan (I almost wanted to write, not exactly the way Herzog wrote),

It was funny having dough in hand and hearing you refer to a baby's tushy. Personally I don't know that I would tell a baby or a young tiny that his or her bottom is called a tushy, but, then, I don't know what I would say until I saw his or her bottom. It might be a behind. It might be a backside or a hiney. Probably definitely wouldn't be a booty. Certainly would not be an ass or an arse. The name could well change given the small being and the situation at hand. I think it's nice people have different names for it.

Meanwhile, your class was delightful, and I am going to go to Broadway Panhandler for that stirrer (unless Zabar's decides to stock it).

All the best,
Elizabeth

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Acrisy

Meaning: That of which no judgment is passed, or choice made . . .

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Snappy

This is not a striking word but I seldom see words on popcorn bags. Okay, I seldom come across popcorn bags.

Popped at a Collectors Night event tonight at the Knitting Factory (Brooklyn), hosted by the one and only City Reliquary, the popcorn could be had in paper bags emboldened in blue and orange (Collegiate School colors?) and reading

Snappy

, affiliated with the Snappy Popcorn Co. of Breda, Iowa.

Apparently in Breda, the Breda Savings Bank (which does have a 24-hour ATM) is closed on Saturdays, which is nice, but, then again, Breda does not have Carnegie Hall.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Totallly

From my friend Steve Cuiffo's email, in response to my e-telling him how exciting it is that he'll be performing his "Lenny Bruce at Carnegie Hall", viz.,

EM: Very exciting! It's nice you're so obsessed.
SC: Totallly!

He's even correspondentially obsessed. Note how the y throws the triplicity of the ls into greater relief.

I haven't seen Steve channel Lenny Bruce since 2008. He told me then that he wanted to take Lenny to college campuses.

Maybe there will be one person at the end of the show who does not immediately turn to the mobile phone but walks away, self-possessed, maybe conversing or maybe silent, maybe letting something settle down or bubble up, the way people did before decamping the veldt for the telecommunication industry's unstrung maze. (Personally speaking, I prefer a phone booth to be a few feet square--not the size of the planet.)

If Bruce were alive today, would he even own a mobile phone? Would he deploy it as a microphone and do ambulatory street shows? What will Steve channel when the ringtone in Box 25 begins to play "I Made It Through the Rain"?

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Preachy-Teachy

(Obviously) meaning schoolmarmy/schoolmarmish, it rhymes with screechy, not beachy.