PicoBlog

Welcome to Above the Fold, a free newsletter all about dumplings and the people who make them. Like what you see? Subscribe and it’ll come straight to your inbox twice a month (and sometimes more)! You can also follow Above the Fold on Instagram. Thanks for reading! This was supposed to be a “bye” week over here, now that rainbow dumpling-palooza has come to a close, but I haven’t been able to stop making this new recipe and simply felt the need to share it.

Originally released in 1982 on their Shaky City imprint on Greg Shaw’s BOMP! Records, “A Million Miles Away” (written by Peter Case, Chris Fradkin, and Joey Alkes; produced by Jeff Eyrich) showed up the following year on The Plimsouls’ 1983 Everywhere at Once album on Geffen Records (their second; their first, in ‘81, was on Planet). The Plimsouls included singer/guitarist/songwriter, Buffalo native, Peter Case (shown above, second from right, dark glasses), whose previous band, The Nerves (along with Blondie and Def Leppard), were featured on a recent “Hanging on the Telephone” edition of FR&B’s “Inside Tracks,” accessible here:

A few years ago in our diversity science reading group we read a paper published in the prestigious Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (PNAS, or PPNAS, if you prefer). It was an impressive-looking article that generated a spirited discussion. The authors stated that the study was preregistered, and at some point in the discussion, I mentioned that they had deviated so markedly from their preregistration plan—without disclosing this in the paper, mind you—that I thought everyone should interpret the findings with a healthy dose of skepticism.

Sunday family lunches at my grandparents’ house were a regular occurrence growing up. They normally coincided with bi sun, which was a ceremony my Taoist grandmother practiced to pay respects to our ancestors. I remember the smell of incense burning, the sun shine through the kitchen windows, and the smell of soup and chicken simmer on the stove. A platter of chopped boiled chicken always (and still does) made an appearance on the table and I would have to fight my brother or cousins for a drumstick.

There’s no place like Null Island. That’s because the intersection of the Equator and the Prime Meridian, latitude zero and longitude zero, is an empty spot of ocean off the coast of West Africa. But the fact that it has coordinates (0°,0°) and that we live in the golden age of geocoding (finally, something to be cheerful about!) means that when a location is left empty in a database, it may be assigned to Null Island.

Some of the finest pleasure craft designs have evolved directly from traditional workboats, and for good reason: Whether designed for sail, oar or engine, workboats are intended to survive all sorts of conditions, perform their chores with economy and, of course, bring their crews home safely. What more could we want in a minicruising powerboat? Today we’d like to celebrate half a dozen smaller motorboat designs that were inspired directly (or at least obliquely) by traditional workboats: Salmon trollers and gillnetters from the Pacific Northwest; lobsterboats from New England, and tugboats from…well, all over the place.

Description: When I was a kid, any time we encountered someone with a weird interest my mom would throw up her arms and dramatically yell “there’s a hobby for EVERYBODY!” as if she were on some kind of sitcom with a laugh track. The thing is, she’s right. Mechanical typewriters, Lolita cosplay, bubble gum, a line of motorized model kits resembling robotic animals called “Zoids,” there’s really and truly a hobby for everybody.

This is a beautiful little poem by the poet Paul Verlaine. An offering for poem in your pocket day. I am on European time so not very awake, but awake enough to send this along with a welcoming to new subscribers and all good wishes to all. TEARS FLOW IN MY HEART . 11 pleure dans mon coeur . , . Tears flow in my heart As rain falls on the town; What languor is this That creeps into my heart?

Dear Friends, The months inspire their own sort of synesthesia, don’t they? I can feel, taste, see, in flashes of associations, each one, its distinctive personality, color, shape. Still, September carries a particular presence. Wallace Stegner spoke of that “old September feeling, left over from school days, of summer passing, vacation nearly done, obli… ncG1vNJzZmilka6upLzOqZhnq6WXwLWtwqRlnKedZL1wvM6epKxlkZe8tsCMrJyprJWir6a%2B