Away for a bit

Someone left these flowers in our neighbor's rental apartment, and they were allergic to them, so they gave them to us.  Nice!  Obviously, this was before the sun went away for a month.

Just posting to say I'll be away for a bit, visiting family.  Since I went to sleep last night to the sound of helicopters (no doubt over the Apollo Theatre) and a car stereo on the street below blasting Michael Jackson's greatest hits (which sound remarkably quaint now compared to the current street fare), I think our timing couldn't be better.  Tonight we'll sleep on twenty-five acres in rural Georgia.  And we're quite ready for a break from anything resembling school, too.  The flowers reflect my happy mood!  

Twelfth Night

Despite this June being one of the rainiest ever, and every morning since the 5th cloudy, we somehow managed to slip in between rain showers last Friday to see Twelfth Night at the outdoor Delacorte Theater.  

I'm no drama expert, but may I just say that I really, really appreciate Shakespeare in the Park?  I think it is my favorite event in New York City, perhaps even more so than the NYC Marathon. You go camp out in line for tickets hours before the show. Sometimes you get in (we usually do), and sometimes you don't, but it's free if you do. Sometimes it rains during the middle of the play, and you have to go home and try the whole thing again another night. And once we got an understudy for Brutus, in Julius Caesar, who was painful to watch as he struggled to remember his lines.  But usually, despite a little suspense, we take a picnic, play card or board games in the line, get our tickets, and enjoy the show.

With any Delacorte Production, there are certain hallmarks you expect: Creative staging, unconventional costumes (this year's were English Regency, i.e., Jane Austen), well-known actors in at least one or two main roles, good music, and the bawdiness played up in the comedies. Thankfully, in this production, the bawdiness tended mostly to the male bathroom sort. It was blatant enough, but given the subject matter it could have been much worse. Now for the other matters.

We saw Twelfth Night last in 2002 with Julia Stiles as Viola.  She was flat, and the staging was contrived.  But this year's production, with Anne Hathaway in the lead role, was a winner.  I think it's my favorite of the Shakepeare comedy productions the Public has done.  (Even more so than last year's Midsummer Night's Dream, which had the funniest rendition of the Thisbee scene I've ever seen.)  Anne Hathaway was a skilled and sincere Viola, but she didn't steal the show.  She played the (literally) straight woman that the play needed in the role. The other main characters were competent, if not stand outs. Audra McDonald was occasionally too exaggeratedly feline as Olivia, but I did like her.  And Feste had a touch of pathos, like a jester in a Velasquez painting.  

The characters who stood out were Malvolio, Maria, Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.  Malvolio's character wasn't a detestable hypocrite, but more like a pathetic Kelsey Grammer. Maria was a shrewd and savvy accomplice.  Sir Toby made his entrance, in silhouette, in an outsized Napoleon hat that echoed his considerable paunch.  He was played by Jay O. Sanders (last year's Bottom from A Midsummer Night's Dream). But it was Sir Andrew who had our group laughing helplessly. Hamish Linklater played him like a cross between the Mad Hatter and a character from This is Spinal Tap.  His hapless delivery suggested vast spaces between the synapses.  All the characters, but especially his, were made more effective by excellent stage directing. For instance, when all the rejected suitors make their exits, with their luggage, at the end of the play, Malvolio stomps off in a huff, but Sir Andrew offers his leather saddle gratefully to Sebastian. Two acts ago in a moment of cowardice, he had promised his horse to Cesario not to fight him. He's perhaps still a little confused about which person is Cesario, but a deal's a deal.

The music (Twelfth Night is the most musical of Shakespeare's plays) was played Irish-style, with a whole band of musicians who alternately paraded around the stage or sat off to one side. During the wedding at the end of this Shakespearean comedy, I wanted badly to dance, but alas, it wasn't appropriate to the venue.  If I could find a recording of it, however, I might just dance around my own living room.  

***

Update:  Here's the NY Times review.  They like it, too!

Planning for next year

That silence was the sound of C.Z. and me finishing up the year and planning the next one.  But I thought I should post today because there will be another silence soon while we have visitors and then go visit family.  Despite the constant rain and cool temperatures, summer is almost here.

Here's what next year looks like so far.  It's C.Z.'s first year of high school:

Once a week outside classes:

Literature and writing class at a local tutoring place

Biology class at the same

Geometry using Jacobs, with a weekly enrichment session at our co-op

Saturday all-day music program with violin lesson, orchestra, chamber, theory and ear-training

Possible tutors:

Italian (with the rest of the family, because Bob wants one) or Latin (with one other girl)

Writing (We've been having the co-op math tutor, who is a published playwright, talk with C.Z. once per week about creative writing.)

At home:  

History, which may be a Teaching Company series, or just free reading, if she's motivated. Possibly some grammar brush up. The usual side interests in music, trips to museums, cooking, and other reading.

Other:  

This summer we're going to be doing some volunteering for Audubon that may extend into fall. We have recently attended a knitting circle that contributes to a local homeless shelter. And there may be other volunteer opportunities that may arise later in the year.

We'll probably buy into in our local support group's discount ski package again next winter.  C.Z. wants to ice skate, too.

***

Now, you're likely to notice what I noticed when we were making this plan, and you may possibly even have the same reaction:  This isn't homeschooling!  It's private tutoring run amok!  What about unschooling?  What about the simple life?

Honestly, it's not what I would have chosen, either.  But it's what C.Z. chose when I allowed her to decide, with the possible exception of the foreign language. And after hearing her reasons, I saw maturity in them. She's at an age where it's important for her to feel competent. She's never liked textbook learning or formal writing, but she wants to make sure that she can at least do that. The implication is that once she goes through the paces, she can take off on her own.

I suspect that the music program has something to do with it, too. Once you enroll in one outside program, it tends to take priority, because it has its own deadlines. And she loves her orchestra and chamber programs. So she felt she needed something more formal in academics to make sure the other subjects got done.  

One of my friends whose daughter is doing a similar schedule said, "So, how does it feel to be an administrator this year?"  I knew that she was half-joking, and I laughed along with the joke, but the other half of me felt slightly deflated.  I don't think of myself as an administrator.  For one thing, I'm not very good at it!  But also, my reasons for homeschooling have a lot more to do with promoting freedom and intimacy than in making sure things get done.  

By outsourcing, are we losing those good qualities of freedom and intimacy?  I don't think so. For one thing, next year's schedule isn't really so different from this year's.  We're going to do fewer co-op classes, and it wasn't like Latin was going so well under my tutelage anyway.  In fact, it was something of a bone of contention.  

C.Z. is positively excited about the literature class.  I think she sees it as a chance to have something interesting to discuss with other homeschoolers her age.  

And besides, in the indomitable spirit of the long-time homeschooler, I can't help looking up a few interesting supplemental books and ordering them.  I'll be reading along, and discussing, because I just can't resist!  I can spend my time with C.Z. doing the fun stuff.  She can do the administration. I find that very appropriate.  C.Z needs to be responsible for some kind of outside work that she finds important, but both of us still want the intimacy of a strong family life.

Of course, knowing the way homeschooling goes, this may all change by Christmas, but for now, I'm going into the summer feeling hopeful about the coming year.  And one of the things I'm feeling hopeful about is that once she tries this "outside" sort of year, she'll feel more confident about working on her own at home as well.  And even if she continues this way, it will have been her choice.

Going downtown for Thai groceries

The coveted, frozen lime leaves, and some galanga

Since winter, I've been wanting to cook Southeast Asian food from Hot Sour Salty Sweet, but all the recipes that intrigued me most had ingredients that I couldn't find in my neighborhood. We have two Japanese groceries here, several Thai restaurants, and one store that claims to carry banana leaves, but I've never seen them there.  

So once we had a decently free week, I Googled "Thai grocery Manhattan" and we set off to Chinatown. I had several places on my list, but as it turned out, all I needed was Udom Grocery on Bayard Street. (The link goes to a photo tour of Chinatown, which includes Udom, but it's copyrighted, so I didn't post the photo directly.)

We approached Udom from across the street, under threatening grey skies that made all the buildings look tired. The storefront looked dingy and cluttered, as did the interior once we entered. The whole store was about twelve feet wide including freezer cases, shelves, and the checkout counter, but there are many such tiny grocery stores in Manhattan, and I've grown to love them, because the proprietors are often the owners, and they are friendly and knowledgeable.  

C.Z. and I ambled down the narrow aisle, which was stacked with boxes in front of the shelves, familiarizing ourselves with the tiny, unfamiliar storescape. Most of the foods were the packaged type, with labels that weren't slick like American ones or artfully pop like Japanese ones.  They were labelled in both Thai and English.  Many of the items, as in Japanese groceries, were sauces, noodles or instant meals combining the two.  But everything on my list was produce, and I didn't see a shred of leaf or pepper anywhere.  As we were the only people in the store, I'm sure it was obvious that we were confused. 

Finally the owner spoke up from the register:  "Help you find anything?" He had an accent and left the articles out of his sentences, but he was easy to understand.  

"Do you have lime leaves?" I asked, thinking I'd go for the item I wanted most.  

"Lime leaves expensive,"  he responded.  Uh, oh, I thought.  If he didn't have them, who would? 

But just as I thought this, he went over to two household-type refrigerator freezers and started pulling something out. Then I realized that, of course, coming all the way from Thailand, all produce had to be kept frozen. "Lime leaves $10," he continued, and gave me an explanation that I don't remember.  "Smell."  I did, and instantly got a whiff of that distinctive Thai food smell that inspired me to cook Thai in the first place. The fact that I was quite hungry added to the experience, no doubt.

Then he reached into the freezer again and started pulling out everything that was on my list, without my asking! "Here. Banana leaves.  Here. Chilies." 

 

The other man who worked in the store grinned.  I looked at him and pursed my lips. "What? Are they hot? How are they compared with jalapenos?"  

"Same as jalapenos, but very hot." I gathered that he meant they were smaller, thus more concentrated.  It turned out when we used them that that's exactly what he meant. They were so overwhelming to the taste that I may cut down the recipes by half a pepper, even though I like hot food.

The owner kept on pulling things out:  Frozen chopped lemongrass, which I didn't need, strictly speaking, because I could buy fresh, but I was so enchanted with the place by this time that I thought I'd try it.  And galangal.  "Not same as ginger," he advised.  Close, but not the same.

After pulling some star anise from the spice rack and starting to pay, the owner pointed to some banana leaves tied with raffia which were lying next to the register.  "Sticky rice, very good. It's dollar seventy-five."  Did I mention that I was starving?  They were wrapped in twos, so I bought one package and thanked the owner.

Star anise tastes a little like fennel seed

Thai chilies (use with caution!) sitting on a pack of frozen banana leaves

As we walked out onto the street, it was starting to rain, so we popped out our umbrellas on the narrow sidewalk and I started fumbling with the wrapper as we set out towards SoHo.  C.Z. and I laughed because even though I'd handed her the grocery bag, I was trying to hold the umbrella, cross streets, and unwrap a seemingly endless length of banana leaf all at the same time.  Of course I was getting wet.  

But by the time we got to Centre Street, I had found the edible center of sweet sticky rice dotted with red beans.  It had a distinctive, handmade taste that made a favorable impression, as new foods usually do when you're hungry.  At first, C.Z. offered to give me hers, but I suggested she try it and she changed her mind by the time we arrived at our next stop.  

By comparison our second destination, Sur La Table, which I'd been to before, was ordinary, even yuppie.  I found the same bowls I'd purchased from Tongin Mart on our last trip to Chinatown, but they cost $9 instead of $5.  We wandered around for far too long, finally leaving with a pizza stone but no peel, and a mortar and pestle.  What was I thinking, buying two of the heaviest items in the store to take home on the subway at rush hour? I get like a deer in the headlights when faced with so many choices.

The train was so crowded that C.Z. and I got separated on the car, though I knew she was there, and when I found her again a couple of stops later, she was talking to someone whom I didn't recognize at first.  Turns out it was a former babysitter from co-op and King's College student, whose marvelously alternative Christian wedding I'd heard much about last year.  She and her husband were visiting the city before moving to Albuquerque.  

By the time we arrived home, we were exhausted, but we proceeded to attempt a pizza on the new stone.  Turns out we needed a peel after all, or at least more flour, because it turned into a calzone en route from the pan to the stone.  But I don't think I'm going back to that store this week. We'll try scones instead until we get this figured out.

Last night I made fish coconut curry with lime leaves from Hot Sour Salty Sweet, accompanied by Yunnan cabbage with star anise.  By the time I got to the cabbage, I'd realized how hot the curry was going to be, so I used less chili pepper in the latter.  The result was delicious, if a bit overwhelming to the flavor of the curry, but we sweated and enjoyed, and now I know where to get Thai ingredients when I need them.  And we had a nice adventure without going far from home.

Fledge Day

 A mother House Sparrow feeding her baby (image from Wikipedia)

Yesterday C.Z. and I took a long walk in Riverside Park, from 89th St. to 125th St., in a loop. We saw the first fledgling House Sparrow south of 96th St.  It flew low and wobbly over the path at about waist height. C.Z. noted that it must be a baby, because its tail was so short.  

The timing seemed right. We remembered the week in early spring when every hollow traffic signal pole in the city boasted its male sparrow chirping to claim a bit of real estate, and then the morning we woke up to see them robbing neighborhood window boxes for dried grass, and then the short out-and-back flights of a couple of weeks ago (which must be for feeding, but make them look confusingly like Phoebes). We realized that now must be the time for the babies to fledge.  

We walked on. Up by the Amiable Child monument,  we followed another baby sparrow that was sitting on the iron railing until we found its mom and two siblings.  

Then, when we turned back south near the Drip, we almost stepped on a baby sparrow which had apparently just made its first flight and was sitting in the middle of the path.  When it saw us coming near, it careened across the path and then a short ways up to the railing, overshooting and hanging upside down for a moment by its feet before it righted itself.  There it sat, slipping a little on the railing and chirping at us frantically with its one-note chirp.  We watched it for a while, from a respectful distance, to see whether it would try to fly again. It moved around a post and almost fell off the railing again, but didn't dare take off.  Its wide baby beak, still yellow and turned down at the corners, gave it a disgruntled expression.

After a while we noticed another baby in a nearby tree.  It began to chirp at its sibling, and they set up a chorus as if to say, "Here I am! It's okay!" and "You can do it!" Just when we thought our first fledgling was going to sit on the rail for the rest of the afternoon, it took another flight of about three feet. Its sibling followed, barely catching onto a thin hanging branch and swinging wildly. The two birds continued to encourage one another until the sibling made another flight, but our first baby was too tired or afraid to follow.  

We could see adult House Sparrows all around us on the other side of the path. Eventually, a group of four or five females flew over at once and all started chattering at the fledgling like a bunch of grandmas. After a while, they flew off, and shortly afterwards a male House Sparrow showed up, making a different low chattering sound, and hopping from one branch to another, then back.  It was exactly as if he were saying, "This is how you do it."  Then it fed the baby an insect.  

"That really reminds me of last winter when Daddy was trying to get me to try my first black diamond," C.Z. commented.  We use Green & Black's dark chocolate instead of insects.

Still, it was no go for our baby bird. Daddy flew off, and then the bird's mother showed up with another insect.  Apparently learning to fly is a high calorie endeavor. 

When we finally left after watching for about thirty minutes, the baby sparrow still hadn't flown, but it was obviously surrounded by a loving family. Watching the sparrows for so long gave me a greater appreciation for these ubiquitous dull-coated city birds that dot every street. They're an invasive, gregarious species that adapts to city culture, but then, so am I. And they have their customs and their seasonal rhythms just like the glamorous migrant warblers and overwintering White-throated Sparrows, even if they aren't as well-appreciated. The House Sparrow is likely the kind of sparrow that Jesus was referring to when he said that "not one of them falls to the ground apart from the will of the Father."  Watching the sparrows fledge yesterday gave me a whole new appreciation for what he meant.