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Oh, man. Mr. Rogers was such a large part of my childhood, I nearly cried this morning when I heard the news of his death. As a kid, I watched Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood every day with my grandparents. Tito (meaning “uncle”) Rogers, we called him. He was part of the family. What a smart and thoughtful show. He celebrated curiosity, creativity, and expression; never condescended, but rather challenged children to explore their imagination and feelings, and the world around them with a sense of wonder; and basically said, all of us are wonderful, unique people.

Music for peace. I’m off to New York City tomorrow for the Tibet House benefit concert. Bon week-end, mes amis.

Perusing the new paperbacks, I came across It’s How You Play the Game by Jimmy Gleacher. One quote on the cover caught my eye: “‘Hilarious and insightful… existential angst and an all-around good time.’ — Gwyneth Paltrow.” Uh, what? When did publishers start looking to actors for artistic validation of their books?

We expect professional critics to have a level of discernment greater than our own; that is what lends them credibility. We think, oh, this or that person writes reviews for a living, so I’ll take his or her word (with a grain of salt, of course) to guide me through the media fog. But does Ms. Paltrow have any more literary expertise than you or I have? Who knows, but I suppose I’m being disingenuous. The answer: celebrity sells. She may read more or less than we do, but it’s moot since my name isn’t as bankable. It’s not so much artistic validation, as celebrity endorsement. (Oprah Book Club, anyone?) And it goes back to the adage that even bad publicity is good publicity. Take a look, I’ve already spent two paragraphs wondering why an actor is put forth as a book critic for an otherwise unremarkable novel.

I never travel without my notebook. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.

— Oscar Wilde

After work today I went to The Art Store in Georgetown, and picked up two pocket-sized, graph-paper Moleskine notebooks, which is to become my vade mecum. Great for tasks like drafting journal entries when away from the computer, and drawing little maps. I inherited this latter cartographic ritual from my architecturally trained father. In the pre-Mapquest days (and even now), whenever we went on a road trip to somewhere new, whatever the distance or occasion, my dad would not only procure the relevant AAA street map (we’ve built up quite a collection over the years), but he’d also draw a simple, easy-to-read map on a sheet of note paper, showing the route approaching the destination and a few secondary roads for reference. Armed with directions, I’d sit in the front passenger seat, content to play navigator.

These days, though I don’t have a car for road tripping, I still love to study maps and find it helpful to sketch some of my own when traveling. To me, doing this geographic homework makes traversing an unfamiliar city more enjoyable. You’re free to wander and improvise, since you know what chords to fall back on. Pardon the barely cogent metaphor. It’s late, and I’m grasping at straws. I need sleep. But I digress. I finally have my notebook. Super. And now that I can document any passing thought whenever and wherever with ease, perhaps my journal entries will start to expand? Ah, you poor, gentle reader.

(On the front page of the notebook, under a place for contact information labeled “In case of loss, please return to…,” it also has “As a reward: $…” followed by a very wide space. Ha, yeah, right. Maybe I should write in something like “my eternal gratitude” or “one [1] cup of coffee.”

Still, I can understand the sentiment printed on outside wrapper: “‘Losing my passport was the least of my worries; losing a notebook was a catastrophe.’ — Bruce Chatwin.”)

‘The Bronx is up and the Battery’s down…’ In “What Lies Beneath” Clay Risen compares the systems in New York City and Washington. New York comes out on top, and I have to agree for the most part. (Still, it might not be a fair comparison, since the subway’s role in each city is quite different; just take for example the disparity in number of stations.) While D.C.‘s fewer, cleaner stations — most with soaring, barrel-vaulted ceilings, which require underground stations to be located several stories below street level — speak to a kind of elegant, uniform aesthetic, New York’s have character. You never really know what you’re going to find down there. All yours for a buck fifty. (For reference: the subway maps for Washington and New York.)

Living room Shakespeare festival. At Barnes & Noble, I found a neat thing called Shakespeare in a Box, which helps you stage your own home production of the Bard’s work. The two titles available are King Lear and The Taming of the Shrew, and each comes with an abridged 45-minute script and a few essential props. Cute. Rajani envisions family pets being cast by their owners to play a few roles. Hey, when you’re short on actors, you gotta do what you gotta do. “Okay, Fido, again, with feeling this time!” Is it cruel to dress your pup in pantaloons? Which reminds me, anyone remember the PBS kids’ series Wishbone?

Speaking of Shakespeare, tomorrow night (Wednesday 26 February) Great Performances airs the recent London revival of Kiss Me, Kate, Cole Porter’s musical recounting “the backstage and onstage antics of two feuding romantic couples during a touring production of The Taming of the Shrew.”

Sometimes people surprise you. From the periodic feature “Life Is Short” in yesterday’s Post:

I finally decided to come out to my dad. We’ve just left his optometrist’s office and he is slightly annoyed because he’s learned he needs glasses. On the way home, I wonder how to tell him. I finally say, “Dad… have you ever wondered about my personal life?” He continues driving, then hesitantly replies, “Yeah… but it’s none of my business.” I blurt out, “Well… I’m gay!” He looks at me, smiles, and smugly says, “Victor, I may need eyeglasses, but I’m not blind!”

— Victor Da Silva, Washington, D.C.

On Saturday, it was raining cats and dogs until mid-afternoon, so I didn’t make it to the National Gallery film screening. However, the rain stopped in time for the astronomy lecture that evening, so I ventured out to the Air and Space Museum for that. The topic was constellations, focusing on the zodiac. Pretty interesting. I can’t remember the last time I’d been to a planetarium, so that in itself was an experience. One gets to see the sky in simulated perfect conditions away from inclement weather and bright, city lights, with the ability to control so many variables, not the least of which is time. At one point, our lecturer cycled the star projections back thousands of years to show how variation in the earth’s rotation has subtly, but over time dramatically, shifted our position relative to the stars.

After the lecture I’m eager to find some of the constellations in the night sky. (If only the weather would cooperate.) Up until now the only one I can recognize with any reliability is Orion. Or maybe I can just get some kind of star projection thing for my ceiling. That would be cool.

Wine spoken here. The next day I met up with Tina at the International Wine & Food Festival, held in the D.C. Convention Center. Wow. So much wine. It was basically a huge trade fair, with dozens of booths representing wineries from all over the world. We received our standard-issue wine glasses, and were off and running, tasting all sorts of wines. I admit to often judging a wine by its label: one of the more interesting wines we found is from Australia, called Bear Crossing, which has a koala bear roadsign as its logo.

As the afternoon wore on, I began to see the merit of spitting and cleansing one’s palette at wine tastings. The idea is to taste and evaluate, not get drunk. After several samples of varying quantities, I had a good buzz going. By now, the winery reps sounded like, “Blah blah grapes blah, vintage blah blah…” So we took a break at the Pellegrino stand where I had some sparkling water, and moved on to one of the stage areas for a cooking demonstration. Dude, this was the place to be. After each demo, we were served samples of dishes prepared by top local chefs. (I felt like I was in the Oprah studio audience. They always seem to get lots of culinary goodies.) We didn’t move for a couple of hours, taking in at least three cooking sessions and corresponding dishes, including coq au vin and boudin blanc — both spectacular, but neither quick, do-it-yourself projects. Let’s just say the latter involves a meat grinder and sausage casings, but in the end I was suprised at how light and creamy it was.

All in all, a fantastic time out. I made away with a pair of the commemorative wine glasses — there were so many around, I’m sure they won’t miss an extra one — so now at my apartment I don’t have to serve wine in, say, a coffee mug.

Watching and wading. Most of the snow from the recent storm has melted away, but I can definitely relate to this: the Morning News’ Non-Expert on how to avoid that enemy of the wintertime pedestrian, slush.

On such a winter’s day. The Post‘s travel section had a series of articles on nonstop-flight winter escapes from D.C. to the Caribbean. Mmm, I’m quite tempted.

Happy birthday, Susan!

Weekend preview. Provided I wake up at a reasonable hour tomorrow, I’m going to attend a couple of museum events: a series of short films at the National Gallery, and an astronomy lecture at the Air and Space Museum’s planetarium. Have a great weekend, kids.

So apparently I’m on an interior decorating kick. I admit, last night I set my VCR to tape today’s Oprah show, entitled “While You Were Out Makeovers.” So there. Anyway, here’s a great site: Digs Magazine, “a home + living guide for the post-college, pre-parenthood, quasi-adult generation.” Bingo. (Link found at Not Martha.)

Kickin’ it (old) old school. Nate writes in to submit an amusing divertissement, below. Not quite “American,” more like “French Revolutionary” Idol. Ha.

Flying south west for the winter? Browsing airfares as I do every morning (and truth be told, periodically throughout the day), I found a great fare to COS. I like to think I’m fluent in the language of airport codes, but at first, due to some subconscious wishful thinking, I thought that was Cozumel. No such luck. It’s Colorado Springs. Not that there’s anything wrong with Colorado, but, as if I need more snow at the moment. (Cozumel is CZM.)

TV notes. Will & Grace guest star Dan Futterman returns tonight, “My Fair-y Lady” transformation complete, in the third installment of the “Fagmalion” story arc which started on 16 January with the episode “Gay It Forward” (I love that phrase). Yay. On the dark side of the TV dial, ABC puts up a wall of nonstop prime-time game-show programming. Those looking to feed their mind are better off watching PBS‘s Frontline, “The War Behind Closed Doors.” And to cap it all off, after Charlie Rose dishes the latest Iraq chat with British Ambassador to the UN Jeremy Greenstock — no doubt informative, but I’m fast forwarding — he welcomes the cast of Six Feet Under to the table.

Happy birthday, Mom!

Monitor makeover. Yesterday I left off with home decor, but for something that promises to chase away your computer desktop blahs, check out Jen Segrest’s Pixel Décor, which has lots of retro-kitschy patterns and wallpapers. Cue up some lounge music and you’re all set. The look of her main site at Very Big Design, which includes a daily blog, is swell as can be. Which reminds me of Target’s line of Swell stuff. The Breakfast at Tiffany’s-like TV commercial is great, but I’m not such a fan of the actual products. All the stripes are a bit much.

But back to the digital redecorating, I just spent the past couple of hours learning more about CSS. Currently I use one stylesheet for basic text and color formatting, but once I figure out how to move away from clunky HTML tables, then layout and subsequent changes will be so much easier.

Entertainment notes. As much as I openly love television when it’s good, I love to hate it when it’s bad. It boggles my mind that the same network that carries Alias, The Practice, and NYPD Blue also produces The Bachelor/ette, Are You Hot?, and tonight’s I’m a Celebrity — Get Me Out of Here!, a kind of Survivor for semi-famous people with lots of free time, which airs on fifteen consecutive nights until March 5. Yikes.

Is there really any demand for all the Michael Jackson exposés? It’s like the networks are falling over themselves not to be kept out of the loop. As if there’s anything new to report. Yes, Mr. Jackson has problems. He needs help. Which, to me, makes all this coverage even more creepy and exploitative.

Can’t get enough of Baz’s Broadway bohemians? There’s the La Bohème Colour Collection by Lancôme. I have to admit, that’s some pretty inventive marketing. High-concept glam that’s cheap for Lancôme (just slap together some classic shades from inventory and call it a “collection”), but not so cheap for the would-be Musettas or Mimis among the cosmetics-counter denizens. Seriously, $25.50 for blush?