angelica = archangel = ground ash = masterwort Pronunciation: an-JEL-ih-ca
Notes: Angelica is prized for its crunchy stems, which are often candied and used to decorate baked goods. You can also use the leaves and stems to add a celery flavor to liqueurs, sauces, and vegetable side dishes. Substitutes: lovage (This also tastes like celery, and the stems can be candied like angelica.) OR tarragon
borage Pronunciation: BORE-idge or BURR-idge or BAHR-idge Notes: Borage is best known for its attractive blue flowers, but Europeans sometimes use the leaves as an herb in salads and soups. Borage has a mild flavor that's been likened to that of cucumbers. The leaves are covered with prickly, throat-catching hairs, so it's best to either blanch them or chop them finely before serving them. Substitutes: spinach OR escarole OR burnet
chervil = French parsley Pronunciation: CHUR-vil Notes: This feathery green herb tastes like a subtle blend of parsley and anise. It's far more plentiful in Europe than in America. Avoid the dried version--it has very little flavor. Substitutes: cicely OR parsley + tarragon OR fennel leaves + parsley OR fines herbes (This is a blend of herbs that usually includes chervil, parsley, chives, and tarragon.) OR parsley + dill OR tarragon (Like chervil, this is good for flavoring vinegars.) OR chives (especially with eggs) OR dill weed (good for flavoring vinegars)
See many more at The Cook's Thesaurus: http://www.foodsubs.com/HerbsEur.html

A campground is growing in Brooklyn. Just opened—on July 4, it's the only campground for the general public inside any American city's limits that belongs to the National Park Service, the outfit that brings you peaks, lakes, canyons, geysers and glaciers, from the Everglades in Florida to the Gates of the Arctic in Alaska. The camp is at Floyd Bennett Field, a disused airport on Jamaica Bay, 15 miles from Times Square. Floyd Bennett was famous for flying to the North Pole, though it later came out that he never actually got there. He was living in Brooklyn when he died in 1928. The Navy used the field in World War II, and the Coast Guard moved in until 1971, when Gateway National Recreation Area was born. The idea for a public campground came up in 1983, and the Park Service didn't get to building it until this year: 41 sites in the bushes between runways, and six on the tarmac for recreational vehicles. Picnic tables, fire rings, grills and mosquito magnets set the federal budget back $63,000. "I'm a big dreamer here," says Linda Canzanelli, Gateway's superintendent, who envisions 90 campsites on the field in a couple of years as part of President Barack Obama's new "America's Great Outdoors" initiative, aimed at city types who spend too time much indoors. http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424053111903918104576500561033891344.html

ORIGIN OF scofflaw 1924, from scoff (q.v.) + law. The winning entry in a national contest during Prohibition to coin a word to characterize a person who drinks illegally, chosen from more than 25,000 entries; the $200 winning prize was split between two contestants who sent in the word separately, Henry Irving Dale and Miss Kate L. Butler. http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=scofflaw

ORIGIN OF SCOFF
Middle English scof, perhaps of Scandinavian origin; akin to obsolete Dan skof jest; akin to OldFrisian skof mockery First Known Use: 14th century
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/scoff

Both the library and journalism professions are undergoing profound transformations essential to their survival. Both depend on, disseminate, and create information for a living, and provide it in multiple formats— from paper to Twitter. In the United States, both professions also share the values of transparency and freedom of speech as enshrined in the First Amendment. Newsrooms and libraries produce information essential to the healthy functioning of democracy. Ironically, they are also threatened by the same social media that help them thrive: It is harder to verify “facts” and to provide “objectivity”—if there ever was such a thing. And the definitions of who is a “real” reporter or a “real” librarian are getting murkier every day. David Weinberger, senior fellow at Harvard’s Berkman Center for Internet and Society, presented a provocative model of “Knowledge as Transitional”at a conference “Beyond Books: News, Literacy, Democracy, and America’s Libraries”—immediately preceding the National Conference for Media Reform in Boston. The group was convened by Journalism That Matters, a Seattle-based organization dedicated to making the media more accessible, diverse, and conducive to civic engagement. The coauthor of Cluetrain Manifesto, Weinberger believes that 21st-century knowledge is not obtained in a linear fashion but in a more random process involving a variety of sources building on each other (such as the web). As a result, libraries and journalists are gathering information in ways that demand new skills and organization of services. Weinberger’s remarks inspired participants to think beyond the traditional boundaries of our respective professions and to consider creative new ways to serve the public. Of course, some librarians and journalists are already doing just that:
Some public libraries house community newsrooms or public access television studios;
A Brooklyn project is putting cameras into the hands of young people to create news in underserved communities;
A thriving community information portal about suburban Chicago is sponsored by Skokie (Ill.) Public Library and was created by Northwestern University’s journalism school.
http://americanlibrariesmagazine.org/features/07272011/line-between-librarianship-and-journalism-blurring

Baked eggs
Grease muffin tin. Put in 1/2 English muffin or small piece of toast or pita in cups. Crack egg on top and bake at 350 degrees until done, about 15 minutes. If desired, place sliced tomato and cheese between the egg and the muffin.
Thanks, Marlene.

A little more than three centuries ago, a violent tempest with no name—and no meteorological forewarning—ripped through England. It was probably the fiercest storm in British history, which is saying something for an island whose inhabitants are famous for gripes about the weather. Yet it left more than a legacy of destruction. It also became a source of creative inspiration, giving birth to the first substantial work of modern journalism: "The Storm," by Daniel Defoe. On the morning of Wednesday, Nov. 24, 1703, Londoners felt the first strong breezes. By 4 p.m., the winds had picked up. The worst of the storm was still more than two days away, but that night the gusts were powerful enough to knock over part of a house and nearly crush Defoe, who was then a minor poet and pamphleteer in his early 40s. When the storm struck, Defoe was fresh from prison. He had written a satirical tract on the religious intolerance of high-church Anglicans. For this offense he was fined, placed in a pillory and jailed for several months. Upon his release, Defoe was desperate for money to support his family and wrote at a frantic clip. The scholar Paula R. Bachscheider estimates that more than 400,000 words poured from his pen over the next year. About 75,000 of them went into "The Storm," the first book-length work of his career. After Defoe's close call with the collapsing house, the winds remained high in London. On the night of Friday, Nov. 26, Defoe looked at his barometer. He had never seen the mercury so low and suspected that "the Tube had been handled and disturb'd by the Children." As Friday turned into Saturday, the storm unleashed its full fury. The wind shrieked and homes rattled. From start to finish, the mayhem lasted an entire week. The human toll was substantial: 123 dead in and around London and an estimated 8,000 drowned at sea, including about one-fifth of the sailors in the queen's navy. The physical wreckage was equally immense, with 800 houses flattened, 400 windmills demolished and the newly built Eddystone Lighthouse, off England's southern coast, washed away. Whole forests blew over. On a tour of Kent, Defoe started to count the fallen trees but quit at 17,000, having grown "tired with the Number." So it's little wonder that he reached for superlatives to describe what he called "The Greatest, the Longest in Duration, the widest in Extent, of all the Tempests and Storms that History gives any Account of since the Beginning of Time." All of this appeared the following summer in "The Storm," which might be called the world's first instant book. The heart of the manuscript contains about 60 accounts of the tempest from around England, selected and excerpted by Defoe. "The Storm" was not a best seller. A proposed sequel with additional material never went to press—a reminder that journalism and book publishing, for all of their occasional pretensions, are ultimately commercial enterprises and vulnerable to the whims of consumers. Yet Defoe had invented a new way to examine the world, and today's journalists are his descendants.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424053111904800304576476142821212156.html