This is Nuts! - with Chocolate

In a world where it is illegal to bring nuts to preschool - they may be life threatening - it is good to know that today is World Nutella Day. As with most international brands, the US recipe it too sweet which covers the niche nut-chocolate flavor. You get the best quality in Italy; Austrian and German are OK. I will serve Crepes filled with Nutella tonight - will see if it is a "go" with M. (she's 5 and prefers my homemade jam)

Recipe to follow.

Leave a comment if you want to come over and try ...

You took my patience away

New India Bazar The man with his big eyes and the beret on his head could have easily passed for the long lost Indian brother of Pablo Picasso, waiting in line at the India Supermarket with a lonesome salad in one hand and a dollar bill in the other. While I was unloading the Basmati rice and the chutneys from my cart I asked him to pay first. He made an unsure move to the lady behind the cash register, she took his money, I smiled at him and said "please go ahead". He smiled back and responded: "you took my patience away" and walked out into the sunshine.


At the Pool

After multiple requests to extend my blog int the daddy-blog space: "you will be sooo successful, everyone will ready you", I'll give it a try. Today at the pool. Watching Miriam. A little girl, still a bit wobbly on her feet, young enough and good looking enough to get away with running around topless even in puritan America runs to the pool edge, jumps-falls into the water, her little body sinks under the water surface, her face down, she doesn't move, wiggles her arms around, sinks deeper, her head under the water, bubbles, wiggling arms, no movement....comes up gasping for air...face down in the water again, sinking to the bottom of the pool...coming up with the toy she has been diving for, swimming to the steps to climb out on her wobbly feet, runs to the edge and jumps in again.

What do I do? She's probably the better swimmer.

Do Blogs need Humans?

We need blogs. More blogs, new blogs, blogs about everything and it is hard to envision how we ever lived without those little snippets of mostly irrelevant content. In a recursive way this applies equally to this blog entry. Blogs fall into multiple categories, including a few high-profile blogs read by many, a middle-ground of blogs with a more or less sizable readership and those who are not even intended to be read by anyone. And then there are blogs that are not even created by humans. And there are tests to find out if you're human. Bladerunner and Alan Turing explored this topic in very different ways, but more about that later. Maybe blogs can live and replicate and organize themselves in a completely human-free environment and would be much happier. I found an inbound link in my Wordpress dashboard to Deutsche Piraten Newcomer Blogcharts, a list of new and unknown blogs written in German. Floblogg is not new, it's only partly German but I guess it's pretty unknown. The list is limited to German, G-rated blogs The list is automatically generated from Technorati and a brief check of other blogs above and below my position #44 shows computer generated X-rated referral sites to Webcams and porn (Sorry no NSFW-links; not worth bothering about lists of links with mediocre sex pics). The blog is geneated automatically, entered into Technorati, selected for the list by a program and if successfully propelled into the Web, will replicate. Blogs feed of each other, they don't need us to intervene. Leaves the question if the pictures of the girls will eventually be replaced by images of chips and code.

Then there is Melanie's diary. I found it on the list and followed the link: A personal diary with extensive T&C (Terms and Conditions). Melanie still goes to school. Her face on the site, the links to her school easily give that away. She lives in a romantic little town at a lake near Salzburg (Yes! Sound of Music, of which she probably never heard of, only Americans know, for locals this was a mediocre, long forgotten musical from the 50s). And as she lives in this quiet little town, she also does not have to worry about putting her complete mailing address on the Web site. She also has a boyfriend and he also has a blog. There is no real content on the blog except a remark that she hasn't written in a long time and it will be soon time to write more. Maybe we should leave blogs to the blogs, board up all entries to the blog world and revert to read and write when we have something to say, to show, to share. We can use much of the blog software, which is basically a CMS for the rest of us. It's a Content Management System. No content - no need to manage. The software has serious limitations due to the chronological oder of entries and the temptation to create lots of little entries and write on and on. Which is why is stop now. Comments welcome.

Is there a Zamp in my Memory?

The evening ritual had settled in to first read Dr. Seuss: There's a Zamp in My Lamp while sitting on the bed so she could pull, rotate and wiggle all the different tabs in the book and then I would move to the leather chair to sit under the reading lamp and continue with my reading of Combray while she searches for the bist place and the best position to sleep, rolling around to feel the energy of the ever square inch, much in the way Castaneda describes it in the Teachings of Don Juan. Marcel Proust A la recherche du temps perdu

The German paperback edition I am reading is uttely disappointing in its print quality, yet she likes the three heavy volumes that give her a feeling of the 4194 pages (I am confident that we're through before she leaves for college, we have at least another 15 years to go) ahead of us.

While reading to her, I'm asking myself what the Proust's Narrateur would have thought of Dr. Seuss and if reading Cat in thew Hat or hat in the Cat would have releaved him from the terrible pain of going to bed. Did Seuss read Proust? The strange mixture of these orthogonal approaches to the ghosts that surround us, that are part of our house, our life creates an experience, a memory that may well be independent from the actual text by telling a story of movable paper tabs and a stream of vaguely comprehensible words in excessively long sentences. At 3 1/2 it is hard for her to explain why she likes Proust or Seuss but they are both important to us as a way to tell a new story.