Good Morning,
Outside the leaves were falling as they died
A wind had blown away the sun
…
Outside the leaves were falling
and they cried
Too soon! too soon!
— A Coney Island of the Mind, 20, Lawrence Ferlinghetti
And so ends The Little’s first summer break.
We were worried we hadn’t signed her up for enough camps or arranged for enough things for her to do. I missed out on one job and passed on another to make sure I was available to be around when I needed to be. Hours — HOURS at the pool. Enough sunscreen to keep me from burning (which is not an insignificant amount).
Are we glad school is starting tomorrow? Yes, we are. But was it all that bad? Not at all. We all had a great time together, she got to try some new things, see some new places. She got way too much screen time but that’s just what kids do (like we didn’t, right?).
A couple weeks into summer break I was worrying about her getting too used to spending as much time with me as she was. Now I’m worried I’m too used to spending so much time around her as well. We’ll adjust, of course. She’s very excited to be going back which is awesome because that’s exactly what you want her to be. I’m looking forward to having a few more of my hours returned to my own custody.
I know, though, that somewhere in the first few days I’m going to be around the house and will instinctively think Okay, tell The Little to throw her suit on it’s time to hit the pool and she won’t be there. The pool won’t even be open yet, as it changes hours once the school year starts. And I’ll spend a moment doing the math on how much of her school day is left before I can walk up to get her.
Too soon. Too soon.
Amsterdam (2022)
I found it streaming on HBO (no I will not call it the other name, the other name is stupid) but look around and see what works best for you.
It’s David O. Russell, so I need to reach over to the wall right quick and tap the meme:
But that’s fine. Russell’s got style, and it doesn’t always work for me — in fact, it doesn’t always work with me during Amsterdam — but when it does, it’s a lot of fun. Here, the fun’s in watching Russell tackle love vs hate, art vs commerce, et al while dramatizing the Business Plot and somehow not making it all a total quagmire of exposition.
If you’re thinking about checking Amsterdam out, and I think you should though it’s not a necessary watch, also consider the first episode of Rachel Maddow’s Deja News podcast, Riot at the gates (again), which gives a good rundown of the Business Plot for the uninitiated. Listen before or after seeing the movie; I think it’s helpful either way.
Balanced Aroma: Adjusting the Thiol Dial, by Kate Bernot for Craft Beer & Brewing
How ‘bout some good ol’ beer-geekery? If you’re not learning, you’re not interested, so I’ve been seeking out new areas of beer to read up on, and I keep seeing this word, “Thiols”, being bandied about. Bernot as usual weaves relevant complicated information seamlessly within an engagingly-written article.
The Indigenous Roots of Robbie Robertson’s Rock and Roll Revolution, by Jeet Heer for The Nation
Jeet Heer offers a thoughtful obituary for Robbie Robertson, reflecting on his unique background and the path it set him on as he entered the musical world. I never connected much with Robbie’s stuff outside of The Band, and even there have never given due deference — which I think has something to do with a Springsteen quote Heer cites in the piece, where Bruce talks about The Band sounding “like you’ve never heard them before and like they’d always been there” simultaneously. He was an interesting man and player, to be certain.
Dinner Theater and Loathing in Baptist Vegas, by Amy McCarthy for Eater
I’m just gonna go ahead and skip to the hard-sell for this Branson travelogue if that’s all right with you:
The cheery announcer reminds us that, despite our positions on opposite sides tonight, we’re all on the same side in real life, because we’re all good-hearted Americans. The subtext: Despite the country’s deep political divide, there’s nothing that the magic of eating a meal and singing a song together can’t fix. Dolly’s patriotic anthem “Color Me America” blares in the background, and a man a couple of seats down from me stands and places his U.S. Navy veteran’s baseball cap over his heart, a tear glinting in his eye. At the same time, a cast member in the now dimly lit arena whisks away a bucket of horseshit.
It’s pretty good and exceedingly fair in a Not a fish-out-of-water story of a costal elite visiting a ‘Murrican landmark way.
That’s what I’ve got for the week. Catch you back here next Sunday. Take care.
Until next time.