Peeking into the rock

A book none of you all probably have: Mal'occhiu, which I keep losing around the house, and is ethnography about Sicilian Canadians. Or Icelandic Essays . Or Cement.

Music I have you all probably don't: this is too easy. It's cheating, in fact. Because I have a couple dozen CDs compiled by my father. Okay, not cheating. Fiddle, Sing Me the Blues , or maybe The Henry Kaiser Folk Experience which has a lame sounding name but is actually Appalachian-Montagnard fusion, as far as I can tell, and they do "Sweet Sunny South" almost as scary as Dock Boggs and "Farewell to My Stepstone" almost as scary as Bascom Lamar Lunsford and that's saying something, or maybe Oi Dai by Värtinna. O crappies, I just thought of something. Emma, you don't count. You're in my same house.

A movie I have that probably none of you all have: "Me and the Colonel," which is a philosophical WWII buddy adventure comedy with Danny Kaye from a play by Franz Werfel. Or "Svengali," which the nice fellow picked up recently.

A place I have been that none of you have probably been: I was going to say Watsonville but that's when I remembered Emma and went back and said she doesn't count. So I'll say Wolf Creek, South Dakota, on the Pine Ridge Reservation. I was going to maybe say Wounded Knee because it's more show offy because people have heard of it and it's important, but then I thought somebody else might have made a pilgrimage there or something.

Something I've eaten that maybe none of you have probably ever eaten: Gran Choclo, which is this Peruvian giant corn. It doesn't taste very good, at least when it has been frozen and then cooked according to the instructions ("add some lime or cinnamon").