The Super Bongo: A Monkey's Tale

1500 Posts

2012-02-10T19:09:00.000-05:00

I have been watching the ticker creep up to 1500 for the past few months now. I started thinking, back then, that I should do some deep thinking and links to favorite posts . . . the blog version of the episode montage.

But, I didn't really want to read over the 1500 posts to find my favorites. I know which entry is the most read; the one where I give instructions for making gumbo. But, as I thought about the creation and history of this blog, I realized that the best posts tended to be written about travels, foods, or when I was fuming. Lately, I've not been cooking anything out of the ordinary, I haven't traveled enough to make posts about meals a steady feature, and I've hit a nice, even patch in life.

Then, my afternoon at work ended in such a silly and typically bizarre way, I decided I'd write about it instead of subjecting the 3 people who read this blog to any (more) navel gazing.

We were leaving after a long week. Piles of reports are now sitting on my desk waiting to be mailed off. Preparations for the meetings next week are well underway. And, we'd had a full day of listening to the student intern babble. (We call the intern "Baby")

Baby is enthusiastic. Baby is more than willing to be used and abused in the name of her internship. Lately, she has even been offering to buy our lunches. So, on the way out of the office, Baby decided she should take our trash out, just in case there was food in it and just in case the regular cleaning person some how missed it. We headed out, locked the building, joked about our drinking goals for the weekend, and she disappeared around the building with her book bag, purse, and our trash. A few minutes passed and she didn't come back. So I went to see if perhaps she were handing out her last dollars to homeless people, when I found her trying to figure out how to open the dumpster lids. I asked her what what wrong, and she explained that her keys were in the hand with the trash bag, and she had tossed her keys in the dumpster too.

And, interestingly, my college education prepared me for exactly this situation. Only, as a non-student, I have much better tools at my disposal. I ran back to our office and grabbed the ladder and our extended reach/grabber tool. As I returned to the dumpsters, I found baby perched on the side of the dumpster, ready to jump in. I called to her to stop. And then set up the ladder, climbed up, and easily reached in with the grabber. (So much easier than the time I hoisted myself in and out of the dumpster to retrieve my roommate's keys.) As I returned the ladder and grabber tool, my co-workers marveled that I knew exactly what to do in the situation. I said it was why I was the boss, but really, one of my talents is being able to assess a situation pretty quickly and act. I also pointed out to Baby that she hadn't thought through how she was going to get out of the dumpster, and you should never jump into a situation if you don't have a plan for getting out.

The Luckiest Little Monkey in the World

2012-02-08T21:18:00.000-05:00

It took me a long time to be comfortable enough in my skin to be a good friend to humans. I spent so much time, as a young monkey, worried that I might be discovered, outed, exposed, that I never really allowed myself to really have a connection with individual humans. As I spent more time living among humans, I got more comfortable, and was able to be more relaxed with humans. With a few false starts and wrong turns along the way, I have finally arrived at a place where I feel pretty comfortable with my place in the world.

And, then there are times when I'm just blown away by the capacity humans have to express love and affection.

This week, I have been the recipient of overwhelming love and affection. I'm still in awe.

The SMLF has decided that I needed a full week of birthday celebrations this week. Every day this week, a different monkey has been responsible for a different treat. My yard got "flocked"

There have been lovely lunch time treats too. Homemade baklava, homemade lollies, and an ice cream sundae bar. There are still treats to come. But, most importantly, I am just so appreciative of the great lengths my friends have gone to in order to make me feel loved and appreciated and celebrated.

I am so very spoiled.

The Trouble with Paula

2012-02-01T23:47:00.000-05:00

The news cycles around the whole diabetes thing and Paula Deen has finally quieted. As someone who is fascinated by the subject of food and addicted to cooking shows, I have spent too much time on this news story.

First off, I don't watch her show. She personifies a form of southern womanhood I find pretty annoying . . . the fuzzy haired, incredibly loud, taking pride in being uninformed, overly entitled stereotype. You know, women who have a theme sweater (many with blinking lights) for every day of October and December.

And, I followed the media fueled "feud" between her and my boy, Tony. He was right. The diet she promoted on her show wasn't healthy. She elevated indulgence into the everyday.

On one hand, her signature style is "too much is not enough." And, you wouldn't really expect her to do a complete about-face just because she could no longer handle the diet. She had a formula that worked, why change it because of her personal health problems? I get that no one wants to become the poster child for their particular circumstance.

The thing that irks me is how she continues to flaunt her poor diet. And, like my previous rant about Newt and the personal nature of what makes my left eye involuntarily twitch when I hear his voice, there is a fairly personal reason I find Ms Deen's current behavior so troubling. Years ago, I had a friend who had diabetes. She was advised to try to control it with her diet. She was scheduled to see nutritionists and dietitians to help her develop eating habits that would both satisfy her as well as meet her health needs. And, she stubbornly refused. I remember one day, speaking to her on the phone, when she told me that she was having to go on insulin because the diabetes had progressed. Then, she told me that her nutritionist had told her that she shouldn't eat more than 1/2 a banana in a day, due to the sugars in the fruit. My friend didn't like bananas, so this should have been easy, right? No. My friend hated being told she couldn't or should do something more than she disliked bananas. She went out that day and bought and ate 5 whole bananas. Then, she bragged to me that she hadn't ended up in a medical emergency, so maybe they didn't know what they were talking about after all.

When I see Ms Deen scarfing cake on morning talk shows, I have to think back to my friend . . . now dead . . . who also flaunted the diet that would have made her life more comfortable and longer.

The Trouble with Newt

2012-01-31T22:48:00.001-05:00

I find it pretty amazing that the media hones in on Newt's long history of marital infidelities as possibly making him questionable as presidential material. They seem to have forgotten, completely, that he was forced to resign from congress because of ethics issues. I'm thinking that ethics violations sufficient to make congress tell you to pack your bags and leave the key on the front table on your way out automatically negates your fitness for the presidency.

But, my issues with Newt are a lot more personal. Remember that speech where he said poor children don't have the ethic of showing up every Monday? Putting in a full day? (I thought we trained that into all children, irregardless of socio-economic status, by making school attendance compulsory.) His self-righteous, mean-spirited, ignorant spewing of his opinion of poor children (as if they were truly the problem bringing down wall street . . . what with their wanting to go to quality schools and eat and be safe in their homes) he reminds me of the Old Man.

As much as I love the Old Man, he suffers from "white old man" syndrome. He is stuck, in his own mind, in a time where work was harder, walking to school barefooted in the snow up-hill both ways was harder, and a nickel bought a whole lot more era of his life. The fact of the matter is, in the "good old days" people were pining for another era they thought were easier, simpler.

You'll never move ahead if you spend all your time looking in the past. I think it's time for Newt to take his nostalgia and find a quiet beach house somewhere, and leave good, hard-working, folks alone.

My other world

2012-01-30T22:45:00.001-05:00

Today, I had one of those days when all tasks magically doubled themselves. I had a 22 page report due (actually, due tomorrow) and after submitting it, HQ happened to mention that they needed the same report filled out for a separate project and I wouldn't mind, would I? I have a budget due but we have to use some new computerized system that requires regional managers to sign on and sign off . . . good luck chasing them down.

There was other stuff too. . . plus getting ready for the regional manager's meeting later this week. And, there is my guest hosting of a student group complete with age appropriate activities to prepare. It's enough to make a monkey decide a little mental escape is needed.

In my other little world, where I've won 100 million in the lotto . . . this is what I'd be doing this carnival season rather than pushing papers.

Or kicking back on a balcony with a tall, frosty drink and watch the parade pass me by.

"You know, I thought he was a lot smaller."

2012-01-26T22:22:00.000-05:00

On this day, 11 years ago, I read an article in my local paper about a poor dog that had been given to the humane society in our community when its' owners moved away and couldn't keep him. The article said it was an older dog, and a private donor was willing to pay for the dog's upkeep if someone with a yard could take him. I called the Phenom and read the article over the phone. We decided to visit the humane society that afternoon.

When we arrived, we were introduced to the volunteer in charge of adoptions. She was busy with the afternoon play/kennel clean/feed. They would release 5-8 dogs into the play yard and clean their kennels, place clean bedding, refill food and water bowls, and then bring the dogs in from the play yard. One dog in the batch coming in didn't come in. So, we followed her out to the play yard to corral him back in. This cute, little dog came charging over to us with a ball in his mouth. We threw the ball and he went bounding after it . . . and returned right to us. Within a minute, Phenom was kissing it on the head. Our rule is "you kissed it, you bought it."

So we filled out the paperwork. We must have passed muster, because a couple days later, they called to say we'd been approved to adopt Chester. (Side note, today I read this article about the screening processes of some rescue groups.) We bought a kennel and dogloo and toys and a collar and leash and harness we could use to seat belt him into the car and food and toys and a brush and toys.

The next afternoon, Phenom collected our new family member while I had a meeting. Yes, I was jealous I didn't get to be part of the pick up. But, I arrived home just minutes after Phenom and Chester. While we watched Chester tear around our yard like a pardoned inmate, we looked at each other and both said "You know, I thought he was a lot smaller."

Chester is a fun loving, sweet, hyper pooch that is pretty much like having a perpetual 4 year old boy. He explores the yard, doesn't always come when called, likes to pester cats, prefers junk food to his meals, doesn't like to share his toys or people, and has been worth every minute.

Happy Adoption Day, Chester!

My Brain Hurts

2012-01-25T23:31:00.004-05:00

I love technology, except for when I don't. I'm happily flipping through apps and books and music on my new hand-held, wi-fi toy. But, I've also spent the better part of this week trying to gain access to a central computing system housed in headquarters. One whole afternoon was spent selecting and answering "security" questions. Some questions are easy to answer, like "what was the make of your first car?" Your first car doesn't change. Other questions, seem too easy to have changeable answers, like "what is your favorite movie?" If you'd asked me that when I was in school, it would have undoubtedly be Monty Python's Holy Grail. Other times in my life it might have been "Harvey" . . . now? I have no idea what I could call my FAVORITE movie.

The happy ending to this story is that today I finally was able to access the data base and start inputting and crunching numbers. I did this for most of the day, save for a Spider Monkey Lunch and sending the intern out on a cupcake run.

Then, just as the day was winding down, I sat down for an interview with a young journalist. He's bright and young and earnest. He thought doing a story on my business would be an interesting puff piece, until I steered him in a direction near and dear to my heart. Then, we sent him home with a handful of literature and a few names of folks to talk to in order to flesh out his story. It was a highly satisfying end to a busy day.

Over dinner tonight, I was aware of how my brain seemed to ache from over use. Funny how thinking is as exhausting as running.

The other side of the coin

2012-01-24T23:23:00.000-05:00

In contrast to the new business I spoke of last week, I want to highlight how a local restaurant can go wrong. Over the holidays, another new restaurant opened in our town.

They specialize in the regional specialty BBQ. The owner is the youngest son in what might be best described as part of our community's 1%. He (his family) bought the property 2-3 years ago and built the building. And, we've had probably 18 months of delayed openings. They did a soft opening that was advertised on facebook and a little in the local newspaper. Then, on the grand opening, they were featured in the local paper. (Much more fan-fare than the cupcake business.)

The first time we tried to eat at the BBQ joint, we went at 8:15 on a Saturday night to discover that they had closed up at 7:30. ON A SATURDAY NIGHT? So, we waited until after the grand opening and went, making sure we arrived fairly early . . . only to see that their regular posted hours will have them closing at 8pm every night. (REALLY?)

The service is kinda school cafeteria style with you telling the women standing over the steam table what you want. Nothing was really labeled and the servers weren't about to help you figure out what was floating under the greasy, orange soup. And, the owner was enjoying a chat with family friends, and blocking the only route from the service line to the dining area. (A pet peeve of mine is when employees get in the way of customers.)

The BBQ was excellent. The sides need work. If I'm going to pay $7 for a styrofoam plate of dinner, I want pretty decent sides to go with my handful of BBQ. The beans were canned and the slaw was food service. I'm pretty sure that he's gonna have to make better sides if he wants to become a fixture in the BBQ trail.

But, what I find even more interesting is that for the past three weeks, his only posts to his business' facebook page are posts that whine about negative comments that have been posted on various websites and how he can't please everyone and some people just don't want him to do well. Frankly, the whining is a real turn off. I'm thinking it would be more worth it to buzz in for a $10 pound of the BBQ and come home to make my own sides.

I will be interested to see how these two businesses fare in the coming months. The BBQ place is easier to get to from the highway, and has ties to a well known family. The cupcake business was born from a young woman's kitchen. We'll see. (I'm kinda rooting for the cupcake business. . . but maybe because they seem so nice and appreciative of their customers and don't whine.)

The American Dream

2012-01-21T17:45:00.001-05:00

Our little town has something of a sensation happening right now. A new cupcake shop has opened. I know, cupcakes, like Sex and the City, are totally done in other parts of the planet. But, in culinary hell, cupcakes are the new, big thing. Next century, we'll move on to pie.

Anyway, I'm intrigued by this little business. They opened in a store front in a tiny strip of shops. They aren't in a particularly convenient spot. And, all they do are cupcakes.

I heard about them from a friend. She heard about them from a friend. It seems they haven't done much in the way of advertising. And, yet, in just a couple of weeks, they have accrued over 5,000 fans on facebook.

I had a friend who was feeling poorly the other day, so I thought I'd try the new cupcake place and pick her up a pick-me-up too. The place was crowded. They only take cash. They have a rotating menu of 4 cupcakes a day. People were gushing and talking about the cupcakes being like crack. (Frankly, it made me more skeptical . . . given my assumption that way too many humans have ruined their palates with ranch dressing.)

I ordered some of each flavor and distributed them with several folks. The sickie said it made her day. My student gushed and inhaled hers. And, Phenom licked the crumbs from the paper.

I hope they succeed. This town needs something like this. They do word of mouth advertising . . . which I believe is actually known as Marketing. I heard the mother of the owner (who was working the cash register) say that they were selling 600 cupcakes a day. Wow. And, they were really good.

The Big Secret

2012-01-19T21:06:00.001-05:00

I know you humans are always looking for the "secret of life." That, and a good face cream. Today, I stumbled upon one of the secrets to life. And, I can sum it up in a soundbite that would fit nicely onto a t-shirt.

The back story: I like to follow people's facebook activities. I've watched relationships explode over the course of 5 status updates. I've seen some very funny exchanges from a fairly simple status. I've seen total nerds give all the lyrics to disco tunes, line by line.

Last night, I watched a woman go down a worry spiral. I know I only saw the surface of the event, but what I saw was interesting. Apparently, relatives of hers decided well after dark to haul major appliances from one community to another. She started by posting that she knew they were on the road, but had not heard from them. She was starting to worry. Then, she heard from them and learned the trailer they were hauling had a flat and they were stranded on the side of the highway, about 11pm. She fretted and couldn't figure out what to do. (I later learned that they were a mere 10 miles from her home and it never occurred to her that she might drive to their location and pick them up.)

Finally, there was an update that highway patrol had arrived, helped them unhook the trailer, and they were able to continue on their journey and hoped the trailer would be fine the next day.

Today, the status update was that the trailer was still intact, the tire fixed, and they were able to complete the last 10 miles of their route.

While watching this spiral, I couldn't help but be so very thankful that I am so very lucky as to know that if I found myself in a similar situation, I have 2 dozen people in my phone list who would either drop everything to come help me or would know who could help me better. (I also have AAA.)

So, the soundbite secret to life? Nothing like other people's families to make yours look sane. Ain't it the truth?

Cold Comfort

2012-01-17T21:38:00.001-05:00

Well, I didn't bite anyone or drop any f-bombs today. And, despite the asshattery of yesterday, wasn't frisked for odd change. But, I did have impressively scary bits of gauze taped up and down my arms upon leaving. Nothing like props for that wave of sympathy, eh?

I felt lousy afterwards. So, I was extra glad I'd put some red beans on to soak before leaving this morning. Nothing warms your home or soul like a steaming plate of red beans and rice. And, they are insanely easy.

First, you must buy these:

Sort through them the night before, discarding any beans that are broken, dirty, or groddy looking. Pop them in a container, and in the morning, add enough water to cover the beans by about an inch. When you get home from work, or from terrorizing the countryside, throw the beans and what water is left in a large pot. Add enough water to cover the beans. Crank up the heat to a boil, drop the heat, and let simmer, covered, for about an hour.

In the mean time, chop up a rib or two of celery, an onion, a couple garlic cloves, and about 1/4 - 1/2 a bell pepper. Throw some side meat or bacon into a frying pan and brown and remove. Then, put the veggies in the rendered fat and salt and pepper them. I also like to add a generous amount of Tony Chacere's Creole seasoning. When the veggies are soft, add them and the side meat into the beans and stir. Cover, and let simmer another hour or two. Taste after two hours total cooking time to see if they are tender or need more seasoning.

Serve with rice. If you really plan ahead, get some smoked sausage and put a little char on it, and serve it along side.

I yelled at the wrong person

2012-01-16T23:27:00.001-05:00

Tomorrow, I go in for some "tests." Read, the hospital is gonna make another payment on the machine that goes ping.

I'm not a good patient. I intensely dislike the way medicine is practiced in this country. I dislike that there are still vestiges of the misogyny the AMA sanctioned 100 years ago in preventing women from entering medical schools. Seven minutes is not sufficient time for trust to be established for a relationship that is beneficial. And, what's with all the getting naked? You humans are a kinky bunch.

I also resent that insurance companies have created a dynamic in which doctors are more responsible to them than to patients. At no time, during the endless chatter over health care reform, did anyone suggest that perhaps too much damned profit is being made from disease, injury, and death.

And, I really don't like being touched or looked at real hard. (I know, my own issue. But, you're not gonna put me back in that cage!)

The doctor's office was suppose to make arrangements for these tests. I ended up having to chase down an appointment myself. Then, today, the billing department for the hospital called to "pre-register" me. Meaning, shake me down for $800. Seriously. They told me what my out of pocket costs would be and demanded to know exactly how much I would be paying prior to my appointment. I think mob hits have been more polite.

While I was still ranting to the Phenom about the gall, the indignity, the sheer greed . . . the hospital called again. And, I was very rude to the caller. When she mispronounced my fairly common, old fashioned, not-at-all-exotic-or strangely-spelled name, I questioned her primary education. And, the poor dear, she was from a totally different department just calling to confirm my appointment.

I feel a little bad for yelling at her. But, I'm still pissed off that the billing folks are acting like I owe them some gambling debt.

Tomorrow should be even more fun. Especially since Phenom refuses to promise to kick in the shins anyone who is mean to me. However, I did use my tantrum to justify buying myself a new electronic toy.

Pot Roast

2012-01-15T16:25:00.000-05:00

I'm well aware of my obsession with cooking/food. And, I know my reputation. However, secretly, I suspect that I'm a little bit of a fraud. Sure, I can make a beef wellington or chocolate mousse. I can do the fancy, complicated things. But, I fail at some of the simpler things . . . like roast chicken or pot roast.

I tell myself that there really isn't any reason to roast chickens. I live in culinary hell and the only roasting hens available are frozen rocks and you can get a perfectly good roasted chicken from the store for around $5-6 dollars.

I tried to make a pot roast once. But, it failed. I got a crock pot expressly for pot roast, and it didn't live up to my expectations either. So, I gave up for years. Plus, we aren't big meat eaters, it wasn't like we missed it.

But, today, I'm trying again. I have high hopes for success. I've read about the process. I've reviewed several recipes. And, hopefully we will have more pot roast than I know what to do with in a few short hours.

I'm using this recipe, more or less. I added a container of sliced brown mushrooms. And, I only had fresh rosemary but not fresh thyme. Phenom thought it looked like a good piece of meat when I took it out of the pot after browning it.

I'm really hoping to have a debris po' boy later this week. (Debris is shreds of pot roast in the cooking juices piled high on sandwiches in NOLA.)

Bogarted

2012-01-14T23:25:00.002-05:00

I guess I should wander over to Urban Dictionary to make sure I'm using the term "bogart" correctly. Hang on.

Yes I am. The Phenom bogarts our favorite chips.

When we travel to NOLA, we always bring back a carry on bag filled with Hubig Pies and Zapp's Potato Chips. Yesterday, Phenom opened the last bag of Zapp's and offered me a chip. I took one because I was full from dinner. Just now, I walked into the living room and found Phenom licking the last of the crumbs from the bag.

Our favorite flavor is Voodoo Gumbo. But I also like the Creole Tomato and Phenom likes the Jalapeno. Perhaps I should order some for valentine's day. What says love more than garlicky chips?

Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

2012-01-11T22:06:00.003-05:00

I remember being told some fairy tale as a young monkey about a princess that was given the option of having happiness at the beginning of her life or at the end. Of course, this sets up a lesson for young humans and monkeys alike. I seem to recall being one of the only youngsters to choose "at the end of my life."

I think those early days in the lab set me up for understanding that things had to be better eventually.

I can honestly say that I chose right. I can certainly say that I am getting happiness in the second half of my life. Today, it's because Phenom has informed me that we are going on a get away for my birthday. Hee Hee . . . And just when I thought I'd never really appreciate my birthday again.

A moment of your time

2012-01-10T09:50:00.003-05:00

I suspect I'm probably on the low end of the spectrum for understanding those computer thingies. I'm not really a gamer and pretty much I expect that the computer is going to behave in an expected manner every single time I turn it on. At the same time, I have a touch more knowledge than the human I live with . . . and I'm pretty sure I'd be rated "computer genius" by the average nursing home cohort.

I have enough geek in me to be able to joke with the computer types. I openly profess that the problem is an Id 10 t problem or exists between the chair and the keyboard. I love to joke that I just love the "cup holder" my lap top came with.

And, my self assessment of my own computer savvy is greatly enhanced by this web site. I love Clients from Hell. I like how, in old fashioned mid-morning talk show fashion, it makes me feel smug about my own smarts. And, isn't that what we all need in the midst of the day-to-day? Little moments of unabashed smugness?

It's a small town thing, right?

2012-01-09T18:27:00.001-05:00

We're not "from 'round here." You can tell by our speech. You can tell by the way we stare at you like you have three heads when you explain stuff that everyone from 'round here knows. I'm pretty sure we had one of those weekends.

After spending the whole week looking like the walking dead, giving up on a road trip, and passing on a ballgame excursion, I resigned myself to a quiet weekend at home. But, Friday night, while out playing with the dog, we started to suspect a wee kitten was up in the engine of Phenom's "fun car." Chester kept nosing around the car and trying to wedge himself under. Finally, we popped the hood to take a look. It was no kitten. We have a disagreement as to what exactly it was . . . I say fox, Phenom says coyote. It had fur longer and more coarse than our dog's and it was big. After speaking to the most knowledgeable human we could think of on these matters, we were told to leave it be and hope it wandered off on it's own. If not, the words "wildlife agent" and "mechanic" were brought into the conversation.

Saturday, Chester seemed disinterested in the car. We hoped that meant our futzing about had chased the foxy little thing away. Sunday, we popped the hood again, and no fox. But, now we have this cloud hanging over us every time we want to go for a spin in the fun car . . . should we check under the hood?

Then, after spending a quiet Saturday on my own, I decided that I would tempt my stomach back into solid food by visiting a new BBQ joint that has recently opened. Phenom and I walked in the place just after 8pm only to find they had closed up at 7:30 and were just waiting for the last diners to beat it. WHAT KIND OF PLACE CLOSES AT 7:30 ON A SATURDAY NIGHT????? REALLY????

Then, Sunday I spent just enough time in mega-mart to come to the end of my patience but not cross the line. (Lady in front of me tried to buy $250 worth of items with a $70 gift card, 'nuff said.)

Nothing like making up a project

2012-01-07T16:27:00.001-05:00

Thanks to another bout with the flu this winter, I am staying home today instead of taking off on a three pronged road trip I had planned. I'm actually feeling better, but in the name of relapse prevention and not wanting to expose some very nice old people who were going to be part of the trip, I'm grounded.

I'm doing laundry. And, playing word games online. And, watching tv. But, before settling into a boring afternoon, I popped into the newish Asian grocery that opened in culinary hell. They have more stock than that first visit, when they first opened. They have the lychee jellies that I love. They have more produce.

So, today I got spring roll wrappers, a big bag of rice noodles, and a huge hand of really fresh ginger. So, after I finish being trounced in word games, I'm going on a search for a spring roll recipe. This unseasonable warm spell has me thinking of lighter foods.

You can't take me anywhere

2012-01-05T21:18:00.000-05:00

The first time I met one of the Phenom's previous bosses, I was dumbstruck. Rather, I knew that since the only likely thing to come blurting out of my mouth would be so socially inappropriate, my only other option was to remain silent. The man had no neck. Like the narrator in the Rocky Horror Picture Show. It was painful, but I managed to clamp my mouth shut and not say "where's your fuckin' neck?" Ya'll should be proud.

Phenom has intentionally avoided letting me meet one of the higher level wonks at his work place because this guy is notorious for promoting (like from receptionist to department head) the women with whom he sleeps. I once observed, in a social setting, "so, He's the one." When friends pressed me to explain what I meant, I said "the answer to the question 'who do I have to sleep with around here to get ahead." Thus, I've not been asked to tag along to work functions anymore out of fear I'll actually say that to him.

But, there is one guy from the Phenom's past I think I should get a pass on. A guy from the college days. Phenom describes being in his dorm room, studying, when another dorm resident came running in and announced that "Jr ____ has the clap." I think that should I ever meet Jr., I should be able to ask if he ever got the clap cleared up.

But, for some reason, Phenom shows no interest in attending college reunions.

Resolution Accomplished!

2012-01-05T00:41:00.000-05:00

I am notoriously bad with resolutions. I generally make some halfhearted and cynical resolution that I know won't change any one's life if left unfulfilled. But not 2011. No, in 2011, I made a resolution and saw it through!

I resolved to expose myself to new music. (Notice how I cleverly put no real parameters on the resolution? The true secret to resolution fulfillment . . . vagueness.)

I started off the year by listening to new artists' stations on Pandora. Then, when I heard music reviews on NPR, I would follow up on the artists. Which is how I found Raphael Saadiq. I like his old school sound. I like his style, very classic/y.

Then, I moved on to Pink Martini. I honestly don't remember how I found them. I like their Cole Porter irreverence. There is a cleverness to their lyrics.

And, finally I looked into what my friends are listening to, and found Robbers on High Street. Truth be told, one of my friends is main squeezin' with one of the members of the band. I like their classic British pop sound.

I realize that although all these new groups clustered on my iPod are still well within my musical comfort zone, I still count this as expanding my musical library.

I haven't yet come up with a resolution for 2012. Maybe to reduce the number of places I stash booze in my house to just the kitchen?

Reflecting

2011-12-30T09:29:00.000-05:00

I'll confess something I bet you didn't know about me. I tend to obsess. I like to be generous with myself and say that it's my control-freak nature that likes my life to be neat and orderly. (I said my life. . . not my home.) I am just arrogant enough to think that I'm smart enough that I can reason through pretty much any difficulty I have in life. Or, smart enough to know when to ask for help. (Sadly, I'm also pretty stubborn and even when I know I ought to ask for help, I'm still likely to wait long past when it would have been most helpful to make such requests.) The thing is, as much as I hate it, much of life cannot be reasoned out. No amount of thinking or manipulating or pouting can make the universe bend to your will.

I think the less generous characterization is that I hold a grudge like no body's business and I whine, a lot.

The last couple of years have been difficult, and largely beyond my control. Sigh, lovely control.

But, at the same time, there have been real bright spots. And, more often than not, I am reminded that I have some really wonderful friends. People who will jump up to offer help. Humans who have tolerated my whining. People who are polite enough to act like they are laughing with me, rather than at me. Folks who have been more than generous with me.

I do appreciate it. And, I will try, in the coming year, to focus more on what I have than what I cannot control.

Christmas in N'awlins

2011-12-29T18:34:00.000-05:00

I don't like the feeling of being out of control of my environment or life. And, since I couldn't dictate the behavior of other people, I decided to throw my hands up and take off for Christmas. The Phenom and I always have a good time in N'awlins. We actually relax when we're there. We have a good time together. We eat and drink, a lot. And, since this was our mutual gift to each other, we didn't worry about a budget. It is nice to have outings where you quibble over who gets to pay, not how much it was, no?

We like to count up the new things we do with each trip. We've been going to NOLA for 20 years now, and still, every trip, we try, drink, eat, or see something new.

Additionally, I decided that my photos needed to have a theme. So, my theme became Santa in NOLA. The guy above was the Santa posing for pictures in the French Market. Only, in NOLA, he's called Papa Noel. The Papa Noel at Pat O's appeared to be an over grown college boy with fake whiskers and a badly fitting suit. This guy had real whiskers and was taking real joy in pictures. I also suspect he knows which list I belong on this year.

We both agreed that this was one of the more relaxing, better trips we've ever taken to NOLA. Hopefully my liver and the one kidney I have left will forgive me before I go back.

Better than catnip

2011-12-28T19:27:00.000-05:00

I may have mentioned before that one of my sick pleasures is taunting our cat "T" (the black and white one in this photo). T is in love with the Phenom. She is Angelina to his Billy Bob. If only he'd give her a vial of his blood to wear around her neck, she might be happy. She tolerates me in the household because she really doesn't have much of a choice.

So, I like to point out the many evidences that I am number one in the Phenom's affections. "OOOH! Look, jewelry. Has Phenom, ever bought you jewelry? I didn't think so." "You know what T? Phenom is taking me on vacation and leaving you here, alone with the other bastard cats."

Over the holiday drunkfest that was our trip to NOLA, I found a beautiful fleur di lis collar and leash for the dog. The dog that the cats hate beyond hating. It is black and gold, and the gold is metallic thread, so sparkly. And, it was a double bonus because it allowed me to extend the taunting of T to "T, look, Phenom bought the dog a swell new gift and didn't get you anything."

But, I did give the old collar to the cats. And, despite wanting him drawn and quartered, they love to rub his smell all over themselves. Allowing me to point out to T that it is almost like Phenom got her a gift too.

Taunting cats. Yep. I do that.

How my overly paranoid nature would help me

2011-12-21T12:26:00.002-05:00

Hear this story?

I think I would be too paranoid to drive a car like that. I would want to know if there were a cash option to the contest. And, I might not even enter that sort of contest out of fear I'd end up getting stuck paying taxes and insurance.

But, I would make that car look good.

Airing

2011-12-20T11:29:00.000-05:00

The other day, someone quipped that we were celebrating Festivus. So, in the spirit of festivus, I am going to air a few grievances.

Spitting. I have a weak constitution for vomit and spitting is just smaller vomit, in my mind.
People who are late to their own events. If you think your event/meeting/party/appointment is so important as to infringe on my time, don't you think you ought to let it infringe on yours too?
People who walk in the street when there is a perfectly good sidewalk available.
People who air their dirty laundry on social media. Your date stood you up? That's why we have texting. Your mate been steppin' out on you? See a lawyer . . . don't change your relationship status to "it's complicated." Someone talking trash about your child? Call their parents.
Companies with piss poor customer service. I'm talking about you bellsouth. Don't make me key in my phone number, mash 15 buttons working through your phone tree, waste 15 minutes of my time, when you could start off with a recording that there is an internet outage in my area. Don't make me repeat the same information to your service peoples that you made me key in during your phone tree. I think you'll find that the relationship between me and your employees will be so much improved it you don't start off by wasting my time or annoying me before I even get to a live person.
Store clerks who seem to think that I want their commentary on the products I'm buying. I don't care if you don't know what tofu is, you're not buying it. I don't really care if you like walnuts more than pecans.

Okay . . .that should do me for the year. Now, who wants to fight me for the feats of strength?

Now, I get it

2011-12-18T18:24:00.003-05:00

Remember the Eat More Kale dude? How the evil, and somewhat illiterate, corporate empire is trying to shut down his little business? Even though there isn't even a franchise of the evil empire in his home state and the nearest one is 120 miles away?

I finally understand why Chick-fil-a needs to shut him down now.

Tonight, I'm making beans and greens for dinner (with a parm/crouton crust). As I was pulling the kale off their stalks, I realized . . . kale stalks . . . chicken bones. . . more or less exactly the same. . . only not.

To further my understanding, as I was putting the kale into the pot, handful by handful, I found that the curly leaves were a tad unruly and didn't really seem to want to go into the hot, bubbling pot. . . as I assume a chicken would react if being dumped into a pot.

It's so clear now. And, the good news for the evil empire is that I now have more compassion for the poor, helpless, no-doubt-grown-indoors-and-in-inhumane-conditions kale.

Hodge Podge

2011-12-17T21:48:00.002-05:00

Years ago, in a tiny apartment the Phenom and I shared, we had a refrigerator that had a smooth surface. I liked using dry erase markers on it for notes and/or art works.

Now that we're "grown up" we have a big fridge with a textured surface. Instead of using it for notes and drawings, we have a hodge podge of magnets and various bits of our lives. I have addresses from friends who have moved away. I have invites to parties. We stick up post cards from other people's travels. I have recipes. I have a baggie full of box tops and soda can tops for a friend's child. But, most valuable are the pictures of my friends' children.

This time of year causes my fridge to overflow. Tucked into christmas cards, I get school pictures, family vacation photos, pictures of children with santa, and occasionally pictures of beloved pets.

Not only is it a year book of sorts, but also a reminder of the extensive community to which I belong.

Close enough

2011-12-16T08:54:00.001-05:00

I'm not really a Christmas sort of monkey. I don't decorate but I do bake. I like giving gifts (especially to friends' kids . . . and even better if it is something I remember playing with in the lab) but usually can't think of anything I really need in return. I appreciate the opportunity to remember friends, catch up with folks, and relax a bit. But that's about it.

This year, I've gotten to participate, in small ways, in making Christmas good for some other people. And, I have to say, SMLF are some of the most decent, giving people you'll ever want to meet.

First, one of the monkeys has always wanted to enter the local flotilla event. The logistics have always been a problem in the past.

This year, the monkeys or spouses of monkeys made it happen. And, the SMLF gathered on the banks of our local river to be the noisiest monkeys ever. (They even made the mistake of giving me an airhorn, heh heh.) It was a fun and groovy event, and absolutely tickled the monkey to no end to see something she's always wanted to do come together. Also, she totally appreciated that it took a community of folks working together, and that may have been the best part.

The second project is coming together and should happen soon. Many of the SMLF member all get their hair cut by the same person. Her husband has a progressive disease, and she knows that this year is the last Christmas she will have with her husband, the last year her children will spend with their father. She mentioned to one of the monkeys recently that she wanted to set up a specific scene in her yard, with lights, for her husband to enjoy. But, she doesn't have the time or the money.

The monkeys discussed it over lunch, and that afternoon had secured the materials and lights needed to make it happen. The paint is nearly dry . . . and will soon be set up in her yard.

Again, the coming together of a community is what makes me feeling warm and fuzzy this season.

Playing Dumb

2011-12-15T16:28:00.001-05:00

There is one sort of human you should always play dumb to. Even if you're usually very smart, you should let this one sort of human assume you don't have the brains to put your socks on before your shoes. That would be the computer tech support type of human.

Granted, I might have earned this little adventure with computer tech support. I quipped the other day that I enjoy teasing a friend of mine (who is a computer tech support type) that I so appreciate the "cup holder" that came with my computer. HAR HAR HAR

And, I sent an email to a colleague in which I crowed about triumphing over the machine. But, that was after having to unplug, replug, and attempt to scan a document all morning long.

Yesterday, my computer decided to exert a little power and control in my life. It failed at an update and BOOM! I can't access any of my programs from my desk top.

I woke up several times in the night, heart racing, in fear that today I would discover the blue screen of death on my computer today.

But, 15 minutes of making a tech guy wonder why he didn't go into accounting, and VOILA! I'm the master of my domain again. Whew!

I told the guy to use small words and speak slowly to me. This was met with one word instructions. I also told him that I was well aware that part of the problem existed between the chair and keyboard. Hopefully, if I ever have to call him back, he'll not run away to join a circus.

The Little Things

2011-12-14T21:04:00.003-05:00

I placed the order back in November. I've been in touch with the company a couple of times, inquiring about the status of my order. I've gotten rather annoyed. And, finally it arrived yesterday.

As I was unpacking the items that will become parts of Christmas packages for others, and our christmas cards, Stinky was drawn to the box. The box has become her home now. In fact, this morning, rather than follow me to the door and send me off with a bit of sweetness, she stayed in the box. She's in the box now.

So, really, it was more christmas gifts than even I had imagined.

Yo

2011-12-12T23:42:00.002-05:00

You know the joke; how do you start a fight on the internet? Post something on the internet. Boom!

The last two weeks, I've been able to watch from the sidelines an full on, interwebs screaming match complete with people citing rules and people huffing and puffing. And what started the feud? An inter-office memo about a sale at Starbucks. (see, all you 99% were right . . . corporate America is evil.)

After hearing about the many, many people who felt their perspective was crucial to add into the mix, I couldn't help but think "first world problems, yo."

Here is the antedote to first world problems. Because, you know, cats have issues too. Especially cats with comfy homes and human faces to sleep on.

Bourbony goodness

2011-12-11T18:13:00.002-05:00

Reading the book Something From The Oven totally changed the way I think of food, especially recipes. I am alert for mass produced items. What are they selling me? How did this recipe become part of the American food landscape?

It would seem that holiday time is the season when our recipes are so closely tied to products. How many tables feature green bean casserole? A triumph of marketing if ever there were one.

I, myself, make lots and lots of chex mix this time of year. And, I make bourbon balls. I'm not sure if it were the bourbon industry or the vanilla wafer industry I should thank for their marketing genius. I have a hand written, scribbled recipe in my big collection book that I use every year. So far, no complaints. (oh, and if you don't have a food processor, you won't have much fun making these.)

1 12 oz (ish) box vanilla wafers
1/2 cup pecans
1/2 cup raisins
2 tbls cocoa powder
1/4 cup bourbon
1/3 (very generous) cup corn syrup

Grind up the wafers and pecans until fine. Add cocoa, raisins, bourbon, and syrup. Blend until it becomes a mass. Roll into cherry sized balls and roll in powdered sugar. Refrigerate at least overnight. They are better at room temp. They will keep for months in the fridge, if you have self control. It makes a few dozen, I'm told; I've never counted.

Monkey Christmas

2011-12-09T08:38:00.003-05:00

I like how many holidays we can incorporate the word "monkey" into . . . Monkey gras, Monkey Christmas, etc.

The SMLF has decided that instead of exchanging gifts, we'll have a cookie exchange. YAY!! COOKIES!!! The rules are easy . . . we'll have a healthyish lunch and then lay out goodies and people/monkeys can pick a selection that suits their tastes. We also require that recipes be included so we can make a "cookie cook book." We ask that a minimum of 3 dozen of anything be supplied so everyone can have more or less an equal share.

Since I've never ever done anything the easy way, I'm planning on three cookies. Snickerdoodles. Macaroons (some will be choco dipped) and bourbon balls. We seem to have a couple monkeys who don't like chocolate, so a totally non-chocolate recipe was needed. I love the taste of toasted coconut. And who doesn't need 15 bourbon balls at lunch time on a Monday?

This shit's real

2011-12-07T23:19:00.004-05:00

I admit that I didn't feel like I was "grown" until several years past when society started looking upon me, and expecting me to act as if, I were already grown. You know, when you finally have the confidence to stop calling colleagues "Mr." or "Dr." and address them by their given names. (Or in my case, when ESK started calling me "dork" openly.)

But, I've been thinking lately that there are also moments in your life when you're forced into real adult status and there is no going back.

Example: I have a friend from school. He is an artist. He travels the world and has many friends. I've seen an interview with him in which he describes the joy of being able to still see the world with childlike wonder. But, more recently, he's experienced a series of serious life experiences. Illness, the death of a loved one, unemployment, heartbreak, etc.. And, I imagine that he'll never look at the world with an untainted, childlike wonder again. 'Cause that shit's real.

I was thinking this again today after visiting a friend whose mother passed away this week. Her mother's illness popped up suddenly. There was hardly time for her to prepare herself or her children. And, she'll never ever experience life exactly the way she did when her mother was just a phone call away.

See why I need 5 days of consequence free drinking over christmas? For the last couple of years, this shit has been real. And, it's wearing me out.

Another example of how I do it all wrong

2011-12-06T13:24:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, ESK and I took a few minutes to tour our local Hospice's Festival of Trees. ESK is one of those humans who usually really likes Christmas, and this year she isn't feeling it. I kinda worry that it might be my fault. I'm not really a Christmas sort of monkey. So, I've been trying to bring back her cheer. While looking at the trees, we realized that the way we would fail at decorating a Festival of Trees tree is that we'd decide that all the ornaments had to be handcrafted and we would spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars and every waking moment fashioning elaborate decorations . . . and our tree wouldn't stand out against the florist who wrapped his tree in 3 types of ribbon and stuck feathers in the top.

And, now NPR has given me another example of how I will never really be one of those truly successful humans (although, I've set the bar pretty high for monkeys). They ran this story about entertaining with Martha Stewart. Now, I can pull together a theme like no one's business. The thing that struck me is half way down the page. Go ahead, look . . . see the nativity scene? The one she crafted while in prison? The one that required her to go without comforts so she could buy the bits of clay she needed to create the nativity? Yeah.

If I found myself in federal prison for 5 months, I'm pretty sure I'd spend that time writing 15-year-old-girl bad poetry and crying. Not hand crafting a family heirloom that I'll later use to display in publications that will earn me thousands upon thousands of dollars as a show of my ability to survive and create something beautiful out of an experience most folks would never speak of again.

And, that's how I do it all wrong.

Butt Munch

2011-12-05T11:30:00.003-05:00

Or Butt Chex, which ever you prefer. Although, I'm pretty sure the makers of chex brand cereals would prefer I stop using their name.

I tend to cook seasonally. In summer, it's farmer's market ratatouille and tomato sandwiches and salads. In winter, heavier dishes like stews and chili and potato things. And, in winter, I bake a lot more treats. One treat that I make pretty much weekly for the period of time between Phenom's birthday and New Year's is butt munch.

It's my take on chex mix. Here's what I do:

First, I always have a jar or two of bbq dry rub in my cabinet. (Use the Joy of Cooking southern bbq rub recipe . . . it's spicy and flavorful and all the ingredients can be found in culinary hell.)

I line with foil a large aluminum roasting pan. (This allows for easy clean up and I've been using the same roasting pan for years, despite being cheap.)

I preheat the oven to 275 degrees. I layer my ingredients with larger items on the bottom working up to the smallest. Currently, I'm using the following: ritz buttery pretzel crackers, annie's naturals cheddar bunnies, corn chex, rice chex, and cashews. In the past, I've used bugles, pita chips, bagel chips (Phenom says he prefers the pretzel crackers), and a variety of nuts. More or less, I recommend a minimum of 5 ingredients and at least one needs to be a nut.

Melt a stick and a half of butter with about 1/4 Worcestershire sauce and 2 big spoonfuls of the dry rub. When it's all melted, whisk to mix and pour over the mix. Toss with salad tongs, and pop into the oven. Every 15 minutes, stir/toss it and put it back in the oven until it's cooked about an hour.

I then line a couple large sheet pans with foil and pour the mix out on the pans to cool. It makes enough to take to a party in a large bowl as well as to bag up for your pals.

One fell off

2011-12-04T10:53:00.002-05:00

Finally! Cain has "suspended" his presidential campaign. I imagine that he can't bring himself to admit it's finally over for good. I shudder over the thought that he thinks that in a month, when the media feeding frenzy has looked for new bait, he'll come roaring back to a country with open arms. Ick. But, he does get big ol' cool points for bringing Pokemon into the realm of national politics, right?

As a living being, I find his arrogance and narcissism offensive. I have tremendous sympathy for his family. I imagine that they viewed this presidential run as "daddy's little project that keeps him busy and out of our business." I hope that his family can take on the attitude that all of his dirty deeds/laundry that has been aired thus far was the wages of sin, and not a reflection on them.

Now, if all you kids who will be 21 by Nov. 12, 2012 will vote for Rick Perry... Honestly, he reminds me of the weatherman character on Ron Burgundy.

Roughage

2011-11-30T20:42:00.003-05:00

The Old Woman liked to pick kale very young and tender, and saute it in butter. I spent a good bit of my life being a vegetarian. Even now, meat isn't served that often in our household.

And, ya'll know my proclivities run towards the liberal. I understand the frustration expressed by the occupy movement. When I hear about the intermingled way politics/big business/and money are screwing over the average person, I get frustrated too.

So, naturally my self-righteous indignation was dusted up when I heard on NPR that Chick-fil-a corporation has sent a "stop it right now or we'll flex our big corporate muscles to squash you little man" letter to the guy behind the "Eat More Kale" t-shirts. Talk about corporate greed and screwing over the small business man.

Go to the web site, look at the shirts, read his story . . . and ask yourself, at any time did you confuse his "eat more kale" message with chick-fil-a's advertising scheme? I didn't think so.

Perhaps Santa needs to dump some kale on the doorstep of the chick-fil-a headquarters . . . then they'd know the difference between fried chicken and a leafy green.

And, finally the rant

2011-11-26T23:36:00.005-05:00

This isn't meant to offend. It really is just a rant. Something I can't really say out loud around most folks, but it's been nagging at me.

Over the last few weeks, with increasing frequency, I've been seeing various (mostly facebook) media rants of "keep Christ in Christmas" and "I say Merry Christmas" and the like. The people behind this "movement" typically are under the impression that community, state, and/or national leadership/governmental sorts that opt for the more general "season greetings" or "happy holidays" are somehow denigrating Christianity. That their morals and values as a Christian are being intentionally and personally threatened by those two phrases.

Frankly, I think their stance is insensitive to the wide variety of folks we have in this country, and is bullying.

I've always seen "season greetings" or "happy holidays" as being less about acknowledging that not every person in this country is a Christian, but more about being a catch-all nicety. I've always thought those phrases encompassed Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, New Years, etc. And, the fact of it is, there is no "official state religion" in this country. And, not everyone is a Christian. It's not like our country isn't mostly Christian identified . . . the post office isn't closed on Jewish holidays.

So, how about you say the phrase that allows you to be true to your own belief system but try backing off the bullying behavior?

Oh, and when you put your Christmas tree up before Thanksgiving and leave it up until February 1st? You have a holiday tree.

Not bad, if I say so myself.

2011-11-24T22:57:00.002-05:00

I have exhausted myself today. Seriously.

I'd planned on having a guest over for the holiday. I'd planned a large menu with lots of fancy flourishes. And, then I got the death disease and was half way to the great jungle beyond when I managed to rally and come back. I had to cancel my plan for guests or travels (lest I be contagious).

But, this morning, I awoke feeling about 65%. And that was good enough for me. And, I'm enough of a cheapskate that I can't bring myself to just waste all the food I bought.

So, I started my day serving Phenom a half grapefruit (a favorite) and coffee on a silver tray. (Not really silver, but shiny and silvery and a lovely gift from an old friend, so good enough) Then, I made a pumpkin cheesecake. I even remembered to use the wide foil to wrap around the spring form pan so no water would seep in.

I then made a shortened form of the dinner I'd planned and without any of the fancy flourishes. I roasted the turkey breast. I did chop up rosemary, sage, and thyme to mix into butter and put under the skin. I also put half an onion and an apple inside the cavity to flavor the drippings.

I made mashed potatoes with gravy (from the drippings and a little of the herb butter), rolls, and sauteed asparagus. I opened a can of that weird cranberry stuff that all humans seem to need. It was a simple dinner. But, the fresh herbs and the simplicity seemed to make it good enough.

Now, to figure out what to do with the wild mushrooms that would have gone into a dressing and the pablano peppers that should have gone into the corn pudding. Maybe some cream of mushroom soup? That'll have to wait until tomorrow. I'm wiped out.

The Rant Can Wait

2011-11-23T23:33:00.002-05:00

I'm kinda working up a rant . . . a rant that will probably win me no friends. And possibly vats of holy water dumped down my back. But that can wait for now. For now, I just want to say that I am feeling very much loved and lucky. I have some tremendous friends.

This whole week, I've been a couch surfer. A sneezing, wheezing, coughing, hacking, spewing, farting, sharting, running-for-the-loo, haven't showered since I don't know when couch surfer. There has been rocking, and moaning, and pleas to "feel my head" and wads and wads and wads of kleenex. Frankly, I think the whole "flu" thing has gotten old with Phenom.

But, I called in sick three whole days this week. The last time I called in that many days in a row I had e-coli and was hooked up to tubes and machines that go "bing" at the hospital.

And, every day, one or more of my friends have called, emailed, texted, or facebooked me to check in. ESK covered the office single-handedly right at the holiday rush. Others have practically begged to fetch me something, anything, that might make me feel better.

Now that I'm upright again, I can appreciate how wonderful it is to know so many people care.

THANKS, ya'll.

Stalled out

2011-11-19T23:46:00.002-05:00

I love this time of year. Mostly because it's non-stop cooking and the stores around here start carrying items I actually want to eat. (The produce section falafel I got the other day for lunch wasn't half bad. Not crunchy like fresh falafel, but not stones either.)

There are wild mushrooms! Various fresh fruits! Many types of cheeses!

In planning my feast for Thanksgiving, I have given consideration to the tastes of our guest. I know that the caffeine in chocolate is sufficient to make him hyper if he eats it too late in the day. So, I decided I would have to buy decaf coffee to serve with dessert (pumpkin cheesecake with a brown sugar/bourbon whipped cream). I had the hardest time selecting a bag of decaf to buy. I never drink decaf. Hate the stuff. I tend to drink coffee recreationally, and I want the full effect.

Finally I settled on something medium roasted and organic. And, I have no idea what I'm going to do with the rest of the bag.

Be Generous

2011-11-16T10:51:00.002-05:00

It is the holiday time again. Along with planning parties, family events, huge meals, and the whatnot, how about including an act of generosity, too?

I know there are lots of folks with their hands out, and it's really easy to get pulled into stories about bad charities or people who hop from charity to charity. (Thank you facebook for making everyone just a bit more cynical about charities . . . and most folks looking for food boxes at the holidays aren't driving to the food bank in a 50K car.)

But, you can find a variety of ways to help out . . . and you can tailor your generosity to an issue near and dear to your heart. Did you have a grandmother who spent her final days at home with hospice care? What about adopting another hospice family and providing a homemade meal for them while they face the end of a loved one's life? Were you a kid who learned respect on the basketball court of your local Y? How about donating new basketballs, footballs, baseballs, and what-have-you to your local youth shelter? Look around your community, I promise there are many different ways to contribute without just giving a check.

This week, our company is encouraging our employees to support a local group of kids' holiday meal. These kids all come from a school that is like 110% free lunches. The local college is preparing a holiday meal to serve to the kids. They have asked for donations of food. I'm making a couple chocolate cakes. ESK is making a crazy amount of mashed potatoes. I have also pulled some homemade stock out of the freezer and will make gravy for ESK's potatoes.

Now, go be generous in your own special way!

Food for Cats

2011-11-15T17:53:00.003-05:00

(and dogs.)

I think I've more than earned my cred as a friend to the four-legged kind. I've taken in well more than my share. I've farmed out to vetted homes even more. (special note to Mickey Mittens: stop biting sleeping faces)

I've got a friend who breeds a special type of cat. She is a believer in raw meat diets for her cats. She buys a supplement that she mixes into the raw meat.

I have another friend who has the most pampered pooch ever. She buys the super expensive, pet store variety dog food for the pooch.

I probably fail in a big, big way when it comes to feeding our critters. I buy them grocery store dry food (a name brand) and grocery store variety canned food (also a name brand). And, I buy them the bagged treats that are probably the kitty equivalent to throwing malt balls out for them.

I'm not much better with the dog. Actually, I could be worse. There was a time when I cooked meals for the dog and froze them and heated them individually. But, he's a fickle dog. He eats dry cat food because he doesn't like any variety of dry dog food. (Yes, I asked my vet . . . I'm not a monster.) But, when he got fickle about chicken thighs, I decided to give up.

I do buy grocery store canned food for him right now. But, on any given night, he's just as likely to get an egg/cheese biscuit or meat leftovers from our food. I won't give him spicy food or food with booze in it. But, he's spoiled enough that getting actual dog food is a novelty and he eats it for that reason alone.

I'm probably all other pet parents' nightmare . . . just like the parent who has sleep overs for human children and lets them eat junk food and bounce on the beds all night long. And, this could be why so many freeloaders find their way to my door.

Haters

2011-11-14T08:24:00.003-05:00

In the blogging world, it seems you haven't arrived until you have a handful of haters. I, of course, don't have haters. It's not that I don't have any readers. No, it's because I'm delightful, damnit.

I read several blogs, more or less on a regular. Generally, I avoid political blogs and go more for the personal experience ones. I read some of the seriously popular blogs. I enjoy the writing skill and the humor and the sense of peeking into some one's life. But, I've always respected that, even when I don't agree, that they are writing about their own experiences. And, since I don't actually know any of the writers of any of the blogs I read on a regular, I can only take their word for the fact what they write about is true, on some level.

What I don't understand are the folks who seem to troll blogs for the soul purpose of hating on the writer. One of the less popular blogs I read is written by a missionary. Although her lifestyle choices are wholly different than mine, I appreciate her humor, her writing skill, and the thoughtfulness with which she approaches her work. And, she has haters, apparently. Some of her haters claim to share her religious belief system. Not to say everyone has to agree with everyone else who knows the secret handshake, but it seems weird and hateful and undignified that people feel the need to convey, often publicly, their disagreement.

Yes, we have freedom of speech, but that doesn't mean you ought to use that freedom to harsh someone else's buzz or personal life experience.

Handmade

2011-11-13T22:39:00.002-05:00

Many years ago, Phenom's mother had breast cancer. A result of her surgery was that she didn't like weight on her chest. But, she was an older human and would get chilled in the evenings. So, I selected a faux mohair yarn and knitted her an afghan. I selected a fairly complicated, fancy stitch. I worked on it for weeks. It was fuzzy and warm, but light weight. Every moment spent working on it, I imagined her curled up in her rocking easy chair, watching television, and warmed by the afghan.

I gave it to her for a birthday gift. She loved it. She treasured it. She carefully laid it over the back of the couch in her sitting room, never to be soiled or touched by human hands. She would take visitors into her sitting room for the purpose of showing it off, and making them admire it. But, so far as I know, it never warmed her lap.

This weekend, I learned that a friend of mine has experienced a deterioration of her illness to the point that she now uses a wheelchair many days. Because there is nerve involvement in her illness, she gets chilled.

Tonight, I started making her a very special "soothy sack." A soothy sack is a pillow filled with beans or rice or ground nut shells that you can warm in the microwave and use to warm yourself. I particularly like tucking a soothy sack into my bed during the winter. They are comforting when one has chills from a fever or an ache.

This sack is unique because I'm making channels, putting just a spoonful of rice in each channel and sewing a seam to create a patchwork of small pillows. I hope that the distribution of rice will allow for not too much weight to be put on any one spot. I'm not sure how the small amounts of rice will hold heat. And, I've added a bit of cinnamon oil to make it smell comforting.

As I fill, pin, sew, and unpin, I've been running my hands over the mounds of rice. I hope that my friend finds this comforting, and helpful as she has bad days. I hope that my hands add a little bit of magic, too.

Childhood Trauma, revisited

2011-11-12T17:02:00.003-05:00

This morning, while Phenom and I were enjoying the paper and coffee, he read out loud the bit in the weather forecast about weather from years past. It noted that this week, many many many many years ago, our area of the world experienced a freak snow storm and that it was the only recorded significant snowfall before thanksgiving in the area.

And just like that, the childhood trauma was brought back. And, it explains so much.

See, that snow happened just a few days prior to the Phenom's 11th birthday. And, at some point during that freebie snow day, it dawned on the Phenom that being out of school then would mean that they would be going to school for a make up day that Saturday, on the Phenom's birthday.

The Phenom says that the rest of the afternoon was spent trying to shovel all the snow away from the road in hopes that school would not be held on Saturday.

Now I understand why the Phenom doesn't enjoy birthdays. Imagine, being 11 years old . . . your birthday falls on a Saturday, meaning you'll get the whole day to play. . . and a freak snow storm ruins it. And, I understand why the Phenom acts like weather is a personal inconvenience to him. Because it has been.

Funny the scars we carry.

Coordination

2011-11-09T22:42:00.002-05:00

It's that time of year again. Time to make the Liquor Loaves. It's an operation that takes a fair amount of planning and coordination.

It starts in mid-October. First, it's check the freezer for what I already have on hand. This means finding it under everything else that gets frozen around here, pulling it out, weighing it, and recording it before stashing it all back in the freezer. Then, pull out the recipe and do some mental calculations, quadrupling the original recipe. And, berating myself for not already writing it all down with the quad-amounts.

Then, I go to the web site for my vendor and do more calculations . . . the weights they sell in, minus what I have on hand . . . and I make up my order. And, usually I stick a couple fun items in the shipment.

Between the end of October and Vets Day, I need to get the rest of the spices and ingredients. I need to make a trip to the booze store for rum and brandy. I think this year, I might have over-bought with half gallons of each. Maybe. Lastly, I make sure I have the cake tins and the foil and the plastic wrap and the rubbermaid tubs for storage. I did splurge this year and get the world's largest mixing bowl. I don't know where it's going to be stored the rest of the year, and it was sufficiently large as to inspire the Phenom to declare that NOTHING MORE MAY BE BROUGHT IN TO THIS KITCHEN. Hee hee.

Tomorrow night, I'll chop all the fruits and soak them over night in rum and brandy. Then, Friday morning, I'll get up early and start mixing the cakes. I'll make two doubled batches. It will take all day to chop the nuts, mix the batter, bake, cool, and wrap them. But, at the end, I'll have wonderful christmas gifts for my friends.

But, I'll leave you with a math problem:

The original recipe says that it makes 3 3X5 cakes. I use 3X5 aluminum tins. I quadruple the recipe. I fill all of the tins to being mounded at the top of the tin. I end up with 18 cakes. How?

Practically Perfect Day

2011-11-08T17:53:00.003-05:00

I actually slept last night, thanks to a decongestant.

I had an early morning drive half way across the state for a meeting, but just a few miles from my destination, I passed a town in which one of my favorite craftspeople lives. I instantly made a plan to duck out of my meeting early and pay him a visit.

At my meeting, I got two "prizes" for being a smarty pants.

And, the meeting ended early, so no need to duck out. I spent a couple hundred dollars buying pottery from some of my favorite crafters.

Then, I realized that I could get home faster heading the opposite direction from whence I came, but it was a scenic route. I got a few moments to enjoy a crisp fall day and brilliant color. I plugged in my iPod and belted out tunes at the top of my lungs.

I've got a little situation in my life that is worthy of grieving, but I haven't had the time. So, I was able to express a bit of irrational emotion in the privacy of my car.

When I got back into town, I was in time to hit up my polling place. I've never missed an opportunity to vote since wrangling a voter registration card for myself. As opposed to when I normally go, in the mornings, the polls were nearly deserted so I could chat with the folks working the polls. All of the folks in my polling place live in my immediate community and this adds to the sense of belonging that comes from participating in the democratic process.

When I returned to my home, I had a thank you note from a friend's little boy. His parents wrote the body of the note, but he signed his name . . . for the first time in correspondence to me. It absolutely made my day. There was a time when it was believed he would never have this ability. So, it is even more special to me.

Progress, maybe.

2011-11-07T18:59:00.002-05:00

Years and years ago, I served on a local community committee. We would meet monthly, over lunch, and discuss ways to promote better living in our community. The group had both men and women of various ages, but I was the youngest of the bunch. During these lunch meetings, the men would sit at one end of the table and discuss sports, and the women would sit at the other end and discuss child birth.

I would sit at the mens end and talk sports. The men seemed to think it was a tad weird, but didn't openly object. The women looked at me like I had two heads.

The other day, as I was sitting down with the SMLF, I realized that the table of men sitting next to us were discussing their wives child birth experiences. I recognized most of the men in the group . . . some of them have worn badges and guns in previous lives. I thought, wow! now that's progress that men can openly talk about the births of their children without being viewed as less manly.

Then, this morning, I read about how selling the HPV vaccine to parents of teen boys is an easier sell that for teen girls because parents expect their sons to have sex. Sigh.

I hate it when that happens

2011-11-06T20:02:00.004-05:00

This is the rare and exotic 3-footed cat. Phenom and I cannot agree on her name. I call her Peg, for obvious reasons. Phenom calls her Tufts for the little sprigs of hair on the tops of her ears. She is a constant begger. At meal time, she would try every trick she could come up with to get to our plates. Shaking, and squirting, her with the squirt bottle did nothing to convince her to stop. Finally, we have had to resort to putting her in "time out" or the bathroom. As I dished up dinner, Phenom would whisk her into the bathroom because it was just too miserable to try to eat with her around. After a year and a half, she finally learned. She learned that she'll get treats when I'm in the kitchen, but not while we're eating. She was stubborn, but finally she could be left out during meal times.

That was until a couple of weeks ago. While I was off seeing my boys (Tony and Eric), Phenom fed her half of his chicken from his dinner plate. SPOILED her in the truest sense of the world. Because now she is back to attacking our dinner plates from any angle she can manage. And, she's back to being put in time out during meals.

I was getting to be the "responsible" parent by pointing out how Phenom's folly has translated into Peg being put back in her behavior. Everytime we put Peg back in the bathroom, I have loudly explained to her that it's Phenom's fault.

Then, this weekend, I killed my status as the responsible parent. I let Everest stay in the bedroom all day on Saturday. I shouldn't have. Everest now believes he should be in the bedroom all the time. And, at 3am this morning, he spent 30 minutes banging on the bedroom door. And again at 6am. And, at 8:30. And, then I let him stay in the bedroom all day today too.

Not only do I lose all credibility as the adult in our house, but I'll have many more nights of being awakened by an angry small cat banging non-stop on the door. sigh.

Why I can't accomplish anything

2011-11-04T09:02:00.003-04:00

The other morning, during my drive to the office, I realized that I'd completed several large projects that had taken up several weeks of nagging in my brain, and that I have a couple precious days before I really have to start the next big project. I could actually have a day when I could turn my attentions to "low priority" projects! YAY!!!

And, then, I got to the office to discover that the wireless router had died over night. This meant, driving across town to get one at the office supply store (even overnight shipping was too slow). Then, unpacking the many parts to it, reading the instructions, unplugging many wires, plugging in new wires, uploading the new system, and then making sure all the office computers were online. Oh, and writing down the system id and password enough times that the next time we go offline, we can reboot everything without spending a whole day trying to remember what the log-in information was for this system.

Then, we had to get in touch with the copier company and go online with them and update the configuration for the copy/print center for the office. Then, go to each computer in the office and reset their default print ports.

Then, it was lunch time and time for the interns to arrive for their afternoon of projects/supervision.

Memory Lane

2011-11-02T23:39:00.002-04:00

Don't get me wrong, I love my digital camera. I like seeing the photo immediately and knowing if I got the shot I wanted. I especially love taking extreme close up shots of Phenom when we're drinking at Pat O's. (Or, as I put it . . . I get all artsy with my pictures.) But, I have a huge box of actual print pictures. Remember those? You had to get them all printed and then flip through them to find the 3 decent shots on the roll? But, no matter if you'll never use, appreciate, or even like the other 22 pictures, you can't bring yourself to throw them away?

Tonight, I was flipping through a few sleeves of those old photos when I came across several 5X7 photos of my favorite 9-year-old-soon-to-be-10-year-old. Soon to be 10 year old as in this weekend. And, the pictures are of her first birthday. OH MY GOODNESS HOW SHE HAS GROWN!!! I also have a picture of her hugging her mother at about 2 years old, and honestly she has the same expression on her face as in this year's school picture . . . and I'm pretty sure that 10 years from now, we'll get pictures of her all grown up with the same expression.

Now that she's 10, we can be a little more risky with our silliness. The word play is more sophisticated. And, I am so very aware that the clock is ticking until she starts rolling her eyes and thinking that we're just a silly bunch of old people who just don't get it. I'm trying to enjoy every minute of her thinking I'm fun while I can.

Sweet Story

2011-11-01T23:47:00.005-04:00

Remember this one? It has now been named "Mickey Mittens" and is the full time buddy of a nice widow. One of the reasons Mickey Mitten's new family is smitten with him is because of the perfect little M on his forehead.

Today, his new buddy took him for his second round of kitten shots. The vet told her this story. She says that a tabby cat crawled into the manger with the baby Jesus to keep him warm. At this act of selflessness, Mary touched the cat on the forehead to bless it, and now only perfect tabby cats have the M marking.

Mickey Mitten's new buddy is the daughter of a minister and she lives in a parsonage. This story was absolutely the icing on the cake for an already close bond.

While Mickey Mittens was in our house, he took a liking to a beanie baby cow. I sent it along with him when he went to his home. I'm told he now "skateboards" on the cow . . . running and sliding across the floor on the cow. He also snuggles it when he sleeps. He has recently figured out how to climb up on his Buddy's bed and is so pleased with his trick, that he'll jump around until he falls off the bed.

He has also doubled in size from 1 pound to 2 pounds in 3 weeks, but still isn't quite as big as his cow. I suspect that Phenom was right when observing that I gave away a perfect cat. But, Mickey Mittens gets to be totally spoiled and the center of attention where he is now.

I like to have a plan

2011-10-30T11:58:00.002-04:00

During a recent outing with friends, we came to discover that one of our friends has run out of money this year, and will be unable to join his family for Thanksgiving. Our immediate impulse (communicated through met eyes) was to invite him to our home for Thanksgiving. Of course, it will be fun and good cheer, but it also means I can start thinking about a blow-out dinner now.

Our friend likes red wine, which is great since I get a dozen bottles every Christmas from a friend, and have fallen behind in drinking it these past couple of years. I must resist the urge to lay in a couple of bottles of Beaujolais Nouveau, since the goal will be to open up a few slots on the wine rack before Christmas.

I bought a smoked turkey breast from a vendor on the side of the highway recently, when I thought it was going to be just me and the Phenom. Now, I'll have to get at least a fresh breast to roast. If I stick an apple and onion in it while it roasts, the pan drippings will make a great, flavorful gravy. And, Phenom must have mashed potatoes. And, you have to have corn. Phenom isn't much for corn, so perhaps a corn and jalapeno pudding.

I'll make cornbread stuffing . . . oh, maybe I can get hold of some chestnuts to add in. Our friend is a fan of asparagus, so perhaps some asparagus with hollandaise sauce. I feel like I need another veggie. Perhaps some roasted butternut squash? Roasted cauliflower and brussel sprouts?

I wanted to do a dramatic amuse bouche, but then I also want to do a couple of fancy appetizers like blue cheese/pecan grapes and bacon/spinach/goat cheese stuffed mushrooms. I think the appetizers are going to win, since I'm expecting a couple bottles of wine to be consumed.

And, for dessert, a pumpkin cheesecake. I haven't made one in years. But, it has the flavors of pumpkin pie but the light, creaminess of cheesecake.

Oh, wait! Rolls, some kind of bread . . . This is what makes me happy.

Satisfaction

2011-10-27T21:16:00.004-04:00

Well, I didn't do anything worthy of being arrested.

Last night, I drove across many communities to get an evening out with a friend and the chance to see two of my culinary heros.

I took the whole day off. I had a plummer come in and install a fancy new faucet in my kitchen sink. Because, that's what I consider a splurge these days. But, it is a cool faucet. . . the hose is in the faucet and there is a button you can push to get spray. But, I really got it because it has a nice, high profile and I need that. NEED IT.

While the plummer worked, I made a batch of my oatmeal cookies. My oatmeal cookies are unique because I put nutmeg instead of vanilla in them. Also, I like random dried fruits rather than plain raisins. This batch got a bag of mixed dried berries (cranberries, blueberries, and cherries).

I had a pleasant drive, and arrived just as my friend's work day was winding down. She and I caught up on the news and gossip while she made her son dinner. After we had a dinner of yummy mexican take out, we headed to the theater.

And, the boys were amusing and interesting. They started off questioning each other, then moved on to a discussion of various issues within the culinary world. They did open up mics for folks to ask questions, but it seemed more an invitation to drunk people to call attention to themselves.

And, since my friend has reached that point in pregnancy when it's obvious she's pregnant, I refrained from doing much that would call too much attention to us. If we'd been just two random audience members, I might have done something, but you humans are so quick to judge the pregnant ones . . . even if they are just the getaway driver.

Conversation

2011-10-25T18:23:00.003-04:00

Actual conversation in my home tonight:

Phenom: What's for dinner?

Me: Chicken Vesuvivo

Phenom: What's that?

Me: Don't worry, you like it.

Phenom: Are there noodles in it?

Me: No

Phenom: Rice?

Me: No

Phenom: What's in it?

Me: Potatoes

Phenom: Oh, I like that.

And, it's just that easy to sell dinner.

Bad Monkey

2011-10-24T18:52:00.001-04:00

I made a faux pas. I had a lack of information, and I ran with it, and I messed up.

The spouse of one of Phenom's friends had a serious accident last week. She had emergency surgery to repair a vital life organ. It was very worrisome.

I am good friends with one of their children. In my concern, I sent her a little facebook message asking about her mom.

She didn't know. Her parents weren't planning on telling the kids what was going on until the danger had passed. I wish you humans would tell me these things before I follow through with the human showing of concern.

Awkward.

My Whole Life

2011-10-22T09:11:00.002-04:00

It was a Thursday evening. I'd taken the day off from work and purchased a new outfit and gotten the oil changed in my car. We'd driven down the night before, to make arrangements.

As we got into the car, a little more dressed up than usual, a neighbor waved. No doubt they thought we were headed to a party or dinner out.

When we pulled up, there were a few other cars in the lot. We stayed in the car for a while, working up the courage to go in. We watched another couple make their way to the door. The man seemed reluctant and the woman impatient. We cracked terrible jokes and provided commentary. Later, we learned he had a broken leg. More bad jokes.

We finally went in. Took seats and waited for our names to be called. I don't remember much after that. I remember Phenom had a really serious look on his face. I remember the clerk praying and thinking "oh please don't."

Later, we had dinner at the local Cracker Barrel. There wasn't much else in town. Then, we watched game 6 of the world series. I think it was game 6. I pretty much just sat in the rocking chair and was quiet.

Since then, we've been telling folks that we're married. I trust Phenom when he says it's true. However, I don't believe I promised to "obey" . . . I'm pretty sure I would have snapped out of it if that word had come up.

It's just been 19 years. But, somehow, it feels like it has been my whole life.

Taunting

2011-10-21T23:07:00.002-04:00

I have a special talent. Really, I ought to exploit it for profit. I have an uncanny sense of when a human is preggers. Several years ago, I surprised my doctor with a gift of handmade booties. I'd not seen her in 6 months, and she was shocked at the gift. But the prior visit, I noticed her looking "far away" and knew what it meant.

This week, I probably pulled off the best one yet. I have a good friend who has been trying to get pregnant for a while now. Generally, when I have a friend in that position, I don't ask or mention it because I don't want her to feel like she has to explain that which is private. But, at the same time, I'm totally willing to listen when they express frustration that the pregnancy isn't happening, or when other folks get pregnant effortlessly.

This particular friend has been trying for a couple of years. We knew that she was just starting down the path of assistance methods, but knew that could also be a long and frustrating road.

We met at a new Latin place for lunch one day this week. And, she had exhibited unusual ditziness. And, I asked "are you pregnant?" Which was uncharacteristic for me. And, she blanched, asked why I'd ask such a thing, and changed the subject. Funny thing was, I wasn't embarrassed or ashamed for seemingly making her feel bad.

A few minutes later, she admitted that just two nights before, had successfully had two positive pregnancy tests.

Now, I'm taunting her by saying that she need not even consider girl names because she's going to have two boys.

If I'm right on this . . . it'll be the carny life for me!

Cracker Crumbs

2011-10-20T22:59:00.002-04:00

For years now, I've been saying "I wouldn't kick Tony Bourdain out of bed for eating crackers." And, then explaining that one would normally kick their lover out of bed if they were leaving crumbs that would be uncomfortable to sleep on, no? Really? You humans can sleep on crumbs? And you think we're animals?

No, seriously, I have had, for years, a huge monkey crush on Tony Bourdain. I love his dry style. I don't think I could keep up with his drinking. But, I have to say, I am amused when he snarks on other celeb-cooks who shill for the corporate overlords (or are so insecure in their sexuality that they can't bring themselves to be in the same kitchen with someone who bats for the other team, so to speak.)

Sometime last year, I saw that my beloved and Eric Ripert (Tony's opposite but OMG does he do good voice and hair) were sharing a stage in Boston. My own travels to Boston that year meant that I was going to miss them. But, I consoled myself on the thoughts of not being jailed due to inappropriate behavior.

This time next week, I just might be sporting the prisoner orange jumpsuit. I've got tickets to see both objects of my culinary lust. And, the days during which I can purchase just the right pair of knickers to fling on stage are ticking away quickly.

I'm going with a girlfriend. She's agreed to be my designated driver . . . I hope she realizes that means "getaway driver" rather than sober driver. hee hee.

Mothership

2011-10-19T11:44:00.006-04:00

You know those stories of aliens living among us? How they take humanoid form and blend into society? For obvious reasons, I love those stories. I find their true-to-life experiences helpful in my own attempts to blend into human society.

When we found Everest, we noticed he was a little different than other cats. He has opposable thumbs. And, he has a tail that the vet says is "corkscrewed" on itself . . . meaning it's only about 2 inches long.
Early on, we noticed that Everest kinda acted different from other cats. He would hide during the day and then emerge at 10pm, precisely for dinner. He seemed to mimic the other cats' behavior. He also does the silent mew . . . his mouth opens, but no sound comes out. When new people come to our home, he immediately takes to them, as if they have come to rescue him.

Several years ago, a neighbor had a grey kitty that liked to get in our windows at night. Everest must have thought that the physical similarity must have meant it was from his planet, because he would bang on the window and squall at the top of his lungs, as if the say "tell the mothership I'm being held captive."

For the past two days, Everest has been banging and squalling. The alien invasion is coming, folks.

Clueless and broken

2011-10-16T22:22:00.003-04:00

Another come down from a fun filled mini-break to NOLA. We hit up our usual favorites: Camellia Grill, Pat O'Brien's, and Herbsaint. While waiting for the hostess at Herbsaint to organize menus and decide where to seat us, I noticed a tall man walk in behind us. He had a baseball cap on and a t-shirt with a fleur de lis logo on it. I admired the shirt. And then, followed the hostess to our table. When I was pulling out my chair to sit, Phenom asks "didn't you see him?" I cluelessly said "who"? The man in the cool t-shirt was James Carville. Maybe next time, I'll be less clueless and we'll invite him to join us for lunch and gossip.

But, the real take away from this trip is an injury. There is construction at the NOLA airport. There are barrels and ropes and plywood walk ways. I was headed towards the taxi stand outside baggage claim, when just as the words "watch your step" came out of my mouth, I stepped on uneven pavement and went tumbling . . . Phenom says in slow motion. I dramatically landed on both knees and then on my back. As I was, mid-bounce, rolling to my back, I felt and heard my rib pop. I'm now the whiny owner of a broken rib. You'd be surprised how many daily functions require you to have happy, whole ribs all around.

Squee

2011-10-12T00:03:00.001-04:00

It has been a heck of a week . . . late nights in the office, early morning meetings that required a fair amount of travel, and masses of paper work to crank out. But, the high cost of a two day work week is going to pay off! Tomorrow, after a leisurely morning running a few random errands and lunch with a girl friend, I'm taking off for a mini-break. Of course, we're going to New Orleans, where else, eh?

We are going with a friend, and there is no plan other than to eat and drink. And, frankly, I need it.

Confused

2011-10-11T08:13:00.002-04:00

I don't get something. Coupon-mania.

I hear that coupon use is on the rise. There are now magazines and television shows devoted to couponing. I've seen blogs that rely heavily on regular posts about couponed hauls for content.

And, being a monkey that enjoys bargaining for stuff, I get the appeal of getting money off an item you'd normally be buying.

The things I don't quite get are a) it seems to me that the postings about the great couponed hauls are heavy on the processed foods. Boxes of mac and cheese or hamburger helper, multiples of candy or sweet desserts. And, b) where the heck do people store 56 rolls of paper towels and 128 rolls of TP? 15 bottles of shampoo fit under your sink? What about 20 boxes of tuna helper?

Perfect

2011-10-10T09:00:00.003-04:00

I had a friend, years ago, who told me that people are only happy in retrospect. Makes me happy I'm a monkey and can appreciate being happy in the moment. Saturday evening, I realized I'd pretty much had the perfect day.

There wasn't any big event that made it super fun/terrific. It was really just a normal, quiet, easy day.

I got up early and took the stray to the vet. I picked up breakfast on the way back and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast with Phenom. Then, I spent some time on the phone/playing computer games with my favorite 9 year old. Our favorite way to tease her is to ask her, in advance of halloween, if she's wearing a pumpkin on her head. She says that we "push her buttons" when we say silly stuff like that, but she loves it.

I did prep cooking. I roasted up a butternut squash for soup. I boiled sweet potatoes for a pudding.

We alternated playing with and being a bed for the kitten.

We watched sports. We were lazy. We had no obligations and our time was completely ours. Oh, and I finished off a bottle of wine. This time, getting fancy enough to use a tumbler rather than just swigging out of the bottle.

Yep. Perfection.

Looking for gold

2011-10-09T22:43:00.002-04:00

I've spent the whole day watching football. And, I'm puzzled. I know a bit about the group of women who came up with the pink ribbon campaign for breast cancer awareness/research support. Frankly, it was marketing genius. These days, any corporate overlord can slap a pink ribbon on more or less any product, and VOILA! sales!

We even have the whole NFL sporting pink all over the field . . . from caps to gloves to socks to ribbons sewn on their uniforms. And, I don't believe it's just marketing. I believe that many of the men playing in the NFL genuinely want to support breast cancer awareness/research. They all have wives and mothers and girlfriends and sisters and aunts and friends who may have faced breast cancer.

But, the fact of the matter is that there are other issues that take a bigger toll on our society that don't get nearly the attention or support, despite pretty ribbons. Violence against women effects more women than cancer. Childhood cancers effect more children than breast cancer does women.

Autism seems to have picked up some of the awareness marketing, but people seem to really only care about young children with autism; we kinda forget about them when they get older.

I don't begrudge the pink ribboners. I just wonder how we can capture that gold for other pressing issues in our society.

Fall cookery

2011-10-08T14:32:00.002-04:00

Our local agricultural department has, in recent years, promoted the local farmer's market with a Community Supported Agriculture program. I strongly urge everyone to see if their communities have similar programs. Prices and duration vary, but in our community, it runs 5-6 weeks at a time and costs roughly $60 for the whole duration. Each week, our horticulture agent works with local farmers and selects what's fresh and seasonal for our bags.

In the spring, it was honey and garden peas and spring onions, etc. In the summer, it was corn and squash and cucumbers and tomatoes and melons, etc. Now, we've reached fall. We have gotten a last watermelon of summer, tomatoes, squash, and onions. But, now we're also getting sweet potatoes, collards, and butternut squash. (I'm hoping for figs soon!)

This weekend is going to be a fall cookery extravaganza! At this exact moment, I'm boiling sweet potatoes that will be cooled and mashed with cream and eggs and spices and topped with brown sugar and pecans for a pudding. I'm also roasting butternut squash so I can make a pot of butternut squash cream soup tomorrow (spicy with both red and white pepper). And, tomorrow afternoon, I'll pick up some side meat and bacon so I can cook up the collards.

A local treat is "collard sandwiches" . . . cornbread filled with bacon and collards. I'm thinking it will be the perfect meal, along with little cups of squash soup and a dessert of bright orange sweet potato pudding. Southern food, gone old school.

Homeward Bound

2011-10-07T08:37:00.005-04:00

Back, the week of the hurricane/storm that blew threw these parts in the beginning of September, the stray cat Possum had a batch of kittens. I've written about how I ended up burying 4 of the 5. Well, the fifth one survived. We aren't taking chances with him. We started a campaign to find him a real home.

This picture, along with a couple others, scored him a home. The plan was to scoop him up this weekend, take him to the vet to get cleaned up a bit, and then to his new place early next week . . . of course, teaching him the beauty of the litter box first.

Yesterday, when I pulled into my drive, I found him with an older freeloader at the end of the drive, very near the street. I thought about picking him up then and bringing him in, but when he went back to the safety of the steps, I let him be. Last night, when Phenom took out the trash and to feed the freeloaders one last time for the night, this little man came prancing out from under my car. That won him a free trip inside.

He is currently in isolation in the bathroom. He has toys and a couple of soft sleeping options and a litter box and a bowl of soft food. He cried a bit after lights out, so I let him explore the bedroom a bit before putting him back in the bathroom.

This morning, there was a bit of pouncing on toes and purring and most importantly, LITTER BOX USE!!

I hope the sweet, little old granny who is taking him will be pleased with her new little bundle of kitty.

He can stop it if he pleases

2011-10-06T18:31:00.003-04:00

One of the Old Woman's frequent admonishments, favorite quotes was from Alice in Wonderland:

Speak roughly to your little boy
and beat him when he sneezes.
He only does it to annoy,
he can stop it if he pleases.

I heard it anytime I took to whining about sniffles or aches or as what we might term today "first world problems, yo." And, I will admit that I tend to recite it when I feel someone is acting more for attention than real discomfort.

This week, the cat formerly known as Oscar the Bold went to the vet for his annual visit. They poked, and shot, and flushed ears, and gave him more attention than he wanted. When I got home from work, I noticed that he had one eye more significantly dilated than the other.

The next morning, same thing. I called the vet, explained my concern, and they suggested I bring him in. After spending a day blinking lights at him and shining flash lights at him . . . they decided he had an irritated nerve, probably from their cleaning his ears. They said it would probably resolve itself within the next two weeks.

When we got home, Oscar got a special treat of a bit of roasted chicken from the previous night's dinner. He was loved upon and spoiled. And, his eye went back to normal pretty quickly. Little, expensive, attention hound.

Fall in the south

2011-10-05T10:54:00.002-04:00

means community meals!

Every year, in our little town (and I suspect little towns everywhere in the south) we combine community needs with our flare for the culinary. And, I have a group of folks who like to drop by our office with tickets for me, our staff.

In the next month, we'll be enjoying a group of church men frying up fish, a kiwanis pancake supper, and a youth group serving up pulled pork and fried chicken. And, since both the fish fry and bbq plate sale allows ticket holders to drive up and have food passed to them in take away containers, I'm going to count them in the category of "food from the side of the road."

And, that is one of the great things about the south, you can live nicely on foods you find on the side of the road.

All Time Faves

2011-10-04T10:30:00.002-04:00

"I must say, I prefer pleasant."

This morning, I'm wasting some time chatting with an old friend. We have moved on to the issue of our pop culture references. Sadly (or perhaps not), we both seem to draw from classic, old movies a lot. It use to annoy the Old Woman that I'd happily spend a Saturday afternoon watching old, black and white, "b" movies, as she called them.

When I first started working with ESK, I had to explain the term "gaslighting" to her.

My all time favorite movies include:

Harvey (the opening quote is a line from Harvey)
An Affair to Remember (the Cary Grant/Deborah Kerr version)
The Women
Arsenic and Old Lace
Monty Python's The Holy Grail

Now you understand just a little bit better.

I didn't forget

2011-10-03T18:38:00.002-04:00

This year, as you may remember, my New Year's resolution was to explore some new music. I've not forgotten that pledge. I haven't yet found a group I could see myself following around and flinging knickers at, yet, but I've not given up.

The latest exploration is Robbers on High Street. I'll confess, I'd never heard of them before, until a friend started dating one of the guys in the band. Then, out of pure loyalty, I started listening. I'm thinking I'll make a purchase soon.

I like the sound . . . reminds me of 80s british pop/punk that I listened to in order to annoy the Old Folks. I'll need to download an album or two for my next road trip . . . I seem to catch lyrics better when I'm in my car.

If you listen to the Robbers on High Street station on Pandora, you can hear other groups that are similar . . . and totally fulfills the whole "new music" requirement in my life.

Time Flies

2011-10-02T22:48:00.002-04:00

This evening, I was reminded that good friends will be celebrating 20 years of wedded bliss this week. There is something reassuring and comforting about knowing that there are couples out there who stick together, who make the commitment and mean it, who grow with each other.

I attended their wedding 20 years ago. It was my first trip to the Big Easy. There was a young boy traveling alone on our flight. He was kind of a needy and nerdy kid. Phenom pointed out that he's at least 30 now. . . and probably married with his own children.

Along with our friend's wedding, that first trip to NOLA opened my eyes to a world I couldn't have imagined, a world where every trip would feature something new . . . even 20 years and 15 - 20 trips later. It was where I experienced one of those rare moments of knowing you are exactly where you belong.

Early in our days together, from time to time when we couldn't sleep, Phenom and I would get up, put on music and split a beer. One night, leading up to that first trip to NOLA, we danced around the bedroom to Jimmy Buffet's song Boat Drinks. And, Phenom told me about visiting NOLA with his good friend from grad school who grew up there (and who was the groom in this wedding) and how much he knew I'd like the place.

When we first arrived, Phenom took me straight to Pat O'Brien's bar for the all important first Hurricane. As we settled down at a table on the patio, giant red half frozen drink before us, we realized the song playing on the sound system was Boat Drinks. We always felt like it was proof we belong in NOLA.

Judgemental

2011-10-01T11:53:00.003-04:00

I got to exercise my judgemental bone in a different way this week. I was a judge at the county fair, crafts division. FINALLY! Being crafty paid off.

There were a couple items that were clearly taken from granny's attic and dusted (or not) off and claimed as a personal creation. There were a couple items still sporting the gooey spot from the "made in China" sticker. And, there were items that would have gotten an award if they'd been entered into the right category.

But, for the most part, they were creative and interesting and demonstrated skill and thought. Well, except for the doorknob that was submitted as "random craft."

The In Crowd

2011-09-29T23:01:00.002-04:00

A couple of years ago, I wrote about our brief inclusion into the popular kids' club. We'd made friends with one of those super smart types, and somehow found ourselves in the whirlwind of parties and fetes and deep discussions about the world. And, then our friends moved on and our popularity sank back to more accustomed levels.

This weekend, we'll be dipping our toes back into the popular crowd. We've been invited up to the summer home of the Smart People, and will be attending a party and a college ball game, and will once again be "in."

This trip is a couple of firsts for me too. I've never been to the town where we'll be visiting. Also, I've never attended a college football game for the team playing. And, we'll be tailgating with the alums who donate the big bucks.

And, oddly, I've not even started to worry about what I'll wear.

Haunted

2011-09-29T08:25:00.002-04:00

I have experienced the phenomena of ghosts. I know, freaky.

I recently met a person from the neighboring community, and we discovered that we have mutual acquaintances. I think I kinda freaked her out with my ghost story about our mutual friends.

Years ago, I'd attended a concert with our mutual friends and their daughter. After the concert, we went to their beach house to spend the night. There was silliness and late night snacking. I was staying in the room that had been the master bedroom when it was a family home. My friends were staying in the upstairs bedroom, and their daughter was staying in the other downstairs bedroom. The daughter's room and the master bedroom were adjoined by a bathroom.

Now, you should know that I have a long history of sleeping right through people crawling into bed with me. When I was a young monkey, I frequently baby sat the young children of one of the Old Folk children. They frequently would crawl into bed with me in the wee hours of the night. And, Phenom is a night person and often comes to bed a couple hours after I do. So, I usually hardly register it when someone crawls into bed with me.

Back to the story. At some point in the middle of the night, I barely awoke when I felt the daughter of my friends crawl into the king-sized bed with me. I've known this child since she was a toddler and I figured she had gotten scared or perhaps her mother regularly slept in this bed.

The next morning, I awoke to find myself alone in my bed. At breakfast, I asked the daughter if she'd slept part of the night with me. She said no, but then I caught my friends and the kid exchange meaningful looks. At first, I thought they might be thinking I was some sort of perv.

But, no. They explained that the previous owners had lived in the house as their full time residence and that the wife had passed away in the room I'd slept in. They said that several people have reported feeling like someone had crawled into bed with them in that room. They also explained that they don't warn people first because they don't want to frighten guests.

Greekish

2011-09-26T23:49:00.003-04:00

I have been working up a theme for Monday night suppers with Phenom and The Other Husband. (You do know I have another husband, right? The Other Husband, or TOH, is an old friend who works locally and lives far off. Generally, on Monday nights, TOH spends the night at our house.) The theme is "international foods." We do chinese (thank you Asian grocery for opening recently) or japanese-ish or middle eastern . . . you name it. Tonight, it was Greekish.

I love Greek salad. It is amazingly easy to make.

Chop up:

a packet of cherry or grape tomatoes
cucumber (peeled, seeded)
1/2 a red onion or a bunch of green onions (smallish bits)
a yellow or orange sweet pepper
one bunch of flat leaf parsley

Add in a can of drained chick peas.

Mix a dressing of the juice from a lemon, a garlic clove finely minced or grated, about 1/2 tsp salt, about 1/2 tsp dried oregano (I have lots from my garden), and enough olive oil to make it roughly 2/3 olive oil and 1/3 lemon juice, etc. Shake up and pour about 1/2 over the chopped veg and save the rest.

Chop up some romaine lettuce, in a bowl, toss a handful of the romaine, a couple good serving spoons of the chopped veg, and a drizzle of the remaining dressing. Top with crumbled feta and add some olives on the side.

This is really good with grilled chicken and pitas. I always make enough to take extra for lunch in the office. Monkeys really like Greek Salad.

Doc

2011-09-26T13:23:00.002-04:00

When I was a young, freshly rescued monkey, the Old Folks had a little poofy dog named Doc. Actually, his name was Doc Watson. He had been found by the Old Folks' daughter who had an English Sheepdog named Sherlock.

Doc had a little under bite, and he was a fun little thing. He was blond, and energetic, and bounced around and yapped like any good sidekick dog.

The Old Woman generally kept a supply of home made cookies on hand. Her most common cookies were a spice cookie that had raisins in them. Doc loved cookies for treats. But, he didn't like raisins. He became quite adept at munching down a cookie and spitting out the raisins.

This came to mind last night, while doing the dishes and scraping the peas from the fried rice out of Phenom's bowl.

Theme Songs

2011-09-25T10:34:00.002-04:00

My favorite 9-year old sings to herself all the time. Generally, I get to witness it when we're on the phone and playing computer games at the same time. She usually keeps up a stream of songs and chatter. Phenom tells me it's an "only child thing."

She seems to have several songs she sticks to for her chatter. For a while, it's been Sound of Music and Jingle Bells. Lately, it's been the theme song for Indiana Jones. Although, I suspect her frame of reference for Indiana Jones is a video game and not the movie series.

I'm thinking I might need to introduce her to the Star Wars movies. One, so she'll have a new theme song, and two, to set her on a life time of true geekiness.

Smaller, and Smaller

2011-09-23T08:56:00.003-04:00

Every once in a while, I get to witness moments in human lives that I'm pretty sure no one should witness. Meaning, I feel like being on the fringe of the event, I'm invading their privacy.

The other day, I was having some routine tests done. I have to have blood drawn and various body parts checked on a regular basis. I like the place I go for these tests because the woman who draws my blood is gentle, and good, and has a lot of personality, and after a couple visits will recognize patients.

When I went in most recently, in the waiting room was an older couple. The man in the couple clearly had the look of the gravely ill on him. He was very thin, in a wheel chair, pallid skin, etc. His wife was chatting with another couple and it sounded like they all knew each other from church. There were several other random people in the waiting room, like me, reading so to avoid too much conversation.

There, in the waiting room, was a strapping young man and his mother. I noticed that the young man was wearing a sweatshirt, and had a stadium blanket with him, and another blanket folded up on the chair next to him. I assumed it wasn't a good thing.

The older, chatty woman asked the boy (from across the waiting room) if he had attended the high school on his sweatshirt. He said "yes, Ma'am, and I still do." This opened the door for the woman to move across the room and start talking to the boy and his mother.

She mentioned that in July she and her husband had been hiking and white water rafting with their children/grandchildren and a week later he was sick. The mother asked, "what were his symptoms?" And the woman launched into a fairly graphic retelling of the initial sickness, the doctors who poo-pooed it, the struggle to get answers, the discovery of three types of cancer, the many tests and treatments and how hard it has been and how he's suffered. And with each new detail, the mother's eyes got bigger and bigger and she seemed to shrink smaller and smaller.

Everyone in the waiting room could see this reaction from the mother, except the woman who was consumed with her husband's illness. And, all of us really wished that she'd see that she was scaring this mother, and young man who were terrified of their own futures.

Talk Sexy to Us

2011-09-22T11:43:00.002-04:00

I haven't decided if Bachman has just gone way way off her talking points or if she has crafted a campaign based solely on controlling the sex lives of the entire nation.

I know the media hones in on a message and beats it to death and beyond. And, a little part of me wonders if the all sex talk all the time media portrayal of Michelle Bachman isn't because she's a chick. Rick Perry is just as messed up about sex, but we see media coverage of other issues with him.

On the other hand, we have a candidate that seems to allowed her campaign to be totally derailed by sex issues. She submits to her husband . . . she doesn't want sex ed to be taught in schools . . . she thinks gay people should be denied rights granted to non-gay people by birthright . . . she doesn't think women should have easy access to contraceptives and/or preventative reproductive health care . . . she seems to think that the handful(s) of girls/women who develop cancer each year from a virus are expendable.

For a party who thumps their chests and claims to believe in big government staying out of our lives, they sure love to know/want to control what we're doing during sexy-sexy time.

The New Season, thus far

2011-09-21T22:18:00.003-04:00

I've been catching several of the new tv shows this week. Thus far, we've seen:

Two and a Half Men (I'm considering it new due to the changes)
Two Broke Girls
The New Girl
Raising Hope (I know, was on last year, but I totally thought it was new)
Up All Night
Free Agents
Harry's Law

I think they handled the loss of Charlie Sheen on Two and a Half Men well. I'm not sure the changes are going to work.

I like Two Broke Girls. I think there was good introduction of the characters, good development of the characters, care taken to not make them into caricatures, and there is an over-arching story line that will tie episodes together. And, there were some pretty good lines.

I really want to like The New Girl. I like Zoey and the idea of three hunky guys trying to develop the skills to live with a female roommate none of them are sleeping with is a good start. However, the show is built all around the female lead but the male characters are more interesting and better developed. The pilot was cute, but I didn't see enough to make me think they could sustain beyond 5 episodes. The female lead is more cute-quirky than developed. Only the male characters have multi-facets.

I made it through the whole episode of Raising Hope. I don't think the characters or story line is broad enough to last another season. Which is disappointing, because I like Martha Plimpton as an actor.

Twelve minutes in, we changed the channel on Up All Night. Again, good actors but the story was contrived and lame and it was painful to watch. I liked the painful to watch flavor the office had, but this wasn't funny enough to keep me tuned in.

I lasted less than 5 minutes with Free Agents. There wasn't enough done to introduce the characters or the story line.

Harry's Law has real potential. Of course, Kathy Bates is a good actor. But, the story line seemed compelling and there wasn't too much introduction to the characters, which will allow you to learn their stories over several episodes and lets the show focus on the story line. There also seemed to be enough people in the show that the focus can shift to fill space and time. It may be the next law show to watch.

Narrative

2011-09-20T11:05:00.003-04:00

Funny how humans like to fill in the story, even when there is little observation to base it on. We do love making up myths, filling in blanks, and rewriting reality.

My little circle is currently a buzz with the news of potentially criminal activity of a newbie. None of us know Newbie too well. Most of us have similar first impressions. And, there seems to be a very unsavory situation brewing that could be more than just jerk behavior but criminal. And, we all have our theories. Some folks think Newbie has another identity. Others think it's straight up true, that Newbie is the most hardened of criminals. I personally think someone else did it, and Newbie is taking the heat.

Of course, I watch too much crime tv. And, none of us really know. But, it does give us something to discuss over lunch and ciggies.

Drunken Games

2011-09-18T20:53:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, we headed to the lake house of friends. For, what our friends called the "2nd Annual Loaded Landshark by the Lake" bash.

Some of the friends who attend this gathering, this is the only time all year we get to catch up. Nothing like laughing on the pier, beers in hand, and being totally relaxed.

Our friends pull together a Texas style and sized meal. This year, we had the best smoked chicken we'd ever had. And the brisket, oh, the brisket. I made a chocolate pound cake, but added the spices that usually go into my aphrodisiac cookies.

Since it was too cold to take a dip in the lake (and sing show tunes) after dinner, we opted for the game Balderdash. The point of the game is to make up lies that are convincing enough to have your fellow players vote it the "right" answer to a series of prompts. I, apparently, rock at this game. Perhaps because of the many lies I've heard over my life.

What made the game even more challenging is that a) all of us were enjoying some level of inebriation and b) half the players had forgotten their "readers" and were either opting for attempting to read without actually seeing or sharing the readers of the other players at the table.

Too bad it'll be another year before we can have the 3rd Annual Loaded Landshark at the Lake.

Paranoia

2011-09-16T09:46:00.002-04:00

A hundred years ago, long before the days of the interwebs, about once a month (usually shortly after the first of the month) my office would receive a letter sent from some poor soul on the west coast. The letter was a photo-copy of a photo-copy of a photo-copy of a photo-copy of a letter that had been typed on a real typewriter. The writer was in distress because she believed that countless celebrities were harassing her, watching her every move, and spying on her daily actions through her television set. She pleaded, in her letter, for help in making this horror stop.

We never replied, of course. And, were sad and wondered what happened to her when the letters stopped coming.

Last night I had an experience that made me think of her again. We have a new fancy, interwebs linked, 3D capable television. I was watching just a few minutes of television as I unplugged my brain before bed. And, the tv suddenly popped a warning up that it was turning off the picture. It has a motion detector, and if it goes a specific length of time without detecting motion, it turns the picture off. THE TV IS SPYING ON ME!!!!

FREEDOM!!!

2011-09-15T09:24:00.002-04:00

I admit, my political leanings go more towards the pinko/bed-wetting/liberal end of the spectrum. However, I do know several people who are more liberal in their views than I am, or more vocal about it, so I think I'm not extreme. Perhaps just extreme for the bible-belt south.

Over the years, sadly, I've more or less learned to select my audiences carefully. I generally keep my discomfort with the group think to myself.

Last night, I actually expressed a couple of my thoughts, and that was the breach in the damn we needed.

Phenom and I had this very nerdy, deep-thoughts type of discussion about the current state of things. And, I think it's important to understand the difference between being dismayed over what our leaders are doing, and the sacrifices of individual soldiers. But, I'm not sure how fighting in Iraq or Iran or Korea or Libya right now is actually "preserving our freedom."

I think we need to consider more carefully how we define "freedom." I argued with Phenom that my assumption is that a good majority of people in this country believe that they have the "freedom" to say and do pretty much anything they want, shy of murder or buggering children. I would further argue that this is a substantial group of people who define their "freedom" as having the right to impose themselves on other people's freedoms. We have freedom of religion, but that gives me the right to say that your religious belief system is wrong and ought to be outlawed, right?

Maybe, before we thump our chests, deny rights to groups of people who are weaker or smaller, and go marching off to impose our way of thinking on others, we need to think a little more deeply about what we really mean when we toss the word freedom around.

Attachment

2011-09-13T17:48:00.004-04:00

Just days before the most recent hurricane to smack the east coast, one of the little strays we feed gave birth to 5 kittens. We'd had flooding rains the weekend before. We were concerned that our ground was so saturated, that any rain from the hurricane would result in flooding. So, Phenom decided that we needed to turn one of our bathrooms into a nursery for the weekend.

We put them in a fluffy towel, in a box, in our bathroom and the mother spent about 24-hours hiding under our toilet. About midday, after the hurricane had passed, she finally got comfortable enough to crawl into the box with her babies. And, by then she didn't want to leave.

I think she would have happily become an indoor cat. But, we didn't need 6 more cats. And, we would have had to keep her isolated for several weeks from our cats. And, we needed to use that shower. So we put them back outside after the skies cleared.

Possum wasn't a particularly good mother. She seemed to have about a two week threshold for how long she put up with this motherhood gig. She abandoned her kittens when they were about 2 1/2 weeks old.

Today, we buried 4 of them. We don't know what happened to the 5th one. When Phenom called me today, to let me know I was going to have to dig another hole in our yard, he was really upset. He kept saying "animals are suppose to have an instinct for caring for their young." Sadly, I don't think that's always true for humans, and I don't think it's always true for animals. We would like to think it is. And that there are always happy endings. But, I'm learning that the world is a cold place, for animals and humans alike.

A Rant

2011-09-11T22:56:00.002-04:00

I have a rant. I am completely bewildered as to why our media has such a love affair for Serena Williams.

I've been playing and watching tennis since the Old Folks decided that I needed an introduction to "polite" human society. (There were also ballroom dancing lessons, but that is another story.)

Two years ago at the US open, Serena threatened to kill a line judge. She did it in front of millions of people and was pretty clearly recorded. Then, last year, she bailed on the US open with, what I believe was, a totally fabricated excuse. She claimed she was injured from stepping on broken glass. . . but between the glass incident and bailing on the US open, she successfully played in an exhibition match, seemingly uninjured.

This weekend, I was dismayed to see how she reacted to winning the match that put her in the finals. She jumped around and pointed to the sky and acted as if this were her first time to make it to the big match. I dislike it when any player, who has a history of championships, acts as if beating a less experienced player is some kind of miracle. I think it's unsportsman like and undignified. Frickin' act like you've been there before.

Then, today, during her match she called out just as the opponent who was handily beating her was about to hit the ball. It was a clear noise violation, and according to the rules, was an automatic loss of the point. During the change over, Serena berated the chair umpire and demanded to know if she were the same umpire who "screwed" her last time, and then ran her mouth during the whole change over.

Thing is, the reaction from the folks covering the match were to excuse Serena's behavior and demonstrate a total lack of understanding of the rules.

Now, tonight, with a bit more distance from the ugliness, commenters are pointing out that she was, in fact, in violation of the rules, the chair umpire was right, and Serena's behavior afterwards was unacceptable. And, it is suddenly being recalled that Serena is still on USTA probation for the threats the last time she played the US open.

Serena isn't some doe-eyed teenager who got caught up in the moment of her first big tournament. She is a seasoned veteran who has been playing majors half her life. She is an adult. She knows better.

Frankly, she isn't good for the game. Perhaps now would be a good time for her to retire.

10 years ago today

2011-09-11T09:29:00.002-04:00

I remember standing in my college apartment one night and watching the Berlin Wall come down. I had a photo, cut from a news paper, of a lone person standing in front of a line of tanks in China on my dorm wall. I was unexpectedly home the day of the Oklahoma City bombing.

On this morning, ten years ago, I was in a hotel in a small town a couple hours drive north of here. I was attending a meeting of a state-wide non-profit on whose board I served at the time. We hadn't started the day's meetings yet and were lingering in the hotel lounge over breakfast pastries and coffee. The hotel had a large-screen tv turned to a morning news show, which no one at my table was truly paying attention to and I was reading the paper.

I remember wondering aloud if Micheal Jordan would make yet another return from retirement when the news show flipped over to the twin towers. The reporter was in front of the towers and there was smoke coming from one of the high floors. The reporter was saying that they could not confirm it, but that there was a report that a plane had flown into the building. At that moment, they assumed it was some horrible accident.

We watched for several minutes . . . wondering what had really happened, how could it have happened. I remember seeing another plane entering the picture of the two towers and at that first moment, I assumed it was a plane that had been sent to investigate . . . since the building was too tall to observe it any other way. And, then the plane approaching, the plane I assumed was there for help, flew into the second building.

After that, it was surreal. It seemed unlikely it was an accident, but the full reality of what had happened wasn't yet sinking in. We watched the utter pandemonium for a bit, and then the group I was meeting with decided that we should go ahead and get our meeting started, do a fast version of our agenda, and leave as early as possible.

We had really only just started meeting when someone came into our meeting room and announced that a plane had flown into the Pentagon. At this point, it we truly understood that someone was declaring war on our country.

We all returned to the lounge to watch the television coverage unfold. We were there when the news program and the world saw the buildings come down. We saw the death and destruction and confusion live with the rest of the nation. There were several people in our group, and not with our group, who had loved ones in New York and Washington. I remember bringing a cup of coffee and a box of tissues to one man sitting at a table, alone. I sat with him and offered a listening ear. I had crisis intervention training from my days volunteering with the crisis line in college. I remember him asking me how it was I was helping rather than panicking.

I'd called the Old Folks and told them to turn on their tv, the country was under attack. I called the Phenom and learned they already had the TV in their office on.

One of the women in our group had a husband who was suppose to be at the pentagon that day, and she couldn't reach him on the phone. One woman in our group had a sister who worked in the financial district, but she was able to reach her on the phone.

Our meeting was cancelled. The woman was still unable to reach her husband, so we decided she needed to go to her mother's home rather than hers. We found two people who had driven together and one agreed to drive the woman's car and the other the woman to her mother's home a couple hours away. I drove straight to the Phenom's office. I just remember absolutely needing to be with the human I love most in this world.

I don't know if I thought the rest of the country was soon going to be targeted or what, but I just knew I needed, more than anything, to be with the Phenom.

Later that night, after watching coverage over and over again of the crashes, and hearing more and more of the truth be unveiled, I finally went to bed. I was exhausted just from the raw emotions. Shortly after I went to bed, Phenom came into the bedroom and said that the tv news had a new shot of the twin towers crash . . . I got up and they had film of the other side of the building . . . of the plane actually crashing into the building. I had nightmares of that scene for months. Every once in a while, that scene still haunts me now. I still find the loss overwhelming. The stories of people who died, who didn't make it out, of people who made sure a weaker person did make it out.

And, I remember the horrifying realization that declaring war on someone was going to be the only option our country would consider. I'm a peace loving monkey, and the prospect that war was soon to come deeply saddened me. It still does.

Two birds, one liquor bottle

2011-09-10T19:44:00.003-04:00

Well, actually more than one liquor bottle.

I once had a regional VP tell my immediate supervisor that I was "anal" and she meant it in the best possible way. As in uptight about the details. And, I'm a planner. I like thinking ahead and having a sense of what is going to happen and my role in it.

So, 6 weeks ago, when I was down to my last shot (for my arthritis), I called my doctor and asked her to issue a fresh prescription to my local pharmacy because my company had recently changed insurance companies. She sent the prescription on, and given the new insurance, the pharmacist had to get approval from the insurance company first. Which I knew and is why I moved on it two weeks before I would actually need the shot. Two weeks should have been plenty of time, right?

Well, it's now 6 weeks later, three free shots from my doctor, multiple trips to the "big city", several faxes, many phone calls, quite a few profane words, and a royal run around later, and I haven't gotten a shot this week because the insurance company is doing everything it can to delay paying for my prescriptions.

Chances are, next week, it will all be ironed out. . . but until then, I'm one kinked up mess of a monkey. I've been on this drug for so many years I'd forgotten what an arthritis flare up was like. I can't sleep, because I can't get comfortable. Arthritis exhausts you and you compound it with no sleep and pain you can't get rid of . . . it is one ugly pile of monkey. Add to it the frustration of knowing that you're in this shape because a group of asshats would rather line their pockets with a few more dollars than serve their paying customers.

So, I'm self medicating this weekend. Yup, hittin' the sauce. But, the upside is that my new annual New Year's Resolution is to "clean out" the liquor cabinet. So, this weekend, I'm finally getting around to that project. So far, we've finished off a bottle of vodka and the bottle of Jack Daniels the Old Woman passed on to me that she'd taken from her sister's house after her sister passed away 20 some odd years ago.

Perhaps tomorrow I'll pick up some limeade and tackle the tequila.

Giddy

2011-09-08T22:45:00.002-04:00

I live in culinary hell. I have to spend two days cooking something the rest of the country can buy off a truck for a dollar. Every new recipe I consider, I have to double think if I can get the ingredients I need at the local grocery. I have to resist the urge to brain the little check-out kids when they hold up an item I'm purchasing and say "eeww, you eat this stuff?"

But, this week I've been trying to contain my excitement. The other day, I happened to notice a new sign in a strip of shops that doesn't have much interesting in it (a sweepstakes poker and dominos is about it). . . an Asian market!

I drove through the parking lot, and indeed, they are stocking the shelves of a small market. The sign says they will open soon. I hope they have those little lychee jellies. I just love those. And, fun noodles. mmmmmm Asian market.

Bad Monkey

2011-09-07T23:15:00.002-04:00

Phenom is well aware of my monkey-ness. But, like many humans, labors under the notion that animal behavior can be tamed. Over the years, the Phenom has "threatened" me with fictitious bogeymen to try to purchase "good" behavior.

There was "Raw Head and Bloody Bones" from Phenom's own childhood. There have been threats of "santa is watching" and "the birthday bunny won't be happy."

Lately, the threat has been the assigning of "demerits" for Phenom defined bad behavior. When pressed, there doesn't seem to be any real plan for what sorts of sanctions are tied to the demerits. However, I did learn, tonight, that putting a little green nail polish on your finger, and then dabbing it on the Phenom's toenails on the fly will earn you a "double demerit."

The Suck Up Meal

2011-09-06T18:24:00.002-04:00

This book has been a topic of conversation around the office this week. I've always been fascinated by propaganda campaigns. I find it especially interesting that propaganda was used to convince women to ditch their children in nurseries and go to work during WWII, and then nearly the same propaganda was used to convince women that they should leave the work place and embrace motherhood again after the war. Just a few years later, women were targted for advertising campaigns that acknowledged women's place in the home but also that they might consider homemaking drudgery too.

Of course, one of the important functions of "modern" womanhood was being the perfect hostess when called upon to host the husband's boss for dinner.

Tomorrow, I'm doing a more modern version of such domesticity. I'm hosting my own boss for a luncheon. Not so much my boss, as the regional vp. And, I've invited folks from other offices in the region to join us (and to show them up with my mad skills).

We're having asian inspired food tomorrow. I'm making a Ginger Lemonade sweetened with local honey. I'm making a spicy broccoli salad. And, I'm making a version of this salad. Of course, I can't get soba noodles here, so I'll use pasta. And, I'm not going to make threads of egg crepe . . . I'll just have a few hard boiled eggs. I'm also making it fancy with boiled shrimp, and steamed asparagus. I also have a yellow bell pepper, cucumber, radishes, and cherry tomatoes. It should be pretty, and light, and tasty.

ESK will be making a pineapple upsidedown cake for the grand finale.

How could anyone compete with us?

Dragging my stitches

2011-09-05T15:17:00.004-04:00

When I attempt a new feat in the kitchen, I generally read the instructions a couple of times. If it is particularly difficult, I consult a couple different recipes/cookbooks and the interwebs. But, when I undertake the project, I'm usually pretty confident I know what I'm doing and reasonably how it is likely to turn out.

I'm less confident in my sewing abilities.

Today, I'm attempting something that looks a lot like this:

I'm pretty good at cutting out the pattern. I often can figure out vague instructions. And, I can appraise the situation logically, and piece together several oddly shaped bits. However, truth be told, I'm never entirely confident that what I'm making will actually look like the picture/pattern/my intended result until I'm finished. And, frankly, I'm usually pretty amazed when it does.

Because I'm not always confident it's going to work out, I find that I take a lot of "breaks" and rarely work straight through on a project. I think I'm afraid that it will fail, and I want to put that failure off as long as I can.

Damn near perfect

2011-09-04T16:16:00.002-04:00

I suspect that Labor Day may become a front-runner for favorite holiday.

Generally, we have no plans for Labor Day. So, it means a relaxing couple of days at home. The summer has ended, and as we look ahead to long stretches where work will take over our lives completely, we start to regret that we didn't spend more time goofing off over the summer. So, we end up spending the weekend being a couple.

Yesterday, we went out to lunch. We went shopping. We had ice cream.

Today, it's been lazy. Laundry has been done but at a slower pace. Tennis balls have been batted around.

But, tonight, we're going to do the thing we always say we're going to do someday but never get around to it. We're going to a local bar and we're going to saddle up to the bar, have appetizers and beers for our dinner.

I know . . . exciting life we're leading here. But, I firmly believe that those moments of being a couple make the frantic worth it.

There's always more.

2011-09-03T22:39:00.003-04:00

If I were to ever have my own cooking show, no doubt it would be called "There's More, There Always Is." This is the conversation that happens every single night as we sit down to dinner. My inability to cook small quantities of food is legendary. Generally, this little character trait means the SMLF benefits with homemade lunches.

Today, Phenom and I had a fun little day on the town. We use to do this regularly . . . before the days of the interwebs. It was fun to wander into shops, pick up and discard items, then spend money on something completely unnecessary. Of course, no day out for us is complete without a trip to a book store.

After I "stole" recipes by jotting a few down from books I had no intention of buying, I settled on purchasing a book of recipes specifically written for two people. The book is published by a culinary group I like and own several books from already. They have a good mix of fancy-smancy and simple technique.

True to my impatient form, I flipped through most of the book on the drive home. And, true to me, I was on my third recipe when I realized I was already thinking about doubling the recipes.

It's a sickness.

Falling off the wagon

2011-09-02T19:50:00.002-04:00

Over the summer, I decided to "give up" sweet drinks. Partly because I was drinking way too many of them and they weren't helping my waist line any. And, partly because I was hoping that the move would help convince my kidneys to stop trying to run, screaming, from my body.

When I say "give up" I mean I no longer guzzle soda or sweet iced tea at meal times, I try really hard to stop picking up Phenom's ever-present glass of coke, and generally curtail my consumption of such drinks to "emergencies" or special occasions. For example, an emergency might be when facing a full day at the office after pulling an 'all-nighter.' It's not that I've sworn off them, but I'm reassigning them back to their proper place in anyone's life . . . a treat.

It has been a long week in our office. And, we were very, very good about bringing our lunches from home and eating in the office. So, a few days ago, the SMLF decided that we need a Dixie Friday.

The Dixie is an old, old drive in burger joint. This place has been the evening hang out for countless generations of teens and the daytime fast-lunch joint for everyone else. Everything goes in the fryer . . . bacon. . . hot dogs . . . the cheese they put on the hotdogs . . . everything. And, I'm pretty sure that the fryer is sporting lard rather than canola oil.

The place is unair-conditioned, and thus is off limits during the summer. But, our fall is teasing us and we deemed the weather to have merited a return for lunch.

The thing that they do best, beyond the chili/onion/mustard topped cheese burgers and battered fries is they will add cherry syrup to any soda. Our favorite is cherry Mt. Dew. And, it's as many cups as you can hold. The woman who waits on us generally brings us a 1/2 gallon pitcher rather than fetch refill after refill. (Today, she refilled the pitcher once.)

I decided that the first return to the Dixie for SMLF was occasion enough to indulge in all the cherry mt. dew I could handle. I had three full cups before my head started spinning. It was good.

Pondering

2011-09-01T19:56:00.002-04:00

I've commented before that more or less every single week, while I'm watching my purchases chug along the mega-mart conveyor belt, I mentally check off those items I'd live (happily) without if I didn't have any money. I am well aware that many purchases are not necessary, and frankly not really all that smart.

This blog is my newest obsession. Read his posts from July and August of this year. He is a trained chef in San Francisco and for two months, he lived on a food stamp budget. More or less, he was allowed roughly $3.66 per day for his food. He did allow for gifts of food from friends/family, and since he is in the food industry, he frequently benefited from cooking gigs. He decided that people who actually live on food stamps also accept gifts of food and those who are working in kitchens benefit similarly.

Even still, he found that he had to cut down on the amount of food he consumed. He also realized how lucky he was that he had access to his garden for supplemental veggies.

The blog has sparked some interesting conversations in our household. I'm all too aware that I waste too much food. And, despite my complaints about the high costs of food, I still buy too many "convenience" items or empty calorie items. And, sadly, I think that my ability to purchase organic, locally produced, high quality items is a manifestation of privilege.

I think we're going to have to put more thought and effort into being more purposeful in our eating/purchasing.

Out of whack

2011-09-01T08:20:00.002-04:00

The weather has finally started to be reasonable. Around here, that means highs just in the upper 80s but pleasant mornings and evenings. I've put up the inflatable oasis because our evenings aren't quite so oppressive now. But, I'm not quite ready to plant fall garden items just yet.

And, a combination of a very poor production of a cooking show (the host kept swaying back and forth and the camera person couldn't hold the camera still) and a work all-nighter had me hitting the hay at 10pm last night. Generally, an early bedtime means I'm on death's doorstep. But, the extra couple of hours of sleep meant that I woke up an hour early this morning. And, because I'm a big ol' dork, I just went into the office early.

Good thing it's a long weekend coming up and I'll be able to get myself back onto my usual snooze button tapping schedule.