B1's school has the kids dressing up as a nationality tomorrow. Any nationality, but they're supposed to come sportin' a look. We didn't really have anything quite right -- Exene was trying to pimp lederhosen on B1, but I said "What, and end up with a lifetime of swirlies for his troubles?" Then I came up with the great idea of having B1 dress like he's Canadian. Voila! Problem solved! A sweater and some slacks and some boots, and presto! Instant Canadian!
*cackle*
The runner-up was putting him in a sweater vest with a tie and having him be British!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Video: High Numbers
I like this archival footage of the Who when they were the High Numbers. This from 1964, doing their hard R&B stuff, the Mod kids all dancing. In Mod, a "high number" was a player, basically, in the slang -- you could be a "high number," a "big ticket," and a "face" (or best of all, an "ace face"). Love archival footage of Mod kiddies, doing their thing. Fun!
That's what all the "face" and "ticket" talk is about in "I'm the Face." I'm the Face is basically saying "I'm tops!" in Mod parlance.
Roger Daltrey's conception of the band was much narrower than it came to be with the Who. He held them squarely in that R&B mode, covering Motown tunes, etc., until the band rebelled against his leadership and the band ultimately became leaderless (and better). Daltrey's iron fist early on kept them together as a unit during the vital formative years, when the rampant drug use of the other three members (esp. speed and booze) threatened to derail them. But the rebellion of the other three allowed the band to break free of its Mod roots and truly hit the upper stratosphere, where they needed to be.
That's what all the "face" and "ticket" talk is about in "I'm the Face." I'm the Face is basically saying "I'm tops!" in Mod parlance.
Roger Daltrey's conception of the band was much narrower than it came to be with the Who. He held them squarely in that R&B mode, covering Motown tunes, etc., until the band rebelled against his leadership and the band ultimately became leaderless (and better). Daltrey's iron fist early on kept them together as a unit during the vital formative years, when the rampant drug use of the other three members (esp. speed and booze) threatened to derail them. But the rebellion of the other three allowed the band to break free of its Mod roots and truly hit the upper stratosphere, where they needed to be.
Saucy
I made BBQ chicken last night, using my homemade recipe for sauce. Exene was lurking about in the kitchen while I was making it, and I could see her eyes scanning the ingredients (I didn't have them all out, since she was there). I said "Get out of here! You're not going to divine my recipe!" and she said "Your secret sauce. What's the secret?" and I said "I am. I make it great. I'm taking that with me." and she said "It's the cider-to-ketchup ratio. Has to be." [Note: It's NOT that, although she said that twice at different times.] and I said "I'm not telling." and got her out of the kitchen, so I could make the stuff in peace, free from prying eyes. It drives her bananas that I won't tell her the recipe for my sauce. She commented on it several times, trying to suss it out, but I refuse to tell. It really is a superlative sauce, although it's my culinary instincts that really anchor it -- not like I'm superchef, mind you, but I can definitely cook, and I enjoy it, frankly. Cooking's fun for me. I'd never do it professionally -- that would suck the fun right out of it! But in the home, I love it.
I did call B2 in to watch, as he LOVES to watch me cook, wants to join in, and I had him as my little helper. He loves anything with cooking, and I like for him to see his Daddy cooking, so he'll pick up on that. He makes a point to smell every ingredient (he's always been a sniffer like that -- it's very cute, that little freckled nose of his, sniffing foods and flowers). He even likes to make his own stuff -- I'll give him some pretend ingredients, like sugar cubes and flour and water so he can "cook," as well. It makes me smile. My little Epicurean-in-training!
I made B1 a nice grilled cheese sandwich, which he wolfed down. I always use some extra-virgin olive oil for my grilled cheese sandwiches, not butter, when I'm frying them. Makes'em extra-yummy.
I've got another cold -- chest cold. That's what was screwing with me the other night, sleepwise. Stupid cold season. Blech. Disease is like the Internet before the Internet -- we're all networked through the air we breathe. Thanks, whoever gave me that cold. Message received! "You've got Mail!" *koff koff koff*
I did call B2 in to watch, as he LOVES to watch me cook, wants to join in, and I had him as my little helper. He loves anything with cooking, and I like for him to see his Daddy cooking, so he'll pick up on that. He makes a point to smell every ingredient (he's always been a sniffer like that -- it's very cute, that little freckled nose of his, sniffing foods and flowers). He even likes to make his own stuff -- I'll give him some pretend ingredients, like sugar cubes and flour and water so he can "cook," as well. It makes me smile. My little Epicurean-in-training!
I made B1 a nice grilled cheese sandwich, which he wolfed down. I always use some extra-virgin olive oil for my grilled cheese sandwiches, not butter, when I'm frying them. Makes'em extra-yummy.
I've got another cold -- chest cold. That's what was screwing with me the other night, sleepwise. Stupid cold season. Blech. Disease is like the Internet before the Internet -- we're all networked through the air we breathe. Thanks, whoever gave me that cold. Message received! "You've got Mail!" *koff koff koff*
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