Super Chef, Super Spy!

This news story seriously had me pumping my fist. How cool is it that Julia Child worked for the OSS?

I think most people find this era of spying the most exciting. It seems a bit more gentlemanly that the Cold War and the backdrop is too glamourous.

In any event, I’d always admired Julia Child. Cooking on television is a risky proposition, but her charisma and humor always made her so entertaining. I particularly enjoyed some of her more practical suggestions like that no one knows what happens in the kitchen, so if you drop something just pick it up and wash it off. It’s a nice departure from the slightly paranoid views expressed on Food Network these days. Remember, what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger… unless it irreversibly weakens us to the point where something else kills us.

This reminds me too of one of my favorite novels, Shining Through. PLEASE don’t confuse the novel with the film dreck of the same name. The novel is witty, exciting, touching, funny, and very well researched. Linda, our heroine, is a real person and her actions are not always so heroic. Really really great. Compare the climaxes:

The book: Linda (a Queens stenographer turned spy) has been discovered in Berlin. She has found the mole in the operation and made the decision to kill her, only after being wounded herself. She is saved by Edward, her former boss, a New York laywer and WWI hero, who speaks no German. He is posed as a Nazi General (in the hopes that such an important rank will not cause people to question him) whose war wounds prevent him from speaking. Linda poses as his mistress going to Switzerland to get an abortion. The final border guard recognizes something is wrong with the papers, but is muffled by the sight of Edward’s scars, manner, and a huge wad of Swiss francs. The guard smilingly ushers them to freedom. It’s tense and funny and real feeling.

The movie: Linda (Melanie Griffith who was only good in Body Double (although I think that was more about casting than acting) and has gross wormy glossy red lips) and Edward (Michael Douglas… eh.) stagger across the border to Switzerland with Nazis shooting at them. When they cross the invisible line (which isn’t invisible) the Germans magically stop shooting them. Because the Nazis were all about respecting boundery lines. Linda then reveals that the microfilm (yes, microfilm. This is not in the novel) was hidden in her glove because she “knew that it would be discovered if I was examined by a doctor, but not by the SS.” Indeed. If I were looking for microfilm on a dead body, I expect that not only would I remove all clothing, I would probably search all body cavities. Perhaps this is my German efficiency speaking?

Ugh. It’s so awful when they destroy a novel you love in a lame film version. Anyway, I heartily recommend the book.

Dogs, Monkeys, Groundhogs

This weekend’s plans:
1. Dog Beach (Knut went yesterday, met three baby Cavaliers. I stayed home because he was a little bit grumpy. Darn it!). Will attempt to wade with Colin. Colin has previously shown no interest in swimming. I’m hoping peer pressure is the answer.

2. Awesome party at Cynthia and Steffi’s. Here’s the text from the invitation:

"God vs. the Monkeys -
We're having a party! For no particular reason, although it happens to fall on the same date that the Scopes "Monkey" Trial came to a close in 1925. To honor this this original showdown between the Creationists and the Evolutionists, we'll be serving up some brass monkeys and -- for those who remain faithful to Genesis -- some sour apple cocktails. Also feel free to BYOB (the B standing, of course, for Bonobos and Bibles, though Beer is okay too).

So come over next Friday to reconnect with your inner primate and nourish your jungle roots. We don't know exactly how the night will turn out, but we imagine it will look something like this: www.youtube.com/watch?v=YKXqqjhnOhM"

Looking forward to that! My favorite part of their parties is Knut sitting and being admired by super cute lesbians because he’s strong enough to open the hatch to the roof. It’s far too adorable.

3. Road trip to Woodstock. To Woodstock, IL not the 1969 Music Festival. I do not expect The Who to be there. Although that would be awesome! Woodstock is where they filmed Groundhog Day. It’s also the hometown of the creator of Dick Tracey. I’ve heard there’s a little Dick Tracey museum. We basically just feel like getting out of the city.

I don’t know what we’ll do on Sunday yet. Probably early preparations for the Norwegians who will be coming on Thursday. Right! I almost forgot to ask to borrow sheets and pillows from my folks!

Present! I swear!

Sorry, I haven’t been around much!

There was the 17^th of May weekend fun, then a glorious trip to Seattle, and yesterday a Cubs game. Plus, my pies are selling like hot cakes (or pies possibly)! Today I got an order from Germany! I figure that means I ought to use only domestic beer brands J

I’m also working on a series of dinner pies. Chicken Pot Pie is a speciality of mine in edible form (that and quiche are frequently requested by my hungrey husband), so I should be able to come up with a decent polymer clay version. Watch for pie news updates! Try to hold your excitement!

I’m also working on a custom doggy onesie. I made one with my brother’s dog with “Food Rival” written underneath, although I suspect “Pack Member” may work better for more benevolent doggies.

But today’s giant news is that I’VE BEEN ACCEPTED TO GRAD SCHOOL!!

This text is written by a future MLIS owner!! Yeah!!

The Day I Fell in Love With a German

I’m referring to Prince Esterhazy, of course!

Actually, I’m referring to Michael Sowa.

Once, while visiting my brother at college in Princeton, I happened into one of those lovely used bookstores that seem to pervert the bounds of physics in an M.C. Escher style maze of shelves and piles. I found a gigantic complete works of Jane Austen for $5 and took it up to the register. By the counter, the owner had a rack of tattered postcards, mostly of amusing cat photos, but one caught my eye. It was a painting of a man reading a newspaper while a penguin flew past the window. I bought it and turned it over. “Michael Sowa” it said.

Years later, my future husband and I were goofing around in Edinburgh. We had done the Royal Mile, the ghost tour, the haggis, etc. and were hanging around a side street when we saw a twisty old book shop with a rack of postcards by the door. I found one of a little bunny trying on leopard print boxer shorts in front of a mirror. We bought some of them and stepped into an impossibly dark and dank pub. Knut examined one of a girl with her arm around a trotting bear. He turned it over. “Michael Sowa.”

After that, my brother, the same one who had been at Princeton, sent me a birthday card of a few children running in terror from a giant rampaging Easter bunny. I smiled and turned it over. “Michael Sowa.”

Obviously, this was fate. I don’t believe in Fate, but this was fate with a small “f.” Clearly this thing had to be researched.

I searched Amazon and found he has a few books, most of which were in German or I had to buy used. A very small sacrifice, because the man has a sense of humor and a whimsical style that can’t be matched. The children’s books are funny and sweet and The Bestiary is crammed with ticklish creatures.

A few years ago I caught an advert for an exhibition of his work in Germany. I seriously considered hopping on a plane. Alas, the spirit was willing, but the wallet was weak. However, if any gallery in the Mid West would like to give me a birthday present…

In 2001, I was delighted to see a new film by my favorite French director, Jean-Pierre Jeunet. It was Amelie, destined to be a film I’ve watched countless times. So when we get a glimpse of the walls of her apartment and the winsome dog portraits and bejeweled chickens, I smiled to myself. “Ah, Michael Sowa.”