I am trying to understand this concept, having a bit of trouble. Talk about a face on your food. And what if you have a kid who already puts everything in his mouth? Those fries would reek pretty quickly (not to mention your x-ray bill should they slip past that little gullet), and would you really run soft, plushy fries through the laundry?

The bandages, the ones with tiny sushi on them. Those I like, especially since a toy comes with each box. Maybe a fish ball kitty?

Roast chicken, a little on the dry side, but I was too tired to heat up the pan juices. Two oranges, and some cantaloupe. Protein and beta-carotene. And what, you might ask, happened to the spaghetti sauce?

I cook three times a week for my extended family. Despite all the simmering and the spices, the sauce still tasted bland, and it wasn’t till I was almost out the door that I realized that I forgot the garlic. Easily remedied, I just sauteed some in olive oil at their house, and mixed it all in.

Since I was running behind schedule, I missed my afternoon snack. I hate when that happens, because I get so grumpy that I irritate myself. It’s a long stretch from 10:30 a.m. to 6 without a little something. And there I was, standing before a large, warm pot of pasta in a lovely sauce. Pasta=carbs, but I held a private tasting till I was absolutely sure it had the right balance of flavors.

In case there is suspicion that I lapse frequently on the diet, let me explain. I take in very few carbs, not even the fruit juice I used to have at breakfast. Bread, rice, pasta, and potatoes seldom appear on my plate. Probably if I didn’t eat fried chicken and barbecued ribs, I would lose weight faster. But some things, if removed, can take away the will to live.

Now, where are those popsicles with the slightly bitter aftertaste.

Keith Jarrett, Solo Concerts, Lausanne

Spaghetti sauce cooking down. Without thinking, I dumped a bag of thawed garden tomatoes and their copious liquid in the sauce. It was alarmingly close to the skillet edge. But all is well, if a bit messy, after simmering for over an hour, it is thick. Not surprisingly, the kitchen does not smell of spaghetti sauce, but I bet right outside the back door it does. Is this why my unfriendly neighbor in the back sits outside so much? More on this later.

Current temp is 68°, many hatches of insects in the air, I can’t stop sneezing, and there’s snow in NY and Boston. Gotta be spring.

Art in zero gravity.

It’s one of many ideas in development at MIT’s Institute for Soldier Nanotechnologies.

New life for old masters

A few years ago, the estimate for removing this tree was about $800. Today, that is how much it would cost just to remove the skirt, the dead fronds that are home to many things that we don’t care to consider just now.

It used to be that on stormy nights, I would lie awake and ponder the fact that the bedroom is in the direct path of the palm should it topple. But after I realized that palms are frequently the only things still standing after hurricanes and such, I was able to sleep better.

Some of the creatures that live under the protection of the skirt are not small. On the warmest summer nights, they descend, and make their clumsy way through the yard. Odd chirping noises are heard. Someone said they might be raccoons. One night when the boys were younger, I asked them to stand guard, and they picked a spot about 7 feet from the base of the tree. I forget now what they armed themselves with, supersoakers probably. They didn’t move, but their presence was sensed.

Her work can be seen here and here.

At first it sounded like a phone buried under several blankets, an older phone with a ring that was all business. Persistent. I got up and looked around the house, but of course, it was outside, in a tree belonging to a neighbor.