Molly Crabapple Part Two

Squee.

*cough*

I  mean, Molly Crabapple's The Shell Game installation is a lovely confection of....

Drat.

Look, if you want a review of her show (bubbles! fat cats! whimsy and devilish details!) I'm sure there will be a dozen artful reviews of them... soon. Probably already, and the opening night won't be over for another 20 minutes as I'm typing this sentence.

But I don't know the craft well enough to judge hers, and I'm a terrible judge of characters anyway, so I'm just going to tell you what I saw: Large winking women, representing everything from the American Dream (painted like a delicate clown, fat cats tempted mice to climb her ladder and step off her hand... and drop to their deaths to make more gold for the machine) to Liberty Square (wooo!)... I saw the People's Library and the food tent in her skirts...

From a distance, it's easy to see the rhythms as repetitive... but standing there it reminded me of tarot cards, actually, because sure there's the big obvious image but there were enough references and in-jokes to make you stare for a while, trying to suss out the symbols and their meanings... if not for your own life, then for the past two years which became history much faster than I can articulate, or one of her images can express.

So anyway, what I came away with was a glass of lemon ginger gin and tonic (yum!) and glee because not only did I see a fellow Occupier there (I raise my plastic glass to you, A!) but it felt like I made a new friend--

See, mostly it was images of arch ladies, but there was also a wheel of (mis?)fortune (I so wanted to see if it could turn, but I clasped my hands behind my back and was a good little consumer of art) and also a mostly-naked woman in a bathtub.

It turns out the mostly naked lady's name was/is Stoya, and we shook hands because I can't very carefully not stare at a mostly naked lady in a bathtub, after staring at a bunch of images, without feeling uncomfortably hypocritical. If she was art, I should experience it, but I also don't feel right consuming a person as objectively as a brush stroke.

So I sat down next to her bathtub and made sure she wasn't cold (she wasn't) and we asked about her wig-- I knew going in that she was styled as Marie Antoinette, and my covert glances indicated that she was lounging in a bathtub filled with fake money--but the wig was fantastic and slightly pink, with tiny protest signs in it.

What caught my attention was the red, chopstick-like things stabbed into it, but as soon as I asked I realized that it was The Big Red Thing at Liberty Square/Zuccotti Park, and that made me so happy that I suddenly felt quite comfortable chatting with a beautiful mostly naked lady in a bathtub, and I told her about taking food to the protestors and she laughed with me as I told her stories about ProtestKid.

Maybe she was a consummate actress, and she didn't find him totally enchanting (though, all motherly modesty aside, how could a person *not* find stories about ProtestKid delightful?), but I'd like to think I didn't totally bore her and that we *did* make a connection of sorts. (I didn't do quite all of the talking, but I also don't feel right revealing what she said-- it was a conversation and it was nice and that's all.)

See, not only did she sign a copy of Molly Crabapple's book for us (woot), but as I got up to leave her to her soak, she grinned and gave me one of the crumpled bills she was surrounded by.

Later, !ProtestDaddy and I giggled as we read it-- as you may have guessed, it too had lots of details (it had printed very clearly on it "not for legal tender, you dope" and it was signed by "Rob Anybody" not the current head of the US Dept of Treasury)-- but mostly we were delighted then and now because on this special night, a professional naked lady gave *me* a tip.

I shall be dining out on this story for weeks. The other professional moms are going to be sick of it... tee hee hee...

Dear Stoya, may you never be cold and may you always have something to smile about. You certainly made me happy tonight.

Molly Crabapple Part One

So !ProtestDaddy and I are going to the opening night of Molly Crabapple's show tonight, and I'm really nervous. In my head, she's one of the cool kids (I'm pretty sure her 6 degrees of separation are higher quality than mine...), and I've become middle aged and tired... so while I want to be part of the art and the glitter, it's not for the likes of me, etc etc...

But then the fantasy of art and glitter is just a fantasy. Glitter and paint create an illusion, and I think that the whole point of Shell Game is that it is an illustration of the Wall Street illusion.

Like the quote I just read attributed to George Box, “all models are wrong, but some are useful.”

Maybe if I go in with the understanding that all art is wrong, but some is useful, I will be ok.

Because here's the other thing: for all that my art is inferior to hers (and certainly my artistic connections are), the thing about Liberty Square was that the experience was intensely personal. I will not say that any other person's lived experience was wrong, and their portrayal might be useful...

But I was there. I fed and was filled and I listened and was heard and I fear that attending an art show will somehow change my own experience, privilege the artful muse over the angry voice. And yet I think that she loved/loves Occupy and its manifestation(s) as much as I do.

I fear that, surrounded by beautiful images, I will not be seen. And I suppose we are going to look, not to be seen... but that wasn't what Occupy was to me, so I'm not sure if I will find Occupy there.

I guess I just need to see, and then we'll see what it is that I saw?

Yeah. That.

...Did I mention I want to be a writer when I grow up? Doo dee doo dee doo.

More later, after I have seen the show.

We're Ba-ack

Occupy Astoria LIC walked and stood with the locked out butchers of Trade Fair, today. We easily doubled their numbers, and added fresh voices to the fight. I handed out 7 flyers to passersby, give or take. ProtestKid, in his persistent way, handed out over 100. (He even successfully pursued the grocery guy who was hand-trucking produce through our picket line.)

But, my sore throat will attest, no one-- whether or not they took a flyer-- could be in shouting distance and not hear us shout, "Trade Fair, Unfair!"

R composed a new chant, in honor of Local 342: "Hey Hey!" "What what?" "342 deserves a cut!"

The butchers and meat carvers can't even claim to be on strike-- after getting their hours slashed from 34 to 24 hours, they were locked out of negotiations. Scabs have been hired to replace them, and I've heard an unsubstantiated but plausible report that these unqualified replacements are putting "halal" stickers on meat that isn't.

That's a problem.

Besides being all solidarityish, just increasing the numbers of the group really did help them-- people in cars rolled down their windows and asked what was going on and took flyers.When I mentioned this to K, a union organizer who has been there several days, she said it was the first day that had happened. Because we were such a big group, more people were paying attention. Success!

I was cold, and my throat hurt-- but helping people get their story heard... that was awesome.

Some people were curious, some didn't stop-- several people said they had stopped shopping at TradeFair because of the way they were treating their workers. One passerby approached in her walker: she grinned at me and started shaking her booty in time to our chant. That was even more awesome.

I took up the challenge and danced up and down the picket line for a couple of rounds. The folks standing still grinned and pumped their fists in the air. (Moral of the story: Next time you want to show solidarity with an action-- I highly recommend shaking your booty.)

As ProtestKid and I waited for our train home, we could still hear the lilting call and response of the folks down on the street. They have one shift that stands out there from 7 am to 7 pm, and then another twelve hour shift that covers the quiet evening hours. Despite their exhaustion, they didn't stop making noise, making their presence known and their grievances aired.

As the union guy with the bullhorn called as loudly as his abused voice could, "Trade Fair!" ProtestKid and I grinned at each other and shouted to our confused fellow travelers,  "Unfair!"

Neighbors

I've been nervous about posting actions I take and thoughts that I have, ever since I watched someone's blog post be used as evidence against them in a court of law.

But.

Taking action in the aftermath of Sandy is not (yet) illegal, and I need to write to process it for myself.

The first few days I was in shock and struggling with flu and two bored kids out of school. But by Saturday I had a big pile of dry goods I had purged from my own emergency stores that I needed to donate, like a bulk-goods island in the middle of my living room. I rationalized the total devastation of our pantry by saying that it was an emergency, just because it wasn't *my* emergency didn't mean that the gallons of water and multipacks of batteries weren't being used in the exact way they were intended when I first bought them.

One friend took a few lightweight items away that Saturday afternoon; he's a runner and while he hadn't planned on running the marathon this year, he had decided to run across (and up and down flights of stairs in) Staten Island to bring supplies to those in greatest need.

Sunday, a friend with a half-filled SUV filled up the rest of it with my donations for a local drop off point. There were several in our neighborhood, she wasn't even sure which one she would end up at-- just compelled, as I was, to gather and to give, as quickly and efficiently as possible.

That donation satisfied me for about 48 hours. Watching Twitter and Facebook and my more flexible/less physically limited friends helping out brought the itch back, though. I started pursuing other venues: Thursday I cooked up 3 gallons of split pea soup, chock full of barley and vegetables, and donated it to the Astoria Cooks for the Rockaways project a local woman started. I had disposable trays because of my earlier experiences cooking for OWS, and even gave tips to a drinking buddy who was worried she didn't have enough pasta, on how to bulk her dish up with vegetables.

The next morning a very dear friend took her shepherd's pie and my soup (and LittleMan and me!) to the hot food drop-off location. I actually met one of my new neighbors there (we moved at the end of September. Another reason this blog has been quiet), and suddenly I felt tied into the community in a way I hadn't before. The street was full of double parked cars and women with trays and boxes and bags, trying to help out our larger Queens' community. Some were strangers, but most were women whose kids went to school with my kids, who were friends of friends, who I had nodded politely to before when our strollers passed on the sidewalk. My casual community, suddenly connected on a deeper level... for a higher purpose. It made my heart go up and down a little.

Friday afternoon, ProtestKid and I stood outside our local grocery store with other members of his scouting group (Navigators Chapter 13) asking for food and money donations. I don't know yet how much we gathered (a mayonnaise jar's worth of cash and coins, two cardboard boxes full of non-perishables), but it felt meaningful even if it was only one hour.

A lot of people stopped to chat; one woman paused after her donation and said she really understood, she had lost everything in an earthquake in her home country. Others apologized that they didn't have any money on them, but we pointed out there would be more opportunities to give later. It's not like the aching need is going away any time soon.

But the most meaningful interaction for me was with a friend-- lots of friends passed by, actually, as we were in a great location just off the last train station on the N line-- but she hugged me and said, "Thank you for everything you're doing." It turns out this is not just a good but distant cause for her, as Katrina was for us. Her mother lived in the Rockaways; she lost her home and is now living with them. Her mother is devastated, her community is devastated. Her community is changed; she will never be the same.

This isn't a platitude or a homily or a Hallmark card. Structures broken, networks torn, there aren't enough metaphors to describe the feeling of loss when you lose everything... Houses, yes, but routine and comfort and the people you nod to when you walk down the street.

When you lose everything that defined your place in the world, because that place is gone.

Today I went out in the backyard barefoot, to feel my new garden's potential between my cold toes and plant daffodils that my favorite flower company sent me free, as a gift to all their customers affected by Sandy. I caught my neighbor also out for a quiet moment, and I thanked him for sweeping the snow off our stairs after the nor'easter.

He shrugged, "That's what neighbors do," he said. Then caught himself, "It's what I was brought up to do." I gave him one of the two daffodil bulbs I had left, and he ran inside and gave me a bottle of home-pressed wine, from the yellow grapes he grows at the end of his yard.

Then I had to run inside, and give him a small jar of raspberry gin that I brewed earlier this year.

Glowing with gifts and good neighbors, I went inside. I've been happy all day, despite my kids having their first sleepover last night. (They were up until 11 pm. And then again at 3 am. And 4. And 6. Twitch.) We love them and their parents, though, so we didn't harm anyone. For the record.

I keep thinking about community--  my garden community, the Astoria community, the Sandy-affected community... even the parents of unslumber party participants community. (You know who you are.)

I am learning a lot about what community means, and it is hard watching some powerful people and organizations turn their backs on huge swathes of what should be their community, too.

But I am deeply affected-- even changed-- by the realization that my neighbors are part of my community. As someone who has felt isolated in one way or another for most of my life, Occupy Wall Street was a validation that strangers across the country- the world-- were interested in joining me in a loving, healthy community with a capital C.

Occupy Sandy is a wondrous discovery that, shaken by events or just delighted by the opportunity, my neighbors and acquaintances, friends and bosom buddies, also want to participate, to share gifts of love and moments of sweet communion with me.

We are a community, we are sharing the love and the pain and I know that this moment cannot be sustained, living in the light takes more effort than most of us can spare-- but I am grateful that I can participate in this pain-wracked, dark and bright and ethereal and real moment.

I hope that the dramatic changes we all are living through can make true neighbors of us all.

Sandy and Storm: How to help

I've been posting and re-posting on my Facebook wall. Going to make it more simple by putting everything I know here:

(Edited to add: Occupy Sandy Relief NYC just posted a big shout-out to their partnering organizations. Have added the ones I didn't already list)

VOLUNTEERS

Occupy Sandy
This is most useful for people who want to/can physically help, whether that's making peanut butter sandwiches or helping pull out damaged carpets

Just added: "Do you want to help with #SandyAid but can't make it in person? We need researchers! Email OccupySandyResearch@gmail.com"

NEIGHBORHOOD SPECIFIC/COMMUNITY BASED ORGS:
I've either heard good things about these orgs from Occupy ppl I trust, or I've used them myself. ;)

Astoria Recovers (Queens)
This is a clearinghouse for local volunteers, donations and news specific to my/our neighborhood. (It has some info in multiple languages. Woot!)


Red Hook Initiative (Brooklyn)
 

Families United for Racial and Economic Equality (Brooklyn)


CAAAV
"pan-Asian community-based org"
(Sorry, the others' names were self-explanatory, but this one wasn't... They've been helping especially in the Lower East Side of Manhattan)


Good Old Lower East Side www.goles.org

Rockaway Youth Task Force www.rytf.org

Restore Red Hook http://restoreredhook.org/

Coney Island Generation Gap www.cigg11224.com

596 Acres http://596acres.org/

Time’s UP! http://times-up.org

LARGE ORGANIZATIONS

NY Communities for Change http://www.nycommunities.org/

350.org www.350.org

 

CHURCH/RELIGIOUS: 

The Church of St. Luke and St. Matthew in Brooklyn http://stlukeandstmatthew.org/

Crossroads Church in Staten Island http://crossroadsny.org/

Saint Jacobi Church in Brooklyn http://www.lutheransonline.com/servlet/lo_ProcServ/dbpage=page&mode=display&gid=01286001361022961633745993

 

GROUPS UNAFFILIATED WITH OCCUPY IN ANY WAY BUT STILL DOING IMPORTANT WORK IN THE AREA:

http://www.masbia.org/ 

They're running a soup kitchen, according to Facebook 

 

 

HOW TO DONATE

I think all of the above orgs accept donations, but you can also donate through:

Occupy Sandy Wedding Registry
This is awesome, verified, and getting a lot of (local) media attention. Donations are delivered to a church in Brooklyn, but are being passed on through the community from there.

Occupy Sandy New Jersey
These guys also appear legit and organized, and NJ got badly hit, too. (Hoboken and Atlantic City in particular)


Firedoglake Blanket Drive
They were involved in "Occupy Supply" to get warm winter clothing to Occupiers across the country last year. Using those contacts and bulk purchasing power, they are focusing on getting blankets to cold people. All the blankets are American made, and some of them are also union made.

Coney Island Donation Site
Friend on Facebook posted this.

NEWS/INFO

Occuweather 
He is a livestreamer and weather geek (in the best possible way) and he has been great at getting word out about the storm before, during and after


Penny Red's Collection of Useful Articles
Hasn't been updated lately, but lots of early eye witness accounts.

Occuprint's Bulletin
Useful info for folks affected (or in prep for next hundred year storm); encouraged to print out and pass out

New York Legal Assistance Group
 Are helping people with FEMA paperwork, etc.

All You Need is Occupy

This morning when the kids announced they were bored I told them to design a game. (They had been watching Tabletop over my shoulder yesterday, and thought it was hilarious. "Harpies! Shrieking Geeks!" ProtestKid yelled. "Can I be a shrieking geek?"... "No," we said, because we are the meanest parents ever...)

I was surprised when they dismissed Star Wars, Robots and Fairies as suitable game topics. "Occupy?" I hazarded... "Yes!"

LittleMan scavenged the dice from another game, ProtestKid got out the colored pencils.

The game design started, of course, at the Start. Liberty Square? Tunisia? Who knows what the start truly was... ;)

Jail, Feed the Poor, and Narrow Escape soon followed. The "safe area", with its yellow balloons, is particularly sweet.(Edited to add: and now, Kettling Nets! Move back two spaces!)

But I think my favorite squares are the "March" squares: a friend can move from anywhere-- including jail-- to join you in the march. (The other way to escape imprisonment is if a friend passes you while you are stuck in jail. Then you go forward one space to "narrow escape". Still working on refining it... maybe you can call the NLG and make bail if you roll the right number?) (Edited to add: yes, a 6 or a 1 or whatever-- but only if every other player is also in jail.)

One thing we *did* settle on was the name. ProtestKid's first choice was "Occupy Police Escape" my first choice was "Solidarity March"... but in the end, I think he chose the best name:

All you need is Occupy.

Oh, and here's a few more shots of the board and pieces. Do you prefer pedal or petal power?

(If there are any other icons that you think should go on the teeny-tiny tiny tents, please let me know and I'll add them. The more the merrier. Occupy Every Space!)

Argh and solidarity tokens

I'm feeling frustrated that I can't do more, right now. Between summer vacation and twisted ankle, my physical forms of protest (or even gardening. My poor tomatoes) are severely curtailed.

So... if you're not seeing much of me, that's why.

I'm trying to buck myself up by looking ahead to Sept 17th, when LittleMan and ProtestKid will be safely in school and I can march and witness more safely.

Before the May 1st protests, I acknowledged that a lot of people I know and love wanted to be there in the streets but couldn't risk leaving home and work. I suggested people make and send tokens to me and I promised to wear them that day, so they could be present in some way.

Several people said Yes, they wanted to participate, but then life got in the way and that didn't happen.

But hey look, I'm stuck on my butt and don't have any more kerchiefs to make and I really want to be making things for Occupy.

So let's make it super easy: you tell me what you would like me to make to symbolize you and your support of Occupy Wall Street, and I'll (do my best to) make it and wear it September 17th. Preferably fabric/badge type stuff, but I'm flexible and enjoy a challenge.

Or, if you prefer, tell me what you'd like me to make and I'll send it to you so you can wear something in solidarity with OWS in your own life on September 17th. (Kerchiefs are fun, but I can probably make more subtle stuff than that on request...)

Cheers,
alia

Solidarity Sunday

We're on vacation, so I haven't been able to do any active actions-- no Summer Disobedience School, no Occupy the Citi, No standing outside Trinity with a cardboard sign and stalwart expression. Hence the lack of dramatic posts.

Also, because my cell phone can't get a signal, no posting photos of the amazing pictures my kids have been drawing for Mark Adams.

How can I brag properly without them?

We've been sending letters almost daily since we got his mailing address in jail. About two weeks of daily cards, now, with pictures from ProtestKid and LittleMan (Who has asked me to call him Protest4 because he is 4 years old. Is there a prouder ProtestMom out there? I don't think so...) in each one. I've been nervous, wondering if I was addressing them correctly or if they would confiscate the kids' drawings.

But just the other morning I stumbled across http://supportmarkadams.wordpress.com/ and started to tear up:

"He’s received quite a bit of written correspondence – so much, in fact, that the corrections officers remarked to him that he was getting mail “like Lil Wayne did when he was in Rikers!” Some of the letters came from quite a distance, and Mark said he was particularly tickled by some childrens’ drawings of the D17 courtroom – a big round judge, and Mark sitting on a bench with a big beard."

That's my boy!

... And that's all, really. On vacation. Writing letters. Sand everywhere. Be back soon.

ProtestKid interviews Me

ProtestKid has a lot of questions about why his friend Ted got arrested on December 17th, and since writing helps me clarify my thoughts on things, I thought I'd put it out here. Please to note, these are answers I am giving to an eight year old. Adults might get slightly different answers.

Why are police being so mean to protesters? Why would they arrest a peaceful protester?

In our society, police are supposed to focus on the law-- what's legal and what isn't. Their job (not who they are as people, just what they get paid for) is not to worry about what's right or what's good.

I know the police's job is to enforce the laws. Why did they arrest him when he wasn't doing anything wrong? He was protesting a grievance, the bill of rights says you can do that.

Good question! In this particular situation, a lot of stuff was going on. People were making music and talking and carrying signs on the sidewalk outside a fenced lot. That piece of land, the city says, belonged to Trinity Wall St, a religious corporation. (Note: that language I picked up from sitting in court. I'm not being snarky, Trinity's legal counsel called them that.)

The police didn't arrest anybody for being on the sidewalk. Some people brought a ladder and used it to climb over the fence. Do you remember how Liberty got cleared out in November?

Yes. They put up a fence so people couldn't get in. They beated people. They killed puppies. So so so bad.

Right. So for a whole month, the occupiers hadn't had anywhere to call home, from November to December 17th. And Trinity Wall St owned this vacant land, and the Occupiers decided that it was the perfect place to build a new home.

They brought two ladders, actually, and people even moved part of the fence and opened a gate and lots of people went into the space with backpacks full of camping gear so they could make a place to protest from.

Our friend Ted was one of those people. After lots of people came in, chanting and hugging and dancing, the police came and arrested everyone they could reach. They reached Ted. (The guy wearing a grey knit hat sitting in front of Bishop Packard)

Why didn't they put handcuffs on him? Usually they put handcuffs on the prisoners?

I don't know! I think they ran out of handcuffs.

That's kind of funny. ...Why didn't he run away?

I don't know for sure, because I haven't asked him. But I can tell you some reasons a person might not run away.

One is, they know they can't escape. If you "resist arrest" and the police catch you again, you can get into a lot of trouble. Really lots.

Another is, they think they haven't done anything wrong. If you aren't afraid of the consequences of being arrested, then you have no reason to run.

Is that enough? Or do you need more explanation?

A little more, I'm still confused.

Sometimes police arrest the wrong person. If you're sure you're innocent and you believe you (or your lawyer) can prove it in a court of law, then you don't need to feel afraid and run away. (Though even if you are innocent, it is scary being arrested, and you can't be sure the court will find you innocent, and jail is no fun.)

Another kind of innocent is if the police say what you're doing is wrong-- like trespassing--

What is trespassing?

It's when you go onto somebody else's property without their permission and knowing that if you asked permission, they would definitely say no way.

...So maybe someone arrested for trespassing would say, "Well, yes I was there, but I didn't think the owner would mind so much." So they think a trial will clear them of the charges against them.

Another kind of being innocent, though it's trickier, is saying, "Yes, I was there, and yes I knew the owner of the space I was in wouldn't like it, but my reasons for being there were much more important than what the owners want."

Like, if you saw a little kid was hurt in somebody's back yard and no one was coming to help them. They might not want you in their yard, but helping the little kid is way more important than something like "property rights"... So if the police arrested you, you might say, "Yes, I was trespassing, and I had no reason to think the owners of the yard would let me in, but the little kid was hurt, and helping is more important than anything else."

I've got a question about the court. What does the jail look like? Does it look like a really tall upside down cylinder made from bars?

That sounds like a cartoon! In real life... I don't know, I haven't been inside a jail before. But if Ted gets found guilty and is sent to jail, we will go visit him and find out. Deal?

Deal.

Pancakes of Lurve

A recipe:

3 cups flour. (I usually do a mix of whole wheat and white)
3 Tbsp sugar (I usually put in 1-2, because Maple Syrup!)
2 tsp double acting baking powder (orig recipe said 1.5, but that was hard to measure. It's not an exact science)
1 tsp salt
(an amount, not to exceed 3 Tbsp, of wheat germ if you are being super duper healthy or your guests aren't and need it)
(spices to try: cinnamon, nutmeg, cardamom)

3 cups milk (or apple juice if you've run out of milk because Coffee!... use much less sugar if you use apple juice)
3 Tbsp butter (melted)
1-2 eggs (1 if you're low, one yolk 2 whites if you like it extra fluffy, 2 whole eggs if you're tired, 3 if you like really eggy pancakes or you're trying to kill someone with an egg allergy)
1 tsp vanilla

Mix dry ingredients while butter melts. This is a good job for a helper.

Once the butter is melted, mix it with the milk/juice/cider/liquid-that-is-not-eggs and warm it all to body temperature. (Stick your finger in it. If it feels pleasantly warm, good. If it hurts... let it cool.)

Add warm liquid to dry ingredients, then add beaten eggs and stir it gently and not very much. Lumps are ok, these aren't crepes. If the batter is too runny, add a Tbsp or 2 of white flour to thicken. If it gets too thick, then add some more milk/juice. No such thing as too much batter, adjust as you go if the first couple pancakes just don't turn out right.

Batter likes to have a rest before you start cooking it-- gives a chance for the double acting baking powder to do its thing. However, if you leave it overnight in the fridge (which Joy of Cooking says you can do for pancakes first thing in the morning) the batter will turn grey.

It's still edible, but... grey... So sometimes the kids get a bowl of cereal before I start making pancakes just so they don't whine while I'm cooking. Zombie pancakes. *shiver*

Skillet should be hot but not burning and should be sprayed with Pam or butter or something. There is enough butter in the batter that after the first pancake you don't need to re-grease, but an initial deposit of fat will improve your overall cooking experience.

Pancakes are ready to flip sometime after the first bubble pops and a crater is left behind, and before your smoke alarm goes off.

My mom used to say that the first pancake should be thrown away. I don't know if that's because she didn't grease the pan or it was a holdover from god-sacrifice times, but if your first pancake is a mess, don't panic. If your third pancake is a mess, try adjusting heat (warmer than medium but only just) liquid (milk!) dry (flour!) or expectations (human!)...

This recipe feeds 3 hungry people. If you need to feed more than that, add flour, bacon, sausages, croissants, yogurt, and other tasty things until everyone is full.

NOTE: If you want to add fruit, DO NOT add it to the batter. (And not just because some of your guests are picky eaters/ungrateful wretches, though they are and will make gagging noises at the thought of fruit in their pancakes) You never get them evenly distributed and they just burn and make holes in the pancake.

Pour (or scoop) out your batter onto your hot surface, and wait a few seconds for the bottom to cook. Then take a handful of fruit (or chocolate chips) and sprinkle them onto the top of the pancake. Proceed as normally. When you flip, yes they will make a mess and a hole-- but only on one side of the pancake.

...Or you could just serve fruit on the side...

Anyway, hope this was helpful. As I tweeted earlier, cigarettes and coffee work short term, but for a happy revolution you need pancakes.