rantlust » cowmoose

Resisting Smugness

cowmoose — Fri, 16 Sep 2005 17:33:55 +0000

Smugness is one of those too-common characteristics that leads to unintended and, usually, bad consequences. At the very least, it narrows a practitioner’s mind to the point of bitterness; in its worst cases, the universe gives a big guffaw and boomerangs something awful against the very source of the smugness.

But I can’t help it. When I go to the gas station and pull up next to a monstrous Ford Expedition, I feel smug. Side-by-side, we fill up our tanks. At my island, the meter stops at 9.2 gallons. That’s $27.60 for a full tank. At his island, the meter keeps clicking while I screw in the gas cap, close the door, hit the Power button on my Prius, and silently glide away. Three days later, I’ll see him back at the gas station; meanwhile, my trip odometer clicks cheerfully through 250 miles, secure in the knowledge that there’s still half a tank left to go.

We’ve had the Prius for 16 months now. At first, the reactions varied from a genteel tolerance for our eccentricity (those crazy Californians) to pleased enthusiasm (usually from other Californians). We also endured a few self-important lectures, usually accompanied by some elementary math, about how the “savings on gas won’t outweigh the premium you pay for at least 5 years”. No matter that we’re doing Mother Nature a teeny-tiny small favor by choosing a Super Ultra Low Emissions Vehicle (SULEV) engine.

But, as the universe reminds, all smugness must be tempered by gratitude. Our right rear tail light just went out. This jolted me back to reality: the Prius is no deity among automobiles –it’s as much a car as any other, requiring regular oil changes, a shower and shampoo, and yes, a new tail light on occasion.

The next test of resisting smugness will occur when I get my DMV pass to drive solo in the carpool lane. . .

The Psychopathic Investor

cowmoose — Wed, 27 Jul 2005 00:24:53 +0000

An article in the Wall Street Journal last week discussed a report that suggested a little brain damage might improve your investment returns.

Before you settle down in front of your E*Trade screen and down those two bottles of 25 year old Macallan you’ve been saving, the study further notes that you need to suffer from a particular type of brain damage. Specifically, you need lesions in that part of your brain that controls emotions. The lucky subjects in the study can’t feel fear or anxiety. Which is the definition of psychopath.

Perhaps this why I find it difficult to enjoy the company of wildly rich investment bankers, hedge fund managers, and other movers and shakers of the financial world?

Ni Hao in the Piano Business

cowmoose — Thu, 21 Jul 2005 05:03:21 +0000

After an absence of about 15 years from regular access to a piano, husband and I are looking into acquiring a piano. Not that I’m any good, mind you, but in lieu of wee bairns and hyperactive dogs, we’re looking for a bit of self-development-oriented entertainment.

Apparently, American piano making stank in the 60s and the 70s, before Yamaha and Kawai gave domestic piano manufacturers some helpful competition. I grew up with two Baldwins (a company now bankrupt and owned by Gibson Guitars), a 5′6″ grand with some of the stiffest keys imaginable (hence my bony fingers today) and a studio upright used by my mother, the former concert pianist, to teach her reluctant students. So imagine my surprise when the first dealer I encounter tries to push a CHINESE piano on me.

That’s right. Made in China. You thought they just made cheap flashlights, cotton underwear, and the occasional laptop or two. Being game, I tried a Chinese-made piano. Alas, a brand new “Nordiska” (they all try to use Euro names like “Ritmuller” or “Strauss”) was nothing to an out-of-tune, decrepit upright vintage 1920s Steinway that looked like it served out its days in a dusty Western saloon.

So there are a lot of tangents from here. Will it ever be possible for Chinese piano manufacturers to achieve the quality of a Bosendorfer (Austria) or a Fazioli (Italy)? If no, why not? If we all know that “Nordiska” is a Chinese piano, why are they hiding behind these quasi-Euro names? (Finding out that Nordiska, started in the 1920s, went belly-up and had its name purchased by Dongbei Piano Company did little to increase its credibility for me. Call a spade a spade, for heaven’s sake!) Is it ethical to purchase a high-value Chinese import when the US trade imbalance with China is so dangerously lopsided? Do I support the land of my ancestors (and teach Robert Chinese) or do I rail against the injustice?

The Issue of Dirt

cowmoose — Tue, 19 Jul 2005 02:04:21 +0000

Growing things has not been our forte. Neglect usually kills even the hardiest plants that issue from the dirt. But something about suburbia and a little plot of bare flowerbed tickled our latent gardening urges. And we had just seen the fine but alarming documentary, The Future of Food, which goes into excruciating detail about how we’re limiting the biodiversity of our food (not to mention slicing and dicing mice genes into soybean genes). All this is part of the “Slow Food” movement (versus “fast food”), which has been slowly gaining adherents from its base in Italy.

So we decided to try planting our own food. Beans, peas, lettuce, corn, cucumbers, basil, carrots, and spring onions. Nothing too ambitious, just turn the soil, put the seeds in the ground, and water daily. This was May.

For the past 2-3 weeks, we’ve been enjoying a bumper crop of some of the tastiest produce I’ve ever experienced. Whole Foods has nothing on freshly shelled peas. Sweet, plump, and bursting with, well, pea flavor. (And you can eat the leaves of pea plants, too. They call them “pea shoots” and sell them at the SF farmer’s market for $4.99 a pound.) Our string beans are massive, 8-12″ long on average, tender and crisp, and flawless. The lettuce takes some scrubbing (just yank the whole head out, chop, and wash) and some of the lower leaves have little bug-nibble holes in them, but the flavor is so fresh. Who knew lettuce had flavor?

We had our first spring onion yesterday, chopped up with some string beans and mixed with quinoa tossed with olive oil and some truffle oil. Amazing. And I don’t even like vegetables.

We’re disappointed with the basil–it’s growing like a weed but tastes a bit bitter. The cucumbers are just forming (they curl up like elven shoes); we think they’ll be ready in another few days. We’ve not unearthed any carrots yet, letting them grow a bit more, and the corn — it sprouted husky spears this week — will take even longer, but we’re patient. It’s the ultimate slow food.