Prince of Darkness
20/12/08 07:23
Just for the record, I don't think the auto industry in the US ought to get any kind of bailout. Not to mention the type of bailout that you and I (taxpayers) end up paying for. Let the free market dictate what happens to those bastards. If the GM's, the Fords, and the Chryslers think the world needs more SUV's and more of the same schlock they've been pumping out for decades, I say let the market decide. I think the people have been voting for years with their wallets but the auto industry has been tone deaf. It took an escalation in the price of sweet crude on the world market to expose the overpriced underbelly of the industry and not all the kings horses nor all the kings men will be able to put it all back together now that it lay in pieces on the floor of the world market. Ralph Nader tried to warn us long ago about the Corvair. Turns out that the Corvair was just the tip of the iceberg.
Speaking about the prince of darkness, what about the power outage here on the East coast this past weekend? We lost power for three days after an overnight ice storm hit the area . To make matters worse, the temperatures were cold all but one of the three days was warm enough to give us any semblance of comfort. Our wood stove was working fine and we had four cords of wood sitting in the driveway so we were good to go. Not everyone was so lucky. We do not have town water, however, so we had no running water and that was problematic. We got buckets of water here and there and used facilities in the local businesses when and where possible. You would be surprised at how creative you can be when it comes to coordinating such events and I must say that it all worked out rather well.
Not sure what we would have done if the local businesses had not been open so we were grateful for the spottiness of the outages in that it allowed for some semblance of decency and human comfort. We were able to salvage most of the food in our fridge until temperatures rose in to the 40's one day and then all bets were off. If all I remember of this outage in the years to come is when I ground coffee beans in my car using an auxiliary power plug and the many meals we cooked on the wood stove, then those memories will be pleasant ones. I think there are many more stories that turned out less well where young children were concerned; where old people tried to stay warm under the covers or surrounded by candles; and where creature comforts were few and far between. Maybe we learned that it is best to have supplies on hand so we'll work on that. I'll be making my list and checking it twice. Isn't that what people do during the holidays?
Speaking about the prince of darkness, what about the power outage here on the East coast this past weekend? We lost power for three days after an overnight ice storm hit the area . To make matters worse, the temperatures were cold all but one of the three days was warm enough to give us any semblance of comfort. Our wood stove was working fine and we had four cords of wood sitting in the driveway so we were good to go. Not everyone was so lucky. We do not have town water, however, so we had no running water and that was problematic. We got buckets of water here and there and used facilities in the local businesses when and where possible. You would be surprised at how creative you can be when it comes to coordinating such events and I must say that it all worked out rather well.
Not sure what we would have done if the local businesses had not been open so we were grateful for the spottiness of the outages in that it allowed for some semblance of decency and human comfort. We were able to salvage most of the food in our fridge until temperatures rose in to the 40's one day and then all bets were off. If all I remember of this outage in the years to come is when I ground coffee beans in my car using an auxiliary power plug and the many meals we cooked on the wood stove, then those memories will be pleasant ones. I think there are many more stories that turned out less well where young children were concerned; where old people tried to stay warm under the covers or surrounded by candles; and where creature comforts were few and far between. Maybe we learned that it is best to have supplies on hand so we'll work on that. I'll be making my list and checking it twice. Isn't that what people do during the holidays?
Back to Basics
07/12/08 06:38
Who knew? I had ideas about writing more and more over the holidays but it turned out to be less and less. Ain't that the truth. Well, it's time to turn all that around and get back on board with the game of life. I don't always sit down to write with nothing in particular to say but this is one of those mornings. If I wait till I have something to say, I might never write again. That's a bit of an exaggeration to be sure but even the most prolific bloggers get bogged down from time to time. Writers may call it "writer's block" but I am not a writer so I don't indulge myself in such delusions. I am just off my game like I said at the outset. I do have other things that I would like to get on to this morning but, at least for now, I'll continue to do this in the hopes of finding the right chord. The right mix of thoughts, memories, and god only knows what else. So, here goes.
There's a light snow falling outside my back door this fine morning. It's the first of the season. I'll celebrate the occasion by throwing an extra log or two on the fire. I asked Ev to give me a hand in moving some wood into the garage but we haven't quite managed to get that together just yet. I may regret that if the snow continues to fall with any appreciable accumulation. I was going to go off to the food store early this morning and I may still yet. Staying in and curling up with a book is looking more appealing by the minute. Maybe it's one of those mornings where by getting out and braving the elements it will make being at home after the fact and with chores done a good thing. The bird feeders are full, the kitchen but a sink full of dishes away from restoring order to that space, and my darlings are fast asleep as they should be. Just so you have some idea of what it means to me to get things done at the store, I go to one store for organic lemons, another to buy diced tomatoes on sale, and another to buy the leanest cuts of beef for meals during the week. I'm an ardent gatherer of fresh produce as well and I have a store or two that I frequent for these items. As to fruit during the winter season, I rather enjoy having frozen blueberries with my cereal. Dole sells a hefty bag for close to $10 at Walmart. It's the gift that keeps on giving.
The one take away from Thanksgiving for me was the price of turkey. I am accustomed to spending $7 a pound for sliced oven roasted turkey so you can imagine my surprise when I spied turkey at $.48 a pound after Thanksgiving was over. My god, I thought. I can get my own oven roasted bird for cents on the dollar and I can stop paying those bastards my hard earned money at the local deli. I will use the breast meat for sandwiches and such and I will convert the rest to soups, chili's, and any little thing my heart desires. I will even have a wishbone at the end of the day on which to tug and dream but not in that particular order. That's the plan, anyway. I have already warned the wife that the oven is mine for the time needed to cook up the bird. Get out the way, honey! Oh, does anyone know where I can find the meat thermometer? Of course, I have to do the math on things like protein, fat, and all the rest when it comes down to choosing between turkey and chicken. I think chicken has the edge when it comes to protein but turkey has the market cornered on leanness. Well, I ought to be on my way now so I can beat the hordes of early morning shoppers. Maybe I can get back before my babies get up and out of bed. One can dream.
There's a light snow falling outside my back door this fine morning. It's the first of the season. I'll celebrate the occasion by throwing an extra log or two on the fire. I asked Ev to give me a hand in moving some wood into the garage but we haven't quite managed to get that together just yet. I may regret that if the snow continues to fall with any appreciable accumulation. I was going to go off to the food store early this morning and I may still yet. Staying in and curling up with a book is looking more appealing by the minute. Maybe it's one of those mornings where by getting out and braving the elements it will make being at home after the fact and with chores done a good thing. The bird feeders are full, the kitchen but a sink full of dishes away from restoring order to that space, and my darlings are fast asleep as they should be. Just so you have some idea of what it means to me to get things done at the store, I go to one store for organic lemons, another to buy diced tomatoes on sale, and another to buy the leanest cuts of beef for meals during the week. I'm an ardent gatherer of fresh produce as well and I have a store or two that I frequent for these items. As to fruit during the winter season, I rather enjoy having frozen blueberries with my cereal. Dole sells a hefty bag for close to $10 at Walmart. It's the gift that keeps on giving.
The one take away from Thanksgiving for me was the price of turkey. I am accustomed to spending $7 a pound for sliced oven roasted turkey so you can imagine my surprise when I spied turkey at $.48 a pound after Thanksgiving was over. My god, I thought. I can get my own oven roasted bird for cents on the dollar and I can stop paying those bastards my hard earned money at the local deli. I will use the breast meat for sandwiches and such and I will convert the rest to soups, chili's, and any little thing my heart desires. I will even have a wishbone at the end of the day on which to tug and dream but not in that particular order. That's the plan, anyway. I have already warned the wife that the oven is mine for the time needed to cook up the bird. Get out the way, honey! Oh, does anyone know where I can find the meat thermometer? Of course, I have to do the math on things like protein, fat, and all the rest when it comes down to choosing between turkey and chicken. I think chicken has the edge when it comes to protein but turkey has the market cornered on leanness. Well, I ought to be on my way now so I can beat the hordes of early morning shoppers. Maybe I can get back before my babies get up and out of bed. One can dream.
Thanksgiving cometh
23/11/08 07:05
These are hard times and getting harder by the day. I was heartened to read this morning that a local food pantry had a surplus of turkeys on hand for the anticipated rush of last minute requests. The republican in me thinks that the needy and scurrilous types ought to pull themselves up by their boot straps and get out and get a job and buy their own turkey's. Then, I suppose, the food pantry employees would be out of a job and they too would be looking for relief in some way, shape, or form. The moderate in me says that giving is good and there will always be needy types to care for as long as man continues along his current path of imperfection. And then there are the children. They ask for nothing but love, food on their plates, and a place to rest their heads at the end of the day. For those children who have either too little or not nearly enough of any of the above, my heart goes out to them. More families than ever are living in shelters today due to the current economic environment and these folks need both our prayers and our turkeys so give willingly and give often if you can. You never know when you or I may be in their position. God willing, not anytime soon.
The price of gas at the pumps is below $2 a gallons in the last week compared to the summertime highs of $4.50. I can fill the tank in my Matrix for below $20 where it used to run me close to $50. There are stories about folks who signed contracts with their oil suppliers for the winter heating season wishing to lock in prices at close to $5 who cannot now get out of those contracts. That's a bitch. We've got lots of firewood and gas in the snowblower so I say, bring it on. I'm contemplating buying snow tires for the wife's car for the first time in many years since she expects to spend more time rather than less bringing the boys skiing this winter. Interestingly enough, snow tires are in short supply around town since Quebec has a new law requiring that vehicles on the road in the winter have snow tires. Apparently, the locals are rerouting their stocks north to Quebec. I wonder if the current exchange rate favors suppliers in this regard. I guess we know the answer to that question since snow tires are as scarce as hounds teeth here on the seacoast. Maybe I should wait to see if I get to keep my job before I sign off on tires and the like. I like my job so I hope the verdict goes in my favor when the time comes. It's the anxiety that waiting brings that makes me uncomfortable. I try not to think about it. And then I think of the comment made by a good friend at work that gives me comfort. He says to anyone who will listen, "the folks who need to worry least worry the most". I will admit to being a fretter.
I am doing my level best to transition my exercise routine inside for the winter months but it has been a little difficult. As recent as two weeks ago I was still riding my bike every day after work. that is, until daylight savings time came along. When that happened, I took to the treadmill every day after work and got my miles in even if it meant delaying dinner. I asked Nancy not to have dinner on the table because I would invariably have dinner and it would all be downhill from there. I rode my bike on weekends if, and only if, the temperatures were in the forties. I would even tolerate rain if it wasn't coming down horizontally. In fact, I like to ride in the rain if the rain is soft and misty. I have the boulevard to myself and it is nice. I don't go as far but that's okay too. This weekend, with temperatures not getting out of the 20's, I will not be riding my bike and that saddens me. I will keep my bike in the garage rather than storing it in the shed for the winter in the hopes of getting at least one day out of each winter month when the weather allows me to get back on the road. Since I usually ride hard, and you never know when the baby Jesus is going to come calling, I now carry my wallet in the pocket of my shorts in case I suffer a coronary or worse while riding. That way, my family won't have to wonder what the hell is taking me so long to get back home once the darkness of night has set in. If the good lord is willing and the creek don't rise, they will see me before I end up in the morgue. In that event, I hope they will say that I went out doing what I loved to do best.
The price of gas at the pumps is below $2 a gallons in the last week compared to the summertime highs of $4.50. I can fill the tank in my Matrix for below $20 where it used to run me close to $50. There are stories about folks who signed contracts with their oil suppliers for the winter heating season wishing to lock in prices at close to $5 who cannot now get out of those contracts. That's a bitch. We've got lots of firewood and gas in the snowblower so I say, bring it on. I'm contemplating buying snow tires for the wife's car for the first time in many years since she expects to spend more time rather than less bringing the boys skiing this winter. Interestingly enough, snow tires are in short supply around town since Quebec has a new law requiring that vehicles on the road in the winter have snow tires. Apparently, the locals are rerouting their stocks north to Quebec. I wonder if the current exchange rate favors suppliers in this regard. I guess we know the answer to that question since snow tires are as scarce as hounds teeth here on the seacoast. Maybe I should wait to see if I get to keep my job before I sign off on tires and the like. I like my job so I hope the verdict goes in my favor when the time comes. It's the anxiety that waiting brings that makes me uncomfortable. I try not to think about it. And then I think of the comment made by a good friend at work that gives me comfort. He says to anyone who will listen, "the folks who need to worry least worry the most". I will admit to being a fretter.
I am doing my level best to transition my exercise routine inside for the winter months but it has been a little difficult. As recent as two weeks ago I was still riding my bike every day after work. that is, until daylight savings time came along. When that happened, I took to the treadmill every day after work and got my miles in even if it meant delaying dinner. I asked Nancy not to have dinner on the table because I would invariably have dinner and it would all be downhill from there. I rode my bike on weekends if, and only if, the temperatures were in the forties. I would even tolerate rain if it wasn't coming down horizontally. In fact, I like to ride in the rain if the rain is soft and misty. I have the boulevard to myself and it is nice. I don't go as far but that's okay too. This weekend, with temperatures not getting out of the 20's, I will not be riding my bike and that saddens me. I will keep my bike in the garage rather than storing it in the shed for the winter in the hopes of getting at least one day out of each winter month when the weather allows me to get back on the road. Since I usually ride hard, and you never know when the baby Jesus is going to come calling, I now carry my wallet in the pocket of my shorts in case I suffer a coronary or worse while riding. That way, my family won't have to wonder what the hell is taking me so long to get back home once the darkness of night has set in. If the good lord is willing and the creek don't rise, they will see me before I end up in the morgue. In that event, I hope they will say that I went out doing what I loved to do best.
Mr. President
08/11/08 06:29
As I said, folks. It's all over. You can take your opinions, your polls, your prognostications, and just go on home. The race is over. Palin is back in Alaska with the FBI close on her heels looking to retrieve those pricey threads she allegedly stole. I like the characterization by McCain's staff of the Palin's, "hillbillies looting Neiman Marcus coast to coast". Had she and her boy McCain prevailed, I'm quite certain I could get used to looking at her over the course of the next four years. I'm not at all sure she wouldn't disappear from sight once McCain got into office but nonetheless she is an easy one on the eyes. You know who gave me the creeps? Her first dude, Todd Palin. He was a smirky confidant always at her arm and never without something to say beneath his breath and out of earshot of the press. He may well be the brains behind that twosome but we'll never know now and that suits me just fine.
Now, I may have to get used to the idea of having a black man for president. It really is quite amazing at just how quickly color becomes a non-issue in these types of situations. So, maybe it's not such a big deal after all and there really isn't anything to have to get used to. I may take some small pleasures here and there in knowing just how rankled those rednecks and racists from West Virginia to the bowels of the deep west are at the very sight of a black family and his extended family in the White House. Visions of the Jefferson's come to mind but that is far too bruising and simplistic an analogy to draw. This may be one of those rare situations where the sum of the parts is greater then the whole. We'll look forward to the next four years and I will continue to be one of his fiercest critics. You will not, however, hear me raise the spectacle of Reverend Wright, Bill Ayers, or any other associations deemed to be far left, insidious, or having anything to do with terrorists. That's terrorists as in washed up or not. We'll be pulling for you, Barack. We are now and have always been one nation, under God, indivisible, and with justice for all. Or so our Constitution says. Did I mention that for the first time in my life I am really proud of my country? Feel free to take that in context.
I may celebrate by making an especially smooth crock of humus for the family this weekend. Go heavy on the lemon, garlic, and garnish with a little red onion and you can have a falafel of a time for yourself. Ev has been making quick work of my chili lately and he will eat it all in the course of week if I make it on the weekend. After all these years trying to get him to eat more animal protein and protein in general I have finally found a dish that he will eat with great regularity. It helps that he eats like a horse at his age and I would worry if he didn't. I do have to be a little careful about making it too spicy and I do make it a point to use 93% fat free ground sirloin along with 1lb of chicken sausage in every batch. The dish would not be nearly as good were it not for the beans I add. Make sure you get the organic brand. Other brands usually have sugar and you want to exclude sugar in your diet when and where possible. As for varieties, I like to use red kidney as well as black beans. I continue to remind Ev that one of my favorite combinations in the world is chili and cottage cheese. I think he's catching on. For Christmas, I already told my little darling that I thought it might be nice to treat ourselves to a new food processor. Yes, ma'am. That means getting down and dirty with the accessories. Double batches of everything for the house! Ooooh. Can't wait. Can I turn you on to a site that I like a lot and one that turns me on now and then to dishes I might not otherwise consider? I'll sign off with a tip of my hat and the following link:
http://kalynskitchen.blogspot.com/
Nice tee shirt, Barack!
26/10/08 08:19
I must say. It doesn't look good for my party this year. The republicans have really dug themselves into a ditch with the failing economy, a war in Iraq that was founded on false pretenses, and with a president whose popularity ratings are below those of Richard Nixon the day he left office. Its no wonder Barack Obama is heading into the election with a wind at his back. I am perhaps one of many republicans who find Obama, his socialists tendencies aside, to be an acceptable candidate when issues such as temperment, intelligence, and leadership are considered. I am not alone. Just this past week, William Weld and Colin Powell endorsed Mr. Obama. The gravity of these endorsements cannot be underestimated. Then again, I think it an indictment of John McCain and his VP pick, Sarah Palin, as much as it is a plug for Mr. Obama. Did I mention that Barack Obama is black? And in my lifetime no less. Who-da thunk? This is going to be interesting to be sure. I've taken the day after the election off to take it all in. I want to hear the scorched earth cries from the sidelines by the likes of Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity. Don't they know by now that the Bill Ayers bullshit just isn't cutting it? Apparently not. Guilt by association went out the window with the Bush administration and the american public is having none of it this time around. Looks like Hillary is going to have to wait until 2016 before she and Bill get another shot at the presidency. She will be even older and more haggard than she is now. That's all right. Her supporters aren't getting any younger either.
I think we'll put it down on the calendar. It worked out so well this year that I'm sure the boys will want to take another swing at it next year. Yes, the trip to LG and the indoor water park at the Great Escape worked out as expected. The boys spent most of their time in the water as was expected. The good news for us was that they needed no hand holding and may have even enjoyed the independence afforded them. Both Nancy and I got in our exercise and did what we wanted to do despite a less than spectacular exercise set-up at the hotel. For me, it was an extended walk to Walmart and points south early on in the day and bit of time on the treadmill. We managed to take a ride in Uncle Wally's boat despite the cold weather and windy white capped conditions on the lake. His new boat was fierce and feisty and full featured complete with kitchen, head, and surround sound although we never got to test out the surround sound. The darn thing has two dashboards. Can you imagine? In fact, Uncle Wally and I had breakfast on Sunday at Johnny Rockets and had a chance to hash it all out. I do regret the fact that the boys never got together with Carli and that Rollie never got to see the boys due to their being too busy with other things. That is how it should be when you're fourteen. I know, were I fourteen again, that I wouldn't have it any other way. So, we'll do it again all thing else being equal.
What about that stupid bitch working for McCain in Pennsylvania who carved a "B" in her left cheek and blamed it on a big black man about 6 feet 4 inches. The black man, allegedly, had seen the McCain bumper sticker on her car and wanted to teach her a lesson. The "B", in case you are still in the dark (no pun intended) is for "Barack". Oh, I guess he must be a Barack Obama supporter. To add injury to insult, he robbed and fondled her. That's what big black men do. Especially the big black ones. Right. Boy, if that doesn't gin up some racist hatred in the white community in Western PA. Were it not for the fact that it was all contrived, it would have been just what MCain needed to revive his failing campaign in that oh-so-critical battleground state. And to think that the communications director for McCain in that state wanted to peddle it, an unvetted account to be sure, to the media as truth is about as bad as it gets. What were they thinking? So that's what the kitchen sink looks like...
Wally's Birthday
12/10/08 07:28
Happy Birthday, Uncle Wally! We hope you get everything your little heart desires for your birthday. There is one little caveat this time around. If one or more of those little desires has anything to do with money, especially where world financial markets are concerned, you need to reconsider. We'll get through this. With Obama at the helm, we'll have real fireside chats where complete sentences are in abundance. You won't have to wash your hands after ever press conference. You won't have to wait until there is a worldwide financial crisis to hear from your president that all is not well with the economy and we're in for a bumpy ride ahead. You can expect to pay for that kind of honesty although with what I'm not sure. We'll surely see some left leaning partisans in place of the right wingers we're otherwise accustomed to but the political pendulum will continue to swing as it has for thousands of years in the past and will for thousands of years to come. Get used to it. And, for Christ sakes, forget about Hillary Clinton. Pull the lever for your man and mine, Barack Hussein Obama. Vote for Change!
I'm not big on yard sales and I typically don't bother with them. Why would you even consider bringing home something that other people have used and abused only to discard at the curbs edge at the end of the day? Nancy showed me an article recently which talked about using popcorn poppers to roast coffee beans. The writer referenced a particular popcorn popper and Nancy, for whatever reason, wrote it on a piece of paper and stuck it in her wallet. In fact, the article mentioned that the referenced popper was no longer manufactured but that you could usually find them at yard sales or even on E-bay. Well, sure enough, we found one of these puppies at the yard sale we dropped in on yesterday. I walked right past it but Nancy scooped it up without hesitation after making sure that it was what she thought it was. Nobody was the wiser and, for us, it was a dollar well spent. Not a bad deal. Throw in a hummingbird feeder for next season @ $3, a funny faces bird feeder for this coming winter for another $3, an old clock radio to add to my collection for $1, and it all came to less than $10. That is what I call supporting your local community. If you consider for a moment, as we did, that we were attending a yard sale in the wake of a foreclosure, it added a dimension of sadness to an otherwise satisfying experience. As my uncle Frank always liked to say, that's life. I think he sang a song by the same name. He was a crooner if there ever was one. That's a story for another day.
I've been trying to distance myself from eating processed food as of late. Raw is better but not always as tasty. Besides, who doesn't love sugar, fat, and salt? It was good enough for our parents, it should be good enough for us. Right? Wrong! They didn't know any better and we do. So the time is now to right all those wrongs. Not so fast, Johnny boy. You've been plying your body with this garbage for decades and now you want to go cold turkey. Is cold turkey a processed food? I think I've been making considerable progress in the past few months. I scour labels to make sure I buy nothing with sugar; I eat fruits and vegetables as often as I possibly can; all dairy products are non-fat or, in the case of cottage cheese, I prefer 2% to either the 1% or zero fat content. It just tastes better. Where my snacks used to consist of chocolates or other foods devoid of nutritional value, I now snack on whole grain crackers, fresh vegetables, hard boiled eggs, etc. It's all about combinations. I never have carbs without protein (protein slows digestion of carbs), fats that are anything but mono saturated (extra virgin olive oil), and I never go too long without eating something. It's all about avoiding sugary spikes and putting the right octane in the tank. I have so much more energy both mentally and physically that I probably seem somewhat manic to those who know me best.
You know what they say about coming full circle. I remember the days in my youth when the elders were decrying the generalized use of BHT and BHT as food preservatives and were alternatively pushing cod liver oil, bone meal, and vitamin D. I wasn't worldly enough to admit it then but there was an element of truth to what they were selling. I had to put on more pounds than were necessary and more years than I care to admit to come around to their way of thinking. Undoing all of those learned behaviors requires a forbearance that I am not sure I possess. Even now, as I am months into this new discipline, I await the pitfalls that everyone talks about but am otherwise on the straight and narrow. I made a great chili over the weekend (beans are a good source of fiber and low on the glycemic index scale), plan to make a nice greek salad today (nice combination of olive oil, lemon, onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, and reduced fat feta cheese), and I'm looking for a good recipe for white radishes that I bought at yesterday's Farmer's Market. Did I mention that Brazil nuts are good for you?
I'm not big on yard sales and I typically don't bother with them. Why would you even consider bringing home something that other people have used and abused only to discard at the curbs edge at the end of the day? Nancy showed me an article recently which talked about using popcorn poppers to roast coffee beans. The writer referenced a particular popcorn popper and Nancy, for whatever reason, wrote it on a piece of paper and stuck it in her wallet. In fact, the article mentioned that the referenced popper was no longer manufactured but that you could usually find them at yard sales or even on E-bay. Well, sure enough, we found one of these puppies at the yard sale we dropped in on yesterday. I walked right past it but Nancy scooped it up without hesitation after making sure that it was what she thought it was. Nobody was the wiser and, for us, it was a dollar well spent. Not a bad deal. Throw in a hummingbird feeder for next season @ $3, a funny faces bird feeder for this coming winter for another $3, an old clock radio to add to my collection for $1, and it all came to less than $10. That is what I call supporting your local community. If you consider for a moment, as we did, that we were attending a yard sale in the wake of a foreclosure, it added a dimension of sadness to an otherwise satisfying experience. As my uncle Frank always liked to say, that's life. I think he sang a song by the same name. He was a crooner if there ever was one. That's a story for another day.
I've been trying to distance myself from eating processed food as of late. Raw is better but not always as tasty. Besides, who doesn't love sugar, fat, and salt? It was good enough for our parents, it should be good enough for us. Right? Wrong! They didn't know any better and we do. So the time is now to right all those wrongs. Not so fast, Johnny boy. You've been plying your body with this garbage for decades and now you want to go cold turkey. Is cold turkey a processed food? I think I've been making considerable progress in the past few months. I scour labels to make sure I buy nothing with sugar; I eat fruits and vegetables as often as I possibly can; all dairy products are non-fat or, in the case of cottage cheese, I prefer 2% to either the 1% or zero fat content. It just tastes better. Where my snacks used to consist of chocolates or other foods devoid of nutritional value, I now snack on whole grain crackers, fresh vegetables, hard boiled eggs, etc. It's all about combinations. I never have carbs without protein (protein slows digestion of carbs), fats that are anything but mono saturated (extra virgin olive oil), and I never go too long without eating something. It's all about avoiding sugary spikes and putting the right octane in the tank. I have so much more energy both mentally and physically that I probably seem somewhat manic to those who know me best.
You know what they say about coming full circle. I remember the days in my youth when the elders were decrying the generalized use of BHT and BHT as food preservatives and were alternatively pushing cod liver oil, bone meal, and vitamin D. I wasn't worldly enough to admit it then but there was an element of truth to what they were selling. I had to put on more pounds than were necessary and more years than I care to admit to come around to their way of thinking. Undoing all of those learned behaviors requires a forbearance that I am not sure I possess. Even now, as I am months into this new discipline, I await the pitfalls that everyone talks about but am otherwise on the straight and narrow. I made a great chili over the weekend (beans are a good source of fiber and low on the glycemic index scale), plan to make a nice greek salad today (nice combination of olive oil, lemon, onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, and reduced fat feta cheese), and I'm looking for a good recipe for white radishes that I bought at yesterday's Farmer's Market. Did I mention that Brazil nuts are good for you?
Humiliating Stunts
05/10/08 07:08
Ev decided that he couldn't live without one of those controllers for his PS3 that actually allows you to experience the feel of the road as you wind your way through one of the many courses on his motorcycle. He dusted off his gift certificate from Uncle Wally and family and asked my advice as he browsed the many options available on the Amazon site. I was happy to help and even happier to take the wheel since I don't want him getting too cozy with online vendors. This is especially true when and where we are registered users. He is way too cozy with the Apple crowd and has had an iTunes account for many years which he uses with some regularity. He may be moving too fast for us to ever catch up with now. Just last week we received a Netflix movie in the mail that was not only not ever in the queue but it was one that Nan would never have ordered. Ev took it upon himself to select the movie from Netflix online, movie it to the top of the queue, and not say much of anything to anybody. Not sure what he was thinking since Nan gets the mail every day but it may signal his desperation to see the movie. The movie, by the way, was "Jackass". In case you haven't heard of it, it features tightrope walking over live alligators, making snow cones out of urine, and other strange, painful, and humiliating stunts. Teenagers.
I decided yesterday that I had to drive the route which I take every day on my bike. Not because I felt the need to take in the scenery one more time but because I thought it might be nice to know how far I actually ride. If I multiply that number by 7, I get a weekly total. Since all things are cumulative, the bigger the number, the better. We're talking about my health here, folks. You know what they say about the importance of moving your body. When you get older, it is even more important if not critical. So, I was feeling a little bored mid afternoon and I took the ride. Turns out that it is a 10 mile route from beginning to end. That is a whopping 70 miles a week. Who knew. I used to think that my body needed a rest so I rode every other day. It quickly turned into every day and that was never a bad thing. Now, I don't mind things that might have otherwise bothered me at first. I'm talking about things like rain, wind, etc. Fact of the matter is I am never alone and the faces are often the same when the going gets tough. The route is a popular one and tracks nicely along the ocean. It ends in one direction at a farm in Hampton, NH, which is the birthplace of two past Kentucky Derby winners. Not sure what I'll do now that the weather is turning colder. I'll brave it as long as I can and then wait for Spring to return before hitting the road again. Between now and then, who knows.
I decided yesterday that I had to drive the route which I take every day on my bike. Not because I felt the need to take in the scenery one more time but because I thought it might be nice to know how far I actually ride. If I multiply that number by 7, I get a weekly total. Since all things are cumulative, the bigger the number, the better. We're talking about my health here, folks. You know what they say about the importance of moving your body. When you get older, it is even more important if not critical. So, I was feeling a little bored mid afternoon and I took the ride. Turns out that it is a 10 mile route from beginning to end. That is a whopping 70 miles a week. Who knew. I used to think that my body needed a rest so I rode every other day. It quickly turned into every day and that was never a bad thing. Now, I don't mind things that might have otherwise bothered me at first. I'm talking about things like rain, wind, etc. Fact of the matter is I am never alone and the faces are often the same when the going gets tough. The route is a popular one and tracks nicely along the ocean. It ends in one direction at a farm in Hampton, NH, which is the birthplace of two past Kentucky Derby winners. Not sure what I'll do now that the weather is turning colder. I'll brave it as long as I can and then wait for Spring to return before hitting the road again. Between now and then, who knows.
You betcha
04/10/08 06:42
I should know better than to sit down at this here keyboard when I haven't had a good night's sleep. I awoke as I am prone to do in the early morning hours, probably a little after 1a.m. I turned on the radio and caught the end of the Red Sox game against the California Angels. They were in the top of the 9th and the game was all tied up at 5 to 5. With a win, the Sox would return to Boston for Game 3 up two games in the best of 5 series. I've seen the Sox blow too many of these types of games over the course of the season and I wasn't optimistic to say the least. Then, to my amazement, Poppy hit a double and JD Drew drove him in with a 2 run homer to put the Sox up 7 to 5. Jonathan Papelbon took the mound for the Sox and threw a take-no-prisoners inning in the bottom of the 9th and that was all she wrote. That, my friends, was worth waking up for. But wait, there's more.
I had forgotten along the way somehow that OJ Simpson was in the final hours of his trial in Las Vegas for robbery and kidnapping charges. What I didn't realize when I went to sleep, but soon realized as I regained my equilibrium after hearing the Red Sox win their game on the West Coast, was that the jury was just now coming back with a verdict at the late hour of 10p.m. I guess those jurors really wanted to go home for the weekend and they weren't about to let a felon the likes of OJ stand in the way of their plans. Besides, that bastard should have gone to prison some thirteen years earlier almost to the day for the brutal slaying of his wife and her boyfriend. If the baby Jesus has anything to say about it, justice will be served. We can only hope that sentencing will take him into the end zone for one last time.
Sarah who? Yes, I'm talkin' bout McCain's running mate, Sarah Palin. You know, the one with the cutesy hairdo and a folksy style that won't quit. Was that a wink she gave the audience in the Vice Presidential debate the other night in front of 69 million viewers? Oh, Sarah, those glasses you wear are just so darling. That is the last you'll see of good ole Sarah unless you are one of the fawning faithful willing to go see her by McCain's side as he takes to the hustings in these remaining weeks of the campaign. God forbid someone ask her a thoughtful or serious question like, what newspapers do you read, or, can you name a Supreme court decision besides Roe v Wade. And I am, by most accounts, quite conservative. Even I find her lack of substance to be of serious concern. McCain is but a bowel movement away from death and he has the unmitigated gaul to put this moron on his ticket. What was he thinking? Here's what I think; he's toast. And he thought he was so cool by putting a woman on the ticket. Oh, I'll get all those disaffected Hillary voters and I'll be on my way, he probably thought to himself. If that is the kind of thinking and judgement that we can come to expect in a McCain presidency. If so, I want no part of a McCain Presidency. We deserve better. The world deserves better. We can do better. Even if that means putting a black man in the office. My boy, Barack. That might take some getting used to.
I had forgotten along the way somehow that OJ Simpson was in the final hours of his trial in Las Vegas for robbery and kidnapping charges. What I didn't realize when I went to sleep, but soon realized as I regained my equilibrium after hearing the Red Sox win their game on the West Coast, was that the jury was just now coming back with a verdict at the late hour of 10p.m. I guess those jurors really wanted to go home for the weekend and they weren't about to let a felon the likes of OJ stand in the way of their plans. Besides, that bastard should have gone to prison some thirteen years earlier almost to the day for the brutal slaying of his wife and her boyfriend. If the baby Jesus has anything to say about it, justice will be served. We can only hope that sentencing will take him into the end zone for one last time.
Sarah who? Yes, I'm talkin' bout McCain's running mate, Sarah Palin. You know, the one with the cutesy hairdo and a folksy style that won't quit. Was that a wink she gave the audience in the Vice Presidential debate the other night in front of 69 million viewers? Oh, Sarah, those glasses you wear are just so darling. That is the last you'll see of good ole Sarah unless you are one of the fawning faithful willing to go see her by McCain's side as he takes to the hustings in these remaining weeks of the campaign. God forbid someone ask her a thoughtful or serious question like, what newspapers do you read, or, can you name a Supreme court decision besides Roe v Wade. And I am, by most accounts, quite conservative. Even I find her lack of substance to be of serious concern. McCain is but a bowel movement away from death and he has the unmitigated gaul to put this moron on his ticket. What was he thinking? Here's what I think; he's toast. And he thought he was so cool by putting a woman on the ticket. Oh, I'll get all those disaffected Hillary voters and I'll be on my way, he probably thought to himself. If that is the kind of thinking and judgement that we can come to expect in a McCain presidency. If so, I want no part of a McCain Presidency. We deserve better. The world deserves better. We can do better. Even if that means putting a black man in the office. My boy, Barack. That might take some getting used to.
Alpha Males
28/09/08 08:02
We received a call this past week from someone at school about Ev’s behavior. He was spitting or something like that from the top of a stairway and it sounded down right horrible. Why would he do something like that? Why would they make a point of calling us to tell us that rather than just doing a detention thing? Apparently, this is the way they do things in that grade. Oddly enough, the caller went on to tell us that Ev was one of three boys jockeying for the position of alpha male and this was not unexpected of those vying for such things. Why they felt the need to frame the discussion in the context of a social framework I'm not sure. Perhaps they wanted us to know that they had seen this sort of thing before and the conclusions were always the same. The players differed, the acts were more or less gratuitous, but the call to the parents was an important component in the rehabilitation of the student. I do hope that Nancy struck just the right tone in expressing her abject horror and disbelief when speaking to the school. You can never be too politically correct in these types of situations when dealing with public school officials. They want to hear it in your voice.
I wanted to be sure that when I spoke to Ev about it that I did not attach any more significance to the event than was warranted. Besides, who doesn't want their son to be the alpha male if he has otherwise earned the right to occupy that position amongst his peers. Is it not the Johnny-Be-Good equivalent of someone running for class president? Do they not accrue the same benefits, i.e., babes, best spot in the cafeteria at lunchtime, everyone following their lead (if you're not the lead dog, the view is always the same), and does this not position him well for the rest of the school year? The answer is probably yes to all of the above. Maybe it's our job as parents to guide them through the miss-manners-maze and to protect them from themselves when and where necessary. My parting message to him was that this sort of behavior was not appropriate and certainly not anything that I ever did or even considered when I was in school. Then again, I never thought twice about wanting to be the alpha male when I was in school. I left the alpha male part out of the discussion when speaking to him. That was probably the appropriate thing to do. He denied everything of course.
I wanted to be sure that when I spoke to Ev about it that I did not attach any more significance to the event than was warranted. Besides, who doesn't want their son to be the alpha male if he has otherwise earned the right to occupy that position amongst his peers. Is it not the Johnny-Be-Good equivalent of someone running for class president? Do they not accrue the same benefits, i.e., babes, best spot in the cafeteria at lunchtime, everyone following their lead (if you're not the lead dog, the view is always the same), and does this not position him well for the rest of the school year? The answer is probably yes to all of the above. Maybe it's our job as parents to guide them through the miss-manners-maze and to protect them from themselves when and where necessary. My parting message to him was that this sort of behavior was not appropriate and certainly not anything that I ever did or even considered when I was in school. Then again, I never thought twice about wanting to be the alpha male when I was in school. I left the alpha male part out of the discussion when speaking to him. That was probably the appropriate thing to do. He denied everything of course.
Throw One on the Barbie
21/09/08 07:36
Don't know about you guys but I love hummus. Or, it that spelled h-u-m-u-s? I like it so much that I made a batch from scratch yesterday (used recipe from Moosewood cookbook / thanks, Denise!). I even bought a bag of raw chick peas and let the little fellas soak for a bit just to soften them up. I used our food processor to mince up the garlic and the only thing that I was missing once all was said and done was a masher. I could see it in my minds eye and I even went so far as to imagine that we had one and searched through our kitchen drawers just in case it was not a figment of my imagination. Funny thing is that when we went into Portsmouth later in the day for an afternoon coffee we visited a new kitchen store where I saw one on display. Since I was not sure what else I might use a masher for in the near term, I elected not to make the purchase. There were other things that caught my eye including an olive oil mister, an avocado pitter and slicer, and some rather inviting looking knives. A good set of knives is critical when it comes to slicing and dicing all the seasonal favorites. As I think ahead to the rest of this weekend, the thought of making a nice Ratatouille looms large. Just what the doctor ordered.
One of my favorite items as of late, especially when it comes to grilling, is eggplant. I just love the color of eggplant. I'm talking about the purple variety as it comes in many different colors and shapes. I like to slice them about a 1/4 inch, smother them in extra virgin olive oil, and place them on a preheated grill. Nancy usually has plenty of leftover homemade spaghetti sauce and I occasionally take the grilled eggplant, layer it in baking dish with alternating layers of reduced fat mozzarella cheese, tomato sauce, and freshly picked basil, and bake it up at about 400 degrees for about 15 minutes. Talk about yum-ski. This past week, a neighbor dropped off about 4-5 lbs of tomatoes from their garden and I used those in place of Nan's sauce. It makes a very sweet leftover dish and it sets up in the fridge overnight. Damn. Emeril, get your own show!
The Ev-man was funny this year. He wanted lemon squares for his birthday rather than the customary homemade chocolate cake that his mom usually throws together. I use that phrase loosely as she rarely "throws" together anything when it comes to her son. The only rationale that made any sense to me as to why he preferred lemon squares over chocolate cake is that the squares were more likely to give him an infusion of sugar faster than the cake ever could. Nancy talked to me after the fact about the two sticks of butter required for the crust alone and I could feel my arteries hardening as she spoke. She did not elaborate on how much of the required butter she used but you can bet your bottom dollar it wasn't two sticks. Surprisingly, even the candles held up well but I must say that they looked a little funny. Maybe I'm just used to seeing them sticking in chocolate cake. I kept my idle thoughts to myself and the party went on.
Many thanks to the brothers and sisters who acknowledged Ev's b-day. I don't know how people keep track of those things. He was happy to receive his gifts and will spend monies received as frivolously as he prefers; will wear all three of his Red Sox tee shirts but not at the same time (one can only hope); and will get his thank you cards in the mail before Christmas if his mother has anything to say about it. In other words, the more things change the more they stay the same.
Update: The slideshow has been updated.
One of my favorite items as of late, especially when it comes to grilling, is eggplant. I just love the color of eggplant. I'm talking about the purple variety as it comes in many different colors and shapes. I like to slice them about a 1/4 inch, smother them in extra virgin olive oil, and place them on a preheated grill. Nancy usually has plenty of leftover homemade spaghetti sauce and I occasionally take the grilled eggplant, layer it in baking dish with alternating layers of reduced fat mozzarella cheese, tomato sauce, and freshly picked basil, and bake it up at about 400 degrees for about 15 minutes. Talk about yum-ski. This past week, a neighbor dropped off about 4-5 lbs of tomatoes from their garden and I used those in place of Nan's sauce. It makes a very sweet leftover dish and it sets up in the fridge overnight. Damn. Emeril, get your own show!
The Ev-man was funny this year. He wanted lemon squares for his birthday rather than the customary homemade chocolate cake that his mom usually throws together. I use that phrase loosely as she rarely "throws" together anything when it comes to her son. The only rationale that made any sense to me as to why he preferred lemon squares over chocolate cake is that the squares were more likely to give him an infusion of sugar faster than the cake ever could. Nancy talked to me after the fact about the two sticks of butter required for the crust alone and I could feel my arteries hardening as she spoke. She did not elaborate on how much of the required butter she used but you can bet your bottom dollar it wasn't two sticks. Surprisingly, even the candles held up well but I must say that they looked a little funny. Maybe I'm just used to seeing them sticking in chocolate cake. I kept my idle thoughts to myself and the party went on.
Many thanks to the brothers and sisters who acknowledged Ev's b-day. I don't know how people keep track of those things. He was happy to receive his gifts and will spend monies received as frivolously as he prefers; will wear all three of his Red Sox tee shirts but not at the same time (one can only hope); and will get his thank you cards in the mail before Christmas if his mother has anything to say about it. In other words, the more things change the more they stay the same.
Update: The slideshow has been updated.
The Silence is Deafening
13/09/08 15:44
I saw an e-mail to Jim-bob recently but have seen no response. I got a phone call from Jim-bob some time ago but he never rang me up again. It’s hard to know where to reach Mr. Jim-bob these days so I was hoping, really hoping, that he might answer the e-mail and copy us all in on what’s going on. Geez, Mr. Bob, can you spare a dime? Got a free moment for a few of your fans and buds-fer-life? I guess we’ll hang loose and see what happens. We’ll hope for the best. Yes, we will. Isn’t that what we do best, Mr. Bob?
I don’t know why but I’m always trying to get the boys and girls in this household to turn off the lights when they leave a room. Dad had the same problem with the lot of us growing up and now I know what he went through. We were either heating the outdoors by leaving things open or we were enriching the local gas and electric company by leaving lights on when we weren’t there. I couldn’t appreciate it then but I sure can now. It’s deja’ vu all over again. So, I end up doing what dad did. I turn the damn things off myself. Don’t have a dog so I can’t kick him. I guess it’s true when they say that the more things change the more they stay the same.
Thanks a lot for the rain. How the bejeezus am I supposed to go for my bike ride in the rain? It’s not that I can’t ride in the rain but I clearly would rather not. I’m already dragging my feet here at 8:02 on a Sunday morning by not being out on the highway. I’ll put all my Sunday morning political shows on record so I won’t have to worry about missing anything. There is even a pretty good breeze kicking around so that will probably make my ride a difficult one at least on one leg of the trip if not both. It’s all that nasty shit coming up from Texas. I guess we can thank hurricane “Ike” for his contributions to the local weather today. I, for one, will withhold my applause until I get back from my bike ride.
The Ev man had a long day yesterday. He attended the Bar Mitzvah of a friend in the morning and evening and played his heart out in a soccer game in between which his team won handily. A parent of one of the players on the opposing team asked me where our boys were from and I told him. He responded, “they sure do grow big boys there.” A loose translation of his comment might go something like this; who do you think you are to come into our town and humiliate our lads? Here is a loose translation of my response: Suck it up, dude. Your team is toast. Most of the boys on the team spent the evening at the Bar Mitzvah party in downtown Portsmouth. Nancy and I dropped three of them off at the party a little after 8, including the Ev man. They were dressed to kill. With one win already under their belt for the day, testosterone was in abundant supply. Party down, dudes. This is your time.
I don’t know why but I’m always trying to get the boys and girls in this household to turn off the lights when they leave a room. Dad had the same problem with the lot of us growing up and now I know what he went through. We were either heating the outdoors by leaving things open or we were enriching the local gas and electric company by leaving lights on when we weren’t there. I couldn’t appreciate it then but I sure can now. It’s deja’ vu all over again. So, I end up doing what dad did. I turn the damn things off myself. Don’t have a dog so I can’t kick him. I guess it’s true when they say that the more things change the more they stay the same.
Thanks a lot for the rain. How the bejeezus am I supposed to go for my bike ride in the rain? It’s not that I can’t ride in the rain but I clearly would rather not. I’m already dragging my feet here at 8:02 on a Sunday morning by not being out on the highway. I’ll put all my Sunday morning political shows on record so I won’t have to worry about missing anything. There is even a pretty good breeze kicking around so that will probably make my ride a difficult one at least on one leg of the trip if not both. It’s all that nasty shit coming up from Texas. I guess we can thank hurricane “Ike” for his contributions to the local weather today. I, for one, will withhold my applause until I get back from my bike ride.
The Ev man had a long day yesterday. He attended the Bar Mitzvah of a friend in the morning and evening and played his heart out in a soccer game in between which his team won handily. A parent of one of the players on the opposing team asked me where our boys were from and I told him. He responded, “they sure do grow big boys there.” A loose translation of his comment might go something like this; who do you think you are to come into our town and humiliate our lads? Here is a loose translation of my response: Suck it up, dude. Your team is toast. Most of the boys on the team spent the evening at the Bar Mitzvah party in downtown Portsmouth. Nancy and I dropped three of them off at the party a little after 8, including the Ev man. They were dressed to kill. With one win already under their belt for the day, testosterone was in abundant supply. Party down, dudes. This is your time.
Soccer Season
07/09/08 07:24
The rain blew in here last night and it was relentless. So much so that it woke me up a couple of times during the night. It was wicked. What I heard was merely the remnants of the hurricane that hit the Carolinas earlier this weekend. Lucky them. All I could think about was the car widows that I may have left open or the bikes left outside or the windows I might have left open in the house. I’ve been pretty good about not leaving things open lately for whatever reason so it was nothing more than a passing thought and then I went back to sleep. I might have considered the impact of the rain on my morning bike ride but that too was an idle thought since I have been known to ride in the rain. As I sit here now, the sun is shining so all is well with the world. In my world, at least.
I made a very nice avacado salsa last weekend which we enjoyed very much. I plan to make a double this weekend so we can keep it on hand for a while longer. You haven’t lived until you’ve had it on a turkey and cheese wrap smothered with onions and tomatoes. I’m trying hard to have whole grains and lots of vegetables while the little buggers are in season. I’ve even migrated to pomegranate juice which some might consider extreme. It sits in our fridge right next to the V8 juice. And how about that homemade hummus? God, you can just eat spoonful after spoonful of that stuff without ever tiring of it. The spicier the better. We can’t keep it in the fridge long enough. I will say that it makes a delightful substitute for mayonnaise. Got to keep away from that fructose corn syrup as well. It’s in everything! It’s no wonder we’re a population of fat fucks.
I plan to put together a slide show of our summer vacation at the lake soon so be sure to pay a visit to the Slideshow section of the site in the near future. Evan is playing both school soccer and travel soccer so I will have some soccer pics for you as well. We may do a dvd for the travel team since they have played together for many years now and this is the last year since it ends when the boys go to high school. I thought about taking some footage yesterday but I was glad I didn’t in retrospect since there was a lot of background noise of parents prattling away about this and that which wouldn’t have contributed to the video in any meaningful way. There are times when I wish I had a bullshit filter. I would selectively slice that crap like a bushido master practicing his swing on a blade of grass. Swooosh! It would make so little noise that even that (Swoosh) is a bit of an exaggeration. You get my drift.
I made a very nice avacado salsa last weekend which we enjoyed very much. I plan to make a double this weekend so we can keep it on hand for a while longer. You haven’t lived until you’ve had it on a turkey and cheese wrap smothered with onions and tomatoes. I’m trying hard to have whole grains and lots of vegetables while the little buggers are in season. I’ve even migrated to pomegranate juice which some might consider extreme. It sits in our fridge right next to the V8 juice. And how about that homemade hummus? God, you can just eat spoonful after spoonful of that stuff without ever tiring of it. The spicier the better. We can’t keep it in the fridge long enough. I will say that it makes a delightful substitute for mayonnaise. Got to keep away from that fructose corn syrup as well. It’s in everything! It’s no wonder we’re a population of fat fucks.
I plan to put together a slide show of our summer vacation at the lake soon so be sure to pay a visit to the Slideshow section of the site in the near future. Evan is playing both school soccer and travel soccer so I will have some soccer pics for you as well. We may do a dvd for the travel team since they have played together for many years now and this is the last year since it ends when the boys go to high school. I thought about taking some footage yesterday but I was glad I didn’t in retrospect since there was a lot of background noise of parents prattling away about this and that which wouldn’t have contributed to the video in any meaningful way. There are times when I wish I had a bullshit filter. I would selectively slice that crap like a bushido master practicing his swing on a blade of grass. Swooosh! It would make so little noise that even that (Swoosh) is a bit of an exaggeration. You get my drift.
Going with the flow
18/08/08 06:01
I kind of like McCain’s VP choice of Sarah Palin, Gov from Alaska. She’s a babe. Fiesty, intelligent, and as independent a thinker as you might see come out of a state as isolated as Alaska. McCain is such an old windbag that I doubt she’ll see the halls of Congress if he gets in. She will serve her purpose as a politically expedient stooge and that will be that. Once in, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that she has packed her bags and gone back to Alaska. As is often said about the position of VP, it amounts to little more than a bucket of warm spit. I’m just a little surprised that she has agreed to do what she has for McCain. And for what? If he thought he could have gotten away with it, he would have had Joe Lieberman the democrat on the ticket. What a loser.
I wanted to add something to my blog about Nancy and her miserable sense of refrigerator feng shui. I know that because every time I open the door I can’t make sense of the order of things. Your eyes should drift from shelf to shelf and item to item as though you were tracking inventory at the local grocery store. Rather, there is clutter everywhere. There are small morsels in large containers; vegetables where they don’t belong; cans along the rear of the shelves that have no business being in the refrigerator; jars of jam long emptied but not empty enough to throw away; side drawers piled high with baggies, plastic lemons, cheese sticks, and god only knows what lies at the bottom of those shelves. My eating is more orderly these days and I need the refrigerator to reflect that same passion. I have already insisted that she use the counter space in the kitchen not for her mail and magazines but rather as it was intended to be used. As a space to prepare and even, on occasion, store food. I should have been tipped off long ago when Nancy marked the dates on everything she placed in the fridge. It all makes sense now.
Hurricane Gustav is bearing down on the Gulf Coast as a level four storm and it may well eclipse the planned and unplanned hoopla of Republican National Convention on schedule for early next week. Can you spell K-A-T-R-I-N-A? All the major networks are showing the cities residents with bags packed lining the streets. I guess the white folks have already left in their cars because I don’t see any of those good folks waiting in line at the bus stations. It’s all voluntary at this point and that may splain why things look so orderly. When people who haven’t left voluntarily have to fight over available spots in armories and gymnasiums it will really start to get ugly. Since I am not a big fan of McCain’s, I say let the storm begin.
I wanted to add something to my blog about Nancy and her miserable sense of refrigerator feng shui. I know that because every time I open the door I can’t make sense of the order of things. Your eyes should drift from shelf to shelf and item to item as though you were tracking inventory at the local grocery store. Rather, there is clutter everywhere. There are small morsels in large containers; vegetables where they don’t belong; cans along the rear of the shelves that have no business being in the refrigerator; jars of jam long emptied but not empty enough to throw away; side drawers piled high with baggies, plastic lemons, cheese sticks, and god only knows what lies at the bottom of those shelves. My eating is more orderly these days and I need the refrigerator to reflect that same passion. I have already insisted that she use the counter space in the kitchen not for her mail and magazines but rather as it was intended to be used. As a space to prepare and even, on occasion, store food. I should have been tipped off long ago when Nancy marked the dates on everything she placed in the fridge. It all makes sense now.
Hurricane Gustav is bearing down on the Gulf Coast as a level four storm and it may well eclipse the planned and unplanned hoopla of Republican National Convention on schedule for early next week. Can you spell K-A-T-R-I-N-A? All the major networks are showing the cities residents with bags packed lining the streets. I guess the white folks have already left in their cars because I don’t see any of those good folks waiting in line at the bus stations. It’s all voluntary at this point and that may splain why things look so orderly. When people who haven’t left voluntarily have to fight over available spots in armories and gymnasiums it will really start to get ugly. Since I am not a big fan of McCain’s, I say let the storm begin.
Lake George Blog - Day Six
08/08/08 16:45
On the other hand, this is a boy who told us the other day that he actually saved a spider from a fate worse than death when he rescued the little critter from the lake by taking it aboard his raft and transporting it safely to shore. I may have suggested that it was a water spider and he did nothing more than inconvenience it or, worse yet, deprive it of a regularly scheduled meal. It is important to understand that Evan is frightened of spiders so this act of his is that much more “generous.” Evan is not unkind and has always had a soft spot in his heart, or so it seems, for younger children. He is not a bully, or at least I don’t think he is. I would hope that he would come to their rescue as he did for the spider. Peer pressure being what it is, that would be a risky venture but not totally out of character for the Ev man. I have to be careful here not to imbue him with qualities that he doesn’t actually possess nor those that I would confer upon him as a parent who would do the same for his or her child. In other words, I have to be careful not to create a boy out of whole cloth that does not otherwise exist in nature. It would be far better to model him with some defects because Mother Nature would have done the same thing.
Nancy has such a terrific recipe for chicken enchilada’s and she promised to make it for the boys during our time on the lake. Problem is, when the time came to do just that, she didn’t have the recipe at all. She was short a little cumin and a couple of other ingredients that were critical to the meal’s success. Worse yet, she waited until we were expecting guests here at the camp; waited until I baked the chicken beneath the broiler; waited until she discovered specks on an unknown origin out of the fry pan in which she was preparing sauce and even then, until I helped her out by trying every strainer we could find until we just gave up. Finally, she defaulted to another recipe and that was the end of that. I was so looking forward to having that meal as were the boys. Rollie, Carli, and Terri will never know what they missed. I think they would have enjoyed it. Oh, well.
I did have a nice bike ride down Cleverdale road yesterday. The air was cool and my ride felt effortless in the early morning air. I felt good about doing something for me straight away than jumping in with both feet to take the boys skiing, tubing, or fishing. I was determined not to rush and to take my time if that was what my body was telling me to do. It gave freedom to smile at people I passed and what a friendly bunch they were. I passed parents walking their children in strollers, people running with their dogs, and drivers waiting at intersections until I passed safely. The least friendly person I encountered was the clerk at the store where I purchased the paper. She was much too young to be as unfriendly as she was and it was only when she dropped the change in the palm of my hand that I sensed that she was actually making every effort to avoid contact with me in that little act of self desperation.
Nancy has such a terrific recipe for chicken enchilada’s and she promised to make it for the boys during our time on the lake. Problem is, when the time came to do just that, she didn’t have the recipe at all. She was short a little cumin and a couple of other ingredients that were critical to the meal’s success. Worse yet, she waited until we were expecting guests here at the camp; waited until I baked the chicken beneath the broiler; waited until she discovered specks on an unknown origin out of the fry pan in which she was preparing sauce and even then, until I helped her out by trying every strainer we could find until we just gave up. Finally, she defaulted to another recipe and that was the end of that. I was so looking forward to having that meal as were the boys. Rollie, Carli, and Terri will never know what they missed. I think they would have enjoyed it. Oh, well.
I did have a nice bike ride down Cleverdale road yesterday. The air was cool and my ride felt effortless in the early morning air. I felt good about doing something for me straight away than jumping in with both feet to take the boys skiing, tubing, or fishing. I was determined not to rush and to take my time if that was what my body was telling me to do. It gave freedom to smile at people I passed and what a friendly bunch they were. I passed parents walking their children in strollers, people running with their dogs, and drivers waiting at intersections until I passed safely. The least friendly person I encountered was the clerk at the store where I purchased the paper. She was much too young to be as unfriendly as she was and it was only when she dropped the change in the palm of my hand that I sensed that she was actually making every effort to avoid contact with me in that little act of self desperation.
Lake George Blog - Day Five
07/08/08 16:45
Those boys were up and 1am and I gave a holler upstairs to tell them to go to bed. I was half asleep so I’m not sure if I threw in a little “you little bastards” just for effect or not. They are right above our bedroom so there is little reprieve from the nuances of life especially when they elect to stay up half the night while the rest of the world is fast asleep. They may have had enough bullhead fishing for one trip and you only have to wrestle with them once to know that they are not much fun to deal with if you have to rip the hook from their intestines just to get your hook free. Evan saw me do it once some years ago and I guess he had to experience it for himself and that is precisely what they did the night before last. When we got back from the village last night after watching Aztec Two Step for a while I went right to bed and Nancy kept busy with her puzzle. It’s hard to say whether or not that will be completed this vacation. If I were a betting man, I would say not. I went to bed not knowing what the boys had in mind. I was awakened at 1 am by their voices, laughter, and occasional creaking of the floorboards right above our bed. I wasn’t a happy camper.
After finding my fishing pole in serious disarray one too many times I asked Ev to refrain from using my pole and to use his own instead. The hook was off, the sinker gone too, and the line was strewn across the dock as though he had pulled half a reel off the bottom of the lake and just left it there. I had visions of picking up my pole and having a cast or two with my new Shakespeare rod and reel and I was disappointed that it was just one frigging car wreck of a rig. I don’t think I was being too harsh when I asked Ev to use his own but, my god, a man has a right to expect that he will find his fishing pole just the way he left it. I won’t be picking up the pieces when it comes to my fishing gear. I’m putting my foot down. I would hasten to add that I’m not thrilled with this new rig of mine. I guess you get what you pay for. It looked so new and shiny sitting there on the rack at Walmart. I should have paid a little more for something better. Oh, well.
It was hard to tell if anyone liked my chicken, pepper, onion, and mushroom pockets last night that I made for dinner. What I lacked in content I had hoped to make up for in presentation. I heated the pockets up and served them separately and let folks stuff their own. The contents were served on a platter with a smattering of mozzarella cheese. I thought it looked scrumptious. I think it went over well but I did not hear any rave reviews so I think I may not keep the recipe. Then again, I liked it a lot so it may well stay on my own personal list of things to have in the future. In my own inimitable words, what’s not to like? Besides which, it was a healthy meal and that is important to me these days. Good fats, good vegetables, and whole wheat bread to boot. I washed that puppy down with a nice glass of lemon flavored water and proceeded to eat the rest of Evan’s. He tends not to like things that are burnt and I will admit that I like a crust so I tend to run up the heat for better or worse. Lush.
There are certain constants on these LG vacations that are worth mentioning time and time again. Constants worth looking forward to; constants that have nothing to do with brothers and sisters; constants that have nothing to do with how many fish we catch or how many dozens of worms we go through trying to catch them. Nancy’s blueberry crisp is one of those constants. This is one dish that I think she looks forward to making as the one and only one supreme dish that typifies what summer is all about. She selects the ripest berries, and there aren’t just blueberries in the dish as the name suggests, then adds slices and chunks of the ripest and sweetest peaches, nectarines, and whatever other berries she can find. I even saw her looking longingly at a sign for blackberries yesterday as we drove down Ridge Road towards Glens Falls. I know what she was thinking.
It just so happened that we had a crock pot type dish here in the cabin at Travis Point which was just the right size. Not too big and not to small. In other words, just big enough to hold the berries she planned to use but not so big that we would have more servings than she would otherwise serve us under normal circumstances. That was true as well of the container of ice cream that we purchased at Hannaford’s in anticipation of the berries extravaganza. In case you’re curious, we got a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Vanilla ice cream to go with the dessert. Just perfect.
What I still am unsure of even at this early hour on the morning after is which was supposed to go with which. I can tell you that by the time Evan was ready for his dessert last night, Nancy, Noah, and I had already had ours. He took one look at what was left and declared with a hrrrrumph that he wasn’t going to have any at all. I told him that I thought the berries would accompany the ice cream very nicely and he should consider it from that angle. As a topping, I offered. It presented enough of a shift in his perspective that he was soon on his feet and dishing himself out a sizable bowl. It looked like an unreasonably large bowl from where I was sitting and one that was probably risky from a glycemic point of view. Right off the charts. From the look on Nancy’s face, she agreed with me but said nothing. It was the right choice. Evan was seemingly content as he slid his lower body beneath the sleeping bag on the couch and watched the Little League World Series. Lake Charles was winning convincingly by the time I went to bed at 10:20.
You know how Evan takes a certain pleasure in knowing that he is better at doing certain things than other people? So much so, in fact, that unless he is seen as the best he sometimes doesn’t even want to play. Take water skiing, for instance. He knows that he’s better at skiing than is Noah. Just look at the fact that Evan is slalom skiing and Noah is not. It has me wondering if Noah lets him win when he senses that it is important for Evan to think he is winning. It is a small concession to be sure. It is a small price to pay to stay in the good graces of his best buddy. It may be harsh to say but I have my doubts as to whether or not Evan would make the same concessions. Yes, I have my doubts. This says a lot about Evan but the hero of the story is Noah. It is a story that no doubt has parallels in classic or mythical Greek literature and if I find the time I will look it up just to see how the story ends. In the meantime, Noah will be well served to catch the smaller fish; throw the ball less far; swim less fast and more clumsily; argue with less intelligence; calculate with less cunning; read with less comprehension; and get to the back of the line when the berries are served. In a word, be more malleable.
Another example, if I might. I caught a nice bass of the dock here yesterday. Noah was amazed that I was able to catch such a nice bass off the dock and said as much. I looked around for Evan and he was nowhere to be seen. He was there a second ago, I thought to myself. I thought it was a pretty nice catch and said as much whenever I had the chance. Every time I did, Evan made some derisive comment to minimize or detract from the story line. Is this about a son competing with his father and not wanting to give an inch? Or, is this about a boy who sees the world only through a lens where unless he is king there is no other position worth holding? What can you say about a boy who achieves his goals only at the expense of his rivals.? Where in the world of winning and losing did he get the idea that there is no middle ground? That it is all right to come up short and that doing so is its own valuable lesson. I tell him time and time again that it is far more important to be a good loser than it is a good winner in life. Or is it the other way around? No matter, both are valuable lessons. I hope it isn’t too late.
After finding my fishing pole in serious disarray one too many times I asked Ev to refrain from using my pole and to use his own instead. The hook was off, the sinker gone too, and the line was strewn across the dock as though he had pulled half a reel off the bottom of the lake and just left it there. I had visions of picking up my pole and having a cast or two with my new Shakespeare rod and reel and I was disappointed that it was just one frigging car wreck of a rig. I don’t think I was being too harsh when I asked Ev to use his own but, my god, a man has a right to expect that he will find his fishing pole just the way he left it. I won’t be picking up the pieces when it comes to my fishing gear. I’m putting my foot down. I would hasten to add that I’m not thrilled with this new rig of mine. I guess you get what you pay for. It looked so new and shiny sitting there on the rack at Walmart. I should have paid a little more for something better. Oh, well.
It was hard to tell if anyone liked my chicken, pepper, onion, and mushroom pockets last night that I made for dinner. What I lacked in content I had hoped to make up for in presentation. I heated the pockets up and served them separately and let folks stuff their own. The contents were served on a platter with a smattering of mozzarella cheese. I thought it looked scrumptious. I think it went over well but I did not hear any rave reviews so I think I may not keep the recipe. Then again, I liked it a lot so it may well stay on my own personal list of things to have in the future. In my own inimitable words, what’s not to like? Besides which, it was a healthy meal and that is important to me these days. Good fats, good vegetables, and whole wheat bread to boot. I washed that puppy down with a nice glass of lemon flavored water and proceeded to eat the rest of Evan’s. He tends not to like things that are burnt and I will admit that I like a crust so I tend to run up the heat for better or worse. Lush.
There are certain constants on these LG vacations that are worth mentioning time and time again. Constants worth looking forward to; constants that have nothing to do with brothers and sisters; constants that have nothing to do with how many fish we catch or how many dozens of worms we go through trying to catch them. Nancy’s blueberry crisp is one of those constants. This is one dish that I think she looks forward to making as the one and only one supreme dish that typifies what summer is all about. She selects the ripest berries, and there aren’t just blueberries in the dish as the name suggests, then adds slices and chunks of the ripest and sweetest peaches, nectarines, and whatever other berries she can find. I even saw her looking longingly at a sign for blackberries yesterday as we drove down Ridge Road towards Glens Falls. I know what she was thinking.
It just so happened that we had a crock pot type dish here in the cabin at Travis Point which was just the right size. Not too big and not to small. In other words, just big enough to hold the berries she planned to use but not so big that we would have more servings than she would otherwise serve us under normal circumstances. That was true as well of the container of ice cream that we purchased at Hannaford’s in anticipation of the berries extravaganza. In case you’re curious, we got a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Vanilla ice cream to go with the dessert. Just perfect.
What I still am unsure of even at this early hour on the morning after is which was supposed to go with which. I can tell you that by the time Evan was ready for his dessert last night, Nancy, Noah, and I had already had ours. He took one look at what was left and declared with a hrrrrumph that he wasn’t going to have any at all. I told him that I thought the berries would accompany the ice cream very nicely and he should consider it from that angle. As a topping, I offered. It presented enough of a shift in his perspective that he was soon on his feet and dishing himself out a sizable bowl. It looked like an unreasonably large bowl from where I was sitting and one that was probably risky from a glycemic point of view. Right off the charts. From the look on Nancy’s face, she agreed with me but said nothing. It was the right choice. Evan was seemingly content as he slid his lower body beneath the sleeping bag on the couch and watched the Little League World Series. Lake Charles was winning convincingly by the time I went to bed at 10:20.
You know how Evan takes a certain pleasure in knowing that he is better at doing certain things than other people? So much so, in fact, that unless he is seen as the best he sometimes doesn’t even want to play. Take water skiing, for instance. He knows that he’s better at skiing than is Noah. Just look at the fact that Evan is slalom skiing and Noah is not. It has me wondering if Noah lets him win when he senses that it is important for Evan to think he is winning. It is a small concession to be sure. It is a small price to pay to stay in the good graces of his best buddy. It may be harsh to say but I have my doubts as to whether or not Evan would make the same concessions. Yes, I have my doubts. This says a lot about Evan but the hero of the story is Noah. It is a story that no doubt has parallels in classic or mythical Greek literature and if I find the time I will look it up just to see how the story ends. In the meantime, Noah will be well served to catch the smaller fish; throw the ball less far; swim less fast and more clumsily; argue with less intelligence; calculate with less cunning; read with less comprehension; and get to the back of the line when the berries are served. In a word, be more malleable.
Another example, if I might. I caught a nice bass of the dock here yesterday. Noah was amazed that I was able to catch such a nice bass off the dock and said as much. I looked around for Evan and he was nowhere to be seen. He was there a second ago, I thought to myself. I thought it was a pretty nice catch and said as much whenever I had the chance. Every time I did, Evan made some derisive comment to minimize or detract from the story line. Is this about a son competing with his father and not wanting to give an inch? Or, is this about a boy who sees the world only through a lens where unless he is king there is no other position worth holding? What can you say about a boy who achieves his goals only at the expense of his rivals.? Where in the world of winning and losing did he get the idea that there is no middle ground? That it is all right to come up short and that doing so is its own valuable lesson. I tell him time and time again that it is far more important to be a good loser than it is a good winner in life. Or is it the other way around? No matter, both are valuable lessons. I hope it isn’t too late.
Lake George Blog - Day Four
06/08/08 16:44
Rain. Who knew. I guess you have to have some rain on every vacation. Not a problem. We’ll work around it. My biggest fear during the night as I lay awake at 2:30 was that the boat was not secure or that the buoys were not properly placed to prevent banging up the side of the boat. There was a storm coming up out of the south and the waves were making a racket in the cove right outside the bedroom window. The only way for that to happen was to have the wind blowing out of the south and into the cove at a 45 degree angle. That could only mean that the boat too was subject to the same winds and waves.
I put on my shorts and grabbed a light and made my way down to the dock. Everything was secure as I suspected and any thoughts I had about the rope ripping off the cleat on the tree were indeed misplaced. I nudged one of the two buoys slightly to the right, gave the lines an extra cleat’s worth of protection, snapped those snaps not yet snapped on the cover of the boat since I could see the wind getting under the cover on the lakeside of the boat, and then the rain starting to come down. First in sprinkles. Then in sheets. Then in horizontal sheets. Rain has a way of robbing the wind of its velocity. I’m not sure why I know that but it seemed to be working better than expected as I crawled back into bed a mere 10 minutes after I crawled out of it. Then it was off to sleep. One eye at a time.
I’m usually better than that. After two ours sitting out on the bay in the early morning hours here on Lake George I had not a bite. Not one. The fish populations of Lake George must be seriously depleted. Forget the trout, bass, and Northern Pike. I couldn’t get a frigging sunfish to take my bait. I don’t think that has ever happened to me. It couldn’t be me. There’s nothing inherently wrong with my technique. Or, is there? Maybe I’ve lost my touch. Maybe my instincts are not what they used to be. This is why I need to come back to Lake George at least once a year. Yes, family is important, but rebooting on a personal level requires more sometimes. It requires a connection to roots meaning places as well as people and things.
It is just important to me to be able to drive around the back streets of Glens Falls as it is to take the occasional drive down Bean Road here in Katskill Bay. It is just important to me to be able to travel the distance to St. Alphonsus school from Lincoln avenue which I used to walk as a youngster with my brothers and sisters. Day in and day out. Week in and week out. Year in and year out. I can’t see any of the faces anymore and even the voices have faded. No amount of driving that route will ever bring them back. I still remember, and will likely never forget, carrying the books of Mary what’s-her-name while walking her home from school. Her face is less clear but I can see her school uniform like an indelible dream in all of it’s plaid and pleated glory. We were lovers and didn’t even know it. I will likely never forget passing by Barber’s Market at an hour when they were putting the early morning papers out for display, or stopping in the store near the school on the way home every day. They had a great selection of comic books and one of those old Coke bins full of ice and soda bottles. Those were the days before cans and refrigeration units with sliding glass doors. I can still smell the halls of the old school and hear the echo’s of the nun’s heels traipsing up and down the stairs muffled only by the flailing hems of their black robes. That was an institution of God and learning and not necessarily in that order. When they built the new school, it was the beginning of the end.
It is no surprise that the boat is an important part of the boy’s salvation here on the lake. I returned from my miserable fishing trip only to find them sitting in a fetal position side by side on the dock. They were not knowing what to do with themselves which is not uncommon for boys that age. Knowing full well how to get their attention, I told them to get themselves together and I would take them out on the boat for a little of this and a little of that. It was the perfect antidote. It would give Nancy a chance to go for her walk and have just a little time to herself to do a few things of her choosing. I took the boys skiing just outside the 5 mph zone here in at the Island and that seemed to me to be the most economical thing to do. I make an effort, because the price of gas is so exorbitant, to incorporate either skiing or tubing into every trip we make to and from Sandy Bay. Did I tell you that it’s grand to be able to see Sandy Bay from the camp? Buoys 2 and 4 are clear. Let’s go, boys, before the 3:15 crowd shows up and there are no buoys left. We ended up finding one of the submerged buoys yesterday when there were no others available and we found it on the first pass. We were the envy of others waiting in line for a buoy and before long they too were cruising in circles hoping for something serendipitous. Good luck.
It was like a scene out of “Sea Hunt.” We no sooner found ourselves hovering over the cement block sitting in a sea of golden sand a mere 7 feet beneath the glistening surface then the boys, with rope in hand, hurled themselves over the side and down to the block. Good job, lads, I thought to myself. How lucky am I to have a couple of sea otters as mates aboard the good ship Popeye in such perilous waters. We were but a stiff breeze away from brushing up side one of the other boats and it was tight. The boys, as nimble as boys can be beneath the water towing a 3,000 lb boat, made surprising progress for being in water a good 2 feet over their heads. One might have thought they were diving for pearls in the South Pacific if you were looking for a parallel experience and associated intent. They took their job seriously and with it came success. Job well done, lads, as I threw them a mackerel for their efforts. Otters lover mackerel, I’m told. They then disappeared towards shore and like a couple of Greco Roman wrestlers (Nancy’s words, not mine), you could see them squaring off against the backdrop of the shoreline bramble which is considerable this time of year. Hand-to-hand combat and headlocks were the preferred weapons and it was a death match of epic proportions. Nancy worried that the small cluster of children nearby, the only others in that far and away from the maddening crowds, might find Evan and Noah’s behavior interesting at best, perhaps threatening, and maybe even a little scary. They drew closer to the attending parent as one boy after another was taken down in a flurry of white water and anguishing but muffled cries once below the surface. Nancy and I waded back towards the boat deciding that it was “all good.” These are their words; not ours.
I’m just in the wrong place at the wrong time with my camera this vacation. The same can be said for me and my camcorder. It just isn’t happening. Where was I when the boys swam across the bay to the Elisabeth Island? I was asleep. Where was I when they were doing their boarding moves up and down the railings, fences, and stone walls of Lake George Village? I was right behind them and my camera was at home. Where was I when we sat down to a very late breakfast at the Lone Bull in Diamond Point? I was camera-less once again thinking that it might rain and not wanting to get the bloody thing wet. There is a serious conspiracy afoot. I will wake up one day wanting to make a DVD of our summer vacation and not have nearly the footage or the photos in hand to do the job. What have I been thinking? Is it not the job of the photojournalist to carry the camera with him day and night, night and day? Indeed it is. I will pay for this mistake and it will cost me dearly. Maybe I can make up for it by weeks end. Time will tell.
I worry too that Nancy will not get her due this vacation week. It’s hard to know what, if any, mission statement might best describe her goals this week. That aside, she has expressed none. I do ask from time to time if she is having a good vacation and she assures me that she is. I worry that taking such a rigid position as I have on using the dish detergent she chose at the store, which I hate because it is simply too perfumed, leaves that chore exclusively to her. Is that fair, I ask you. I am cooking more because I can and that may be enough to even out the division of labor if that is what she seeks. Maybe she looks at all the time I spend taking the boys here and there in the boat knowing full well that it is the one activity that she has no desire to share in. That may help to balance the scales. I hadn’t thought of it until now. She certainly enjoyed herself in Sandy Bay yesterday when we paid our daily afternoon visit there with the boys. Her leisurely leg kicks in the water beneath her blue cap and sunglasses were telltale of easier times and it gave me pleasure to know she was enjoying herself even if she never said so herself. Absent anything definitive or otherwise declared, it is a truism that if she gets her walks in; her blueberries daily; her boys fed and put out to play; and is she hasn’t misplaced one or more of her prized or necessary possessions, then it will qualify as a good vacation. This summer, you can add a daily dose of Chuck Prophet to list. The one musician, in fact, that she will go to see in concert. Do add the Post Star on weekdays and the New York Times on Sunday to that wish list as well. She is becoming less mysterious by the moment. Don’t you think?
I put on my shorts and grabbed a light and made my way down to the dock. Everything was secure as I suspected and any thoughts I had about the rope ripping off the cleat on the tree were indeed misplaced. I nudged one of the two buoys slightly to the right, gave the lines an extra cleat’s worth of protection, snapped those snaps not yet snapped on the cover of the boat since I could see the wind getting under the cover on the lakeside of the boat, and then the rain starting to come down. First in sprinkles. Then in sheets. Then in horizontal sheets. Rain has a way of robbing the wind of its velocity. I’m not sure why I know that but it seemed to be working better than expected as I crawled back into bed a mere 10 minutes after I crawled out of it. Then it was off to sleep. One eye at a time.
I’m usually better than that. After two ours sitting out on the bay in the early morning hours here on Lake George I had not a bite. Not one. The fish populations of Lake George must be seriously depleted. Forget the trout, bass, and Northern Pike. I couldn’t get a frigging sunfish to take my bait. I don’t think that has ever happened to me. It couldn’t be me. There’s nothing inherently wrong with my technique. Or, is there? Maybe I’ve lost my touch. Maybe my instincts are not what they used to be. This is why I need to come back to Lake George at least once a year. Yes, family is important, but rebooting on a personal level requires more sometimes. It requires a connection to roots meaning places as well as people and things.
It is just important to me to be able to drive around the back streets of Glens Falls as it is to take the occasional drive down Bean Road here in Katskill Bay. It is just important to me to be able to travel the distance to St. Alphonsus school from Lincoln avenue which I used to walk as a youngster with my brothers and sisters. Day in and day out. Week in and week out. Year in and year out. I can’t see any of the faces anymore and even the voices have faded. No amount of driving that route will ever bring them back. I still remember, and will likely never forget, carrying the books of Mary what’s-her-name while walking her home from school. Her face is less clear but I can see her school uniform like an indelible dream in all of it’s plaid and pleated glory. We were lovers and didn’t even know it. I will likely never forget passing by Barber’s Market at an hour when they were putting the early morning papers out for display, or stopping in the store near the school on the way home every day. They had a great selection of comic books and one of those old Coke bins full of ice and soda bottles. Those were the days before cans and refrigeration units with sliding glass doors. I can still smell the halls of the old school and hear the echo’s of the nun’s heels traipsing up and down the stairs muffled only by the flailing hems of their black robes. That was an institution of God and learning and not necessarily in that order. When they built the new school, it was the beginning of the end.
It is no surprise that the boat is an important part of the boy’s salvation here on the lake. I returned from my miserable fishing trip only to find them sitting in a fetal position side by side on the dock. They were not knowing what to do with themselves which is not uncommon for boys that age. Knowing full well how to get their attention, I told them to get themselves together and I would take them out on the boat for a little of this and a little of that. It was the perfect antidote. It would give Nancy a chance to go for her walk and have just a little time to herself to do a few things of her choosing. I took the boys skiing just outside the 5 mph zone here in at the Island and that seemed to me to be the most economical thing to do. I make an effort, because the price of gas is so exorbitant, to incorporate either skiing or tubing into every trip we make to and from Sandy Bay. Did I tell you that it’s grand to be able to see Sandy Bay from the camp? Buoys 2 and 4 are clear. Let’s go, boys, before the 3:15 crowd shows up and there are no buoys left. We ended up finding one of the submerged buoys yesterday when there were no others available and we found it on the first pass. We were the envy of others waiting in line for a buoy and before long they too were cruising in circles hoping for something serendipitous. Good luck.
It was like a scene out of “Sea Hunt.” We no sooner found ourselves hovering over the cement block sitting in a sea of golden sand a mere 7 feet beneath the glistening surface then the boys, with rope in hand, hurled themselves over the side and down to the block. Good job, lads, I thought to myself. How lucky am I to have a couple of sea otters as mates aboard the good ship Popeye in such perilous waters. We were but a stiff breeze away from brushing up side one of the other boats and it was tight. The boys, as nimble as boys can be beneath the water towing a 3,000 lb boat, made surprising progress for being in water a good 2 feet over their heads. One might have thought they were diving for pearls in the South Pacific if you were looking for a parallel experience and associated intent. They took their job seriously and with it came success. Job well done, lads, as I threw them a mackerel for their efforts. Otters lover mackerel, I’m told. They then disappeared towards shore and like a couple of Greco Roman wrestlers (Nancy’s words, not mine), you could see them squaring off against the backdrop of the shoreline bramble which is considerable this time of year. Hand-to-hand combat and headlocks were the preferred weapons and it was a death match of epic proportions. Nancy worried that the small cluster of children nearby, the only others in that far and away from the maddening crowds, might find Evan and Noah’s behavior interesting at best, perhaps threatening, and maybe even a little scary. They drew closer to the attending parent as one boy after another was taken down in a flurry of white water and anguishing but muffled cries once below the surface. Nancy and I waded back towards the boat deciding that it was “all good.” These are their words; not ours.
I’m just in the wrong place at the wrong time with my camera this vacation. The same can be said for me and my camcorder. It just isn’t happening. Where was I when the boys swam across the bay to the Elisabeth Island? I was asleep. Where was I when they were doing their boarding moves up and down the railings, fences, and stone walls of Lake George Village? I was right behind them and my camera was at home. Where was I when we sat down to a very late breakfast at the Lone Bull in Diamond Point? I was camera-less once again thinking that it might rain and not wanting to get the bloody thing wet. There is a serious conspiracy afoot. I will wake up one day wanting to make a DVD of our summer vacation and not have nearly the footage or the photos in hand to do the job. What have I been thinking? Is it not the job of the photojournalist to carry the camera with him day and night, night and day? Indeed it is. I will pay for this mistake and it will cost me dearly. Maybe I can make up for it by weeks end. Time will tell.
I worry too that Nancy will not get her due this vacation week. It’s hard to know what, if any, mission statement might best describe her goals this week. That aside, she has expressed none. I do ask from time to time if she is having a good vacation and she assures me that she is. I worry that taking such a rigid position as I have on using the dish detergent she chose at the store, which I hate because it is simply too perfumed, leaves that chore exclusively to her. Is that fair, I ask you. I am cooking more because I can and that may be enough to even out the division of labor if that is what she seeks. Maybe she looks at all the time I spend taking the boys here and there in the boat knowing full well that it is the one activity that she has no desire to share in. That may help to balance the scales. I hadn’t thought of it until now. She certainly enjoyed herself in Sandy Bay yesterday when we paid our daily afternoon visit there with the boys. Her leisurely leg kicks in the water beneath her blue cap and sunglasses were telltale of easier times and it gave me pleasure to know she was enjoying herself even if she never said so herself. Absent anything definitive or otherwise declared, it is a truism that if she gets her walks in; her blueberries daily; her boys fed and put out to play; and is she hasn’t misplaced one or more of her prized or necessary possessions, then it will qualify as a good vacation. This summer, you can add a daily dose of Chuck Prophet to list. The one musician, in fact, that she will go to see in concert. Do add the Post Star on weekdays and the New York Times on Sunday to that wish list as well. She is becoming less mysterious by the moment. Don’t you think?
Lake George Blog - Day Three
05/08/08 16:43
I knew the day would come but I didn’t expect it to come so soon. Evan got up on one ski the first time out this year. Go figure. He struggled last year and couldn’t quite get it. I think the difference was having the extra weight in the boat. We tagged the skiing on the end of a fishing trip and why not. The surface was glass-like and the morning was otherwise pristine in every imaginable way. Not only did he get up but no sooner was he up than he was crossing the wake trying to create his only little wall of water. I was surprised at every turn. Make no mistake about it. Noah went first since he had swim trunks on that were less likely to drop off and the plan was that Evan and he would switch trunks once Noah had is turn. For whatever reason, that plan went out the window and the world never looked back. The Noah-meister, on the other hand, struggled to get outside the wake on 2 skis. Once out there, he fell when crossing back inside the wake. I think he is not as comfortable nor nearly as fascile as Evan in the water.
It was funny. We were sitting in Sandy Bay later in the day yesterday and he and Evan were going into shore from our spot out in the bay. Evan had Johnny Weismueller-like strokes as he outpaced his friend while swimming towards shore. Noah, who swims less well than Evan, was trying in vain to keep up and finally resorted to running. It reminded me of one of those scenes out of an old movies where the villain is running from the law and is painstaking in his efforts to make his way through the mangrove swamp while holding all his earthly possessions just above the surface of the water. I could hear the dogs barking while the sweat poured profusely from the brow of the convict in the humidity of the deep swamp. We’re not understanding entirely why Evan isn’t more interested in competing in water sports. As one of his chess teachers once told Evan, you don’t know how good you are.
Our first fishing foray was less successful and will not get much play in this here journal for that very reason. Needless to say, my casting was careless and juvenile while Evan thought that every snag was worth playing until he landed whatever it was that continued to tug on his line. We used the crawfish as quickly as we could knowing full well that the introduction of sun block to the water meant a slow but sure death for the little fella’s. It wasn’t intentional but once done it was inevitable. I’m not entirely certain why we didn’t have better luck on the lake but we didn’t so we went skiing instead. Noah, who used worms, struggled to catch anything and pulled in a sunfish or two. At least he caught something. Enough already.
Nancy suggested that I use some of the hamburger from her American Chop Suey recipe to fashion a bowl of chili for myself for dinner which I thought to be a good idea and did just that. I added some fresh tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, red peppers, and left over spaghetti sauce that Nancy made and I had what can only be described as a delectable chili for dinner. I had a few bites of greek salad just to cleanse the palate and it turned out to be a delicious meal. I will look forward to making that recipe at home. I am trying my best to segregate my recipes from that of the boys during this trip and have been successful so far. There recipes are a bit to carb loaded for me and I am looking for more of a balance between the carbs and protein. I have the ingredients for pepper, onion, and chicken pockets but I’m not sure who besides me and Nancy is interested. Noah perhaps, but I can see Evan not wanting any of it. We’ll see.
I’ve got oatmeal on a slow cooker and will have that with strawberries and skim milk for breakfast. I think with this South Beach thing, I am rediscovering food. Not only tasting it for change, but enjoying the fine art of food selection and preparation. I’m wanting to try different things. More onions, peppers, and natural food enhancers whatever they may be. As much as I wanted a piece of chocolate fudge last night while in the village with the family, I came within a hare’s breath of ordering a square of Heavenly Hash but chose not to. It was a surprisingly easy decision. It was even easier to walk away. Another surprise to me last night was the decision by the boys to stay close to us even though we had offered to let them got there own way. Where would they go? What would they do? They are both nearly 14 years old so why not cut them a little slack. It was their decision though probably not a conscience one. We stayed within eyeshot when in the village and they looked for us from time to time to make sure we were still there. We were. Isn’t that what parents are for?
“It’s all good.” “We got took.” “I dom’ed.” Where does this language come from. It’s like from a different culture. One that is foreign to me and unintelligible at times although I’m able to synch up with help from the boys. Is it hip-hop? Be-bop? Maybe it’s skateboarder slang. I was just catching up to Obama’s fist jab and I thought I was doing pretty well to take that all in when this business starts with Evan and Noah. Who knew. Say what?
It was funny. We were sitting in Sandy Bay later in the day yesterday and he and Evan were going into shore from our spot out in the bay. Evan had Johnny Weismueller-like strokes as he outpaced his friend while swimming towards shore. Noah, who swims less well than Evan, was trying in vain to keep up and finally resorted to running. It reminded me of one of those scenes out of an old movies where the villain is running from the law and is painstaking in his efforts to make his way through the mangrove swamp while holding all his earthly possessions just above the surface of the water. I could hear the dogs barking while the sweat poured profusely from the brow of the convict in the humidity of the deep swamp. We’re not understanding entirely why Evan isn’t more interested in competing in water sports. As one of his chess teachers once told Evan, you don’t know how good you are.
Our first fishing foray was less successful and will not get much play in this here journal for that very reason. Needless to say, my casting was careless and juvenile while Evan thought that every snag was worth playing until he landed whatever it was that continued to tug on his line. We used the crawfish as quickly as we could knowing full well that the introduction of sun block to the water meant a slow but sure death for the little fella’s. It wasn’t intentional but once done it was inevitable. I’m not entirely certain why we didn’t have better luck on the lake but we didn’t so we went skiing instead. Noah, who used worms, struggled to catch anything and pulled in a sunfish or two. At least he caught something. Enough already.
Nancy suggested that I use some of the hamburger from her American Chop Suey recipe to fashion a bowl of chili for myself for dinner which I thought to be a good idea and did just that. I added some fresh tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, red peppers, and left over spaghetti sauce that Nancy made and I had what can only be described as a delectable chili for dinner. I had a few bites of greek salad just to cleanse the palate and it turned out to be a delicious meal. I will look forward to making that recipe at home. I am trying my best to segregate my recipes from that of the boys during this trip and have been successful so far. There recipes are a bit to carb loaded for me and I am looking for more of a balance between the carbs and protein. I have the ingredients for pepper, onion, and chicken pockets but I’m not sure who besides me and Nancy is interested. Noah perhaps, but I can see Evan not wanting any of it. We’ll see.
I’ve got oatmeal on a slow cooker and will have that with strawberries and skim milk for breakfast. I think with this South Beach thing, I am rediscovering food. Not only tasting it for change, but enjoying the fine art of food selection and preparation. I’m wanting to try different things. More onions, peppers, and natural food enhancers whatever they may be. As much as I wanted a piece of chocolate fudge last night while in the village with the family, I came within a hare’s breath of ordering a square of Heavenly Hash but chose not to. It was a surprisingly easy decision. It was even easier to walk away. Another surprise to me last night was the decision by the boys to stay close to us even though we had offered to let them got there own way. Where would they go? What would they do? They are both nearly 14 years old so why not cut them a little slack. It was their decision though probably not a conscience one. We stayed within eyeshot when in the village and they looked for us from time to time to make sure we were still there. We were. Isn’t that what parents are for?
“It’s all good.” “We got took.” “I dom’ed.” Where does this language come from. It’s like from a different culture. One that is foreign to me and unintelligible at times although I’m able to synch up with help from the boys. Is it hip-hop? Be-bop? Maybe it’s skateboarder slang. I was just catching up to Obama’s fist jab and I thought I was doing pretty well to take that all in when this business starts with Evan and Noah. Who knew. Say what?
Lake George Blog - Day Two
04/08/08 16:42
You can’t take your eyes off those boys for a minute. Not to worry, they say. As they get older they can fend for themselves. They can do their own thing. They are so much more independent. All of that is true but it didn’t help much yesterday. Nancy and I were so focused on paying attention to them, and it does get to the true meaning of what it means when you say paying “attention”, that we somehow end up neglecting ourselves in the process. That is to say, we could have gotten in a walk or a bike ride, but we didn’t. We brought the bikes and I, for one, am going to see that we use them. Today I will do just that.
I think that Evan and Noah did just what they wanted to do yesterday. They had fun in doing the things they seem to enjoy doing. There was a time before Noah started coming on vacation with us when we worried that Evan would not be kind enough to a friend and that would make it difficult for everyone since home was a long way away. And to be truthful, there were some difficult moments on those early trips. We warned Evan not to be nasty because it wasn’t fair to Noah since Noah had nowhere to go. We both overestimated Evan’s tendencies to be short and unkind and, at the same time, underestimated Noah’s even temperament. In a word, he tolerates Evan more than Evan deserves to be tolerated. For us, Noah is a blessing in disguise.
On a day when it seemed to be raining and sunny at the same time all throughout the day, we had fun darting showers and being ourselves. We hooked up with Rollie and got the boat from his spot in Assembly point. It was good to see uncle Wally (Rollie’s blog alias) again. He arrived in Terri’s 360 Z and he put me behind the wheel on the drive over to Assembly Point. It was a treasure to drive. I proved my prowess by never hitting 2nd or 4th gear on the way to 6th. Any doubts he had about my ability to treat the car with the respect it deserved quickly evaporated as we wound through the gears and up and down the hills of Pilot Knob road. The boys requested permission to jump off the deck at the dock and Rollie gave them the nod and off they went. Wrap it up, fells, I implored. Time to head out. Who wants to get towed back to the camp on the tube? They both did so off we went. The faster I towed them, the better they liked it. Going outside the wake was the goal and “getting air” was the icing on the cake. The word of the day was “dom” as they took turns dominating each other in various events ranging from wrestling on the neighbors big-ass tube to other less than head-to-head events like casting their poles off the dock. Did I tell you that the boathouse here on the property just doesn’t cut it? It just doesn’t.
They showed off their abrasions, bumps and bruises, as testimony to their time on the tube. I’m not sure who got the worst of it. I was even handed in turning over the wheel of the boat to both of the boys when we went boating. If I showed any preference at all, it was when I let Evan take the wheel first. I think I surprised myself when I let him navigate to one of the buoys in Sandy Bay. He did a pretty nice job. In fact, I’m not sure I could have done any better. The risk was low since there were not a lot of boats in the bay by the time we arrived in the late afternoon. With the threat of showers overhead even though sun was abundant between the breaks in the clouds, we had quite a nice in the bay. If there was anything interesting at all, it was that Nancy and I spent more time in the water than did the boys. I was happy to be treading water since it was my exercise for the day. Nancy was having a nice time herself until she bopped herself with the noodle and got water in her ear. Did I tell you it was her bad ear. You know, the one she is constantly putting drops in. Not the $160 dollar prescription but rather the $1.60 dollar one. You know, that one.
We talked about renting Lina’s restaurant for the season for $16,000 and just hanging out in Sandy Bay for the summer. I would come up for weekends and maybe even take more than a few Fridays off. It would be splendid. The boys would have a great time. There was only one problem. Where the hell are we going to get $16,000? Details, details. Dreamers never get down and dirty with the details. That’s no fun. We even talked about parking the boat at one of the buoys in the bay and letting the boys swim out to the boat to do their diving. We could keep an eye on them from the shore without getting wet. What a hoot. We just laughed at the idea. Keep laughing, fellas. That’s why they call them dreams. And dreams do come true. Just ask the Red Sox. Did tell you that Manny isn’t just Manny any more? He’s now Manny the Dodger. The Red Sox will never be the same. They just don’t realize it yet.
I think that Evan and Noah did just what they wanted to do yesterday. They had fun in doing the things they seem to enjoy doing. There was a time before Noah started coming on vacation with us when we worried that Evan would not be kind enough to a friend and that would make it difficult for everyone since home was a long way away. And to be truthful, there were some difficult moments on those early trips. We warned Evan not to be nasty because it wasn’t fair to Noah since Noah had nowhere to go. We both overestimated Evan’s tendencies to be short and unkind and, at the same time, underestimated Noah’s even temperament. In a word, he tolerates Evan more than Evan deserves to be tolerated. For us, Noah is a blessing in disguise.
On a day when it seemed to be raining and sunny at the same time all throughout the day, we had fun darting showers and being ourselves. We hooked up with Rollie and got the boat from his spot in Assembly point. It was good to see uncle Wally (Rollie’s blog alias) again. He arrived in Terri’s 360 Z and he put me behind the wheel on the drive over to Assembly Point. It was a treasure to drive. I proved my prowess by never hitting 2nd or 4th gear on the way to 6th. Any doubts he had about my ability to treat the car with the respect it deserved quickly evaporated as we wound through the gears and up and down the hills of Pilot Knob road. The boys requested permission to jump off the deck at the dock and Rollie gave them the nod and off they went. Wrap it up, fells, I implored. Time to head out. Who wants to get towed back to the camp on the tube? They both did so off we went. The faster I towed them, the better they liked it. Going outside the wake was the goal and “getting air” was the icing on the cake. The word of the day was “dom” as they took turns dominating each other in various events ranging from wrestling on the neighbors big-ass tube to other less than head-to-head events like casting their poles off the dock. Did I tell you that the boathouse here on the property just doesn’t cut it? It just doesn’t.
They showed off their abrasions, bumps and bruises, as testimony to their time on the tube. I’m not sure who got the worst of it. I was even handed in turning over the wheel of the boat to both of the boys when we went boating. If I showed any preference at all, it was when I let Evan take the wheel first. I think I surprised myself when I let him navigate to one of the buoys in Sandy Bay. He did a pretty nice job. In fact, I’m not sure I could have done any better. The risk was low since there were not a lot of boats in the bay by the time we arrived in the late afternoon. With the threat of showers overhead even though sun was abundant between the breaks in the clouds, we had quite a nice in the bay. If there was anything interesting at all, it was that Nancy and I spent more time in the water than did the boys. I was happy to be treading water since it was my exercise for the day. Nancy was having a nice time herself until she bopped herself with the noodle and got water in her ear. Did I tell you it was her bad ear. You know, the one she is constantly putting drops in. Not the $160 dollar prescription but rather the $1.60 dollar one. You know, that one.
We talked about renting Lina’s restaurant for the season for $16,000 and just hanging out in Sandy Bay for the summer. I would come up for weekends and maybe even take more than a few Fridays off. It would be splendid. The boys would have a great time. There was only one problem. Where the hell are we going to get $16,000? Details, details. Dreamers never get down and dirty with the details. That’s no fun. We even talked about parking the boat at one of the buoys in the bay and letting the boys swim out to the boat to do their diving. We could keep an eye on them from the shore without getting wet. What a hoot. We just laughed at the idea. Keep laughing, fellas. That’s why they call them dreams. And dreams do come true. Just ask the Red Sox. Did tell you that Manny isn’t just Manny any more? He’s now Manny the Dodger. The Red Sox will never be the same. They just don’t realize it yet.
Lake George Blog - Day One
03/08/08 16:37
Where’s the dishwasher? Where’s the washer and dryer? Where’s the central air conditioning? What do you mean they don’t deliver the New York Times? No one told us about the elks head in the great room. No one told us about the dvd player or the crickety floor boards or the morning loons. What else haven’t they told us and what else haven’t we discovered? I still think that the houses on either side of us were intended to be our rental and not this campy-oh-so-campy joint we find ourselves in. What am I complaining about? If anything, it reminds me of our old camp where curtains took the place of doors and when you cleaned the stove you had to remove the heating element if you wanted to clean the aluminum pan that surrounded it. I can almost hear gramps calling out that the cakes are just about ready. I wonder now if the object of my desire in those days was the maple syrup and not the pancakes. Hey, Nan! Think this place has a griddle? I’m happy to know that the house we’re staying in has more than three feet between this house and the adjoining houses. You can dream as loudly as you like and not worry about being awakened by someone farting in their sleep in the house an arms length outside your bedroom window. Just to be safe, we drove over to the Shearer’s last night under the cover of darkness to see if there were any out of state license plates in their driveway. There weren’t. In fact, as best we could remember, the cars parked there belonged to them. Now that we’ve seen other places we may not go back to the Shearer’s for the abovementioned reasons. There is a lot to be said for privacy and there was none at the Shearer’s. There is more here but we’re surrounded by family whose eyes and ears are tuned to our every move. The fact that I am up at 5 in the morning has probably not gone unnoticed. Evan and Noah are having none of it. Evan gave his rousing approval by raising his fists in the air and shouting something I can’t remember as I sit here beneath the elks head just 12 hours later. The words weren’t important but the sentiment was. The boys, in all their adolescent splendor, were no sooner on the property when they were in the water. I don’t think they bothered to put on their swim trunks first. Who cares. The muck and murkiness of Harris Bay has been replaced by sand and stone the likes of which are certainly reminiscent of the place on Bean Road. Ah, the joy. I too will throw myself off the end of the dock when the moment is right. I would never do that with the scurrilous swill lurking just beneath the surface in Harris Bay. Were it not for the lack of amenities mentioned in the ad, I might go so far as to say that the place is lovely. Did I tell you that it rained the first day? We were delighted by seeing the deer feeding in the field near the Shearer’s house as darkness descended on Harris Bay last evening. Nancy says that she will miss her morning walks down that road and seeing the many types of birds that seem to flourish there. We were amused by the number of little frogs in the road in the wake of the heavy rains and we even stopped to let the boys get out of the car long enough to get a closer look. They got back in the car quickly as cars traveling in the opposite direction were nearly upon us and wondering, no doubt, what all the commotion was about. She is not unhappy with the place here but it is, and we both acknowledge, not as advertised. The darkness of the night has given way to a very pleasant morning light. As I look out the window from where I sit, there is a light and choppy fog on the water. I can hear those pesky bass boats racing up and down the lake to destinations unknown out on the bay just beyond the island and out of sight in this inlet. You can see more of the lake as you stand at the end of the dock but I have no such luxury as I sit here behind a desk. The view is not so bad when you consider that we were not entirely sure that the house we rented was even really on the water. It is no surprise that the boathouse was not more clearly in sight in the pictures presented on the web. I told Nancy that it will require great effort to take the kinds of pictures that I want to take and in the numbers that I expect to take them while excluding the boathouse. It is such an eyesore. Views of the cabin did not highlight the front door which we’ve elected not to use as it is one of the more unappealing aspects of the camp. Nonetheless, the morning after has me thinking a lot less about the absence of amenities and more about the week ahead. That is perhaps as it should be. Nancy’s first words to me this morning as she stood over my shoulder looking out onto the water were, “no sparkles.” Welcome to paradise.
Go with the Flow
26/07/08 18:31
As the story goes, Ev got up the other morning and told his momma straight out, “I’m in a good mood today. Don’t ruin it”. That’s Mr. Metabolic himself. Mr. usually wake up grumpy and Mister piss-and-moan all rolled into one. Maybe he got enough sleep for a change. Not sure but one thing Nancy knew for sure. The hours ahead would not be nearly as testy as they usually were. He would be more maleable by a New York mile. So much so, in fact, that you might as well get your list together because if you needed something done this was the time to do it. It would be a good morning to ask him to brush his teeth; a good morning to to ask him to make his bed; a good morning to get him to vacuum a couple of rooms before lunch. If you’re lucky, he may even agree to go to the beach. Keep on rolling till the party stops and see if he doesn’t think that acting like a human being for a change is a better way to go. It’s unlikely, but one can dream. Maybe it’s just a matter of waiting out the teen years. I wished that someone had warned us before we got in too deep. I hope it’s worth waiting for.
Wally called about the storm the other day and I was pleased to report that everyone was alive and accounted for including yours truly. In fact, things couldn’t be better. Our Hummingbird feeder was still upright; my broccoli was cooked just right and I was chowing down after a long day at work; and we never lost our electricity. Not even for a moment. That isn’t to say that there weren’t some funnel clouds hanging around. Some areas took a beating and I think there may have been a couple of casualties in the Lakes Region up north. That’s tough. Someone won’t be coming down for breakfast in the morning. Then again, who cares? It’s one more obituary in an already crowded section of the newspaper. The cemetary is full of headliners all getting their 6 seconds of fame but not staying around long enough for any of the resulting adulation or criticism. Just passing through, as they say in the movies. Don’t bother leaving the porch light on.
I took Ev to an aikido demonstration today. It was an introductory class. He took his place on the mat and went through the motions like the rest of the beginnners. He fit right in. He doesn’t have much of a stretch and it showed. He complained after the fact that his knees hurt. Not sure if anyone noticed or not but he was the only new guy working out while still wearing his socks. The other new guys and girls and the more experienced types knew better. I’m surprised the instructor didn’t say anything. They are such sticklers for etiquette always bowing to this and bowing to that and not able to leave the mat until the bowing is out of the way. He would look my way from time to time looking for god knows what and after a while I avoiding looking in his direction. It’s all about paying attention and the yoot of today are just so scattered. Ev is no exception. You are on your own, my friend. If you want it, go get it. Do it for you and not me. As we rode home I indulged him in conversation but not about the class. It was hard to tell what he wants to do. I hope he figures it out someday. His life may depend on it.
Wally called about the storm the other day and I was pleased to report that everyone was alive and accounted for including yours truly. In fact, things couldn’t be better. Our Hummingbird feeder was still upright; my broccoli was cooked just right and I was chowing down after a long day at work; and we never lost our electricity. Not even for a moment. That isn’t to say that there weren’t some funnel clouds hanging around. Some areas took a beating and I think there may have been a couple of casualties in the Lakes Region up north. That’s tough. Someone won’t be coming down for breakfast in the morning. Then again, who cares? It’s one more obituary in an already crowded section of the newspaper. The cemetary is full of headliners all getting their 6 seconds of fame but not staying around long enough for any of the resulting adulation or criticism. Just passing through, as they say in the movies. Don’t bother leaving the porch light on.
I took Ev to an aikido demonstration today. It was an introductory class. He took his place on the mat and went through the motions like the rest of the beginnners. He fit right in. He doesn’t have much of a stretch and it showed. He complained after the fact that his knees hurt. Not sure if anyone noticed or not but he was the only new guy working out while still wearing his socks. The other new guys and girls and the more experienced types knew better. I’m surprised the instructor didn’t say anything. They are such sticklers for etiquette always bowing to this and bowing to that and not able to leave the mat until the bowing is out of the way. He would look my way from time to time looking for god knows what and after a while I avoiding looking in his direction. It’s all about paying attention and the yoot of today are just so scattered. Ev is no exception. You are on your own, my friend. If you want it, go get it. Do it for you and not me. As we rode home I indulged him in conversation but not about the class. It was hard to tell what he wants to do. I hope he figures it out someday. His life may depend on it.
Just another Weekend
12/07/08 14:20
When I got home from work the other day I saw Nancy busy at work in the garden. She had on her sun hat and her well soiled gardening gloves and she seemed oblivious to my presence when I uttered the usual, “hey Nan! “ She looked up slowly with less enthusiasm than I had hoped for and she told me straight away, “I have bad news”. Ruh-ro, I thought. What could it be? Someone die? Has our fridge gone on the blitz again? Did we run out of marshmallows? Maybe our neighbors sold their property to developers of low income housing with a grant from the federal government. Who knew? When I finally dragged it out of her, she fessed up. “Something got at our blueberries”, she muttered, hardly able to contain herself. I didn’t want to let on, but truth be told I was relieved to know that it wasn’t something more serious. Maybe we’ll just call it a season with those darn bushes and be done with it. Let all of god’s creatures at the bushes when the berries ripen and we will be rewarded in the coming years for our selflessness. It will be our way of giving back this year. Can’t deduct it on the taxes but, at least for me, I won’t stay awake all night wondering who might be pecking at my bushes when the morning breaks. With everything else going on this year, it may be a welcome distraction come berry season next year when things aren’t nearly as crazy.
I have to say, we had a mighty nice bike ride today. We wanted to stretch our collective legs and head down to Hampton Beach on our bikes but Nan didn’t think she could do that kind of ride. Not today anyway. I followed her lead under a diffuse sun and with a refreshing ocean breeze at our back we headed off the boulevard and down the back roads here in town. With all the twists and turns, I wasn’t able to find my rhythm and that wasn’t a good thing. It made me irritable, in fact, but I kept my mood in check and the small talk to a minimum where possible. We got an early start so the ride back home was less difficult than usual since the beach goers had barely just begun to park along the bike path. It only takes one door to open while you’re riding by to make for a bad day. I always keep one hand on my hand brake and rarely take my eyes off the road in front of me while straddling the path along Ocean Boulevard. It’s the ones sitting in the cars waiting for unsuspecting bikers that I worry about. My response is always the same when I see them twisting and turning in the back seat in gleeful anticipation and pretending not to notice that the biker is practically upon them. Load tubes two and four. Have a nice day.
I have to say, we had a mighty nice bike ride today. We wanted to stretch our collective legs and head down to Hampton Beach on our bikes but Nan didn’t think she could do that kind of ride. Not today anyway. I followed her lead under a diffuse sun and with a refreshing ocean breeze at our back we headed off the boulevard and down the back roads here in town. With all the twists and turns, I wasn’t able to find my rhythm and that wasn’t a good thing. It made me irritable, in fact, but I kept my mood in check and the small talk to a minimum where possible. We got an early start so the ride back home was less difficult than usual since the beach goers had barely just begun to park along the bike path. It only takes one door to open while you’re riding by to make for a bad day. I always keep one hand on my hand brake and rarely take my eyes off the road in front of me while straddling the path along Ocean Boulevard. It’s the ones sitting in the cars waiting for unsuspecting bikers that I worry about. My response is always the same when I see them twisting and turning in the back seat in gleeful anticipation and pretending not to notice that the biker is practically upon them. Load tubes two and four. Have a nice day.
Friends by Any Other Name
05/07/08 10:00
I have a good mind to get out my binoculars just to get a close up and personal look at the hummingbirds visiting our feeder. Maybe plural is wrong. Maybe it’s just one bird that keeps coming back time and time again to feed at our feeder. Maybe it’s a rare one that is near extinct or not indigenous to areas north of the Equator. I read this morning that the red food coloring used by most people when putting up their feeders is actually not very healthy for the birds. In fact, orange juice is a better nectar to use and it is just as effective if not more effective in attracting the birds. I tried to photograph them one morning but found that it was just too hard to get them in mid flight where they are typically most interesting to view. I would need to trigger the photograph electronically and I simply don’t have the equipment. Maybe it would be easier to let my camcorder run for an hour or so while aimed at the feeder. Maybe my imagination is running away with me and I ought to turn my attention elsewhere. I wonder if Hummingbirds migrate.
We did squat on the 4th of July. That is to say, we didn’t go to see any fireworks. Evan returned from his visit to the lake house with the usual bruises and bumps and telltale signs of not getting much sleep. He interrupted Nan and I while we were watching a movie entitled, “The Bank Job” and we only returned to the movie after he had a large bowl of GoLean Crunch and blueberries and promptly fell asleep. Even now, at 10:23 in the morning, he is fast asleep in our bed while Nancy is out for her walk and I am here pooping away my time blogging with my buddies. I can’t think of anything I would rather be doing and there are sufficiently few alternative distractions available so here I am.
Speaking of friends, did I ever tell you that I have some imaginary ones? Doesn’t everybody? I think most folks like to think of them as guardian angels and refer to them as such. They buy those silly little angel-like glass figurines from gift shops and hang them from their rear view mirrors and other conspicuous corners in the cubicles of their existence. Mine don’t have wings and don’t fly around from place to place awaiting a shout out from me to prompt them to action. To the extent that I think they oblige me in my bidding, I am respectful of their place in the universe and only ask for relatively small gestures and even then only from time to time so as not to annoy them with my earthly demands. For some odd reason I get the sneaky suspicion that my friends are one or more family members now dearly departed. Is that so unusual? I can’t quite put my finger on which one but I would not want to guess for fear that I might offend one or more of the others not chosen. Once offended, it may require more spiritual muster that I possess to get them back on board so I will proceed down that path with understandable caution. I am not so disposed today to share some of my more surreal moments seemingly at the will of my distinguished friends but be rest assured that I will do so at some point. I think this would please them.
We did squat on the 4th of July. That is to say, we didn’t go to see any fireworks. Evan returned from his visit to the lake house with the usual bruises and bumps and telltale signs of not getting much sleep. He interrupted Nan and I while we were watching a movie entitled, “The Bank Job” and we only returned to the movie after he had a large bowl of GoLean Crunch and blueberries and promptly fell asleep. Even now, at 10:23 in the morning, he is fast asleep in our bed while Nancy is out for her walk and I am here pooping away my time blogging with my buddies. I can’t think of anything I would rather be doing and there are sufficiently few alternative distractions available so here I am.
Speaking of friends, did I ever tell you that I have some imaginary ones? Doesn’t everybody? I think most folks like to think of them as guardian angels and refer to them as such. They buy those silly little angel-like glass figurines from gift shops and hang them from their rear view mirrors and other conspicuous corners in the cubicles of their existence. Mine don’t have wings and don’t fly around from place to place awaiting a shout out from me to prompt them to action. To the extent that I think they oblige me in my bidding, I am respectful of their place in the universe and only ask for relatively small gestures and even then only from time to time so as not to annoy them with my earthly demands. For some odd reason I get the sneaky suspicion that my friends are one or more family members now dearly departed. Is that so unusual? I can’t quite put my finger on which one but I would not want to guess for fear that I might offend one or more of the others not chosen. Once offended, it may require more spiritual muster that I possess to get them back on board so I will proceed down that path with understandable caution. I am not so disposed today to share some of my more surreal moments seemingly at the will of my distinguished friends but be rest assured that I will do so at some point. I think this would please them.
Standards be Damned
04/07/08 07:52
That boy is no sooner home from the Cape than he is off to spend the night at a friend’s lake house. Nancy fretted that the boys would have nothing to do if the rains fell unabated. She worries when they have too many choices and she worries when they have too few choices. My attitude is that boys will be boys and if all else fails they can go hunting frogs. It wouldn’t be the first time that they went swimming in the rain. I have never been to the camp but I understand that they have no neighbors so getting together for a game of Scrabble isn’t possible. What about cards? There is electricity but no television. The boys did not bring their iPods so they are left to creating whatever they do from whole cloth. Perhaps thankfully, they are staying but one evening. It was hot yesterday so I’m happy for Evan that he had a chance to go swimming with friends to escape the heat. With any luck, they had some fireworks on hand to usher in the fourth of July. In a pinch, sparklers would do just fine.
We took Ev and Noah to Boston to go to the Museum of Science the other day. They endured the ride by hooking up to their iPods and each of them watched a movie of their choice during the hour-long ride. The Museum was having a baseball exhibit which we wanted to see. The exhibit had memorabilia up the yin yang and we saw it all. They even had Kurt Schilling’s bloodied sock from the 2004 World Series games. One regret that I had was that we didn’t bring a pad and pen to write down the various and sundry pieces of baseball music seen in many of the individual exhibits. I have quite a collection from various sources which I have been using to create dvd’s of Evan’s baseball games over the years. Much of what I saw looked familiar but not all and I would have liked to track down those never-heard-pieces. Chances are that if I’ve never heard them then they are probably not ones anyone would recognize were I to use them. We carried along egg salad sandwiches, grapes, and a row of Fig Newtons for dessert. As one might suspect, once we got through the ticket booths, the boys went their way and we went ours. It won’t be the first time that happened and it won’t be the last. Not by far.
I have been titillated to say the least about the latest Hollywood gossip regarding Christie Brinkley and her cheating beau. Not because I pay any attention to the Hollywood rags, and certainly not because I have any sense of Christie Brinkley, because I don’t. Rather, Nancy and I take a different view of what transpired in this case. She is readying her scalpel with a steadied hand for any man who cavorts as he did with a younger woman. I am less inclined to have him indicted outright but certainly frown on the immorality of his actions. I’m of the mind that it takes two to tango and Nan seems to ignore the motivations of the younger woman and I simply cannot. Even though, as Nancy explains with daggers in her eyes that the women in question is within years of the age of his own daughter, I find that argument weak in the knees. Am I to believe that his gnarly behavior is now something akin to incest? That, my dear, is a mighty slippery slope. Put your scalpel away and let the courts decide who will get the Range Rover and the place on the lake at the end of the day. Lastly, part of me thinks that if a man his age can attract a much younger woman then so be it. Unfortunately, that part of me is within reach of Nancy’s steadied and scalpel-readied hand so I am not so inclined to exercise either my opinions or my options in any untoward way anytime soon. What kind of man cheats on a woman like Christie Brinkley anyway? What a cad!
We took Ev and Noah to Boston to go to the Museum of Science the other day. They endured the ride by hooking up to their iPods and each of them watched a movie of their choice during the hour-long ride. The Museum was having a baseball exhibit which we wanted to see. The exhibit had memorabilia up the yin yang and we saw it all. They even had Kurt Schilling’s bloodied sock from the 2004 World Series games. One regret that I had was that we didn’t bring a pad and pen to write down the various and sundry pieces of baseball music seen in many of the individual exhibits. I have quite a collection from various sources which I have been using to create dvd’s of Evan’s baseball games over the years. Much of what I saw looked familiar but not all and I would have liked to track down those never-heard-pieces. Chances are that if I’ve never heard them then they are probably not ones anyone would recognize were I to use them. We carried along egg salad sandwiches, grapes, and a row of Fig Newtons for dessert. As one might suspect, once we got through the ticket booths, the boys went their way and we went ours. It won’t be the first time that happened and it won’t be the last. Not by far.
I have been titillated to say the least about the latest Hollywood gossip regarding Christie Brinkley and her cheating beau. Not because I pay any attention to the Hollywood rags, and certainly not because I have any sense of Christie Brinkley, because I don’t. Rather, Nancy and I take a different view of what transpired in this case. She is readying her scalpel with a steadied hand for any man who cavorts as he did with a younger woman. I am less inclined to have him indicted outright but certainly frown on the immorality of his actions. I’m of the mind that it takes two to tango and Nan seems to ignore the motivations of the younger woman and I simply cannot. Even though, as Nancy explains with daggers in her eyes that the women in question is within years of the age of his own daughter, I find that argument weak in the knees. Am I to believe that his gnarly behavior is now something akin to incest? That, my dear, is a mighty slippery slope. Put your scalpel away and let the courts decide who will get the Range Rover and the place on the lake at the end of the day. Lastly, part of me thinks that if a man his age can attract a much younger woman then so be it. Unfortunately, that part of me is within reach of Nancy’s steadied and scalpel-readied hand so I am not so inclined to exercise either my opinions or my options in any untoward way anytime soon. What kind of man cheats on a woman like Christie Brinkley anyway? What a cad!
Carlin etal
03/07/08 08:38
It’s a pretty sweet day here on the coast. The sun is shining brightly and the forecast looks promising. We may even get a day without a thunderstorm for a change. That would be a relief. Having to run around the house closing windows and shutting off electrical things is getting old. There’s a lot to do but I don’t feel like doing much. I suppose most things can wait but the lawn can’t wait much longer before I take the mower to it. Like everything else today, that too is optional. I picked up a few books at the library the other day which I had planned to read but those plans too are on hold. Is there anything that isn’t on hold?
I have been catching up on George Carlin as of late since he won’t be down for breakfast anymore. You know how these scoundrels become even more famous after they die. George is no exception. Although, after watching some of his performances recently, I have to say that he seemed to me to be one angry mother. His use of the langauge was legendary but swinish at its essence. He used expeletives like a cheap whore and it seemed to me that he thought pretty highly of himself. I have to admit that while I got a few laughs, I was mostly aghast at how he ever managed to sell out shows the way he did. Maybe there are people out there who like to watch comedians who think like they do but can never bring themselves to speak up the way Carlin did. He was a mouthpiece for an entire generation of people who were angry at the world they lived in but didn’t have the presence of mind to articulate that hatred. He gave a voice to the mild mannered, the socially inept and the verbally repressed types, the ones likely to laugh at their own stupidity given half a chance. He was the bad boy of bad boys. Didn’t surprise me a bit to learn that he dropped out of the 7th grade. Good riddens, asshole.
I was telling my sweetie the other day that I think she has a lot of good ideas. I’m not sure I’ve known that all along but it seems that the more I get to know her the more I realize that it’s a fact. Like the other day, we’re riding down the boulevard and we passed a friends restaurant which had a sign outside advertising a new luncheon schedule. The sign showed the dates the place would begin their new schedule and it just so happened that it was to begun that very day. Nan’s suggestion was that they change the beginning date from 7/2 to “today”. Not a bad idea. While reviewing an ad placed in the local papers for the very same restaurant owner, Nancy noticed that there was no address on the advertisment. She mentioned this to the owner who immediately exclaimed that everyone knew where the restaurant was so it wasn’t an issue. A bit short sighted I would say, and I’m in Nan’s camp on this one. The list of these types of observations and intuitions goes on and on and it’s worth mentioning if for no other reason than to get it down in writing. You go, girl.
I have been catching up on George Carlin as of late since he won’t be down for breakfast anymore. You know how these scoundrels become even more famous after they die. George is no exception. Although, after watching some of his performances recently, I have to say that he seemed to me to be one angry mother. His use of the langauge was legendary but swinish at its essence. He used expeletives like a cheap whore and it seemed to me that he thought pretty highly of himself. I have to admit that while I got a few laughs, I was mostly aghast at how he ever managed to sell out shows the way he did. Maybe there are people out there who like to watch comedians who think like they do but can never bring themselves to speak up the way Carlin did. He was a mouthpiece for an entire generation of people who were angry at the world they lived in but didn’t have the presence of mind to articulate that hatred. He gave a voice to the mild mannered, the socially inept and the verbally repressed types, the ones likely to laugh at their own stupidity given half a chance. He was the bad boy of bad boys. Didn’t surprise me a bit to learn that he dropped out of the 7th grade. Good riddens, asshole.
I was telling my sweetie the other day that I think she has a lot of good ideas. I’m not sure I’ve known that all along but it seems that the more I get to know her the more I realize that it’s a fact. Like the other day, we’re riding down the boulevard and we passed a friends restaurant which had a sign outside advertising a new luncheon schedule. The sign showed the dates the place would begin their new schedule and it just so happened that it was to begun that very day. Nan’s suggestion was that they change the beginning date from 7/2 to “today”. Not a bad idea. While reviewing an ad placed in the local papers for the very same restaurant owner, Nancy noticed that there was no address on the advertisment. She mentioned this to the owner who immediately exclaimed that everyone knew where the restaurant was so it wasn’t an issue. A bit short sighted I would say, and I’m in Nan’s camp on this one. The list of these types of observations and intuitions goes on and on and it’s worth mentioning if for no other reason than to get it down in writing. You go, girl.
On a Wing and a Prayer
29/06/08 07:34
The birds in the hood are unusually quiet this morning. On a typical morning, they will awaken you from a dead sleep with their varied vocals. It is one of the reasons I enjoy sleeping with the windows open after a long winter. But they have been silenced over the past day or two perhaps by the lack of sunshine and over abundance of rain we’ve been experiencing here on the coast. There is simply less to sing about and birds are no more immune to such drudgery than are we. In fact, we are locked in such rythms with those who share our surroundings and it is a commiseration of unlikely partners to be sure. But we will rejoice as well when the sun returns and the song will once again reverberate in the hood as it has for a milliion years. For now, the grass grows unabated, the skies overhead remain ominous, and my family is still under cover at this early hour hoping no doubt to awaken to both song and sunny skies. On a wing and a prayer is what I say.
Evan returned home yesterday from his vacation on Cape Cod. He didn’t seem to be any worse for wear as they say. He happily avoided his final Babe Ruth baseball game on Saturday much to the chagrin of his mother and I. We had offered to collect him early and drive him to the game but he was having none of it. We had hoped that he might do his part to help his team win what turned out to be a very close and competitive game. More importantly, we had hoped that he might feel some responsibility as a member of his team to show up like every other team member. He had no such inclination or sense of responsibility. More to the point, I suspect his decision not to participate was driven by fear rather than some inherent lack of responsibility. Fear, perhaps, of having to face left handers from the mound. Fear, perhaps, of not being a starter were that to be the case and all the attendant humiliation. Fear, perhaps, of not living up to expectations. It is hard to know precisely since it is something that he has never articulated, but as a parent I think it is never as simple as it seems. How do you help your child face his or her fears when you don’t know what they are? His team lost 3-2. The hot dogs at the snack shack never tasted so good.
Evan returned home yesterday from his vacation on Cape Cod. He didn’t seem to be any worse for wear as they say. He happily avoided his final Babe Ruth baseball game on Saturday much to the chagrin of his mother and I. We had offered to collect him early and drive him to the game but he was having none of it. We had hoped that he might do his part to help his team win what turned out to be a very close and competitive game. More importantly, we had hoped that he might feel some responsibility as a member of his team to show up like every other team member. He had no such inclination or sense of responsibility. More to the point, I suspect his decision not to participate was driven by fear rather than some inherent lack of responsibility. Fear, perhaps, of having to face left handers from the mound. Fear, perhaps, of not being a starter were that to be the case and all the attendant humiliation. Fear, perhaps, of not living up to expectations. It is hard to know precisely since it is something that he has never articulated, but as a parent I think it is never as simple as it seems. How do you help your child face his or her fears when you don’t know what they are? His team lost 3-2. The hot dogs at the snack shack never tasted so good.
Without Child
28/06/08 07:31
We finally got that darn hummingbird feeder up and running. It’s a pretty little thing filled at all times with 2 cups of cool-aid red sugar water . Sure enough, they have been coming around to suck up the sugary sap oozing from the receptacles at the base of the feeder. Not in great numbers, mind you, and it is true that I’ve never seen more than one bird at a time at the feeder. In fact, I’m not at all certain that the birds I have seen over time are not one and the same. Hummingbirds are so small that I find myself squinting when one does appear just to make sure that it is not wishful thinking or worse. The funny part is that the feeder is no more than 10 feet away outside our back door. My only experience with hummingbirds in the past has been when I’ve seen them hovering in a stationary position over a flower while flapping their wings a million times a second. Very cool. They actually perch on the feeder while feeding so I guess it isn’t true that they always eat standing up or otherwise in mid-motion. I have a good mind to film the little fellas at the feeder but that is a subject for another day. Besides, to what end?
Evan has been on Cape Cod for the past week with his buddy, Noah, and his family. It is his first exposure to Cape Cod and I hope a memorable one. They are on the beach overlooking Barnstable Harbor in a fairly remote but beautiful section of the Cape. I had the unmitigated audacity to ask if they could see the Kennedy compound in Hyannis from their beach. In retrospect, I hope they aren’t died-in-the-wool democrats. I doubt that the season is fully underway given that school is just barely out so I trust the boys are not bored out of their cotton picking minds. There is only so much Monopoly and Twister that you can play before everything starts to muddle. We hear from him when he feels like calling and the conversations are brief as he always seems to have another appointment to keep. I think that is going to be a fact of life from here on out so we might as well get used to it. There are no good alternatives. All we can do is hope that he keeps his nose clean and that he uses good judgement in his selection of friends and situations. Then again, my boy, do go out on a limb from time to time. Just not too far.
Nancy and I have been consumed this week with putting the final touches on the dvd we created for Ev’s Babe Ruth team. We are just such good doobies. We weren’t at all sure that we were going to do this but decided we would as the end of the season came round. Not sure why exactly. Maybe just becasue it’s something that we’ve always done. Bad habits die hard. So, we invariably discover that we never have the time to do everything there is to do and something always suffers. Oh, the themes we chose could have been more interesting. Or, the video we took was not as clear as it could have been becasue we didn’t bother cleaning the lens before using the camera for the firt time this year. Maybe we would have taken a little more time to get better pictures of the boys. You know, closer up. Choosing the music takes a god awful long time and leaving that to the end can be disastrous. I have a good collection of baseball music and clips of game ambience, children clapping, and teens whistling so I throw them in when and where appropriate. It is all such a production. And then, Nancy wants to distribute the dvd to the coaches only as a thanks for the great season. My only question to her was, what is it about the word “team” that you don’t understand? She has come around to my way of thinking on this issue. Reluctantly, I might add.
Evan has been on Cape Cod for the past week with his buddy, Noah, and his family. It is his first exposure to Cape Cod and I hope a memorable one. They are on the beach overlooking Barnstable Harbor in a fairly remote but beautiful section of the Cape. I had the unmitigated audacity to ask if they could see the Kennedy compound in Hyannis from their beach. In retrospect, I hope they aren’t died-in-the-wool democrats. I doubt that the season is fully underway given that school is just barely out so I trust the boys are not bored out of their cotton picking minds. There is only so much Monopoly and Twister that you can play before everything starts to muddle. We hear from him when he feels like calling and the conversations are brief as he always seems to have another appointment to keep. I think that is going to be a fact of life from here on out so we might as well get used to it. There are no good alternatives. All we can do is hope that he keeps his nose clean and that he uses good judgement in his selection of friends and situations. Then again, my boy, do go out on a limb from time to time. Just not too far.
Nancy and I have been consumed this week with putting the final touches on the dvd we created for Ev’s Babe Ruth team. We are just such good doobies. We weren’t at all sure that we were going to do this but decided we would as the end of the season came round. Not sure why exactly. Maybe just becasue it’s something that we’ve always done. Bad habits die hard. So, we invariably discover that we never have the time to do everything there is to do and something always suffers. Oh, the themes we chose could have been more interesting. Or, the video we took was not as clear as it could have been becasue we didn’t bother cleaning the lens before using the camera for the firt time this year. Maybe we would have taken a little more time to get better pictures of the boys. You know, closer up. Choosing the music takes a god awful long time and leaving that to the end can be disastrous. I have a good collection of baseball music and clips of game ambience, children clapping, and teens whistling so I throw them in when and where appropriate. It is all such a production. And then, Nancy wants to distribute the dvd to the coaches only as a thanks for the great season. My only question to her was, what is it about the word “team” that you don’t understand? She has come around to my way of thinking on this issue. Reluctantly, I might add.
My cup runneth over
21/06/08 15:31
I have a favorite mug. It didn’t start out being a favorite but, once recognized as such, it seems like I’ve always had a very clear recollection of where I bought it, why I bought it, and how it came to be my favorite. Our cupboard is full of glasses, mugs, tumblers, and cups the likes of which I have no recollection of every buying or otherwise obtaining. This one is different. While they all serve a useful purpose, and it’s hard not to have favorites when you have so many to choose from, there are some I never use and others that I use frequently. The one I use most frequently, which just happens to be my favorite, is a coffee mug that I bought in an airport in Texas while on a business trip some 10 years ago. You can distinguish it from the others by the label on the front of the mug which reads, “TEXAS BRAND DENIM CO.” It is a typical diner-white ceramic mug with a very nice heft to it and it is neither too big nor too small. If I want more coffee, which is rare since I’m a one-cupper in the morning and a one-cupper in the evening, I can always go back for a refill. But, I never do. It is just right, as papa bear likes to say.
Believe it or not, I have cups in my cupboard whch exist for one reason and one reason only; they remind me of my childhood. Weird, huh? You know those brightly colored 8-oz aluminum tumblers that we had as children? I can’t place them precisely although I can see them most clearly at the camp up at the lake. Maybe the little camp. Maybe the big camp. They came in standard popsicle-like colors of red and blue. They were ice cold to the touch when filled with cold milk right out of the fridge and you couldn’t imagine having a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with milk in any other cup. Glass wasn’t the same and plastic didn’t get the job done like aluminum when it came to drinking ice cold milk. Those were the days before aluminum became synonomous with Alzheimers. If you were a good boy or girl, you got a liberal squeeze of Hershey’s chocolate syrup. Sugar was still in favor in those days. Not so much anymore. Don’t tell the kids.
And then there are cups that I prefer becasue they keep things hot or cold longer than usual. Coffee that goes cold before its time is useless. If I wanted iced coffee, or worse yet, coffee at room temperature, I’d prepare it that way. I don’t and I won’t have it that way. For all the days I’ve been drinking coffee, I have never quite perfected the art of making iced coffee so I usually leave that to the professionals. I’ll have one of them there coffee coolata’s, por favor. Or, I’ll have a frappacino when you have a moment. Now, with the price of gas hitting record highs, I’m less inclined to indulge my senses much less my wallet in such extravagance. For now, I will have to settle for ice cubes and a splash of skim milk with my coffee when I’m in the mood for an iced beverage. Perhaps the day will come when my cup runneth over once again. I’ll be waiting with my favorite mug in hand.
Believe it or not, I have cups in my cupboard whch exist for one reason and one reason only; they remind me of my childhood. Weird, huh? You know those brightly colored 8-oz aluminum tumblers that we had as children? I can’t place them precisely although I can see them most clearly at the camp up at the lake. Maybe the little camp. Maybe the big camp. They came in standard popsicle-like colors of red and blue. They were ice cold to the touch when filled with cold milk right out of the fridge and you couldn’t imagine having a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with milk in any other cup. Glass wasn’t the same and plastic didn’t get the job done like aluminum when it came to drinking ice cold milk. Those were the days before aluminum became synonomous with Alzheimers. If you were a good boy or girl, you got a liberal squeeze of Hershey’s chocolate syrup. Sugar was still in favor in those days. Not so much anymore. Don’t tell the kids.
And then there are cups that I prefer becasue they keep things hot or cold longer than usual. Coffee that goes cold before its time is useless. If I wanted iced coffee, or worse yet, coffee at room temperature, I’d prepare it that way. I don’t and I won’t have it that way. For all the days I’ve been drinking coffee, I have never quite perfected the art of making iced coffee so I usually leave that to the professionals. I’ll have one of them there coffee coolata’s, por favor. Or, I’ll have a frappacino when you have a moment. Now, with the price of gas hitting record highs, I’m less inclined to indulge my senses much less my wallet in such extravagance. For now, I will have to settle for ice cubes and a splash of skim milk with my coffee when I’m in the mood for an iced beverage. Perhaps the day will come when my cup runneth over once again. I’ll be waiting with my favorite mug in hand.
Yo-Yo Mama's
14/06/08 05:53
Good morning, world. What kind of day is this one going to be? It’s cool to start and that’s good. Maybe I’ll mow the lawn and maybe I won’t. I’m still trying to get my hands on the video of the Celtics game the other night when the Celts staged a historic comeback from being 24 points down in the finals against the Lakers. All those damn games are scheduled for 9pm. That works well for the folks on the west coast but we east coasters got screwed. Who the bejeezus can stay up that late to watch a basketball game? Since the Celts were down by 20 at half time, 95% of the east coasters went to be thinking it was all over. The Celts, of course, went on to win that game. Like I said, we got screwed. Who the hell agreed to that arrangement? I would fire that asshole in the time it took me to say his or her name. You’re fired! Now get the hell out of my sight. And take your basketball with you.
Ev has been getting taller over the course of the summer as he edges into puberty. The lot of his friends have taken off like an acre of saplings on steroids. Some faster than others but all are moving in the same direction. Up. Toward the sun. They now tower over girls in the hood who just months ago looked down on them with a somewhat amusing and mild curiosity. There are no more yo-yo’s. Just yo-yo mama’s. Lots of sexual energy for kids who are just busy being kids. I can barely connect the dots to my own experience but I suppose I went through the same thing at their age. It’s just so oozing. I don’t remember it being that blatant. Even though it was during the period of Woodstock and free love, rules were still rules and teens were expected to be teens in a regulated if not repressed way until they came of age. I don’t think those rules are in play anymore. Anyway, Ev rocked the fault lines in the family line-up this past week when he stood in the kitchen talking to his mom and I noticed that he was taller than her. It was a first. Oh, he tiptoed around from time time and stood on his tiptoes and liked to pretend that he was taller but he really wasn’t. Those days are over. Gone. I guess I hope he grows taller than me but that is more for him that it is for me. If not, he’ll have to wait till I grow smaller than him which every man will given that he lives long enough.
All of the men that I know agree on one thing. They don’t want anything for Father’s Day. Why? They simply can’t afford it. That is the world we live in. That is the world of $4 per gallon gas. It is the world of escalating prices for everything from milk to margarine. Nancy, knowing the coffee nut that I am, shared an article with me this past week about roasting your own coffee beans and it has gotten me to thinking. I want to try it. Not because I can’t afford a good cup of coffee because I can. There is a scintilla of self sufficiency attached to the notion of doing it not to mention the fact that I think I may like the smell of coffee more than I do the taste. I can hardly wait to start the process. It’s funny how having a nugget of interest can blossom into something more tangible and long lasting. Not sure where it will take me but I expect a more exotic experience for all my efforts. It reminds me that I started to grind my own beans a very long time ago and I still prefer that process even today. I won’t ask for a roaster since they are expensive. I may have a popcorn roaster around the house that will get the job done just as easily at 1/8th the price. Certainly, the beans are going to be less expensive so that will be a plus. Got to pinch pennies where you can to survive. God help us all. And godspeed to Tim Russert in the everlasting.
Ev has been getting taller over the course of the summer as he edges into puberty. The lot of his friends have taken off like an acre of saplings on steroids. Some faster than others but all are moving in the same direction. Up. Toward the sun. They now tower over girls in the hood who just months ago looked down on them with a somewhat amusing and mild curiosity. There are no more yo-yo’s. Just yo-yo mama’s. Lots of sexual energy for kids who are just busy being kids. I can barely connect the dots to my own experience but I suppose I went through the same thing at their age. It’s just so oozing. I don’t remember it being that blatant. Even though it was during the period of Woodstock and free love, rules were still rules and teens were expected to be teens in a regulated if not repressed way until they came of age. I don’t think those rules are in play anymore. Anyway, Ev rocked the fault lines in the family line-up this past week when he stood in the kitchen talking to his mom and I noticed that he was taller than her. It was a first. Oh, he tiptoed around from time time and stood on his tiptoes and liked to pretend that he was taller but he really wasn’t. Those days are over. Gone. I guess I hope he grows taller than me but that is more for him that it is for me. If not, he’ll have to wait till I grow smaller than him which every man will given that he lives long enough.
All of the men that I know agree on one thing. They don’t want anything for Father’s Day. Why? They simply can’t afford it. That is the world we live in. That is the world of $4 per gallon gas. It is the world of escalating prices for everything from milk to margarine. Nancy, knowing the coffee nut that I am, shared an article with me this past week about roasting your own coffee beans and it has gotten me to thinking. I want to try it. Not because I can’t afford a good cup of coffee because I can. There is a scintilla of self sufficiency attached to the notion of doing it not to mention the fact that I think I may like the smell of coffee more than I do the taste. I can hardly wait to start the process. It’s funny how having a nugget of interest can blossom into something more tangible and long lasting. Not sure where it will take me but I expect a more exotic experience for all my efforts. It reminds me that I started to grind my own beans a very long time ago and I still prefer that process even today. I won’t ask for a roaster since they are expensive. I may have a popcorn roaster around the house that will get the job done just as easily at 1/8th the price. Certainly, the beans are going to be less expensive so that will be a plus. Got to pinch pennies where you can to survive. God help us all. And godspeed to Tim Russert in the everlasting.
Heat Wave
08/06/08 16:04
It’s friggin 96.8 here on the coast. Right on the coast, it’s probably 10 degrees cooler. We’re far enough away so that we’re not getting the benefit of those offshore breezes. No Matter. Surprisingly enough, I’m not feeling particularly put upon by the heat. I have quite a laundry list of things to do and time is a wastin’. Isn’t there a song by that name somewhere? My buds are laying low and they are otherwise shut away in an air conditioned room while I clean the dishes, prepare some rotini for a nice cold tuna-pasta salad, and whip up a nice frothy iced coffee while thinking about what I might throw in the blog today. Did I mention I just got back from food shopping? Before the day is out I will need to finish mowing the lawn and cleaning the fish tank as well. There just isn’t enough time in the day. Oh yes, I’m making a batch of shampoo too. Just what the doctor ordered.
What’s with Big Brown coming in last? Was that the Preakness? That’s just weird. He must have been feeling off or something. The owners must have seen it coming. I’m not a big tv watcher but I do like a good show from time to time and that includes movies. There was a show that debuted this past week called “Fear Itself.” I finally got a chance to see it today. It had all the requisite themes including sex, violence, and vampires. Yes, I said vampires. How unoriginal. It was dark though. Dark enough to want to watch again. I like a good scary flick. I remember watching Dark Shadows as a kid and liking it just fine. The problem is that you quickly adjust to the blood and guts and pretty soon you need more than just blood and guts. So, now I watch blood and guts in high definition. It’s better but still easy enough to get used to. I like to think that when I finally see the one film that scares the living daylights out of me I will be hard pressed to want to walk outside in the dark. That will be the test.
Well, Wally. The new iPhone is soon to be released. We’ll know on Tuesday what that means when Steve gives his speech. Rumor has it that it will be smaller and less expensive. I’m not sure what it will take to push me over the edge (no pun intended) but one thing I’ve always wanted in a phone is to be able to pull in streaming radio stations. I’m less interested in using the web on the device but would find GPS capability a strong driver right behind streaming radio. I don’t know what all the blather is since the phone is really for the wife and not for me. I’ve got a backlog of films that should take me through the year 2015 when I finally get a chance to see them all on my iPod so you can see I’m in no big hurry. Time will tell.
What’s with Big Brown coming in last? Was that the Preakness? That’s just weird. He must have been feeling off or something. The owners must have seen it coming. I’m not a big tv watcher but I do like a good show from time to time and that includes movies. There was a show that debuted this past week called “Fear Itself.” I finally got a chance to see it today. It had all the requisite themes including sex, violence, and vampires. Yes, I said vampires. How unoriginal. It was dark though. Dark enough to want to watch again. I like a good scary flick. I remember watching Dark Shadows as a kid and liking it just fine. The problem is that you quickly adjust to the blood and guts and pretty soon you need more than just blood and guts. So, now I watch blood and guts in high definition. It’s better but still easy enough to get used to. I like to think that when I finally see the one film that scares the living daylights out of me I will be hard pressed to want to walk outside in the dark. That will be the test.
Well, Wally. The new iPhone is soon to be released. We’ll know on Tuesday what that means when Steve gives his speech. Rumor has it that it will be smaller and less expensive. I’m not sure what it will take to push me over the edge (no pun intended) but one thing I’ve always wanted in a phone is to be able to pull in streaming radio stations. I’m less interested in using the web on the device but would find GPS capability a strong driver right behind streaming radio. I don’t know what all the blather is since the phone is really for the wife and not for me. I’ve got a backlog of films that should take me through the year 2015 when I finally get a chance to see them all on my iPod so you can see I’m in no big hurry. Time will tell.
Slaying Dragons
07/06/08 06:45
Got to get me in the mood this morning. The mood for what I don’t know. The mood to complain? The mood to whine? The mood to document? Why am I wearing a wool hat on a day where the temperatures are going to soar to the high eighties and low nineties? Why am I wearing red wool socks and listening to the likes of Suzanne Vega? So many questions. I want to piss off a little about politics this past week but know that every battle has winners and losers and there is no need to offend those of you who thought Hillary to tbe the better of the two candidates. She was certainly the whiter of the two and she had more white supporters. Just ask her. She’ll tell you. I guess we now know that the glass ceiling for women is lower than it is for blacks. Who-da thunk? I, for one, will tape and probably listen to her concession speech today. It’s the one she should have given the night Obama went over the top in the oh-so-important delegate count last tuesday night. She and her gang of thugs have finally run out of metrics to devise and now there is only one metric left that counts for anything. That is to say, the number of minutes it takes her to give the speech. Here’s my advise for those of you looking for anything definitive. Look and listen for something resembling wiggle room. You’ll know it when you hear it. If you listen closely enough, you may even hear the lingering falsetto of the proverbial fat lady singing.
There are moments in your life when you come to the realization that your children are human with frailities of their own. You like to think that when you first see these frailities manifested in your child’s behaviour that they will come and go like every other transitory thing in childhood. Then you come to realize, slowly at first, that the things they don’t and can’t let go of come to dictate their view of the world for better or worse. It has them turning left when they should be turning right; looking up when they should be looking down; swinging hard at a ball while up at bat when they should have laid out down a bunt; and drinking soda when the better choice would have been to drink water. So, I was not surprised to hear Evan say yesterday that he would be terrified if he had to go through a bar mitzvah like his good friend whose bar mitzvah he plans to attend today. The very thought of being the center of attention with all the people and all the fanfare is apparently more than Evan would care to comtemplate. Funny thing is, I think I’ve known this all along about Evan but have not really recognized it until he put it into his own words. It’s the kind of thing that they carry around in their heads but rarely on their sleeves. It all makes sense now. These demons are not to be taken lightly. I guess that is where we as parents come in. Stand behind me my dear child and behold while I show you how to slay the dragons. In one fell swoop..... I wish it were that easy.
There are moments in your life when you come to the realization that your children are human with frailities of their own. You like to think that when you first see these frailities manifested in your child’s behaviour that they will come and go like every other transitory thing in childhood. Then you come to realize, slowly at first, that the things they don’t and can’t let go of come to dictate their view of the world for better or worse. It has them turning left when they should be turning right; looking up when they should be looking down; swinging hard at a ball while up at bat when they should have laid out down a bunt; and drinking soda when the better choice would have been to drink water. So, I was not surprised to hear Evan say yesterday that he would be terrified if he had to go through a bar mitzvah like his good friend whose bar mitzvah he plans to attend today. The very thought of being the center of attention with all the people and all the fanfare is apparently more than Evan would care to comtemplate. Funny thing is, I think I’ve known this all along about Evan but have not really recognized it until he put it into his own words. It’s the kind of thing that they carry around in their heads but rarely on their sleeves. It all makes sense now. These demons are not to be taken lightly. I guess that is where we as parents come in. Stand behind me my dear child and behold while I show you how to slay the dragons. In one fell swoop..... I wish it were that easy.
Underdogs All
01/06/08 05:45
Got me an update of this here blogging software and it may take some getting used to. No matter, I’m plugged in and ready to roll. I missed blogging yesterday because Ev and I stayed up quite late on Friday night to watch the Celtics will the Eastern Conference Championship against the Pistons. It was well worth staying up for. Their prospects against the Lakers are not as good but that is what makes it so interesting. I’m big on underdogs so I’ll be pulling for the homies on Tuesday. Well, the next door neighbors anwyay since we do not live in Massachusetts. And on top of it all, Manny Ramirez hit his 500th career home run last night in the Red Sox game against the Baltimore Orioles at Camden Yards. We all knew it was coming but we just didn’t know when. Good for Manny. Everyone needs milestones.
I guess I’m a little more of a sports guy these days than I used to be. Maybe it was all those late night steel cage death matches that got me adrenaline pumping. Maybe I’m getting a little more interested in getting behind the underdogs as I get older since being an underdog all my life I can finally appreciate what that’s all about. As life around me becomes more transparent, and some may refer to this as the kind of wisdom one accrues throughout a lifetime, I am less tolerant of the overbearing and those who think they are entitled. Whether it be Hillary Clinton or Big Brown, I expect battles to be waged on a fair and level playing field thereby giving the underdog a chance. When they are not, expect me to be weighing in on the side of the underdog. That is just who I am these days.
Hey, it’s June 1st. Who knew. Let’s give a shout out to brother Dave whose birthday is coming around on the 4th. God rest his soul. You have to wonder if he were still alive what he would be doing. Would he have a family of his own? Children? Dogs? Cats? Nah, Dave wasn’t a cat guy. Clark Wooley was a cat guy. Not Dave. A job he enjoyed and friends he could count on? As brothers and sisters, we would be there for him as we always were when he was alive. As much as I resisted giving in to his demands for things like cars, money, and favors, he knew I would relent. I don’t have a clear recollection of how reciprocal that relationship was but I think it was a bit of a one way street. A small price to pay for years of hand-me-downs and letting me tag along with his friends since my friends were not nearly as much fun and free wheeling as his. The closest I ever came to feeling cool as a yoot was when I was hanging out with he and his friends. They were never hanging out with me, but rather I with them. That was enough for me. I was the little brother that could. Dave was the man.
Thank you to brother Wally for the very nice pic of Carli and canine. I hope to post a slideshow today of Ev and his baseball ecxcitations so do pay a visit to see him. I read about layoffs at the hospital and hope that all is well with Denise. Jim called last night but I was not in to get his call so I’ll have to ring him up today to get the scoop. Yo, Mr. Clean. How’s life? Maybe he is Mr. Clean with a hairline. Mr. straight and narrow. Mr. lookin’ good and feeling fine. I hope Kathy is holding up under the stress of her circumstances. I guess she should have seen it coming. No matter, change is hard and there are seemingly few alternatives. Maybe, just maybe, it wil be the impetus she needs to find her footing once again. A new start as it were. Some people find it quickly. Some take a lifetime and never find it. We’ll hope only good things for Kathy and her family. I’m pleased to know as well that Lise is settled and just where she wants to be as I’m told. For those of us who want to know how to be true to who we are in this life, Lise is the shining example of that concept. Give her a hug for me the next time you see her.
I guess I’m a little more of a sports guy these days than I used to be. Maybe it was all those late night steel cage death matches that got me adrenaline pumping. Maybe I’m getting a little more interested in getting behind the underdogs as I get older since being an underdog all my life I can finally appreciate what that’s all about. As life around me becomes more transparent, and some may refer to this as the kind of wisdom one accrues throughout a lifetime, I am less tolerant of the overbearing and those who think they are entitled. Whether it be Hillary Clinton or Big Brown, I expect battles to be waged on a fair and level playing field thereby giving the underdog a chance. When they are not, expect me to be weighing in on the side of the underdog. That is just who I am these days.
Hey, it’s June 1st. Who knew. Let’s give a shout out to brother Dave whose birthday is coming around on the 4th. God rest his soul. You have to wonder if he were still alive what he would be doing. Would he have a family of his own? Children? Dogs? Cats? Nah, Dave wasn’t a cat guy. Clark Wooley was a cat guy. Not Dave. A job he enjoyed and friends he could count on? As brothers and sisters, we would be there for him as we always were when he was alive. As much as I resisted giving in to his demands for things like cars, money, and favors, he knew I would relent. I don’t have a clear recollection of how reciprocal that relationship was but I think it was a bit of a one way street. A small price to pay for years of hand-me-downs and letting me tag along with his friends since my friends were not nearly as much fun and free wheeling as his. The closest I ever came to feeling cool as a yoot was when I was hanging out with he and his friends. They were never hanging out with me, but rather I with them. That was enough for me. I was the little brother that could. Dave was the man.
Thank you to brother Wally for the very nice pic of Carli and canine. I hope to post a slideshow today of Ev and his baseball ecxcitations so do pay a visit to see him. I read about layoffs at the hospital and hope that all is well with Denise. Jim called last night but I was not in to get his call so I’ll have to ring him up today to get the scoop. Yo, Mr. Clean. How’s life? Maybe he is Mr. Clean with a hairline. Mr. straight and narrow. Mr. lookin’ good and feeling fine. I hope Kathy is holding up under the stress of her circumstances. I guess she should have seen it coming. No matter, change is hard and there are seemingly few alternatives. Maybe, just maybe, it wil be the impetus she needs to find her footing once again. A new start as it were. Some people find it quickly. Some take a lifetime and never find it. We’ll hope only good things for Kathy and her family. I’m pleased to know as well that Lise is settled and just where she wants to be as I’m told. For those of us who want to know how to be true to who we are in this life, Lise is the shining example of that concept. Give her a hug for me the next time you see her.
Boston Bound
26/05/08 07:14
Yesterday was a beautiful day here on the coast. We began with a bike ride down the coastline and we ended up taking an extended ride because it was such a beautiful morning. The coastline was pristine, the morning air cool and without humidity, and all with a cloudless sky overhead. The ocean was relatively calm and you could see all the way out to the Isle of Shoals which is some 6 miles offshore without so much as a squint. We thought about going to Boston since Evan was heading down to Foxboro, Ma., with friends to take in lacrosse championships at Gillette stadium. That is, for all unacquainted with same, home of the Patriots football team. Is mentioning the Patriots and football in the same sentence redundant? Maybe not on Memorial Day. Certainly not today.
It was too nice a day not to go for a ride despite the price of gas ($4 gallon) so off we went. I was interested in visiting the new Apple store in Boston so that is what we did. Finding a parking spot was more of a challenge that I had anticipated and we went round and round the city streets looking for a spot before we finally found one near the Prudential Center. The Apple building was but a city block away. It must have taken us 20 minutes to find a place to park. From there we walked cross town to the Quincy Market. It turned out to be a trudge of epic proportions but we were not alone. The city was bustling under the weight of visitors from around the world and we simply got on the treadmill and kept walking. I think we surprised ourselves at just how far and long we walked. We stopped long enough at Faneuil Hall to listen to a group of black beat boxers and to share a greek salad and we continued on. By the grace of god, the walk back seemed shorter as it always does. We didn't take a taxi or jump on the subway since I was not wanting to pay the price of a taxi when we could walk and Nancy did not want to take the subway. So we walked, and walked, and walked. And then we walked some more.
The Apple store was pretty cool. It reminded me more of a museum than a store with its expansive layout and glass facade. It is five stories high and the glass front extends to all five stories as you face the building from the street. If you have a fear of heights, you're better off not looking down the glass stairway or out the window and down to the street. We had a conversation or two with folks from their genius bar about the iMovie application and the use and control of fonts. We sat down at a 24" iMac and used it to visit Nancy's sites on the web and found the monitors to be exquisite. Wow! Look at those graphics! Have you ever seen text so crisp? The staff was very pleasant but if I had to guess I would say few if any of their employees could afford to buy one of their higher end computers. That is not a bad thing but just an observation. One fellow regaled us with stories about his prior job selling PC's and how he has moved up in the world. Over from the dark side I should say.
We ended the day with an iced coffee from Seattle's Best Coffee but we passed on a dozen bagels from Finagle-a-Bagel given the nuts and seeds warning pasted right on the counter next to the cash register. Ev will have to settle for blueberry bagels from Dunkin Donuts although they too are suspect now that the store sells peanut butter cookies. Have been for a while as a matter of fact. Toast and jam okay?
It was too nice a day not to go for a ride despite the price of gas ($4 gallon) so off we went. I was interested in visiting the new Apple store in Boston so that is what we did. Finding a parking spot was more of a challenge that I had anticipated and we went round and round the city streets looking for a spot before we finally found one near the Prudential Center. The Apple building was but a city block away. It must have taken us 20 minutes to find a place to park. From there we walked cross town to the Quincy Market. It turned out to be a trudge of epic proportions but we were not alone. The city was bustling under the weight of visitors from around the world and we simply got on the treadmill and kept walking. I think we surprised ourselves at just how far and long we walked. We stopped long enough at Faneuil Hall to listen to a group of black beat boxers and to share a greek salad and we continued on. By the grace of god, the walk back seemed shorter as it always does. We didn't take a taxi or jump on the subway since I was not wanting to pay the price of a taxi when we could walk and Nancy did not want to take the subway. So we walked, and walked, and walked. And then we walked some more.
The Apple store was pretty cool. It reminded me more of a museum than a store with its expansive layout and glass facade. It is five stories high and the glass front extends to all five stories as you face the building from the street. If you have a fear of heights, you're better off not looking down the glass stairway or out the window and down to the street. We had a conversation or two with folks from their genius bar about the iMovie application and the use and control of fonts. We sat down at a 24" iMac and used it to visit Nancy's sites on the web and found the monitors to be exquisite. Wow! Look at those graphics! Have you ever seen text so crisp? The staff was very pleasant but if I had to guess I would say few if any of their employees could afford to buy one of their higher end computers. That is not a bad thing but just an observation. One fellow regaled us with stories about his prior job selling PC's and how he has moved up in the world. Over from the dark side I should say.
We ended the day with an iced coffee from Seattle's Best Coffee but we passed on a dozen bagels from Finagle-a-Bagel given the nuts and seeds warning pasted right on the counter next to the cash register. Ev will have to settle for blueberry bagels from Dunkin Donuts although they too are suspect now that the store sells peanut butter cookies. Have been for a while as a matter of fact. Toast and jam okay?
Not the Candy Bar
25/05/08 05:51
Ev had quite a game for himself yesterday down at Leary field in Portsmouth. He's slowly getting acclimated to everything that's new about Babe Ruth baseball including field size and space between the bases. He had his pitching debut this past Tuesday and struck out 4 in 3 innings on the mound. He was called back to the mound yesterday and he closed out the game with a 10-6 win. A win is a win. As a 13 year-old in a 13-14 year-old league, he was happy to have a more prominent role both on the mound and as a starter in the game. Although the sweeter spots in the game are typically reserved for the older kids, Ev contributed 2 RBI's and a critical catch in center field to end an inning. In fact, he got the game ball which is tantamount to receiving the MVP award for the game. If we had to do it all over again, we would have had his mom in attendance. She, of course, was doing her best to retire the national debt while pressing the flesh and peddling our wares at the semi annual Supernut yard sale. We celebrated successes all around at the end of the day by having dinner at a local mexican restaurant in nearby Kittery, Maine.
I must admit to having some difficulty watching Evan when he's pitching. For some odd reason, I think he performs better when I'm not watching. Maybe it's just me. I know that he looks over to see me from time to time and I'll give him a nod of the head or a thumbs up but I usually try to stay out of eyeshot when he's pitching. Unlike some of the parents, who hang on the fence while yelling words of encouragement to their children, I move away and keep my mouth shut and my fingers crossed. I will have to ask him sometime about that. I guess it probably doesn't matter what he thinks since I will do what I have to do.
I should post a follow-up on the ant situation here at home. I found a recipe on the internet using boric acid (picked this up a local Rite Aid for $3.99) as a way to poison them and I have to tell you that it worked like a charm. I think the key was mixing the toxic soup in the right proportions. Not so toxic that it killed them on contact but just strong enough to allow them to carry it back to the queen and poison her on her throne. I did a visual at the outset and watched them as they staggered away after sipping the sugary juice like a drunken sailor heading home after a night out. If anyone wants the recipe be sure to ask me for it. Be sure to keep it away from the kids and the animals since it is a damn potent poison.
I must admit to having some difficulty watching Evan when he's pitching. For some odd reason, I think he performs better when I'm not watching. Maybe it's just me. I know that he looks over to see me from time to time and I'll give him a nod of the head or a thumbs up but I usually try to stay out of eyeshot when he's pitching. Unlike some of the parents, who hang on the fence while yelling words of encouragement to their children, I move away and keep my mouth shut and my fingers crossed. I will have to ask him sometime about that. I guess it probably doesn't matter what he thinks since I will do what I have to do.
I should post a follow-up on the ant situation here at home. I found a recipe on the internet using boric acid (picked this up a local Rite Aid for $3.99) as a way to poison them and I have to tell you that it worked like a charm. I think the key was mixing the toxic soup in the right proportions. Not so toxic that it killed them on contact but just strong enough to allow them to carry it back to the queen and poison her on her throne. I did a visual at the outset and watched them as they staggered away after sipping the sugary juice like a drunken sailor heading home after a night out. If anyone wants the recipe be sure to ask me for it. Be sure to keep it away from the kids and the animals since it is a damn potent poison.
Everyone's a Fighter
24/05/08 07:38
I am so sick and tired of hearing the press play up Hillary's "I'm staying in because I'm a fighter" comments. Oh, and Ted Kennedy is going to do just fine because he's a fighter. That somehow gives them the right to go on and we should all get behind them and forget that the party already has a presumptive nominee. In Ted's case, his fight will soon end at death's door step. I'm sure he'll cross that threshold with arms swinging. Hillary will fight on as well since, as she says in her own words, anything can happen. She went on to remind everyone that Robert Kennedy was assassinated in June of 68 so anything can happen and she wants to be there when it does. I think her comments were designed to unleash the dogs of hell on Barack Obama and it was a call to all the nut jobs from the mountains of West Virginia to the swamps of Arkansas to arm themselves once and for all and rid the world of the one obstacle standing in Hillary Clinton's path to the White House. Let there be no doubt about her motivation. If we've learned anything about the Clinton's, we've learned that they will do anything to get what they want. Now that what was hers has been taken away, she will fight with claws extended to the very end. Even if it means that her party loses in the end. It is and always has been about the Clinton's. It is clearly time for the remaining super delegates to step in and end this fight.
How is it that children can be so surly sometimes? And to think that they will and do from time to time turn their disaffection towards those who have spent a lifetime loving and caring for them to a fault. When a mom who has loved her son and has uttered not a negative word or raised a hand to him since the day he came home from the hospital dares to raise his voice to her, where does that come from? No mother or parent deserves such disrespect and must furthermore resist and push back against such hostility so as to discourage it in its infancy. I can attest to this mother's love going back as far as is necessary to make the point. She has only wanted what was best for her son and to get anything less in return diminishes everything she has worked so hard to achieve. One may be inclined to think that this is a customary sort of impetuousness. The kind you find in children coming of age in a day and age when pressures of various and sundry sorts sully the landscape of adolescence. The prisms of pleasantry and promise found in children gives way to something infinitely less idyllic as hormones and belligerence emerge. While there is a tendency to want to quash this type of behavior underfoot, perhaps it is best dealt with as a transient problem and one requiring as much patience on our part as is humanly possible. No one ever warned us of the terrible teens but I can tell you that it is just as if not more trying than the terrible two's. I wish naps were still an option.
It's hard to tell where things are going this weekend but there seems to be enough time on the clock to do what we need to do with the long holiday weekend looming. The weather seems to be taking a turn for the better here on the coast and where it looked like rain early in the day it is now partly sunny and promising. Cool too. Did I tell you that Nancy is having a yard sale today? Our neighbor was having one and asked if we would consider having one as well. We have so much stuff that we need to get rid of that it makes perfect sense for us to jump on that bandwagon. I'm not a yard sale kind of guy so I'm in hiding while Nancy hawks our wares in the driveway. There is so much of Ev's stuff from tee shirts that he has never worn to skates that he has used maybe once or twice. The first thing to go was a cordless drill which she was selling for her mom. It went for a cool $50 clams. I purposely did not want to sell any of my Mac stuff although I have cords, keyboards, computers, and monitors up the wazoo. Most of it is pre-USB so ancient in my estimation. I do think Nancy will make a go of it with the event. She is very particular about everything so I suspect that she will rake in a lot of cold hard cash today. All the better to fill our gas tanks, send our child to college, supplement our summer vacation fund, and if there is anything left at the end of the day, to sit down with a cold one.
Before I forget, I think American Idol got it right this year with David Cook. He is and was outstanding. A righteous dude. A right choice for a change.
How is it that children can be so surly sometimes? And to think that they will and do from time to time turn their disaffection towards those who have spent a lifetime loving and caring for them to a fault. When a mom who has loved her son and has uttered not a negative word or raised a hand to him since the day he came home from the hospital dares to raise his voice to her, where does that come from? No mother or parent deserves such disrespect and must furthermore resist and push back against such hostility so as to discourage it in its infancy. I can attest to this mother's love going back as far as is necessary to make the point. She has only wanted what was best for her son and to get anything less in return diminishes everything she has worked so hard to achieve. One may be inclined to think that this is a customary sort of impetuousness. The kind you find in children coming of age in a day and age when pressures of various and sundry sorts sully the landscape of adolescence. The prisms of pleasantry and promise found in children gives way to something infinitely less idyllic as hormones and belligerence emerge. While there is a tendency to want to quash this type of behavior underfoot, perhaps it is best dealt with as a transient problem and one requiring as much patience on our part as is humanly possible. No one ever warned us of the terrible teens but I can tell you that it is just as if not more trying than the terrible two's. I wish naps were still an option.
It's hard to tell where things are going this weekend but there seems to be enough time on the clock to do what we need to do with the long holiday weekend looming. The weather seems to be taking a turn for the better here on the coast and where it looked like rain early in the day it is now partly sunny and promising. Cool too. Did I tell you that Nancy is having a yard sale today? Our neighbor was having one and asked if we would consider having one as well. We have so much stuff that we need to get rid of that it makes perfect sense for us to jump on that bandwagon. I'm not a yard sale kind of guy so I'm in hiding while Nancy hawks our wares in the driveway. There is so much of Ev's stuff from tee shirts that he has never worn to skates that he has used maybe once or twice. The first thing to go was a cordless drill which she was selling for her mom. It went for a cool $50 clams. I purposely did not want to sell any of my Mac stuff although I have cords, keyboards, computers, and monitors up the wazoo. Most of it is pre-USB so ancient in my estimation. I do think Nancy will make a go of it with the event. She is very particular about everything so I suspect that she will rake in a lot of cold hard cash today. All the better to fill our gas tanks, send our child to college, supplement our summer vacation fund, and if there is anything left at the end of the day, to sit down with a cold one.
Before I forget, I think American Idol got it right this year with David Cook. He is and was outstanding. A righteous dude. A right choice for a change.
Sweet Dreams
18/05/08 06:00
Ah, Big Brown wins another one. He's one short of a Triple Crown but seems otherwise on track to win it. And while the big brown fella leads his contenders at every turn, we have the senior senator from Massachusetts, Teddy Kennedy, fading in the final stretch but is reportedly resting comfortably at the trough in the wake of yesterdays seizures. He is more affectionately known as the "Fat Bastard" by those who blindly adore him and by those who follow and perpetuate the Kennedy myth in the oh-so-liberal state of Massachusetts. Since I had placed my wager on Teddy not coming down for breakfast, it doesn't look like my horse will be coming in. Not today. Perhaps not even tomorrow. He remains as my top prospect in the death pool, however, so I remain optimistic. Not because I have anything personal against Teddy, but rather because I detest political dynasties. Dynasties of any kind. His passing can only mean good things for those of us who find fault with everything he and his family represent in modern day politics. Unless, of course, it enables yet another generation of Kennedy's to emerge with the sympathies and prayers of their natural born constituents in the state of Massachusetts. I'll take my chances.
I know it's hard to believe but it looks like spring has finally arrived. I guess it's time to plant whatever it is that we are going to plant. Nan put in a couple of blueberry bushes in the last few days and it will be interesting to see how they develop. It would have been so easy to stick the plant or plants in the ground and let them do whatever it is they are going to do. Nan wasn't taking any chances and what she discovered was that you need to plant blueberry bushes in pairs. They need cross pollination in order to produce berries so I'm glad she asked. We would have otherwise watched and wondered season after season as to why we had bushes but no berries. We probably would have come to the conclusion that we had done something wrong, something fateful like planting them in a place with too little sun, too little of this or too much of that, and that would have been the end of it. If it turns out well for us, we can deal with more interesting problems like protecting them from birds and other animals so we might enjoy a bowlful on occasion. Nan is a big fan of blueberries so I hope all turns out well. If our crop comes up short, it won't be due to a lack of sunshine, peat moss, water, or just plain lovin'.
We were awakened in the middle of the night last night with a start. Ev was sleep walking only this time he wasn't walking. He was running. We heard him jump out of bed with a thump as his feet hit the floor and no sooner was he on his feet when we heard the back door opening. He was on his way to god only knows where and Nancy was right behind him as soon as she heard the door opening. Typically, we will awaken in the middle of the night to find him standing in a dark corner in our home somewhere muttering to himself. Maybe it's the muttering that wakes us up. Maybe just being aware that he is prone to this type of behavior has our collective antennae up even after we've gone to sleep. I do think that even in this somnambulant state of his it is important to not ply him with questions that are too direct or questions that require any form of thinking on his part. It is better to help him help himself to realize where he is and to guide him back to bed with as little interruption as possible. In fact, I find that if we do this right, he won't remember a thing the day after. Lastly, I think a mothers soft voice and guiding tone is best suited for this task. If she does it right, even I may not remember that it ever happened. Selfishly speaking, of course. But he didn't go far last night and I will have to ask Nan this morning what he had to say if anything when she caught up with him at the end of the driveway at 2 in the morning. She did say something about his girlfriend when she finally came back to bed. I didn't know he had one.
I know it's hard to believe but it looks like spring has finally arrived. I guess it's time to plant whatever it is that we are going to plant. Nan put in a couple of blueberry bushes in the last few days and it will be interesting to see how they develop. It would have been so easy to stick the plant or plants in the ground and let them do whatever it is they are going to do. Nan wasn't taking any chances and what she discovered was that you need to plant blueberry bushes in pairs. They need cross pollination in order to produce berries so I'm glad she asked. We would have otherwise watched and wondered season after season as to why we had bushes but no berries. We probably would have come to the conclusion that we had done something wrong, something fateful like planting them in a place with too little sun, too little of this or too much of that, and that would have been the end of it. If it turns out well for us, we can deal with more interesting problems like protecting them from birds and other animals so we might enjoy a bowlful on occasion. Nan is a big fan of blueberries so I hope all turns out well. If our crop comes up short, it won't be due to a lack of sunshine, peat moss, water, or just plain lovin'.
We were awakened in the middle of the night last night with a start. Ev was sleep walking only this time he wasn't walking. He was running. We heard him jump out of bed with a thump as his feet hit the floor and no sooner was he on his feet when we heard the back door opening. He was on his way to god only knows where and Nancy was right behind him as soon as she heard the door opening. Typically, we will awaken in the middle of the night to find him standing in a dark corner in our home somewhere muttering to himself. Maybe it's the muttering that wakes us up. Maybe just being aware that he is prone to this type of behavior has our collective antennae up even after we've gone to sleep. I do think that even in this somnambulant state of his it is important to not ply him with questions that are too direct or questions that require any form of thinking on his part. It is better to help him help himself to realize where he is and to guide him back to bed with as little interruption as possible. In fact, I find that if we do this right, he won't remember a thing the day after. Lastly, I think a mothers soft voice and guiding tone is best suited for this task. If she does it right, even I may not remember that it ever happened. Selfishly speaking, of course. But he didn't go far last night and I will have to ask Nan this morning what he had to say if anything when she caught up with him at the end of the driveway at 2 in the morning. She did say something about his girlfriend when she finally came back to bed. I didn't know he had one.
Screwed
17/05/08 06:22
I'll never forget the time at Lake George when my dad asked me to get him a phillips head screwdriver as he bent over the open the open hatch of his Century. I was doing just fine that day up to that point. I was probably 10 years old or so. It was a warm sunny day as I recall. I can remember running around the dock wearing nothing more than cut off shorts. I must have been a sight with my little crew cut and little boy energy bursting at the seams. As every little boy does, I wanted to do the right thing when asked to do a favor for my dad. And it goes without saying that I wanted to do just as well as my brother might have under the circumstances. Dave would have known what a phillips head screw driver was. And I'm quite certain that had Dave been there that day that it would have been he and not I who was asked. Problem was, I barely knew the difference between a wrench and a screwdriver much less a phillips head and a regular screwdriver. No one ever took the time to tell me or show me. I never asked because I never needed to know. So when I handed the flat head screwdriver to my dad I knew immediately that it was not the right tool. Not the right choice at all. I came up short the one time my dad called on me to help out. He wasn't a screamer or a mean man so there were no immediate repercussions but I knew I came up short and that was all that mattered. It was such an insignificant moment as moments go but not so insignificant as I sit here some 40 years later feeling the pain of that moment as though it happened yesterday.
I think the Ev man is a chip off the old block when it comes to such things. You know, the apple that doesn't fall far from the tree? I think he has somewhat less familiarity with tool types than I had at his age. He has no mechanical aptitude that I can see nor does he have any interest or leaning that would seemingly take him in that direction. As life skills go, I think he would be well served to learn such things but he has not so far and that is a fact. I don't know for sure that he hasn't had a phillips head moment in his life but I think it's possible. I want him to be able to do these types of things for himself but he shows little or no interest. When his bike tire goes flat, he would rather not use the bike if it means having to fix it. I just don't know where that comes from. Or, do I?
The wife has insisted that I show the both of them how to fix a flat tire and I have done just that. Maybe my teaching skills leave something to be desired. I can be impatient and that probably doesn't help matters in the scheme of things. There are times when I prefer to do things myself because it's just easier . I'm left to wonder if by excluding my son I'm not doing the same thing to my son that my dad did to me so many years ago. Thanks for nothing, dad. Maybe that's the bottom line. Maybe that's what I have to fix while there is still time. As a little boy, Evan took great pleasure in helping me stack wood every fall. He enjoyed riding with me while I mowed the lawn. Just last week I asked him to help put in a mailbox and he was there with his gloves, his energy, and with a smile on his face. I made sure to compliment him on a job well done. Every child needs to know they are worthwhile and it all starts at home. Maybe I need to work a little harder to make sure that if Evan hasn't had a phillips head moment that he won't. At least not on my watch.
I think the Ev man is a chip off the old block when it comes to such things. You know, the apple that doesn't fall far from the tree? I think he has somewhat less familiarity with tool types than I had at his age. He has no mechanical aptitude that I can see nor does he have any interest or leaning that would seemingly take him in that direction. As life skills go, I think he would be well served to learn such things but he has not so far and that is a fact. I don't know for sure that he hasn't had a phillips head moment in his life but I think it's possible. I want him to be able to do these types of things for himself but he shows little or no interest. When his bike tire goes flat, he would rather not use the bike if it means having to fix it. I just don't know where that comes from. Or, do I?
The wife has insisted that I show the both of them how to fix a flat tire and I have done just that. Maybe my teaching skills leave something to be desired. I can be impatient and that probably doesn't help matters in the scheme of things. There are times when I prefer to do things myself because it's just easier . I'm left to wonder if by excluding my son I'm not doing the same thing to my son that my dad did to me so many years ago. Thanks for nothing, dad. Maybe that's the bottom line. Maybe that's what I have to fix while there is still time. As a little boy, Evan took great pleasure in helping me stack wood every fall. He enjoyed riding with me while I mowed the lawn. Just last week I asked him to help put in a mailbox and he was there with his gloves, his energy, and with a smile on his face. I made sure to compliment him on a job well done. Every child needs to know they are worthwhile and it all starts at home. Maybe I need to work a little harder to make sure that if Evan hasn't had a phillips head moment that he won't. At least not on my watch.
They're Back!
11/05/08 06:45
Every year around this time we seem to get black ants in our home. Not in alarming numbers, mind you, but certainly enough to get our attention. So much so that I find myself thinking about ways to get rid of them once and for all. Every year is the same. They show up, I resolve myself to not wanting them around, and I go about doing what I do best. Killing the little bastards, that is. Stepping on them when I see them, flicking them off the counter and on to the floor where I can step on them even harder, and kicking their little black carcasses back to the stone age. My thinking is that they will tire of me decimating their ranks and they will go about finding new and more hospitable digs. I've thought about canvassing the internet for age old remedies but have found none in my travels. I have even considered doing a little research to find out a little more about their natural enemies with the idea that if I introduce them it might drive the black ants out. Then again, we may end up with an altogether different problem to solve so I'm not sure that's the answer. I am careful, I should hasten to add, to not let the wife see me in my ant annihilate mode since she doesn't know that particular Johnny. Not by a long shot. Sometimes, when I see them in the trash, where they seem to like to hang, I take a certain pleasure in tying the bag at the top with the hopes of suffocating several generations at the same time. I wonder if ants can scream. If they could, they might scream, LET ME OUT!. Not likely, you little bastards. Yesterday, it occurred to me that instead of killing them it might make more sense to cripple them so their ants and uncles can hear their little screams and perhaps even think twice about coming down for dinner. I've clearly given this little problem of mine more thought than it deserves but I am tired of all the frustration and energy required on my part to solve the issue. Feel free to weigh in here. I'm all ears.
Ev had his first Babe Ruth game yesterday. It was fun but it was cold and not much fun sitting in the bleachers for the 2+ hours it took to go seven innings. He is in a 13-14 league and this is his first year so he is slow in getting acclimated. It was just his luck to get a flame thrower of a pitcher on the mound for his first at-bat. It probably wasn't fun for him and it was even less fun for us to watch him struggle as he did at the plate. I guess what doesn't kill you makes you stronger but those are just words. He will have better days and so will we. We hope to take pictures at a few of his games and post them to the Slideshow section of the blog so be sure to click on that link on the main page to see what we got out there. You may also be interested to know that I will be posting family pix out there today so be sure to take a peek.
Filly be Gone
04/05/08 09:05
Did you hear about the only filly running in the Kentucky Derby yesterday? Hillary Clinton had very clear instructions for her daughter , Chelsea, who was in attendance for the 134th running of the historic race. "Vote for the filly", demanded Hillary. She's the only gal in the race just like I'm the only woman in this here presidential race. Hint, hint. The filly wins, I can too. Women unite! I need the sisterhood to put me over the top. "I can't do it without you", she pleaded. I represent your hopes and dreams. Well, it wasn't exactly the historic ending that Hillary had hoped for. The filly broke her ankles following a reasonably good showing and they capped the bitch in the mud while she lay on her side in unimaginable agony. All those hopes and dreams evaporated in the space of time it took to euthanize the filly and that was the end of it. Did you hear who won the race? Why, it was Big Brown. While the Clinton campaign would have you forget that that they ever tried to attach their hopes and dreams to the hopes and dreams of the filly in the race, I would hope that the Obama campaign might remind folks that the filly was soundly beaten by Big Brown. The similarities of names and gender are not lost on me. The story ends there but the real race goes on. If Clinton has her way, the race will continue to focus on race. If Obama has his way, the filly will break a nail long before she nears the finish line.
Saturday Morn
03/05/08 08:02
It's Saturday morning and I am a man without a groove. Can't find any tunes to play nor any stations to settle on. I wouldn't mind a little cuban cha-cha to go with my scrambled eggs but the closest I can come to that is Seriously Sinatra on Sirius Radio. My only fuel so far this miserably cool and un-springlike morning has been a hot cup of Peruvian java and an overripe banana. My brain is a jumble of polar opposites. I'd like to take a bike ride but it's too damn cold. I'd like to have something else to eat but there is nothing to eat. The cupboards are bare. We've been out of raisins going on three days now. I'd like to put on my favorite hat to ward off the cold but that too is lost in the jumble of blankets in a bed which is currently occupied. To stir that soul would take me away from my blogging and that would not suit me at all. The problem is that there are too many things going on when Saturdays roll around and this Saturday is no different. Welcome to my life as the Ev man like to say from time to time.
Maybe the good news is that we have no real commitments this weekend. I should clean the garage but I don't feel like spring cleaning because it doesn't feel like spring. The wife would like to go to a yard sale or two. Not because we need to look for anything second hand but rather just to get a sense of what one looks like since she wants to have one. And soon. I told her I wanted no part of it but she wasn't having any of it. Not then, not now. These things always remind me of the vows I took oh so many years ago. In good times and in bad times. For better or worse. In sickness and in health. You will do what you're told. I made up the last part but it might as well be gospel as far as the wife is concerned. So much for male bravado. Will the real Juan Valdez please stand up.
I'm already thinking about how I'm going to heat our house this coming winter. I'm feeling pressured to buy wood now while it is both available and cheap. Well, maybe just cheaper. I read in the paper that some 100,000 households in Massachusetts are having their utilities turned off due to unpaid bills. I just don't know how anyone making minimum wage or around minimum wage can afford the rising prices of oil. Thank god the winter is over but the pain is far from over for a lot of people and it's going to get worse before it gets better. The good news for us is that wood is cheaper and our home is small enough so that wood works most of the time and we don't have to use oil. A friend at work told me that he spent $3,000 this winter to heat his home. I would be screaming from the rafters if I had paid that much but he wasn't because it does no good. He was resigned to his fate as I am to mine but my fate is far less painful and for that I'm thankful. But planning is the key and the fierce urgency of now tells me that I should buy wood sooner rather than later and more wood rather than less. We even looked at more efficient stoves last weekend but learned that the company selling the stoves, Vermont Castings, declared bankruptcy this past week. Maybe we can pick one up at a fire sale somewhere. Or, in our travels today, maybe we'll come across one at a yard sale.
Maybe the good news is that we have no real commitments this weekend. I should clean the garage but I don't feel like spring cleaning because it doesn't feel like spring. The wife would like to go to a yard sale or two. Not because we need to look for anything second hand but rather just to get a sense of what one looks like since she wants to have one. And soon. I told her I wanted no part of it but she wasn't having any of it. Not then, not now. These things always remind me of the vows I took oh so many years ago. In good times and in bad times. For better or worse. In sickness and in health. You will do what you're told. I made up the last part but it might as well be gospel as far as the wife is concerned. So much for male bravado. Will the real Juan Valdez please stand up.
I'm already thinking about how I'm going to heat our house this coming winter. I'm feeling pressured to buy wood now while it is both available and cheap. Well, maybe just cheaper. I read in the paper that some 100,000 households in Massachusetts are having their utilities turned off due to unpaid bills. I just don't know how anyone making minimum wage or around minimum wage can afford the rising prices of oil. Thank god the winter is over but the pain is far from over for a lot of people and it's going to get worse before it gets better. The good news for us is that wood is cheaper and our home is small enough so that wood works most of the time and we don't have to use oil. A friend at work told me that he spent $3,000 this winter to heat his home. I would be screaming from the rafters if I had paid that much but he wasn't because it does no good. He was resigned to his fate as I am to mine but my fate is far less painful and for that I'm thankful. But planning is the key and the fierce urgency of now tells me that I should buy wood sooner rather than later and more wood rather than less. We even looked at more efficient stoves last weekend but learned that the company selling the stoves, Vermont Castings, declared bankruptcy this past week. Maybe we can pick one up at a fire sale somewhere. Or, in our travels today, maybe we'll come across one at a yard sale.
Sleep Overs
29/04/08 19:12
There they go again. The Ev-Man and his buddy are having a sleep over. At what age do these things stop? They watched a movie called "Coach Carter". It was a download from the Apple Store and we tried as we might to get the darn thing on DVD but failed at every turn. I know someone knows how to do this but finding that rascal in some back alley on the World Wide Web is a task for which I am ill equipped. We took the path of least resistance and put the movie on my iPod and plugged the iPod into the television using component cables designed for that very use. It worked fairly well I must admit. Get out the popcorn, boys. We're going to the movies.
The weather here over the last day or so has been damp, cold, and raw. I actually had a wood stove going yesterday since the temperatures never got out of the low forties. The fire is the first one in a good couple of weeks. I wouldn't have guessed we would have a fire since we are nearly in the month of May but that tells you just how unpredictable the weather can be at this time of the year in the Northeast. The wife had a nice cup of tea and curled up in the corner of the couch with her favorite book. I put the final touches on my blog and tuned in to Sirius radio on the net while I attempted to learn the process of putting a flash movie on the web. That will be my next project. The real challenge may not be the mechanical aspects of getting the film on the web but rather having the right content for my site. On that subject, I feel like I'm entering unknown territory. I think that is what I like about the challenge. The unknown. So dark and so mysterious. Anyone got a light?
Nice to see that folks are good enough to throw a comment on the site from time to time. Ah, yes, a NY sirloin. That's what I'm talkin" about. I'll have to see if my favorite meat store has mail order and, if so, I will send along some marinated chicken to the good folks in Glens Falls. If not to one and all, then certainly to the ones who pay me a visit on my blog. That's a small price to pay if that is what it takes to keep them coming back. Did I tell you that the bread recipe we made was just terrific. If I have any regrets it is that I didn't have a warm slice right out of the oven. I don't know what I was thinking.
http://www.themeathouse.com/
The weather here over the last day or so has been damp, cold, and raw. I actually had a wood stove going yesterday since the temperatures never got out of the low forties. The fire is the first one in a good couple of weeks. I wouldn't have guessed we would have a fire since we are nearly in the month of May but that tells you just how unpredictable the weather can be at this time of the year in the Northeast. The wife had a nice cup of tea and curled up in the corner of the couch with her favorite book. I put the final touches on my blog and tuned in to Sirius radio on the net while I attempted to learn the process of putting a flash movie on the web. That will be my next project. The real challenge may not be the mechanical aspects of getting the film on the web but rather having the right content for my site. On that subject, I feel like I'm entering unknown territory. I think that is what I like about the challenge. The unknown. So dark and so mysterious. Anyone got a light?
Nice to see that folks are good enough to throw a comment on the site from time to time. Ah, yes, a NY sirloin. That's what I'm talkin" about. I'll have to see if my favorite meat store has mail order and, if so, I will send along some marinated chicken to the good folks in Glens Falls. If not to one and all, then certainly to the ones who pay me a visit on my blog. That's a small price to pay if that is what it takes to keep them coming back. Did I tell you that the bread recipe we made was just terrific. If I have any regrets it is that I didn't have a warm slice right out of the oven. I don't know what I was thinking.
http://www.themeathouse.com/
Domain Name
28/04/08 06:02
Not sure what I want for my birthday but getting a domain name for my blog site is not out of the question. Domain names didn't exist when I born so I think I want one. I'm not sure how I feel about getting a birthday present that you can't wrap but if I can manage to get my head around that concept I think it might well work. In a way it's like getting a global address without a zip code. I certainly don't want to be the last person on the face of the planet to get one because the domain name of my choice may well be gone at that point. My choice, in case you haven't already figured it out, is "JohnnyBlog.org". Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? JohnnyBlog.com has already been taken by someone who seems to have to have bought it just in case some famous Johnny comes along and is willing to pay the piper for the name. I can live with JohnnyBlog.org so the rest may well be history.
It's funny to think that some people won't vote for Barack Obama because he's black. How neanderthal can we be in our thinking. I knew but one black family when I was growing up and I harbored no resentment whatsoever against them. If there were racial overtones or even undertows , they were lost on me. I think I may have even thought they were kind of cool for being different in a way you could easily understand. I wasn't deterred when the Black Panthers came along because I was able to parse that out as some sort of political force and not just blacks being blacks in a black sort of way. It wasn't until the movie "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner" that I understood the phrase "lilly white" to mean something other than it's literal interpretation. I guess I was lucky and even fortunate in that I never heard a racist utterance in our home as a child growing up in those turbulent times. Others, apparently, were not so lucky and they may well be the voters in the year 2008, the historic year 2008 since we have both a black man and a white woman on the democratic ticket vying for the presidency for the first time in our country's history. The ultimate irony may be, at least for democrats, that it may come down to which minority has the greater representation; people who won't vote for a black person for president or those people who can't or won't vote for a woman for president. Were I a democrat, I would fall into a slightly different variation on the latter theme. I would vote for a woman but not Hillary Clinton. Not in a million years.
Looks like the rain may hold off here on the coast long enough for me to get in a bike ride this morning. Can't wait to work off a few of those extra lb's I put on over the course of the winter. The fat globules are attached to my colon walls like spackle as the commercial goes. Can you imagine a more tantalizing visual? I already told the wife that we ought to stop buying beef and replace that with chicken going forward. One only needs to look at the pan after broiling beef and imagine that crap going through your system. I wouldn't want it going down my sink drain much less pass my lips. I wouldn't put regular gas in my car when it requires premium gas so why would I do the same thing to my body? That's a rhetorical question. I will start to work on that today. The first day of the rest of my life. Certainly, the first day and the maiden voyage for the good ship JohnnyBlog.org. Be sure to visit often.
It's funny to think that some people won't vote for Barack Obama because he's black. How neanderthal can we be in our thinking. I knew but one black family when I was growing up and I harbored no resentment whatsoever against them. If there were racial overtones or even undertows , they were lost on me. I think I may have even thought they were kind of cool for being different in a way you could easily understand. I wasn't deterred when the Black Panthers came along because I was able to parse that out as some sort of political force and not just blacks being blacks in a black sort of way. It wasn't until the movie "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner" that I understood the phrase "lilly white" to mean something other than it's literal interpretation. I guess I was lucky and even fortunate in that I never heard a racist utterance in our home as a child growing up in those turbulent times. Others, apparently, were not so lucky and they may well be the voters in the year 2008, the historic year 2008 since we have both a black man and a white woman on the democratic ticket vying for the presidency for the first time in our country's history. The ultimate irony may be, at least for democrats, that it may come down to which minority has the greater representation; people who won't vote for a black person for president or those people who can't or won't vote for a woman for president. Were I a democrat, I would fall into a slightly different variation on the latter theme. I would vote for a woman but not Hillary Clinton. Not in a million years.
Looks like the rain may hold off here on the coast long enough for me to get in a bike ride this morning. Can't wait to work off a few of those extra lb's I put on over the course of the winter. The fat globules are attached to my colon walls like spackle as the commercial goes. Can you imagine a more tantalizing visual? I already told the wife that we ought to stop buying beef and replace that with chicken going forward. One only needs to look at the pan after broiling beef and imagine that crap going through your system. I wouldn't want it going down my sink drain much less pass my lips. I wouldn't put regular gas in my car when it requires premium gas so why would I do the same thing to my body? That's a rhetorical question. I will start to work on that today. The first day of the rest of my life. Certainly, the first day and the maiden voyage for the good ship JohnnyBlog.org. Be sure to visit often.
Pinching Pennies
27/04/08 07:44
I guess it's a sign of the times. We'll be baking some bread today instead of paying the exorbitant prices at the local store. In case you haven't noticed, everything is more expensive these days. Part of me likes to think that what we're really doing is eating healthier when we do things like bake our own bread. It's something that I've always fancied doing but haven't taken the time because I haven't needed to. I saw a nice recipe recently for rye bread which I tend to prefer and asked that my darling wife bake up a couple of loaves which she did. The end result had me asking myself why we ever buy loaves off the shelf when we can easily make our own. With that as a backdrop, making our own is not only good for the soul but tasty as well and probably less expensive in the long run. One other thought might be that even if the bread we bake is more expensive the quality is well worth the extra money. We'll be doing a 7-grain bread today so I'll let you know how it comes out. The recipe was heartily endorsed, and provided to all on the KGO website, by one of San Francisco's finest food critics, Gene Burns. It looks promising.
I'm delighted to be back on the blog-o-sphere. If you haven't seen the slideshow on the site, I would implore you to take a peek. Not because the photographs are stellar by any stretch but because I think the slideshow just works so darn well. As I add more slideshows, you will open to a page which is essentially a gallery page which allows you to choose which slideshow (by date or title ) to watch. I threw it together using an application called SlideshowPro. I think it's just slick.
Also on the menu this evening is strawberry short cake. Yes, the birthday boy has spoken. He will have nothing but the finest strawberries in all the land; the finest home made whipped cream that money can buy; and the plumpest, warmest loaves of Bisquick one right out of the oven and ready to accept their fate. As fine a chocolate cake as Nancy makes, I cannot substitute even one slice for a bowlful of strawberry shortcake. The gods have spoken and the menu has been set. Don't plan on bringing any doggie bags to this party. No sir-ee bob!
Maybe I'll ask Jeeves. What do you do with a teenager who wants to stay up until midnight and you are ready for bed at 9? Do you just leave the porch light on for them and let the chips fall where they may? That can be a dangerous proposition. Who knows what they might end up watching on television. The sex and violence available at that hour is pervasive. The same is true for the internet. That, thankfully, we can manage more easily. Truth of the matter is, it's damn hard to really get to sleep when you don't know what your child is doing. After all, you've slept only when they've slept for the last many years and now you sleep with one eye open because life as you know it has changed. I'm of the mind that if he is independent enough to stay up to that hour then he is capable of putting himself to bed be it at midnight or any other hour of his choice. But when my little darling tosses and turns because she can't sleep, there is no sleep for anyone in our house. Not even me. What to do, what to do.
I'm delighted to be back on the blog-o-sphere. If you haven't seen the slideshow on the site, I would implore you to take a peek. Not because the photographs are stellar by any stretch but because I think the slideshow just works so darn well. As I add more slideshows, you will open to a page which is essentially a gallery page which allows you to choose which slideshow (by date or title ) to watch. I threw it together using an application called SlideshowPro. I think it's just slick.
Also on the menu this evening is strawberry short cake. Yes, the birthday boy has spoken. He will have nothing but the finest strawberries in all the land; the finest home made whipped cream that money can buy; and the plumpest, warmest loaves of Bisquick one right out of the oven and ready to accept their fate. As fine a chocolate cake as Nancy makes, I cannot substitute even one slice for a bowlful of strawberry shortcake. The gods have spoken and the menu has been set. Don't plan on bringing any doggie bags to this party. No sir-ee bob!
Maybe I'll ask Jeeves. What do you do with a teenager who wants to stay up until midnight and you are ready for bed at 9? Do you just leave the porch light on for them and let the chips fall where they may? That can be a dangerous proposition. Who knows what they might end up watching on television. The sex and violence available at that hour is pervasive. The same is true for the internet. That, thankfully, we can manage more easily. Truth of the matter is, it's damn hard to really get to sleep when you don't know what your child is doing. After all, you've slept only when they've slept for the last many years and now you sleep with one eye open because life as you know it has changed. I'm of the mind that if he is independent enough to stay up to that hour then he is capable of putting himself to bed be it at midnight or any other hour of his choice. But when my little darling tosses and turns because she can't sleep, there is no sleep for anyone in our house. Not even me. What to do, what to do.
Birthday Boy Blog
26/04/08 07:13
Here we go again. Time to get going. Time to get off my butt and do something constructive. Isn't that what spring is all about? I think so. But, why a blog? If for no other reason it will help me keep track of things. Better to put it down that have it get lost. Forget about all of those little pieces of paper floating around the house that I can never find when I need to find them. Forget about all of those ideas that I've lost in the shuffle and have never gotten back to. I must say that I finally found a nice little application for my Mac called Xpad which helps me keep track of ideas and other things so they don't get lost. Now, if I can only remember what I put in Xpad I'll be doing just fine. Maybe this here blog will help bring it all together in a way that I haven't been able to do thus far. We'll see. I do wish this blog software would capitalize the first letter of each sentence automatically. What a pain.
Did I mention that Ev is doing Babe Ruth this spring? Oh, yeah. Bring it on. I think once he got over the initial hump of being there and getting over his fears about this and that he was just fine. We reminded him the the anticipation can be far worse than the reality but they are just words and he needed to see that for himself. It was nice to see him free from all of those nasty preconceived notions that hung around his neck like a bag of wet sand. Once he hit the ball, once he got hit by a ball, once he made a catch that no one thought he could catch, and once he got a taste of dugout dust in his lungs, he was just fine. That's our boy. After all, there is only so much a parent can do for a child and he or she must do the rest on his or her own. That's just the way it is. No one ever said the design was perfect.
Brother Wally tells me that Hillary is the one. She the cat's meow. Just ask the farmers in upstate New York, he tells me time and time again. Wally cast his vote for Hillary when New Yorkers went to the polls and he is a proud supporter. Not so proud that he carries her name on the fender of his car but he never fails to sing her praises when we touch base. Why anyone in their right mind would want a Clinton anywhere near the White House after all of their bullshit in the 1990's is beyond me. Perhaps brother Wally has distant memories of those days. Who knows what he was doing when Bill was diddling Monica (or was it the other way around) in the Oval Office and she was running interference to protect him from the spying eyes of the Secret Service. Who knows where Wally was hiding when the FBI found Hillary's fingerprints all over FBI files of the Clinton's political opponents. Maybe Wally was otherwise occupied when Vince Foster allegedly took his own life and the hacks surrounding the Clinton's could be seen in the early morning hours ferreting files out of his office to further hide or conceal secrets that only Mr. Foster and Hillary herself knew. I think if Wally had a better sense of those days he might not be such a strident supporter of a vermin who would happily sell her soul to the devil to obtain the presidency. In fact, in watching her pathetic and sometimes pathological ranting I'm not sure sure the sale hasn't already been consumated. I sure hope Wally wakes up soon. I wouldn't want him to miss her meltdown on national tv when the confetti rains down on Obama at the national convention in August.
That's as good a start as I could have hoped for. Hats off to Denise and Lise on their birthdays just past. I had hoped to call both but life got in the way. Isn't that the way it always happens. I hope to have some youtube type clips on my blog and maybe a podcast in the future. For now, text will have to do.
arriva doochy,
Juan.
Did I mention that Ev is doing Babe Ruth this spring? Oh, yeah. Bring it on. I think once he got over the initial hump of being there and getting over his fears about this and that he was just fine. We reminded him the the anticipation can be far worse than the reality but they are just words and he needed to see that for himself. It was nice to see him free from all of those nasty preconceived notions that hung around his neck like a bag of wet sand. Once he hit the ball, once he got hit by a ball, once he made a catch that no one thought he could catch, and once he got a taste of dugout dust in his lungs, he was just fine. That's our boy. After all, there is only so much a parent can do for a child and he or she must do the rest on his or her own. That's just the way it is. No one ever said the design was perfect.
Brother Wally tells me that Hillary is the one. She the cat's meow. Just ask the farmers in upstate New York, he tells me time and time again. Wally cast his vote for Hillary when New Yorkers went to the polls and he is a proud supporter. Not so proud that he carries her name on the fender of his car but he never fails to sing her praises when we touch base. Why anyone in their right mind would want a Clinton anywhere near the White House after all of their bullshit in the 1990's is beyond me. Perhaps brother Wally has distant memories of those days. Who knows what he was doing when Bill was diddling Monica (or was it the other way around) in the Oval Office and she was running interference to protect him from the spying eyes of the Secret Service. Who knows where Wally was hiding when the FBI found Hillary's fingerprints all over FBI files of the Clinton's political opponents. Maybe Wally was otherwise occupied when Vince Foster allegedly took his own life and the hacks surrounding the Clinton's could be seen in the early morning hours ferreting files out of his office to further hide or conceal secrets that only Mr. Foster and Hillary herself knew. I think if Wally had a better sense of those days he might not be such a strident supporter of a vermin who would happily sell her soul to the devil to obtain the presidency. In fact, in watching her pathetic and sometimes pathological ranting I'm not sure sure the sale hasn't already been consumated. I sure hope Wally wakes up soon. I wouldn't want him to miss her meltdown on national tv when the confetti rains down on Obama at the national convention in August.
That's as good a start as I could have hoped for. Hats off to Denise and Lise on their birthdays just past. I had hoped to call both but life got in the way. Isn't that the way it always happens. I hope to have some youtube type clips on my blog and maybe a podcast in the future. For now, text will have to do.
arriva doochy,
Juan.