retirement

August 16, 2010 //

Old man Incandela here.

I think about retirement a lot. I may never actually get to retire, but I know what it might look like. It’s this image.

I might win the lottery. My career might lead to some amazing opportunity. I might have a very rich Great Uncle out there. Who knows. I’m not asking for too much. I want a farm.

I want to rise with the sun and go chop some wood, feed some chickens, fix a fence, maybe find a duck that has a hurt wing, and in general, walk around some land that I can call my own. I might be listening to hip hop while doing this. Maybe checking e-mail on some bio-chip linked to my brain stem – or whatever the kids will be doing in the future. But I’ll take pride in all of this and appreciate my life, nature and the world around me.

Aside from chickens and a dodgy duck, I’ll have a trusty dog. I might have a lama, a goat, and if I’m brave enough, a horse. I’ll grow lots of stuff. Weird plants, herbs, vegetables and beautiful flowers. I’ll wear Wellington Boots a lot. A cap. And I’ll definitely carry a Leatherman.

I want a rocking chair. I want to eat pie daily. I want to build a fire and read books. I want to be surrounded by loved ones. I’ll entertain visitors. Every now and then, I’ll go traveling and bring back something for the farm house. Not sure what – some trinket, rug, painting from somewhere far away. I’ll always return, happier to be home.

In that rocking chair, I want to look back on life with few regrets, knowing that I created amazing opportunities, treated people with kindness, and truly experienced life.

Wish me luck.

A good retirement spot

by Casey, daughter of the best landscape photographer I’ve yet to know.

When I was little my mom would always whisk my sister and me away on camping trips in Southern Utah. We would sleep in the car, eat ramen soup for dinner and drink water out of those old reusable IV bottles. I would always get sick in the car so before we left Salt Lake I would pop a couple of Dramamine and be asleep before Provo. I’m not even sure if I realized that Utah had this whole wild middle section of brown and tumbleweeds until I was grown, I fell asleep up North and woke up surrounded by red rock down South.

I could spend hours exploring the caves and dunes of Southern Utah, one time I found what I swear were human bones, however no one was ever willing to agree with me. I lived for the time between meals when I could just explore. My sister and mom were more content to be back at camp reading or, well, honestly I’m not sure what they did because I was never around to see.

What my mom lived for were those 20 minutes that exist between night and day or day and night. Where the sun is fat and golden and the clouds finger out into fifteen different colors. I remember one morning, I was maybe 6, I awoke to everything washed in the most intense red-golden light. I poked my mom who immediately went to work, pulling out her Canon 35mm and running out the door without so much as a goodbye, leaving her two little girls asleep in the car. My mom speaks in sunsets and sunrises and thrives off sweet light.

When I imagine my mom it’s by some lake or other body of water, bathed in a rainbow of light. She has her viewfinder to her face and her old 4runner and insulated coffee mug in the background. To this day I can’t witness a sunrise or a sunset without thinking of her.

We’re going to be taking a road trip in October to the 5 states she has yet to visit (she wants to hit all 50 before she’s 60) and I am giddy to think that while at home I hate being up before the sun rises, with my mom I’ll be up and witnessing her in her element. I’ll have those memories of my mom to lock away forever both on print and in my mind.

Tags beauty, Casey Mullins, childhood, Daniel Incandela, Ducks, Farm, Leatherman, memories, mom, personal experiences, photography, retirement, Salt Lake City, Southern Utah, sunrise, sunset, Travel, Wellington Boots

Categories daniel started it.

done right.

By casey mullins

August 4, 2010 //

(new here? read this first.)

Hey, this is Casey and you know what kind of stunk?

My wedding.

Well, not so much the ending up married to one handsome hunk of a man, but the whole party wedding extravaganza thing.

Needless to say I’m going to need to renew my vows and I’m going to need a pretty swanky party to go along with it.

About the only cool thing about my actual wedding is that my flowers were flown in from Holland that morning. They were a little late, but I made my peace with them before the ceremony began.

Needless to say I spent a lot of time planning my wedding, however the biggest problem was no one was willing to spend a lot of money on it. (I was engaged after two weeks and married six months later at the tender age of 19. I don’t really blame anyone for not wanting to waste a bunch of money on what was sure to be a failure…but HA HA HA! Nine years later and we’re still going strong.)

So secretly, in the back of my mind, I have been planning this party. This “Casey gets her wedding done right” party. There will be sparkling drinks in pretty colors. Hopefully there with be fireflies and dozens of tiny little lights suspended above a dance floor. There will be a photographer, an amazing one. I will have my hair up and we will get dressed up. All my favorite friends and family will be there.

It will be lovely.

Want to come?

Daniel here.

My initial reaction to this image made me think of the perfect night. Then I started thinking about the music that might be playing, and I thought of “Flashing Lights” by Kanye West. And then I considered the lyrics of this song and realized they’re not that good. So, naturally, I began thinking about rappers I respect for their use of language. That’s where this story begins.

Hip hop or rap has been a big part of my life since the late 1980′s. That’s when I discovered De La Soul and the style and delivery of Kelvin Mercer, aka Plug One (there are 3 in De La), Posdnuos. To this day, he remains my favorite with his references to social issues, humor and clever writing always striking a chord with me. The entire group remains remarkably under-appreciated. I also remembering buying Big Daddy Kane records, listening in amazement to EPMD, and being completely blown away by Eric B. and Rakim. It’s still with me. I even listened to JJ Fad. Ha ha.

It’s no coincidence that later in life I learned to love jazz, studied the Harlem Renaissance and fell in love with the poetry of Langston Hughes. If you love hip hop it’s hard not to look back in history. That happens with a lot of things. Interconnectedness. Relationships. Networks. Call and response. You get the idea.

More recently, I revisited Gang Starr and began yet another obsession in my life. I mean, it doesn’t get much better than “Words I Manifest.” Incredible lyrics, good loops, and scratchin’! One song hit me instantly – “Jazz Thing”, essentially the history of Jazz in rap form. It’s poetic, revealing and pulled together a lot of things for me – the rap tradition, Jazz as a surrealist art form, and the role that African American culture has played in the country. MC Guru knew how say it.

When Guru died earlier this year, it took me by surprise, made me sad, and brought back a lot of memories. I’ve been listening to hip hop for over 20 years. I feel old. I feel lucky I started listening to “Potholes in my Lawn”. He was an artist.

When my son was still in my wife’s belly, he listened to a lot of rap too. I read him Langston Hughes poems. He also listened to a lot of Miles Davis.

I hope he was dreaming about bright lights, the Harlem Renaissance and hip hop poetry.

Tags Big Daddy Kane, Casey Mullins, Daniel Incandela, De La Soul, EPMD, Eric B and Rakim, Gang Starr, hip hop, JJ Fad, Kanye West, marriage, MC Guru, Miles Davis, party, Posdnuous, Potholes in my Lawn, rap, regrets, wedding, Words I Manifest

Categories casey started it.

window seat please

By daniel incandela

July 22, 2010 //

(new here? read this first.)

Hi I’m Daniel. Nice to meet you.

I love traveling. I’ve already mentioned it in this post, and this one, and this one. And this blog is still a baby!

I am terribly happy traveling. I am most comfortable in foreign lands. I would visit anywhere. I like weird food, people yelling at me in languages I don’t understand, different currency, new cultures, and the exhaustion that comes from exploring. I’m envious of Anthony Bourdain. I love to travel, and I always request a window seat.

I daydream on planes. I think about life. I don’t talk to the person next to me. I sometimes play video games. I rarely sleep. I listen to music. A lot. But 99% of the time, I’m looking out the window. I guess, I read sometimes, but you get the idea.

I look at clouds. I try to understand what they’re interpreting. Most of the time they just look like Smurfs. Papa Smurf. Handy Smurf. Vanity Smurf. Rarely Smurfette. It passes the time and lets me think.

I listen for the ‘ding’ after take off for the 10,000 feet indication. That’s when I can listen to music. I feel a part of the plane as it glides 6 miles in the air. I look down on the landscape and imagine the life down there. The scenery always reminds me of paintings. I always have my camera in my hand or have it nearby in the gross seat back pouch thing. I snap away the entire flight looking for something that strikes my fancy. People give me weird looks. I don’t mind. I also love that everyone is a stranger when you travel.

Occasionally, you encounter such beauty, that it stops all thinking. You gaze out the window, mouth agape, looking at one of the most beautiful scenes you’ve ever seen. In this moment, with this image, I felt like I was at the Louvre. Not on a United Airlines regional jet from Chicago. I love discovering beauty found in exploring. And I love to travel, with a camera.

(‘window seat please’ is a reference to a Flickr group I joined a couple of years ago – check it out, here)

window seat please

Hey, it’s Casey, and when we started this? I had no idea I was going to talking about death so much. Seriously. Death death, death and now death again.

My aunt died this week. Well, her body died but her very much alive spirit went to heaven. Because for people like her? The only way to go is up.

She spent 48 years as a quadripeligic. She’s now spent four days in heaven. With a perfectly restored body, that can do everything her earthly body couldn’t manage. She used to tell me about this dream she constantly had about running behind a pickup truck through a wheat field. I wonder if there are wheat fields in heaven?

I like to think about what she’s doing up there. If she’s just flopping her legs around at the edge of a pool because she can or if she’s attempting Olympic cloud jumps. I wonder if it makes any difference to her at all. She never really much minded that she couldn’t walk while she was here on Earth, I mean, she got to where she needed to go and if she needed anything it could easily be brought to her.

But still, I wonder what heaven is like. I mean, I know it can’t just be people swathed in gauzy robes playing harps all day. And I can promise you it’s an even better place now that my Aunt Cheryl is there. I’m pretty sure she’s the funniest person in Heaven. I guess when I think about heaven it must feel like all those tiny little magical moments that occur day to day just smooshed together into one eternal day.

My aunt would say that she got hurt because she wasn’t listening. So God sat her down and made her listen.

And she spent every day doing just that. And when I think about it? A lot of my “this is what heaven must be like” moments? Happened when I was with her.

Tags Airplane WIndow, Anthony Bourdain, Casey Mullins, Daniel Incandela, death, family, Flying, heaven, Louvre, Smurfs, Travel, United Airlines, Window Seat

Categories daniel started it.

melons and pomegranates.

By casey mullins

July 16, 2010 //

(new here? read this first.)

This is Casey and you know what I like?

Boobs.

I like having them. I like looking at them and I like talking about them.

I also love the double standard when it comes to boobs.

Room full of girls talking about boobs? Just another Tuesday.

Room full of dudes talking about boobs? Dirty.

Room full of dudes talking to girls about boobs? Sexual harassment.

Did you ever see that PETA commercial that was deemed too dirty for the Superbowl? I’ve always been a secret fan of it.

There was a comedian on television last night that was disappointed with the negative connotation of that came from a name like BOObies.

He proposed a name change to YAYbies! Or HURRAYbies! (the latter is a little too close to rabies for my personal taste.)

I hated my yaybies in eight grade. Out of nowhere…BOOM! C cups. Then I learned how to use them for good. Recently I learned that a good set of yaybies can make a cute dress cuter and can balance out substantial hips with style. Sure I complain about them, but if I didn’t have them? You betcha I would have looked into buying some by now.

Is it right that there’s a double standard? Probably not. But every time my husband wonders how I get anything done with a good set of yaybies to play with? I may act disgusted but I’m gloating inside.

I’m well aware of how fantastic they are. Those of us who have them? We all know how fantastic they are, we just let you believe otherwise.

DANIEL:

This was the first image where I was tempted to take a look of Casey’s written interpretation (don’t worry, I didn’t). I have no idea what these things are. But whatever, right?

It got me thinking about Sandra Lee from the Food Network. She often uses a ziploc bag to dispense whipped cream or other things. She cuts the corner of the bag so she can frost a cake or add a dollop of cream to a cupcake. It’s pretty cool. I’m impressed.

These vegetables/fruits made me think of stuff like that for some reason. Simple solutions. There are lots of them out there.

I strongly believe I invented the move where you add dressing to a salad and then shake it in its container. It works every time.

I hang my shirt up in the bathroom when I shower. I didn’t invent that, but in my younger years, I was convinced it de-wrinkled it for me. Ha ha ha. There’s now way it ever did.

I definitely invented the move where you have the barista add sugar into the drink while making it. There’s something special about adding raw sugar into a hot drink as it’s being constructed. And it saves those awkward encounters where people are adding milk/sugar to their drinks at the little bar area.

I’m one of the fastest people through airline security. I invented a series of moves. Place everything in the bag – belt, wallet, watch, phone, bling, you name it. Only carry your ticket and ID. Untie your shoes. Take your laptop out while you wait in line. Attack the conveyor belt like it’s a challenge and with confidence. I invented this technique and I should teach people.

I like to over-tip for average or above average service. I certainly didn’t invent that, but it’s a mantra in my life. You should adopt it too.

I love riding my bicycle and I always bring a plastic bag to cover the seat in case it rains. That’s another invention of mine. There’s nothing worse than sitting on a wet seat. If I have an extra one, I’ll put it on someone else’s bike.

There are simple things we do on a daily basis that are taken for granted. But when you really think about them, it’s clear what a big role they play. They simplify yes. They may make you laugh. They may make you sound outrageous. Either way, it’s how we’re getting through life.

How are you getting through life?

Tags boobs, Casey Mullins, Daniel Incandela, Food Network, gender wars, Life, pomegranates, Sandra Lee

Categories casey started it.

the millenium falcon

By daniel incandela

July 11, 2010 //

(new here? read this first.)

I’m Daniel. And I’m kind of a nerd.

This picture has always reminded me of the Millenium Falcon. Like a lot of kids my age, Star Wars played a big role in my upbringing. I can still see Han Solo and Chewbacca engaging hyper drive. That’s what this image means to me – 6 years old, watching in complete wonderment as I discovered space, robots, the force, Princess Leia and bounty hunters. It’s a miracle I didn’t break the VCR back in those days.

I’ve had plenty of time to process the first three Star Wars films (I refuse to discuss the new one’s). I do a mean Chewy impression. I’m known to slip in a “these aren’t the droids you’re looking for” during conversations, and I attend Gen Con annually, there’s more…I honestly think R2-D2 could beat a T-Rex in a fight. It pains me that C-3PO is so insecure. I really don’t get it. He’s shiny, gold and can communicate in over 6 million forms of communication. What’s the problem?

Let’s just say I reference Star Wars a lot.

A few years ago, I bought two orange trees. I named them R2-D2 and C-3PO. I still have R2. Unfortunately, Threepio died. I’ve killed a lot of plants. I ordered a new orange tree earlier this year and considered the name for some time.

I’m thrilled to say that Boba Fett the Orange Tree is flourishing. I keep him on the balcony, usually by himself (bounty hunter style). The Boba Fett character was probably the coolest in all of the Star Wars films. Amazing armor, quiet, traveled frequently, made his own hours, AND, a rocket back pack. What a life.

He died a ridiculous and unflattering death in The Empire Strikes Back – it’s almost like someone played a prank on him. It still really irritates me today. But I’m coping.

All I can do now, is make sure that when Boba Fett the Orange Tree dies, it happens with a little more dignity.

how casey sees it…

I once had a stepdad who was a mortician. I could say funeral director, but for the sake of this story he was a mortician, he did mortician stuff, he just happened to direct funerals as well.

I learned a lot a lot from him over the years, such as certain chemicals used on someone who had died from an overdose would cause them to turn Kermit the Frog green. When reconstructing a face for a viewing glass marbles are used where eyeballs used to be. A dead body left in a hot car for weeks will turn black and bloat. There are certain religions that approach death differently, and the feelings towards it are palpable among the different sects.

But there is one story he told me about a teenage girl riding down a narrow two lane canyon in the back of a friends car. They had been drinking and she had stuck her head out the car window for whatever reason teenagers stick their heads out of car windows. They came around a bend at the same time as a truck traveling in the opposite direction.

It hit her.

It tore her in half.

Many times my friends and I had been that girl, hanging out car windows while riding down steep and curvy canyons. Sometimes I was drunk, sometimes I was not. But from the moment I heard that story I was changed. I could visualize it too easily. The breeze in her face, the curve in the canyon, the headlights, the honking, that sound, the screaming…

…the phone call to her parents.

Even 13 years later I still tense up driving down winding canyon roads, especially at night.

I’m not sure if it was his intention to scare me with this story, but it worked. And while I still lived the rest of my teenage years with fairly reckless abandon, I also lived with a new fear, the fear of death.

Tags Boba Fett, C-3PO, Chewbacca, Daniel Incandela, death, drunk driving, Gen Con, Han Solo, Millenium Falcon, mortician, orange, personal experiences, Princess Leia, R2-D2, Robots, Salt Lake City, Star Wars, T-Rex, teenagers, The Empire Strikes Back, VCR

Categories daniel started it.

cherry means perfect.

By casey mullins

July 9, 2010 //

(new here? read this first.)

¡Hola! Mi llamo es Casey and I take very good care of my nails. All twenty of them. Even the goofy little toes that I thought turned inward as a result of a lifetime of ballet, but guess what? My kid has the same toes. And they’re trouble. Genetic trouble. Sorry grandkids!

Lest you think I’m looking at your nails and silently judging your nail care routine, I assure you I am not. Well. Unless I’m having a really bad day. Then I may sneak a peek and take comfort in the fact that even though my entire life is falling down around me? At least my nails still look good. Or at least better than that guy’s over there.

A lot has gone wrong with my body. A lot has broken over the last few years. But one thing that stays pretty consistent, not to mention one of the few things I have control over? My nails. Twenty little perfectly polished and shaped beacons of hope. I will never grow stray hairs from my nails. I will never get zits on my nails the day before a big event. My nails will never gain or lose 20 pounds and have the stretch marks to prove it. My nails don’t bloat. (And if they ever do any of these? Heaven help us all.)

Aside from the occasional hangnail and car door (yeah. that one hurt.) my nails are my constant.

Thanks guys. 20 times over.

Yo, what’s up? This is Daniel.

I’ve never had a manicure or pedicure. People have been getting them for centuries. And I’ve never done it. I’m tempted. Maybe one day. It might be a man thing. It might be about intimidation. Not sure.

In terms of grooming, I keep clean, I’m looking forward to turning gray and I kind of hate shaving. If I had it my way, I would shave once or twice a week.

I visited an uncle in Palermo, Sicily in the 1990′s. I arrived after weeks of backpacking through Europe, drinking lots of wine, eating cheese, reading and not shaving. There was a definite language barrier, but that didn’t stop us from immediately driving to a barber shop where I was given a straight razor shave. I was partly terrified and partly intrigued. I left clean shaven with cuts. I smelled magnificent. My Uncle looked at me in a new light.

Since then, I always try to get a wet shave every few years. I spent 20 Euros on the island of Capri (I got ripped off). I’ve had one in downtown Indianapolis the morning of a dear friend’s wedding. I even walked into a barber shop in Kusadasi, Turkey and pointed at stubble. Again, I left with cuts, but I smelled like a man. Man, alive.

It’s now become a rite of passage for me. And I’m plotting the next experience. I’ll pass this onto my son. And I hope one day he’ll walk into a barber shop somewhere out there and ask for a shave. Or a manicure.

***Hi! this is Casey…I just have to say that this was completely coincidence that we both chose to write about fingernails. Neither of us peeked or discussed our views on this photo before we hit publish. Cool, right?***

Tags beauty, Casey Mullins, Daniel Incandela, nail care, rite of passage, shaving, wet shave

Categories casey started it.

fountain of youth

By daniel incandela

July 7, 2010 //

(new here? read this first.)

Daaaaaniiiieeeellllllll!!! Recently, people have been calling me Dan or Danny. I don’t really mind it, but the people that know me think it’s really weird. Anyway, Danny Boy’s version -

A couple of year’s ago, I took this photo in Millenium Park. I loved it for a number of reasons. Then I randomly discovered this fountain this past weekend in Corning, NY.

I’m a kid. I often describe myself as a 13-year old. I play an adult well, but I’m often repressing the urge to simply be a kid. I filter what I say around colleagues. I often laugh at my creative ideas because I know they need to be grown-up-ulated first. I’m okay with that. I’ve made it this far.

Who doesn’t want to run around in a fountain on a hot day? Kids become even more kid like when they encounter fountains. They’re oblivious to the outside world. Adults are invisible. It’s them, in the moment. Pure energy, laughter, excitement, exploration and fun.

I love this image for that reason. And, the perfectly blue sky. The reflection in the water. The kids laughing and running. And the small rainbow peaking through the spray. I’m not sure what that rainbow is doing, but I like it.

Anyway, now that I’m all grown up-like, I guess I’m looking for my equivalent fountain experience. Most of the time, I find it while taking photos.

A fountain, kids and a rainbow

caaaassseeeyyy!!

During the 2002 Olympics in Salt Lake City someone had the brilliant idea to install one of those fountains that appear as if from nowhere in the outdoor mall downtown. I know there’s an entirely different set of words to be written about an outdoor mall in the desert/snowonderland that is SLC, but please. Let’s focus on the fountain.

There are choreographed water displays set to John William’s Olympic theme. It was cool eight years ago! But since then the fountain has turned into a free summer activity for families from all over the Salt Lake Valley. People bring snacks, chairs, towels and little people dressed in swimsuits. Some of the parents even come ready to soak up some rays.

There’s even been a little stage erected for local dance troupes to show off their stuff.

It’s a mall.

A public one.

Never have I had the desire to lie outside the Apple Store across from the giant window displays of Barnes and Nobel in a tankini as my child runs through chlorinated water with a bunch of strangers, no restroom in sight and everyone else walking around fully clothed as if they were shopping at the mall.

Wait…

Running through a fountain on a hot summer day should be spontaneous. It should be done fully clothed. One should walk away surprised at just how dark their favorite t-shirt can get when soaking wet. It shouldn’t be a planned activity…plans should be saved for super crazy places…like the public pool.

Tags Corning, Daniel Incandela, fountains, Gateway Mall, Millenium Park, New York, rainbow, Salt Lake City, swimming, the mall

Categories daniel started it.

sandwiched.

By casey mullins

July 2, 2010 //

(new here? read this first.)

casey’s first.

There was a time that I didn’t know what death looked like first hand, I didn’t have to worry about another’s ulterior motives and I didn’t have to think about a single food I put into my mouth (aside from kiwis and avocados…I’ve always known they make my mouth itchy but never really cared.) There was a time I looked forward to every day.

There was a time when a picture was just a snapshot I took of my best friend eating a sandwich in the Neiman Marcus cafe in Union Square at the beginning of our first ever weekend weekend away together. Now it’s a memory of a better time. A time when both of us didn’t know about death first hand. A time when neither of us knew about the awful in the world. A moment where our friendship, and we individually, were invincible.

And oddly enough, both able to eat gluten.

Daniel’s take

What’s the deal with focaccia bread?

It’s fancy. It’s different. It’s hard to spell.

You get it at foux foux cafes. I like it. Not sure I trust it.

It adds at least $4 to a sandwich.

It leaves a slight oily residue on your fingers.

Sometimes, it crumbles in your lap and leaves a stuff on your pants.

That’s what focaccia is capable of doing.

It’s great in a food fight, though.

A baguette is solid. A roll will suffice. Giant pretzels, rye loaves, bread sticks, slices and a boule aren’t bad. But they’re no focaccia.

Focaccia flies through the air with grace, with sophistication and panache. It allows for precision.

It may lack the impact of a hardened baguette, but it makes up for it with the penetration of olive oil or rosemary residue. And you get to yell, “You got focaccia-d”.

The next time you’re at a fancy café, family reunion, boring lunch or job interview, order the focaccia and see what happens. You’ll earn instant respect.

Tags Casey Mullins, Daniel Incandela, death, Focaccia, friends, personal experiences, photography, Travel

Categories casey started it.

Discovering dinos

By daniel incandela

June 30, 2010 //

(new here? read this first.)

This image is brought to you by Daniel.

I discovered dinosaurs like a kid, eventually, at age 29. I never got hooked when I was younger. Older, I saw the Jurassic Park movies and liked them, but it never went any further. Dinosaurs never appealed to me until my first real museum job at the Indiana State Museum, where I wrote and produced distance learning classes – typically a one-hour live video experience to kids or adults all over Indiana and sometimes beyond. The development of content and producing was a lot of fun – especially the visual interpretation.

My first real production at the museum was in support of an exhibition called Chinasaurs – Dinosaurs from China (catchy right?). I remember being less than thrilled at the assignment, but it was my first, so I dove into the world of dinosaurs. I quickly impressed colleagues, friends and playa hatas with terms like cretaceous, triassic and herbivore. Once I learned the general history, time frame, and basic science, I began studying the actual ‘terrible lizards’ themselves. And then I was hooked, instantly.

It doesn’t get much cooler than dinosaurs, unless we’re talking about robots. Even then, it’s like comparing, well, dinosaurs and robots. Have you ever studied them? Dinos like Triceratops, Stegosaurus, Psittacosaurus, and Apatosaurus are all stunning. Kind of makes me wish Jurassic Park would actually happen. The range of dinosaurs, diversity, sizes, millions of years, herbivores, veggie eaters, defenses, methods of attacks, and much, much more is astounding.

I spent a lot of time researching dinos and preparing my first live production to a group of 3rd graders. Despite my nerves, they were captivated. They laughed at my dinosaur jokes (think Raaawwwr), were amazed at the length of the Sauropods, learned about dino diets (mostly veggie) and discovered a new profession – Paleontology. One hour passed like a New York minute. And I still haven’t forgotten it.

My kid-like dino obsession continues. I still cite random dino facts. I have dinosaur figures. I wear dino-themed t-shirts. And yes, I like my eggs over medium, in the shape of an Apatosaurus. Who doesn’t?

Dino Egg

casey’s turn.

I have won awards for baking. State fair blue ribbons.

Ten of them.

And yet I still have a 43% fail rate on flipping fried eggs.

My success rate of cooking and peeling a hard boiled egg? Maybe 17%.

I have googled, I have trained, I have practiced. I even have a fancy timer.

I have asked Martha, Fanny, Alton and my own dad how to cool an egg down so that it peels effortlessly.

I cannot grasp the scientific concept of it.

Screw scientific, I can’t even grasp the damn concept of it period.

I have gone through elaborate ice baths and cooking techniques…all failed.

Needless to say someday I’m going to have to answer to my daughter one Easter as to why our eggs are so…well…crappy.

I can produce croissants from scratch. I can make a roast that would make your grandfather sing.

Lemon meringue pie?

In my sleep.

But eggs. Damn hard boiled eggs.

Quit your gloating. I can hear you from here, if you don’t watch out you’re going to get some egg on your face, and it’s still going to have peel on it because I can’t get it off.

Tags Apatosaurus, cooking, Cretaceous, Daniel Incandela, Dinos, Dinosaurs, eggs, fail, hard boiled eggs, Indiana State Museum, Jurassic, Paleontologist, Psittacosaurus, Robots, Stegosaurus, Triassic, Triceratops

Categories daniel started it.

seeds.

retirement

done right.

window seat please

melons and pomegranates.

the millenium falcon

cherry means perfect.

fountain of youth

sandwiched.

Discovering dinos

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