I don’t think you can argue with my position on this: This piece of hardware is utterly fabulous. As the city’s public schools are either gradually overhauled, or completely demolished, these knobs make periodic appearances on ebay, etsy and, I suppose, the auction circuit. I’ve also seen reproductions available here. The knobs themselves are cast brass and have a very satisfying heft and feel in one’s hand. They were manufactured by Sargent & Company and date from the early 1900s. This beauty was spotted at Matt and Jody’s house over the weekend. They very kindly lent it to me after I assured them I would return it. In this case, older is definitely better.

Wow, there really is a cult of Lego. It’s fascinating to see what images and ideas tap into our collective memory. Lego is definitely one of them. Image via brickfetish.com.

I just noticed a fabulous comment, on Swissmiss‘ posting of this image, which is worth repeating. Joanne K. says: “I did some work with Lego some time ago at HQ in Billund Denmark. Did you know that the bounce properties and sound the bricks make when dropped are also copy right protected?”

Sometimes I wonder how we get any work done at all. I have been searching sporadically for some early patent drawings of vacuum tubes (something to do with a tattoo for my spouse) and am on high alert for the beauty and elegance of those drawings. And then Flavorwire has the nerve to post a story about Stiknord, the tumblr blog curated by the Kolding School of Design in Denmark. The site celebrates a Northern aesthetic. And they do it really really well. Anyway, one thing led to another and, before I knew it, here I was. This 1958 patent drawing is for the earlier iteration of Lego toys that I grew up with…and loved. Except for when the flat plates got stuck together. Then I hated them. As a footnote, one of my early freelance gigs was to design a full Lego stadium and all its details (right down to the hot dog vendor and the hot dogs) for the Major League Baseball licensing division. And imagine this, it was during a pre-computer era. Eeek.

So, I had the crazy pleasure of meeting “yoyonub” (aka Miles Chandler) this past weekend. After a late Friday night meal at the home of some friends, this young guy pulls out a yoyo and just mesmerized us all with his command of a couple of small milled pieces of aluminum and a string. OMG. It was a spectacle that I didn’t want to end. The most I ever learned was to Walk the Dog. And I thought I was super cool. Anyway, when I got home that night, I ended up falling into the black hole of the yoyo subculture, and basically stayed up until 3 a.m. looking at every video I could find. Of him, and others. The one thing I can’t convey here is the soothing whir of the yoyo as it spins. I wanted to put Miles’ video up, but the profane soundtrack might offend those of a more pure nature. He was wielding a Popstar yoyo. Like the gentleman above. If you feel the itch to take up a new pursuit…buy one here. Mine is in the mail. And, since I now know that you are hooked, check out this video as well.

Last week, on a dismal rainy evening, I trekked out to Coney Island Avenue to meet some old friends of mine for an evening of food from the Caucasus. We are an intrepid little band of eaters, and our cravings often take us outside the familiar bounds of Manhattan and Brooklyn. I arrived early, and a good 10 or 12 blocks from the restaurant, so took my time in getting there. As I was walking towards my destination, I passed by a large Russian supermarket and jumped at the chance to get out of the rain. Plus, give me a supermarket or a hardware store and I am at my happiest. I ended up walking back and forth through the entire store. Everything was printed in Cyrillic. No one spoke English. The odd shaped biscuits caught my attention (and were far easier to transport than the 50 types of feta, countless canned goods or the giant cow heart from the meat display). So familiar and yet totally strange. From the shape of the Russian writing baked into the diamond-shaped cookies to the green string holding together a necklace of vanilla scented, donut-like sweets. Always amazed at how the most mundane item can be such a clear reflection of another place.