Half Nelson, a film that takes place in Brooklyn, is playing this week at Cobble Hill Cinemas (265 Court Street) and BAM Rose Cinemas (30
Lafayette Avenue).
More Half Nelson Reviews [Rotten Tomatoes]

From Atlantic Yards Report:

Everyone expected the Atlantic Yards plan to be reduced somewhat as
part of the endgame as state approval approached, and that discussion
has now reached the press. A New York Sun article today headlined Pressure Mounts to Curb the Size of Atlantic Yards states:
State officials have discussed with the developer, Forest City Ratner, a reduction in the size of the project, a source said.

Presumably
this downsizing, likely to come before the end of the public comment
period September 22, would be aimed not simply at the Empire State
Development Corporation, but at the Public Authorities Control Board
(PACB), the body that would then have to give unanimous approval. (PACB
member Sheldon Silver killed the West Side Stadium last year.)

And the Department of City Planning, heretofore publicly silent on the project, apparently will weigh in, the Sun said: City
officials said yesterday that the Department of City Planning is
drafting written testimony that it will submit to the ESDC that will
include comments about the proposed height and how the project fits in
the context of the low-rise neighborhood.

It’s still bigger

The Sun acknowledged that the project has grown in size, quoting Daniel Goldstein of Develop Don’t Destroy Brooklyn: Mr.
Goldstein said the latest proposal is about 700,000 square feet bigger
than the 8 million square feet that was originally proposed in December
2003. Opponents contend that the developer increased
the total square footage to about 9.1 million square feet last
September, and then in March scaled back plans by about 5%, or 475,000
square feet, to its current total size of about 8.7 million square feet.

Opponents contend?
The press shouldn’t have to attribute factual information to a partisan
side. It makes it sound like proponents and neutrals would disagree
about baseline data.

Goldstein called the scaleback discussion strategic:
"They
shoot for the sun so they can get the moon. When they get the moon,
they act like they have listened to the criticism and responded," Mr.
Goldstein said.

How much would a legitimate reduction be?
If the project would be twice as dense as the next most dense census
tract in the country, shouldn’t 50 percent be a rough ceiling for
discussion?

This weekend, our good friends celebrated their 10th wedding anniversary by inviting all their nearest and dearest family and friends to a Unitarian "sanctuary" and re-saying their original wedding vows (with some additions).

The lovely ceremony included the words of their Unitarian minister ( "I now pronounce you still married!), candle lighting, a rendition of "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" by me, a duet of "Speak Low (when you speak love)" by the brideagain’s brother and nephew and some good joke songs by the groomagain’s brothers.

Friends and family were invited to make brief comments about the couple and put a candle in a bowl of rice, which provided moments of laughter and tears. My fave: "I’ve liked them since I was two," said the couple’s 7-year-old daughter. The couple’s nine-year-old son (a budding filmaker with his own production company called W.M. Thing) recorded the entire event on videotape.

It was a very special afternoon. After the ceremony, the crowd enjoyed a most artistic cake (see above). What you see there are clay figures of the couple in the red row boat of the brideagain’s childhood. This was the cake decoration at their "first" wedding. The new cake also included a chocolate Catskills Moutain with figurines of the couple and their kids. The cake and the dinner were prepared by PLEASE EAT THE DAISIES, an Ulster County catering company. The clay figurines were created by the brideagain and groomagian. 

Later, a smaller group celebrated the groomagain’s 50th birthday with Indian food, cup cakes, ginger root beer, a big impromptu hootananny with guitars, piano, accordian and autoharp, and a knock-out version of "I Shall Be Released."

Birthdays still feel like special days even when you’re my age. That’s probably because my parents always did special things for us on our birthday.  I say "our" because I am a twin and I share my birthday with my sister.

As children, we were often in Bridgehampton, Water Mill or Sagaponick, Long Island on our birthday. We’d stay at this old-fashioned rooming house called Stepankowski (I’m pretty sure it’s not there anymore). It was the kind of place where everyone eats dinner at the same time, and eats the same thing. They probably had a croquet set on the lawn. Or horseshoes. Other times we’d stay in a B&B called the Conklin House and eat breakfast in the kitchen with the Conklins.

We’d always go to the Penny Candy Store in Water Mill —the one in mentioned in the The Long Secret by Louise Fitzhugh—on the day and carefully pick out an assortment of tootsie rolls, licorice sticks, colorful dots on paper, jaw breakers. The candies were still just a penny then. I think that place still exists but you can be sure those candies don’t cost a penny anymore.

We’d go to the beach and swim, play in the sand for hours. Stop at antique stores (my parent’s hobby) and buy swirly colored antique marbles. That’s what we collected then.

I remember many birthday dinners at old fashioned Long Island restuarants (cloth napkins, waiters in white jackets) where I’d always order L.I. Duck L’orange. And coca cola. That was a birthday treat.

A summer birthday like mine often passes unnoticed by friends. When I was a child I never had a birthday party in school. In my day, the schools didn’t do a special summer birthday party for all the kids with summer birthdays. 

But that never bothered me. It has always felt like my very private day. I love it when people remember. But if they don’t I understand. It’s the dog days of August afterall and I’m usually away.

So it feels like a secret birthday; I have birthdays just like everyone else (and I grow one year older) but
they happen on a day when no one is looking. That’s my summer
birthday.

One year, when we were 7 or 8, my sister had a beautiful garden party in Riverside Park. We went to our favorite party store on Lexington Avenue and she picked out the most beautiful streamers, paper plates, cups, napkins, hats; it was absolutely magical, the most special party in the world.

We went to separate schools and had different friends. I remember a sleep over party when I was six. With my cousin, we made groovy sixties posters that said: "Let’s Swing" and "Do the Twist."

In recent years, we have been separate on our birthday. I’m usually on the farm in California and she’s usually in New York on the day. It felt grown up in a way. Like I was claiming the day for myself. But something was missing…

When in California, my mother-in-law often serves a birthday
breakfast. She sets the table in the garden room with her Italian
floral plates, Matisse tea cups, flowers from the garden. Fresh oranges, figs, cantaloupe, nectarines. My favorite
present ever: from Teen Spirit. He gave me a huge Bob Dylan songbook
knowing that I would cry. I did.

We were together for the big Four Oh, when mother threw us a cocktail party in her living room with a jazz trio and a very tall bartender. I even got to sing (Cigarette holder that wigs me over his shoulder he digs me, out cattin’ that Satin Doll). There was champagne and finger food, friends toasting, saying nice things.

One year HC and I went to Chez Panisse on my birthday and discovered that August 28th is also the birthday of the restaurant and they always have a special birthday menu on that day. There are usually other people celebrating their birthdays, too.

For the last five or more years we’ve made Chez Panisse my birthday tradition on our shared birthday. We drive into Berkeley from the farm. Go to Cody’s Books and The Gardener in Emmeryville. Stop in at another favorite bookstore on Shattuck Avenue and then go into the simple but elegant California arts and crafts style restaurant. They always have a special birthday poster by David Lance Goines (above).

This year, like every year, I want my birthday to be a perfect day in Sagaponick with a trip to the Penny Candy Store, the ocean and a garden party in Riverside Park. A bookstore browse in Berkeley, Matisse dishes in the garden, fresh vegetables at Chez Panisse. A jazz trio in the living room and good friends making toasts.

Ya wanna come?

We spent two nights in an Ulster County motel that we’ve been aware of for years because of its big, orange sign. But we never stayed there. Just noticed it on our drives to Kingston, Woodstock, Phonecia, Big Indian. The High Bop* neon is iconic. For years, I imagined a funky 50’s motel with a view of the Catskill Mountains.

That was the fantasy and I should have left it at that. Our hosts advised us to stay at the Holiday Inn in Kingston but its rooms were sold out over two months ago (due to the Dutchess County Fair across the river). I called the High Bop and was very suspicious when the cheerful woman on the phone said that they had available rooms, "an excellent restaurant" and a lovely swimming pool. All for $84 dollars a night. Hmmmm. Why isn’t that place sold out, I wondered?

Somehow I knew.

Actually, they do have an excellent and attractive restaurant (which I don’t think is owned by the High Bop owners). And the swimming pool looked quite nice though we didn’t get a chance to try it due to the rain. Even the rooms were fine. Really fine. And well worth the $84 dollars a night.

But there was one itty bitty problem. The place stunk. Literally. Not inside, OUTSIDE. As we drove to our room which was downhill from the main office and lobby, we smelled it. You couldn’t miss it. HC got out of the car and gasped, "Smells like sewage," OSFO covered her nose with her coat and begged for the room pass so she could go inside the room. "Eeeeeew, it stinks."

Once in the room, you could still smell Eau de Sewage but it was a bit better. HC was still gagging because he couldn’t stand all the air freshener they used to cover the smell. After a few minutes in that fragrant room I decided to go to the office to speak to the manager. "They’ll have to give us another room," I said confidently.

The manager was sitting behind the desk. "I just want you to know, there’s a terrible smell outside of our room."  I said. He looked mildly surprised. "Oh? Yes, yes. The restaurant was having a problem today. It should be fine soon. Just shut your window and run the air conditioner."

I told him we’d like another room.  He took a perfunctory look at his reservation book. "No, I haven’t anything else," And then after a brief pause. "You could stay upstairs."  I wanted to check the room first so he took me into a small, depressing room much like the one we were  staying in (minus the smell) By this point, HC and OSFO had joined me. OSFO liked the fact that we could park the car outside of the smelly room so she lobbied for us to just stay put.

"Really. You won’t smell anything for long. Just put on the air conditioner." the motel manager advised. So we decided to stay in the room. The air conditioner did bury the odor quite a bit and we were able to sleep undisturbed by the toxic smell outside.

The next morning the smell was worse. But we had to run off to our friend’s 10th anniversary Jubilee. We didn’t give the smell another thought except to ask friends who were also staying at the motel if they smelled the smell. They didn’t. But that was because they were staying in Upper High Bop.

High Bop, we decided, included the rooms nearest to the office and lobby building. But as you walked down hill to what we called Lower Skytop the smell was readily apparent.

Smellsville. That’s what we coined High Bop when we got back to the hotel at 11 p.m on Saturday night. It actually smelled worse than before. But because we had the air conditioner running all day it didn’t smell too badly in the room. I buried myself in my book and HC and the OSFO watched "The Fifth Element" on television. I slept fairly soundly except I had an extensive dream about an athletic event in a sewer.

This morning it still smelled in High Bop As we drove away after checking out we passed a picturesque meadow just seconds from the motel’s driveway. At the center of the meadow was an aerator-digester, and the outflow pipes to a settling pond of a small sewage treatment plant.

"So that’s the problem," HC shouted out. "There’s a sewage treatment plant on the premises."

I thought back to my encounter with the manager the first night of our stay. "Oh? Yes, yes, the restaurant was having a problem today. It should be fine
soon. Just shut your window and run the air conditioner."

Restaurant my ass. I imagine that he’s heard that complaint again and again. Probably nightly. And he has to come up with new excuses. Or maybe he just repeats the same one. The old stand by.

Correct me if I am wrong, Mr. Motel Man. If that smell was an anomaly I’d like to know. If HC is wrong about the sewage treatment plant on the premises, let us know.

But this weekend, the High Bop was Smellsville.

*Name has been changed.

The
Apple recall is the second-largest safety recall in the consumer
electronics industry, after Dell’s. Though it is smaller than the Dell
recall, the percentage of Apple’s customers affected is greater than
the percentage of Dell customers.

Apple is recalling batteries
from some iBook G4 and PowerBook G4 laptops, representing a third of
the notebook computers it sold between October 2003 and this month. For
some customers, it will be the second recall for the same problem.
Replacement batteries sent as part of an earlier recall should
themselves be replaced, the company advised.

Apple said 700,000 of the batteries were in computers sold outside the United States.

Sony
said it was shouldering much of the cost of the Dell and Apple recalls,
which it estimated would cost as much as 30 billion yen, or $258
million.

The Consumer Product Safety Commission,
which announced the voluntary recall along with Apple, said the company
had reported nine incidents of batteries overheating, including two
that resulted in minor burns and others that caused some property
damage. The agency said no serious injuries or deaths were reported.

Thanks to Brooklyn Record for a quick list of blog and other coverage of the Atlantic Yards public meeting yesterday.

The same word keeps popping up in the coverage of last night’s Atlantic Yards hearing — "raucous." According to AM NY, union members and supporters of the Atlantic Yards project outnumbered its opponents by at least three-to-one. Still, Councilwoman Leticia James spoke vehemently against the project. "If this project were built, there would be far-reaching negative impacts on public health, air quality, infrastructure, waste management, noise abatement, the environment and much else," she said. The paper claimed that James "later strained to speak over the howls and booing of the crowd."

Raucous Meeting on Atlantic Yards [NY Times]
Raucous Crowd Packs Hearing [AM NY]
Raucous Hearing for Arena Project [NY Metro]
Hoop Dreams Draw a Foul [NY Post]
AY Supporters Out in Force at Epic Hearing, but Opponents Go the Distance [AY Report]

Friends of Soundtrack will be glad to hear that the owner is close to signing a lease on a new space on Fifth Avenue. The owner likes the space, the price is right, and there might even be room for a cafe in the back (a splendid idea).

The owner is still trying to decide whether it would be better to be north of  Union Street near Gorilla Coffee. Apparently, that is the younger, groovier Park Slope. But it sounded like he was leaning toward the space that is south of Union Street.

That space will need a major renovation that will take upwards of two months. Sounds like Soundtrack won’t be back in biz until November at the earliest.

I’m listening to a bunch of Brooklyn foodies on the Leonard Lopate Show on WNYC (it’s nearly 2 p.m. on Thursday).

Brooklyn food is more than Nathan’s Coney Island hot dogs and Junior’s cheesecake. Rick Field of Rick’s Picks, Bret Birnbaum from Wine Cellar Sorbets, and Brooklyn College food historian Annie Hauck Lawson, take us on a tour of Brooklyn cuisine…from arugula grown in the Red Hook projects, to smoked fish in Greenpoint. For more information on Brooklyn cuisine, visit Edible Brooklyn and Brooklyn Eats.

They’re talking about the food renaissance in Brooklyn. The borough has always had great food and specialty products and it’s just getting better and better. It used to be the beer brewing capital in the United States.

Here’s a random list of what they talked about:

Rick’s Picks (Note: Sunday, September 17th on Orchard Street in Manhattan is Pickle Day)
Mrs. Stahl’s Knishes
Manhattan’s Favorite Soda (named for Manhattan Avenue in Greenpoint)
Wineseller Sorbets (Cabernet on a stick; an adult dessert for sophisticated palattes)
Bierkraft
Blue Apron Foods
Various tortilla makers in Bushwick
Brewer’s Row in Bushwick (ghosts of old breweries)
Foot long oysters in Jamaica Bay
a documentary called "Gotham Fishtales" (includes shoreline food in Brooklyn)
Thriving Chinatown in Sunset Park
Wi Ki Norwegian Chinese Restaurant
World Tong Seafood 6202 18th Ave, (one of the best Dim Sum restaurants in the world says LL)
Bensonhurst: Italian restaurants moving out?
Edible Brooklyn
Gomberg Seltzer (there’s a waiting list for seltzer delivery)
Fox’s U-bet is made in Brooklyn
Williamsburg restaurants
Cherry cheese knishes
Brooklyn nostalgia
Camarari Bakery in Carroll Gardens (featured in Moonstruck)
Royal Crown Bakery on 8th Avenue and 68th Street

Today was a big day for Rob Reuland, local Park Slope writer and former prosecutor. A federal appeals court has ruled in favor of Reuland who was demoted after he said his borough was the best place for a prosecutor to work because "we’ve got more dead bodies per square inch than anybody else."

He made the statement to New York Magazine in 2001 while he was promoting his crime novel "Hollowpoint." He was demoted and then fired four months later.

In 2004, he won a $30,000 jury award in a lawsuit against the Brooklyn district attorney, Charles Hynes, over his demotion.

Lawyers for the city had appealed the jury award, saying that Reuland’s statement does not deserve First Amendment protection because Reuland had made the statement to increase the sales of his book.

In a decision released yesterday, the Second U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals upheld the jury’s award, ruling 2-1 that "Reuland’s statement is a matter of public concern," regardless of any motivations he might have had. The decision affirms a ruling in 2004 by a federal judge in Brooklyn.

The Park Slope Holiday Inn Express is now open. You can kick your guests off the Aero mattress in the living room and tell them to book a room on Union Street.

You can’t beat the location. It’s right near the R-train. But it isn’t exactly picturesque.  Imagine if you had lofty visions of a Park Slope Holiday Inn. You envision it as somewhere near the park, cafes, cutting edge restaurants. Then you pulled up to that rather uninspiring spot.

You might be a tad surprised. Disappointed. Pissed off. 

But if you’ve been fully prepared in advance for the fact that it is on a rather unsightly Gowanus Street just down from a gas station, it won’t bother you at all. In fact, it’s kinda cool.

I wonder how the rooms are and what they cost?

The new Holiday Inn Express is on Union Street between Fourth and Third Avenues near the Brooklyn Lyceum, just blocks from Issue Project Room, down the way from Union Hall, just a block from Fifth Avenue with its shops.

I wonder if the new Holiday Inn has a nice lounge/bar. It would be fun to have drinks there (Singapore Sling, White Russian). Or meet colleagues for a business meeting.

How about a swimming pool? Can we bring the kids?

The Park Slope Holiday Inn Express is now open for business. Tell your friends and family the Hotel Chez Moi is CLOSED.

Saturday was Ducky’s second birthday – her first birthday in Brooklyn. Last year, the celebrated her first birthday at the orphanage in Russia.

Leave it to my resourceful sis, she tracked down hats, balloons, streamers, cards, and a birthday cake in Perm, ‘Gateway to Siberia.’

Ducky’s  caregivers at the orphanage said that no parents had ever thrown a birthday party at the orphanage before. (Ducky had to stay at the orphanage until the court date). Her caregivers made tea, set the table and enjoyed the birthday cake along with Ducky and her new family.

You’ve come a long way, Ducky.

Yesterday, Ducky had a beautiful birthday in her new home. It started with a call from OSFO, who is dreadfully sad to be missing Ducky’s birthday. Next year, she says, "we’re going to California on August 13th, the day after Ducky’s birthday."

Still, she sang Happy Birthday into the phone three times and listened on speaker phone to Ducky’s voice and Diaper Diva setting up for the party.

It was not only Ducky’s first New York birthday. It was the first kid’s birthday party organized by Diaper Diva (although she’s been a huge help at all of ours).

Later in the day, I called Brooklyn  and wanted to hear every detail of the party. "Was everyone wondering why we weren’t there?" Not really, she said. Even without us it was a great party.

Understandably, Ducky was little cautious at first when the kids came in and started playing with her stuff (she’s two and she doesn’t like people messin’ with her stuff). She was very clingy with Diaper Diva and sat on her lap for much of the party. Justin from Music Together came with his guitar, an assortment of instruments, even a parachute for the kids to play with.

Guests included friends and relatives, another baby adopted in Russia and a friend who is about to adopt in Russia. There were also Ducky’s new friends from Music Together, the building, the playground.

There were a few cancellations so my sister ended up with way too many cup cakes (from Billy’s Bakery) and balloons. She has extra party bags up the wazoo.

I asked her to freeze four cup cakes for us. The morning we get back, we’ll  have cup cakes for breakfast.

A belated birthday breakfast with Ducky (I don’t think the balloons will survive until then oh well). Happy Birthday beautiful little girl.

Found this in my inbox. Once I decided Stu Airsdale wasn’t one of those Spam names (it really sounded like a Spammy name) I opened the email and found out about a sneak preview at BAM. Here’s the info:

My name is Stu VanAirsdale; I edit the NYC film news blog The Reeler.
Tomorrow night at BAM (Wednesday August 9) there’s a sneak preview:

Sneak Preview:
HALF NELSON
Directed by Ryan Fleck
With Ryan Gosling, Shareeka Epps, Anthony Mackie

Weds., Aug. 9 — 7 p.m.

"Sardonic yet moving, Half Nelson deftly outlines the perils of
youthful idealism without lapsing into knee-jerk cynicism."—The
Village Voice

A big hit at both Sundance and New Directors/New Films, Half Nelson is a breakthrough work from the Brooklyn filmmaking team of Ryan Fleck and Anna Boden.

We love Sag Harbor; it’s the not-Hampton (remember the un-cola?). You don’t have to use traffic-congested Montauk Highway to get there – a real blessing. Nor do you have to deal with all the Ferrari-driving rich that habitate in the Hamptons.  Sag is a real place with hilly streets, perfectly scaled architecture,  a charming downtown, loads of churches and bay beaches that make it a lovely place to be.

Ten of us (husband, kids, sister, bro-in-law, niece, babysitterandsomuchmore, mother, friend of son) shared two houses on an idyllic street in the heart of Sag. We call it a family vacation

Yup, a lot has changed in Sag since 1991 when I spent a week photographing artifacts at the Sag Harbor Whaling Museum (for a children’s film called Long Island Discovery). Back then the Paradise Diner was a real, honest-to-goodness diner and there was a great variety store. The variety store is still there – one of those now-rare five and dimes where  you can get absolutely everything – almost. They still have Old Gold Cigarette posters from the 1920’s and ’30’s hanging on the wall. And the cashier has a real ‘seen it all look’ on her face.

But the Paradise Diner is now an expensive bistro called the New Paradise Restaurant, and there are one too many t-shirt shops and high-end boutiques with hostess gifts and gifts for dogs. I used to love to browse at Paradise Books (what the diner became before it became the restaurant ). But that’s gone, too.

Still, Sag has a lot of charm, a lot of history and personal history, too. This was our eighth summer renting there. Our first summer, Teen Spirit was in second grade and OSFO was just a toddler. It rained for most of the two weeks we were there but we still had fun. This year, Teen Spirit brought a friend and they took long walks just to get lost, went to the movies by themselves, jammed on their guitars in the air conditioned bedroom, and spent hours in the ocean (when it wasn’t too hot to go to the beach).

During the worst of the heat wave, a large grouping of us sat in the air conditioned living room and moaned about how hot it was. "Ohhh, it’s soooooo hot," someone would say. "Really, really hot."

In the back yard, we filled 2-year old Ducky’s inflatable swimming pool with ice cold water. The boys had  water fights that devolved into general mayhem. We took turns sitting in the tiny wading pool and sprayed our heads with the hose. Anything to feel cool. Anything. Thankfully, the refrigerator had one of those ice makers on the door.

Our haven for cooling off was Haven’s Beach, which we call the Cheesy Beach, because it doesn’t have waves like Atlantic Beach. That’s the Fancy Beach in Amagansett (they charge ten bucks to park but we love it anyway). The Cheesy Beach, however, is an easy walk from the house (when it’s not too hot to walk) and it has numerous charms; it’s downright blissful at low tide when you  can walk a quarter mile out without the water touching your knees.

One day at the Cheesy Beach, a group of teenage girls from Eastern Europe in g-string bikinis that didn’t cover their buttocks at all, chain smoked and took pictures of each other with disposable cameras.  They seemed to enjoy the stares they were getting from the boys swimming in the bay.

Highpoints of the week:
–Ducky’s birthday party. Hello Kitty Plates. Cup cakes. Lemonade. The Beatles singing, "You Say It’s Your Birthday" on the i-Pod.
–The great Mercedes Ruehl in a dreamy, passionate play about Frida Kahlo at the Bay Street Theater.
–The 5 p.m. show of  "I’m Your Man," the Leonard Cohen documentary at the fabulous art deco Sag Harbor movie theater with its refurbished red neon sign.
–The annual sand castle contest at the beach in Amagansett. This year the tide destroyed the sand sculptures earlier than usual.
–The light at Atlantic Beach at 5 p.m (pictures to come).
–Three hours of body surfing on Saturday (perfect waves).
–Iced coffee at Sylvester & Co. (one of those places that sells gifts for dogs but we love their iced coffee).
–The drive to Sagaponick.
–Further Lane to Bluff Road
–Reading Cynthia Ozicks’s story, "What Happened to the Baby" in this month’s Atlantic.
–Random book browsing through dozens of books in the rented house.
–Great dinners on the deck.
–Gin and tonics.

Low points
When Hepcat lost his car keys in the ocean and we had to call AAA and get a locksmith to come and make us new keys – a two hour ordeal that was actually a bit of an adventure.

How the traditional media loves Brooklyn – let me count the ways. First there was Time Out, then the Village Voice, now New York Magazine. All cover stories. All the time.

A well -reported  and personal cover story by Chris Smith, a resident of Brownstone Brooklyn and a political reporter for New York, called "Ratzilla Attacks Brooklyn" gives Norman Norman Oder his due. See here:

The opposition’s greatest resource hasn’t been Goldstein or the Hollywood stars but one unknown man working late at night in his Park Slope apartment. Norman Oder, 45, has a full-time day job as an editor for Library Journal, but for most of the past year, he has spent at least 25 hours a week dissecting the details of the Atlantic Yards plans and posting his analysis at atlanticyardsreport.com.

Oder is a skeptic in the tradition of I.F. Stone, proving HOW MUCH CAN BE ACCOMPLISHED WITH A URL AND AN OBSESSION.

This from NY1:

With temperatures finally falling below 90 degrees today, the heat wave that has gripped the city for the past several days is finally letting up, but thousands around the city are still without electricity with Queens still leading the pack.

About 1,000 customers or about 4,000 people, are without electricity. About half of those customers are in Queens. Con Ed crews are working to restore power to many areas around the city where a spike in demand caused outages.

Mayor Michael Bloomberg is still urging those with power to conserve.

"Temperatures are expected to be in the 80s – that puts a lot less of a burden on the power distribution system,” said Bloomberg. “It’s summer and we have to conserve all year round, but particularly all summer long."

It still feels hot but the heat wave has subsided. Halleluah!

The Department of Health is looking into the death of a man in Brooklyn, which may have been heat-related. Alcohol could have been a factor.

After several days of record-breaking heat and humidity, forecasts are predicting a much cooler weekend for New Yorkers with temperatures in the 80s — not exactly cool, but at least offering some respite for heat-weary residents.

A heat wave is defined as three or more days of 90 degrees or more. Judging by readings in Central Park, the heat wave lasted for four days, while at JFK it lasted for three days. LaGuardia Airport, where the mercury hit 90 degrees or above for a full eight days, had the longest heat wave.

Thanks to my friend who sent this hilarous Craig’s List posting to me. We all enjoyed it.

I am looking for a moderately attractive man between the ages of 18 and 40 who has air conditioning in his bedroom. As the temperature is slated to reach in the 100s this week, my need for a boyfriend with air conditioning is especially pertinent.

This arrangement is intended for the month of August, however, an indian summer may extend our relationship.

If all goes well, I could offer warmth in the winter.

P.S. No fatties.
·                                this is in or around Park Slope
·                              

File this under: THE WORLD DOES NOT REVOLVE AROUND YOU AND YOUR CHILDREN (and other fallacies of Park Slope Life).

I saw this on Park Slope Parents. It seems to be an attempt "to flame" Two Little Red Hens Bakery, the south Slope’s beloved pretty cake shop. Personally, I think it’s the craziest thing I ever heard. You ask a baker to change her recipe (to substitue raisins for nuts, and you get mad when when she says that she won’t. COME ON, NOW. It’s a carrot cake – it has NUTS. That’s the way it is.

For my kid’s first birthday, I wanted to get a really nice cake and immediately thought of Two Little Red Hens Bakery on 8th Ave.  I thought a carrot cake would be nice since it’s got some form of nutrition tucked away .  I ordered the cake, spent quite a while going over the details and for some reason decided to get a slice to go, so I could sample it with my nanny.  I got home took a bite and although delicious, it was full of nuts.  I understand that many recipes do call for nuts, but they can be left out, or substitued with raisins I immediately called, assuming it would be no problem and that it’s been done before,and asked to have the cake made without nuts.  They put me on hold, came back and said they couldn’t do this.  I asked if the cakes were made fresh and they said yes, and so I asked why this couldn’t be done.  She said it was against their policy.  I was quite shocked.  I asked to speak with the owner or a manager and was again put on hold for  a long time, and the same girl came back and said, it’s against their policy and they can’t change the order…  I’m quite shocked that a bakery that supposedly makes fresh cakes, can not accomodate such a simple request. 

I’m in Sag Harbor and may not be able to get a copy of this issue of the Village Voice. Can somebody save me one?

Everyone’s doing it: the Brooklyn cover story.

too hot to do much too hot to punctuate too hot to capitalize too hot to do much of anything except sit in the water at haven beach in sag harbor where it is unbearably hot but not as hot as new york city we can go to the beach we can sit in the water we can take cold showers we can sit by the the air conditioner in the bedroom we can drink ice water we can stick our heads under the hose we can put ice cubes under our clothing

We’re having a heat wave,
A tropical heat wave,
The temperature’s rising,
It isn’t surprising,
She certainly can can-can.

She started a heat wave
By letting her seat wave
In such a way that
The customers say that
She certainly can can-can.

Gee, her anatomy
Makes the mercury
Jump to ninety-three.

We’re having a heat wave,
A tropical heat wave,
The way that she moves
That thermometer proves
That she certainly can can-can.

Thanks to OTBKB reader Krisin for writing in. Needless to say she didn’t buy the rat, which made it possible for my son to hand over thre bucks for that thing. BTW, that video was never made. Teen Spirit didn’t came home that night (slept over at a friend’s house). Next day he told us that he bought it for his friend, the drummer in his band, for his 16th birthday. The friend REFUSED to take it. Such a nice gift. grrrrrr. No Words Daily Pix promises a picture.

i saw this rat!! at the stoop sale! and i ogled, oohed and ahhed, was
grossed out and incredulous and laughing along with all those around
me. so happy this nasty plastic critter found its home in your home and
blog. . . don’t you think it’s a little tiny bit cute? ha! hardly, i
know–it’s ghastly. i’m thinking this disgusting plastic rat is
chuckling at starting yet another conversation. . . i would love to see
the video documenting this rat’s existence, come to think of it!

File this under: keeping abreast of what the other Brooklyn bloggers are up to:

A Brooklyn LIfe has a really nice new banner at the top of their page.

Continue reading NEW LOOK AT A BROOKLYN LIFE →

GREAT NEWS: There’s going to be one more show on the big outdoor screen in JJ Byrne Park on August 1st at 8:30 p.m. Should be a really interesting one, too. It was directed by local Brooklyn filmmaker, Charles Libin.On the night of Black Monday in October of 1987, a group of self-styled revolutionaries led by Paula, their ruthless and ravishing ringleader,
stage a coup d’etat at their World Trade Center firm.

AMERICAN COMBATANT
Officially Selected for the 30th São Paulo International Film Festival (Oct/Nov 2006). It will be screened on Tuesday August 1, 2006 in JJ Byrne Park on Fifth Avenue and Third Street.

SYNOPSIS:
On the night of Black Monday in October of 1987, a group of self-styled
revolutionaries led by Paula, their ruthless and ravishing ringleader,
stage a coup d’etat at their World Trade Center firm.

A board member is killed and the band of malcontents take-off with a bag of pistols and millions in stolen bearer bonds. One member, Fred White, leads them to hole-up at a Ludlow Street tenement belonging to his sister Maude. After a nerve racking game of cat and mouse with Paula, Maude is shot and killed on the roof of her building.

Almost two decades later, alcohol-soaked and guilt-ridden, Fred drives a film student and his camera on a twenty-four-hour odyssey through through the rolling golf courses of Westchester, to Lower Manhattan then Brownstone Brooklyn with a visit to Fred’s estranged family.

Tormented, Fred is convinced of the link between Maude’s death in 1987
and the events of 9-11. He confronts his enemy as dawn breaks over
Gardiner’s Bay on the Eastern End of Long Island. 

So I’m a den mother now. Am I the last to know that Time Out has a cover story called, "The War For Brooklyn?" The article includes a box called: The Embeds: Brooklyn’s intrepid bloggers send continual dispatches from the front lines.

Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn: Louise Crawford is a den mother for bloggers in these parts—she recently arranged a "Brooklyn Blogfest" party. Her Park Slope-centric site is cozy, unpretentious, and well informed, always siding with the little guy in the development wars.

That’s a nice couple of sentences. I’m thrilled, of course. Reporter Sarah Goodyear also wrote  about B61 Productions, Brooklyn Record, Brownstoner, Gowanus Lounge, Planet PLG, and Set Speed. Is it possible she left out No Land Grab and Atlantic Yards Report. That’s not possible. Is it?

Terrible things happened to a friend of mine on July 27th for three years
running. It was many years ago when we were both teens. But I still
think of her every year on that day. No matter where we are. She’s
always in my thoughts on that day.

This year she is in the south of France, one of her favorite places
to be. You can bet that she’s taking it easy. After the third incident
all those years ago, she vowed never to even move on July 27th;
I’m sure she doesn’t take it that far any more. But I’ll bet she
doesn’t fly on airplanes  or do anything risky. I just have a feeling.
The day has that kind of power over her. And me, too.

The first incident occurred on a hosteling trip in Camden, Maine.
The group was hiking when the group-leader fell off a mountain to his
death. That’s all I know. The teenagers had to find their way out of
the park to get help. I remember she told me about it a few weeks after
it happened and I was stunned that something so dramatic, so real could
have happened to her. And it seemed unspeakably sad.

The second incident came a year later. She was also on a hosteling trip. A
friend of hers fell into a glacier lake in Rocky Mountain National
Park. He couldn’t get out for more than an hour and nearly died.
Fortunately, he was saved and lived to tell the tale.

The third incident occurred in a national park in Washington State.
Again she was on a hosteling trip. This time the group was poncho
sliding down an icy pass. My friend went flying into a tree and broke
both of her legs. She had to be helicoptered out of the park (strapped
to the outside of the helicopter) to a hospital in Port
Angeles where she was wrapped in body cast; she couldn’t leave the
hospital for three months. Eventually, she was able to fly back to New
York having missed three months of eleventh grade.

The year after that, we were together on July 27th, which felt sort
of exciting and scary, too.  We didn’t do anything on that day and
joked that we were just going to sit very still. Afterall,
the day was cursed. We were in a summer arts program in North Carolina
feeling far away from home and family and spent the day in a local park
having a picnic, swimming, taking it very easy.

When I was a teenager, I really looked up to this friend (and still
do) for her sense of adventure, her fearlessness, her drive. Some
people might say that going on hosteling trips three years in a row was
pushing it a bit. Strange to say, I think I actually envied her these
disasters:  they seemed so dramatic  even if they were tragic. Isn’t
that what teenagers live for: drama, the real stuff.

I imagined losing someone I’d only known for a few weeks but had
grown quite attached to and even called by a cute nickname. I pictured
her trying to save her friend who nearly died in that icy Colorado
lake. And her stories about the park ranger who visited her at the Port
Angeles hospital…It was all so…grown up and, dare I say it,
exciting. My life paled in comparison.

Ah, the strange logic of a teenage girl. But that’s how I thought
about things then. And I still take it easy on July 27th, try to
anyway. I wouldn’t want my life to take a dramatic turn. Not now
anyway.

Just heard about this today. Sounds fun.

The third annual Tiger Beer Singapore Chili Crab Festival will bring sizzling Southeast Asian cuisine and culture to the streets of Brooklyn’s waterfront on Sunday, August 6 from 12 p.m. to 6 p.m.

The free street festival will celebrate Asia’s premier lager and the unofficial national dish of Singapore—Chili Crab cooked in a fiery sauce blended with chili peppers, soy, ginger, garlic and onion. Event admission is free with charges for Chili Crab, beer and other food and drink items.

Asian entertainment will be featured throughout the afternoon including kickboxing demonstrations, lion dancers, carnival games, pedicab rides and live bands. Visitors can enter to win a trip to Singapore and learn all about the exotic island-nation. The festival will be held in front of
Location: The Water Street Restaurant & Lounge at 66 Water Street, between Dock and Main Streets, DUMBO, Brooklyn.

On Saturday, I went to the Design Collective Market, the brainchild of clothing designer Kathy Malone, at the Old Stone House.

On two floors, more than 20 of Brooklyn’s hot, new, design stars were selling their indie handbags, jewelry, children’s
clothing, accessories, and paper and lifestyle goods.

Here’s what I got: a lovely quilted blue skirt with a red floral lining by Fofolle for 2-year old Ducky.

Lot and Lots of cool things to buy. Here were some of my faves:

–Beautiful skirts in beautiful fabrics and great t’s and tanks with appliques by Fofolle

–Loved Elaine Perlov’s clothing and her obie belts. She was featured on Daily Candy and Lucky Magazine’s Pick of the Day.

–Pretty, pretty necklaces with glass beads and baubles by Kristin Eno

–Cool name and cool stuff from Slope Suds

–Beautiful hand-screened goods by Foxy & Winston

So much more — I just don’t remember all the names. Special, special things and a great way to support local, indie talent and own something beautiful and unique in the process.

The Design Collective has a large membership and Kathy Malone has many more shows planned for this eclectic group of artisans and designers. Stay tuned for more shows.

here are the links that might not be working:
http://www.elaineperlov.com/
http://www.k-b-e.net
http://www.foxyandwinston.com/

and a link to more designers featured at the Design Collective shows:
http://www.fofolle.com/bim/designer.html
(please check back here, this will continue to be updated with more links added)

She’s at it again. This week Amy Sohn has a piece in New York Magazine (her column is now called Breeding). The pull quote: When every restaurant and coffee bar doubles as a playroom, is there such a thing as adult space anymore?

But the piece is about so much more than public space. It’s about one woman’s need to be perceived as cool even though she’s doing that most uncool of things: being a mommy.

But first let me say this: what Sohn has to say about public space is pretty much on the money. Now that I’ve got "older kids" I get crazy when I go out to a nice place for dinner with Hepcat and there’s a screaming baby nearby. Hate it. It rattles my nerves; I’ve really lost my tolerance for that sort of thing.

But thank god I had tolerance for it when my kids were babies. We obsess over them and love their every poop, their every scream because we are madly in love. Sure, they drive us to near nervous breakdown. But the perpetuation of the species is dependent on parent adulation of their offspring.

The reason this generation of moms have brought their kids into public spaces is because they recognize the need for connection, the need to get out and be part of the world. What’s the alternative? For moms to be contained in a special mommy ghettos?

It’s noisy, smelly, and nerve rattling, but having babies among the general population means that moms don’t have to endure solitary confinement with child during the early years.

In her column,  Amy Sohn is expressing a lot of the sames things that got said a few months ago ad nauseum when the "No Stroller Manifesto" came out.

Remember that? A bartender  at Fifth Avenue’s Patio posted a rant against parents bringing kids to bars.

Sohn’s piece is basically a rehash of a lot of the blogging, commenting and conversation that went on back then. I even wrote a Smartmom piece for the Brooklyn Papers about the baby backlash.

Clearly, Sohn is trying to carve out some editorial space for her "self-hating mom" stance. You can bet there’s going to be yet another book out about the totally cool mom who doesn’t want to be identified as a mom (see hippie mom, boho mom, counterculture mom 1960’s and 1970’s).

New York Magazine is obviously eating it up. They ran a piece last week about Urban Baby, an on-line community of moms that delves into some of that territory, too.

I’d say 2006 is becoming the year of the Anti-Mom, the cool mom, the anti-SAHM, the mom who has disdain for other moms and the culture’s current obsessions with mommydom. It’s the backlash backlash.

Clearly, Sohn doesn’t want to be identified as a Park Slope mom. When she goes to the Tea Lounge she wants to say, "I know I look like one of them, but I am NOT!

She does what she can visually to differentiate herself from the pack. "My goal is not to look like a mother so much as a still-young, still-cool person who just happens to have a child."

Ah, the young still-cool person. Sohn may not mommydom, but she’s obsessed with our culture’s preoccupation with youth and coolness. She wants to be perceived as young and cool – in spite of her baby.

How do you spell D-E-N-I-A-L ?

Doesn’t the need to be cool, to be perceived as an urban hipster get annoying, too?

I’m sure a lot of people perceive me as a typical Park Slope mom. But I am so much more detailed and interesting. Which isn’t to say that being a mom isn’t interesting. It’s just we’re all about so much more.

And some of us are cool moms.

When you first have a kid, your tiny little dumpling takes over all your thoughts like any life-changing, milestone experience would. They are more fascinating than anything else in your life because they are life just beginning. It’s miraculous and wonderful.

Over time you come back to your old life. Except it’s never the same; your life is forever changed. You can be hipster cool or anything else you wanna be.

Seems to me, the coolest people don’t worry about being cool all the time. And don’t worry so much about what group they are being identified with. If you’re a cool person you’ll be a cool person – mother or not.

Yesterday I came into the apartment at dusk with my friend Red Eft. All the lights were out. When I walked into the dining room, I saw what looked like a huge rat sitting on the dining room table.

My heart started to beat and I yelled for Red Eft, "What is that? What is IT?"  The rat was black with huge, sharp looking white teeth. It was truly disgusing.

Red Eft said, "It’s a rat but it’s not moving." At which point I ran into the kitchen and sort of danced around in a panic. I tried to get Hepcat’s attention by intercom because he was downstairs at the Third Street Cafe. Instead some guy from Fresh Direct was waiting at the downstair’s door.

Couldn’t reach Hepcat.

I peeked back out at the rat on the dining room table and it was still in the exact same spot. "It’s a very realistic looking plastic rat,"  Red Eft screamed. Still I couldn’t look at it, it was too disgusting.

Phobia of rats, anyone?

I got a large garbage bag in the kitchen and thrust it toward Red Eft who agreed to bag the rat.

I am going to kill Teen Spirit is what I was thinking. Somehow I knew it was him who’d bought the thing at a stoop sale. I haven’t a clue why he’d want it in the first place. It occurred to me that maybe someone had left it in our apartment as a prank, a nasty gesture.

But who would do that?

I was going to just toss the damn thing in the garbage but I decided to call Teen Spirit who was at a concert with friends.

"I found your friend, the rat. I’m going to throw it out. It’s disgusting," I said.
"Don’t throw my rat out," he said. "My mom wants to throw out my rat," he said to friends who were standing by. "You can’t do that. I bought it at a store."

"What kind of store?" I said.

"The stoop sale store…" he said.

And so it went. After I hung up with my rat-buying son, I decided to leave the rat in the black garbage bag in Teen Spirit’s room. But when OSFO and friends came upstairs they were fascinated by the disgusting thing and placed it in a strategic spot in Teen Spirit’s room.

"When he comes home he’s gonna be really surprised to see that rat sitting there," Red Eft’s nine year old son, a budding filmmaker, said: "I’m going to videotape his reaction."

Well, Teen Spirit slept over at his friend’s house. So we haven’t seen his reaction yet. Can’t wait.