Todays was homeschool playdate/coop day which I usually enjoy along with the boys. Today however, I had the greatest idea and stayed home. Momma took the boys giving me a couple of hours of time to get a couple of jobs done.
The main job I wanted done I could easily have done with the kids, but it was nice not to have to. Momma and I finally got the Christmas tree undecorated late last night. It was extra sappy this year as well as full of some sort of bug. We didn't see bugs till after we got back from Atlanta. We know the bugs must have come from the tree, but we aren't sure how they could have been on the tree this whole time, about three weeks, maybe four, without our having noticed them before. One of us has to climb under once a day to check the water, so it's not like we don't get ample time to notice bugs.
My other job was to be a secret, a little surprise for Momma who had to be at work at 5:00. I was going to cook the beef and mushroom pie that I'd planned for supper, but I'd planned to have it done shortly after she and the boys came home from playing with other homeschoolers. She was going to have time to eat before having to leave for work. Nothing quite worked out as planned, and supper still isn't quite done yet.
This is a recipe I haven't cooked before. I'd scanned the Joy of Cooking a few days ago, needing to get together a grocery list with a couple of meals worth of ingredients. I'd never quite paid attention to this recipe, but this time it jumped out at me. I scanned it quickly seeing that it was not unlike a basic pot pie recipe or casserole, things I'm infinitely familiar with. I assumed I had plenty of time.
Soon after getting the tree out and vacuuming the effected areas I was in the kitchen prepping to cook. After getting the meat browned, the mushrooms browned and then getting the sauce thickened, I put it into the oven for an initial baking after which I planned to add the crust for the final baking. What I didn't notice till this point was that it needed to cool completely before the addition of the crust and the final baking.
That single step was the downfall of my wonderful plan. I'd assumed that the dish baked for the first hour and then finished immediately afterward. During that first hour I'd have time to put a crust dough together. I knew I'd be pushing the time limit, but it was doable. And here we come back to that unread step, the completely cool part. There was no way I could get this finished in time for Momma to eat any.
As it turns out, it wasn't so bad. Momma and the boys came home, and of course the boys were both hungry, never mind that they both had as many healthyish snacks as they could have wanted. Momma however wasn't hungry. In fact she was feeling a little not so nice from the snacks she had eaten. The Boy, as he will often do, claimed to want any number of snacks. He would eat a bit or two and then be done. Not one to waste food, Momma ate what he left.
The beef and mushroom mix should be about cool, or at least close enough that I can go make a crust and finish it. The boys are of course hungry again and not likely to want to wait another hour while I mix dough and bake the thing. So, off to the kitchen, fix them yet another healthyish snack and hope that they eat the supper I'm making. Big Brother will most likely eat it, though the mushrooms may get to be too much for him. He's eaten plenty of mushrooms in his life, but sometimes he'd prefer not to. I understand because I'm the same with some foods.
The Boy will most likely decide he's not hungry . . . for that. We never know what he's going to eat, and most days seem like a struggle to get him to eat well. He's eaten so poorly before that he spent the next day vomiting only to finish and want more candy or whatever he ate the day before that wasn't healthy. I wish he'd learn the lesson, but he just doesn't get that how he eats effects how he feels, and I refuse to feed him poorly just so he'll get sick and understand that he really can't just eat crap all day. I've tried, hoping that if he figured it out we'd have less stress over getting him to eat well. He is the king of healthyish snacks though, so we can usually get him fed. If he could have sushi every day he'd probably be happy.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Thursday, January 11, 2007
sanctity of life
People on the right, when they give in to the need for research into embryonic stem cell research, always worry about preserving the sanctity of life. Their concern is for all those babies killed in order to harvest the stem cells, as if we are impregnating women solely to suck out their babies and create human clones.
That couldn't be farther from the truth, and I will admit that I'm being a bit insincere with my description of their position. The problem here is with their ideas of what's really happening.
Where's the sanctity of life in a freezer full of embryos? Where is the sanctity of life in throwing away embryos that could be used for purposes of attempting to save lives or cure people of debilitating injuries and/or illnesses?
Why do so many people on the "right" side of so much in America vomit such bullshit out of their mouths? Sanctimonious fucks that would deny certain people their rights and willingly give more rights to a pin prick sized glob of cells.
That couldn't be farther from the truth, and I will admit that I'm being a bit insincere with my description of their position. The problem here is with their ideas of what's really happening.
Where's the sanctity of life in a freezer full of embryos? Where is the sanctity of life in throwing away embryos that could be used for purposes of attempting to save lives or cure people of debilitating injuries and/or illnesses?
Why do so many people on the "right" side of so much in America vomit such bullshit out of their mouths? Sanctimonious fucks that would deny certain people their rights and willingly give more rights to a pin prick sized glob of cells.
beckham and dempsey
It's been ages since the beautiful game graced any of my posts. I haven't really had a lot to post about even considering the tumult that is US soccer. We lost Bruce Arena as coach for the US men's national team, screwed up the chance to get German Juergen Klinsmann and gave the job to a good coach but not really. Bob Bradley is a good coach, so the "not really" part refers to his seeming impermanence in the job. He's basically keeping the seat warm till a replacement can be found. Who know what will happen though as the US starts playing international games. Maybe he'll do a great job and get to keep the job. However, none of this is the point.
Soccer in the US isn't nearly as big or as popular as it is throughout the rest of (the entire rest of) the world. I can watch more high school football games on television it seems than professional soccer games, and that's really sad. It almost seems at times as if there are some powers in charge of sports in the US that are afraid soccer is going to steal something from the big three if they actually show too many games on television. Soccer is more popular than many people realize, and if more people had an understanding of the game, it could take its rightful place next to the big three. That's getting closer to my point here, though we aren't quite there yet.
Earlier on NPR news, I caught the very end of a story about English and Real Madrid has been David Beckham. He's turned down a deal with Madrid in order to take a job playing for a different team. The rumors of this move have swirled about for some time. Beckham has been spotted in L.A. and even has a youth soccer academy in California. The rumors are true. Beckham will earn almost a million dollars a week to play for L.A.'s MLS team the Galaxy. That story wouldn't really bother me, and it almost doesn't. Want to know why it almost does?
As soon as I heard that tidbit of news I immediately sat down at the computer to learn more. I have several feeds from different soccer news sites as my Google home page, though they seldom mention US soccer, and I don't really get into other leagues. Perhaps if there were more games viewable in my little corner of the country . . .
Before I even found the Beckham story I saw truly sad news for fans of US soccer. Clint Dempsey, one of the few bright spots of last summer's US World Cup attempt, is leaving his team, the New England Revolution, and will be playing in England for Fulham. They already have a few other US players, and that Clint has been offered the job says a lot for his talents and skills as well as a little about the upcoming talents of US soccer in general.
Dempsey is leaving for a mere fraction of what Beckham will be earning, and for the price Beckham costs, I think we could easily have kept Dempsey here. I'd personally love to have kept Dempsey here and hope that he will at least be able to play on the men's national team.
So what do we get? An aging superstar that hasn't done much lately but may very well be good for the game in the US. His name is certainly more well known to the average American than that of Clint Dempsey, and perhaps that alone will be good for the profile of soccer in the US. He will hopefully have drawing power, pulling people into soccer that were marginally interested before. Many people prefer the cult of fame over any sort of substance, and Beckham has buckets of fame and star power. As I mentioned, he hasn't really done much in the way of soccer lately and has been missing games due to injuries. He's still a hell of a player when he's well.
What do we lose? To soccer fans, the name Clint Dempsey is enough to know what we are losing. He's a damn fine player, and he's young, arguably not nearly as good as he's going to be with a bit more experience. He'll get that experience at Fulham.
I hope that David Beckham's name is enough to draw more interest to the game in the US. Soccer is growing in popularity here as never before, and Dempsey isn't the first US player deemed good enough to leave the states to play at a higher level. I'm glad for him and hope that the combination of his leaving and Beckham's arrival does push US soccer to a higher level. I'd hope that in years to come we can start pulling more top players into the MLS, and I'd love for our teams to become competitive on the world stage. That's my hope for this, though I'm sad to see Clint go.
Soccer in the US isn't nearly as big or as popular as it is throughout the rest of (the entire rest of) the world. I can watch more high school football games on television it seems than professional soccer games, and that's really sad. It almost seems at times as if there are some powers in charge of sports in the US that are afraid soccer is going to steal something from the big three if they actually show too many games on television. Soccer is more popular than many people realize, and if more people had an understanding of the game, it could take its rightful place next to the big three. That's getting closer to my point here, though we aren't quite there yet.
Earlier on NPR news, I caught the very end of a story about English and Real Madrid has been David Beckham. He's turned down a deal with Madrid in order to take a job playing for a different team. The rumors of this move have swirled about for some time. Beckham has been spotted in L.A. and even has a youth soccer academy in California. The rumors are true. Beckham will earn almost a million dollars a week to play for L.A.'s MLS team the Galaxy. That story wouldn't really bother me, and it almost doesn't. Want to know why it almost does?
As soon as I heard that tidbit of news I immediately sat down at the computer to learn more. I have several feeds from different soccer news sites as my Google home page, though they seldom mention US soccer, and I don't really get into other leagues. Perhaps if there were more games viewable in my little corner of the country . . .
Before I even found the Beckham story I saw truly sad news for fans of US soccer. Clint Dempsey, one of the few bright spots of last summer's US World Cup attempt, is leaving his team, the New England Revolution, and will be playing in England for Fulham. They already have a few other US players, and that Clint has been offered the job says a lot for his talents and skills as well as a little about the upcoming talents of US soccer in general.
Dempsey is leaving for a mere fraction of what Beckham will be earning, and for the price Beckham costs, I think we could easily have kept Dempsey here. I'd personally love to have kept Dempsey here and hope that he will at least be able to play on the men's national team.
So what do we get? An aging superstar that hasn't done much lately but may very well be good for the game in the US. His name is certainly more well known to the average American than that of Clint Dempsey, and perhaps that alone will be good for the profile of soccer in the US. He will hopefully have drawing power, pulling people into soccer that were marginally interested before. Many people prefer the cult of fame over any sort of substance, and Beckham has buckets of fame and star power. As I mentioned, he hasn't really done much in the way of soccer lately and has been missing games due to injuries. He's still a hell of a player when he's well.
What do we lose? To soccer fans, the name Clint Dempsey is enough to know what we are losing. He's a damn fine player, and he's young, arguably not nearly as good as he's going to be with a bit more experience. He'll get that experience at Fulham.
I hope that David Beckham's name is enough to draw more interest to the game in the US. Soccer is growing in popularity here as never before, and Dempsey isn't the first US player deemed good enough to leave the states to play at a higher level. I'm glad for him and hope that the combination of his leaving and Beckham's arrival does push US soccer to a higher level. I'd hope that in years to come we can start pulling more top players into the MLS, and I'd love for our teams to become competitive on the world stage. That's my hope for this, though I'm sad to see Clint go.
the bro's
Here's a lovely picture of my brother's and me. I'm sure it'll be hard to pick me out, even if you weren't just guessing based solely on coolest shirt. That shirt is sweet and looks even better with a pair of black and white wing tips. Fucking sweet, seriously. And by that I mean the good looking guy on the left.
Anyway, I'm number five in order of birth, which I'm certain adds its own little spice to the stew. I got four brothers worth of class ring stones to the top of the head. My parents almost seem to have had us two at a time up till the last brother. The four oldest brothers almost seemed to leave home in pairs, then suddenly I was the oldest brother at home for a while. At some point I was gone, and soon after it seemed that number six was out of the house. Number seven had his very own experience I imagine getting to be almost an only child after years of being the baby, and now he's having a baby, with his wife of course, who will also be doing the hardest part, but anyway.
Assuming that they do bear the girl child they expect and it's not just hiding some features, I'll will be the one brother with no daughters. So we can add that to the differences between me and them. There are two other boy child grand children including my own. There are two new girls just in the last year bringing the number of girls in a family that was heavily male for many years to dwarf somewhat the number of guys. It would almost make me believe in karma for the sake of my mother.
Sadly, I don't think the picture as it appears in this post really does justice to the amount of red eye in that picture. It gives a real demonic coming-at-you sort of thing. That was going to be half the point of this post, but what are ya' gonna do?
word to whomever
Oh the things you can learn when you not only have a word of the day show up in Bloglines but you are also willing to do a little searching in the interest of the blog! This did indeed start out with a word of the day which I happen to get from wordsmith.org.
Today's word is speculum. Of course we all know it as that thing that looks like pure hell to those of us that haven't had one inserted, and to those others, we'll call them women. But there are other kinds of speculums, the fear of which we can all feel even if we never really feel the real specimen. Speculums are generally understood to be used to open up the gals to give the doctor a peek into the undercarriage, but they also come in rectal varieties, an orifice we all share. And what about the eyes, because they aren't getting out so easy.
But why restrict the speculum to such unpleasantness? Can there be other kinds of speculums that aren't so . . .so . . .ohmygodareyouserious?
Here's a pretty speculum, the legousia speculum. Isn't it pretty?
Would you like another? Did you know that the bright spot on a duck's wing is also called a speculum? Now what's prettier than a duck? Well, shit, honestly, that's an easy question, but a duck is prettier than a medical orifice-opener not matter how you look at it, unless you like medical devices.
Okay, we'll end with the mushroom. Yes, the following is an entoloma speculum. Mushrooms can be pretty even if we shouldn't eat them. There's a special something behind any mushrooms, but I'm not going into that. Okay, I imagine fairy families living inside of or underneath whenever it's been a little moist out and the crazy mushrooms start showing up.
And look, I give you all this without an actual picture of any of the uncomfortable kind. You really should thank me for this. Seriously!
Today's word is speculum. Of course we all know it as that thing that looks like pure hell to those of us that haven't had one inserted, and to those others, we'll call them women. But there are other kinds of speculums, the fear of which we can all feel even if we never really feel the real specimen. Speculums are generally understood to be used to open up the gals to give the doctor a peek into the undercarriage, but they also come in rectal varieties, an orifice we all share. And what about the eyes, because they aren't getting out so easy.
But why restrict the speculum to such unpleasantness? Can there be other kinds of speculums that aren't so . . .so . . .ohmygodareyouserious?
Here's a pretty speculum, the legousia speculum. Isn't it pretty?
Would you like another? Did you know that the bright spot on a duck's wing is also called a speculum? Now what's prettier than a duck? Well, shit, honestly, that's an easy question, but a duck is prettier than a medical orifice-opener not matter how you look at it, unless you like medical devices.
Okay, we'll end with the mushroom. Yes, the following is an entoloma speculum. Mushrooms can be pretty even if we shouldn't eat them. There's a special something behind any mushrooms, but I'm not going into that. Okay, I imagine fairy families living inside of or underneath whenever it's been a little moist out and the crazy mushrooms start showing up.
And look, I give you all this without an actual picture of any of the uncomfortable kind. You really should thank me for this. Seriously!
time to rock out
Anyone familiar with the devil that is Myspace is most likely also familiar with those stupid surveys that sometimes get to float around. They're usually obnoxious, a list of the most inane questions ever devised by the ninth grade mind. I won't attempt here to replicate the inanity of the questions, but most of us can well imagine, I'm quite sure, without ever having to see them.
A friend of mine often fills them out, answering some questions seriously, and answering many with snark such as, "smash you in your face" for a question like, "what did you do this morning" or "satan" as an answer to "who did you talk to last."
This same friend was nice enough to answer a question today with "Too Young to Fall in Love," that great Motley Crue song that I'm quite certain we all love AND adore. Since he was nice enough to get that song playing nonstop through my head today, I decided that everyone needs that song playing through their head today. When I say "everyone" I certainly don't mean to suggest I have that many readers, but both of you reading this will have to do.
I search YouTube so you don't have to. So without further ado, Motley Crue . . .
A friend of mine often fills them out, answering some questions seriously, and answering many with snark such as, "smash you in your face" for a question like, "what did you do this morning" or "satan" as an answer to "who did you talk to last."
This same friend was nice enough to answer a question today with "Too Young to Fall in Love," that great Motley Crue song that I'm quite certain we all love AND adore. Since he was nice enough to get that song playing nonstop through my head today, I decided that everyone needs that song playing through their head today. When I say "everyone" I certainly don't mean to suggest I have that many readers, but both of you reading this will have to do.
I search YouTube so you don't have to. So without further ado, Motley Crue . . .
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Mr. Happy Pants
Every year I put jeans on my Christmas list. Perhaps everyone in my family thinks I'm joking, but I'm not now nor have I ever. My side of the family, because there are so many of us, draws names for Christmas gifts, and very often we will include big ticket items that we know better than to expect and sometimes silly and/or frivolous items. So there is a chance that no one took my jeans request seriously.
On a side note, I switched from briefs to boxers due to a joking addition to a Christmas list many years ago. Brother number two added boxers to my list, and someone included a pair in that year's gifts. I immediately fell in love with the semi-free swing that the boxers provided. I flirted briefly with going commando, but the seam in the seat of my pants tended to chafe the area above my butt crack, so that ended quickly.
This was the year that my jeans wish was answered. I got two pair of jeans for Christmas making me the proud owner of four whole pairs of jeans, possibly more pants than I've ever owned in my life.
As a final addition to a story that sucked before ever being turned into electrons I will discuss quickly the laundering-the-new-jeans incident. When I washed my new jeans I included a pair of khaki corduroys that The Boy's ankles stick out of. They are still khaki but with a decidely bluish tint. One would think I'd have known better than to wash those with my new extremely dark jeans. One would think that.
On a side note, I switched from briefs to boxers due to a joking addition to a Christmas list many years ago. Brother number two added boxers to my list, and someone included a pair in that year's gifts. I immediately fell in love with the semi-free swing that the boxers provided. I flirted briefly with going commando, but the seam in the seat of my pants tended to chafe the area above my butt crack, so that ended quickly.
This was the year that my jeans wish was answered. I got two pair of jeans for Christmas making me the proud owner of four whole pairs of jeans, possibly more pants than I've ever owned in my life.
As a final addition to a story that sucked before ever being turned into electrons I will discuss quickly the laundering-the-new-jeans incident. When I washed my new jeans I included a pair of khaki corduroys that The Boy's ankles stick out of. They are still khaki but with a decidely bluish tint. One would think I'd have known better than to wash those with my new extremely dark jeans. One would think that.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
thanks dude I hadn't heard of
Sometimes you just shouldn't look. Once or twice a day I like to check the Statcounter to see how many hits I'm getting at ye ol' blog. It's an ego thing to be sure, and low double digits isn't fucking helping one bit. I'm not ever going to see the Google ad thingy pay off at this rate.
One thing I am getting though is random searches, which I've mentioned before, as well as visits from other blogs, though how they jump to me from them I've yet to figure out most of the time. This story isn't about any of that. This story is about the new menace that I didn't know I should be scared of.
There are plenty of fears in life. I've tossed my cookies plenty of times, so plain old vomiting isn't really something that gives me the quakes. Shit, I had a Waffle House chicken sandwich come out my nose once in the bathroom of that very same Waffle House in which I'd eaten the chicken sandwich too few minutes afterward. I've had a milkshake and blueberry muffin come back up so quickly that, not only did it taste kind of nice but it was also still cool. Considering most vomit, cool and blueberry flavored is a lot nicer than it might sound.
Did you know that you could vomit poop? Yes indeed, and now I have a new thing to be scared of. Wikipedia link HERE and the blog at which I discovered this abomination HERE. The blog looks kind of interesting, and if it weren't time to go do dishes and cook supper I'd likely read more. I probably will later, and you are welcome to now.
One thing I am getting though is random searches, which I've mentioned before, as well as visits from other blogs, though how they jump to me from them I've yet to figure out most of the time. This story isn't about any of that. This story is about the new menace that I didn't know I should be scared of.
There are plenty of fears in life. I've tossed my cookies plenty of times, so plain old vomiting isn't really something that gives me the quakes. Shit, I had a Waffle House chicken sandwich come out my nose once in the bathroom of that very same Waffle House in which I'd eaten the chicken sandwich too few minutes afterward. I've had a milkshake and blueberry muffin come back up so quickly that, not only did it taste kind of nice but it was also still cool. Considering most vomit, cool and blueberry flavored is a lot nicer than it might sound.
Did you know that you could vomit poop? Yes indeed, and now I have a new thing to be scared of. Wikipedia link HERE and the blog at which I discovered this abomination HERE. The blog looks kind of interesting, and if it weren't time to go do dishes and cook supper I'd likely read more. I probably will later, and you are welcome to now.
just a note
To the person I ran across in Statcounter that searched "how many Goody's powders are you supposed to take?" I have an answer, though you may not like it.
Answer: Read the box jackass!
Answer: Read the box jackass!
Monday, January 08, 2007
going nowhere
Today was going to be the day. Fresh back from Atlanta, my Christmas celebrations all over for another year, I was going to get all kinds of resolute and do some serious making myself a better and more productive person.
I didn't touch my Bloglines the whole time we were out of town. I did check my email a couple of times and even checked Myspace a couple of times. Today has so far been clicking through all the feeds, catching up on my internet homies, feeding the boys and now posting to ye ol' blog.
I'm going to pretend I have something to write for a few minutes while bumping around the back of my head are thoughts of the tasks I need to complete for the day. These include finishing washing and folding and putting away some laundry, emptying and refilling the dishwasher and most important of all, having supper cooked in time for Momma to rush in from work and eat just in time for us to rush a little south for derby practice.
The dishes and supper part will definitely happen as the whole day will suck if we don't have supper in us in time. Momma doesn't always get a chance to eat well at work, and she really needs some fuel in her belly before hustling round the rink, so not finishing that task isn't an option. Besides, I'm making a stir fry, and if there's any easier cooking than that then I haven't found it. Meals in a box don't count as I don't consider meals geared toward expediency over quality to be real cooking. I'm not against expediency, and there are certainly times for that, but Momma and the whole fuel thing are more important than speed of preparation.
I have some sort of post about the family rumbling around with those other thoughts, but it's all about angles, and I don't know that I've found one I like. The best angle would be one that makes for interesting reading while giving me a view that helps me think through whatever it is I'm thinking through. For all the ways we are different, I really love my family. And though most of them will likely never read what I write here, they still deserve some modicum of respect.
The boys are eating lunch and watching cartoons. I need to get them to do some cleaning, but that isn't a fight I really feel like having right now. They hate cleaning as much as anyone, and no amount of threating to put their toys up for a while seems to work, though if I actually start the cleaning, they tend to realize that I really will take toys away and will start, with moaning and bitching, to do the work themselves. Again, though, it's not a fight I'm really into today.
So that may or may not be my day. We are getting something a lot like snow falling from the sky, but it's melting on the ground and just making for wet misery. I'm fine with it melting because I hate snow. It may be fun for some, but for me it's just cold, wet hell that happens to be pretty in a sense.
I finally feel that I've rambled enough for now. There will likely be some other mindless commentary later in the day, but for now I'm going to check my newest feeds, read about some homeschoolers and wander around the house looking at the chores I'm not doing. The kitchen stuff will get put off till 4:00 when NPR can keep me company while I hack my way through a pile of vegetables and pork, steam some rice and dump soy sauce over it all in the hopes that what is mostly healthy will be slightly tasty. So until then . . .
I didn't touch my Bloglines the whole time we were out of town. I did check my email a couple of times and even checked Myspace a couple of times. Today has so far been clicking through all the feeds, catching up on my internet homies, feeding the boys and now posting to ye ol' blog.
I'm going to pretend I have something to write for a few minutes while bumping around the back of my head are thoughts of the tasks I need to complete for the day. These include finishing washing and folding and putting away some laundry, emptying and refilling the dishwasher and most important of all, having supper cooked in time for Momma to rush in from work and eat just in time for us to rush a little south for derby practice.
The dishes and supper part will definitely happen as the whole day will suck if we don't have supper in us in time. Momma doesn't always get a chance to eat well at work, and she really needs some fuel in her belly before hustling round the rink, so not finishing that task isn't an option. Besides, I'm making a stir fry, and if there's any easier cooking than that then I haven't found it. Meals in a box don't count as I don't consider meals geared toward expediency over quality to be real cooking. I'm not against expediency, and there are certainly times for that, but Momma and the whole fuel thing are more important than speed of preparation.
I have some sort of post about the family rumbling around with those other thoughts, but it's all about angles, and I don't know that I've found one I like. The best angle would be one that makes for interesting reading while giving me a view that helps me think through whatever it is I'm thinking through. For all the ways we are different, I really love my family. And though most of them will likely never read what I write here, they still deserve some modicum of respect.
The boys are eating lunch and watching cartoons. I need to get them to do some cleaning, but that isn't a fight I really feel like having right now. They hate cleaning as much as anyone, and no amount of threating to put their toys up for a while seems to work, though if I actually start the cleaning, they tend to realize that I really will take toys away and will start, with moaning and bitching, to do the work themselves. Again, though, it's not a fight I'm really into today.
So that may or may not be my day. We are getting something a lot like snow falling from the sky, but it's melting on the ground and just making for wet misery. I'm fine with it melting because I hate snow. It may be fun for some, but for me it's just cold, wet hell that happens to be pretty in a sense.
I finally feel that I've rambled enough for now. There will likely be some other mindless commentary later in the day, but for now I'm going to check my newest feeds, read about some homeschoolers and wander around the house looking at the chores I'm not doing. The kitchen stuff will get put off till 4:00 when NPR can keep me company while I hack my way through a pile of vegetables and pork, steam some rice and dump soy sauce over it all in the hopes that what is mostly healthy will be slightly tasty. So until then . . .
back for more
I had a lovely weekend in Atlanta. Thanks for asking.
Now that I'm back, I'm going to start with, did you guess rant?
I didn't notice this myself. Momma has a lap full of receipts from our trip. She's going through and separating the credit card purchases from those made with real money and the debit card. We ate better than we should have and likely tipped better than tray-in-the-face-girl deserved. She was kinda cute though in a nerdy-glasses-girl kind of way, though she's certainly no Momma.
Perhaps you are familiar with Walgreens, popular drug/convenience store. I am of course as I often drive past them, though I don't generally need their services. I buy my smokes at the grocery store while buying my regular groceries. There's a special feeling I get (used to get) when I purchase diapers, beer and cigarettes, but that's not the point. I needed cigarettes, and they were convenient.
At the top of the receipt from Walgreens is the following statement: Hello, my name is "cashier/worker drone's name." Thank you for allowing me to serve you today.
First, I'll give you Momma's answer which is, "How demeaning."
I have to agree. That's one of those problems-with-America kinds of things. I didn't allow worker drone to serve me. She was there, and I needed a pack of smokes. Her job is not to serve me or even to be allowed to serve me. Her job is to sell me products that I would like to purchase. I didn't let her do her job. She needs income and helping Walgreens sell products is how she earns that income. I'm happier when they're polite about, but in the end, as long as I get the smokes and get the fuck out, I really don't give two inches worth of shit.
How demeaning indeed, as if her life begins and ends with the customer. Fuck that!
Now that I'm back, I'm going to start with, did you guess rant?
I didn't notice this myself. Momma has a lap full of receipts from our trip. She's going through and separating the credit card purchases from those made with real money and the debit card. We ate better than we should have and likely tipped better than tray-in-the-face-girl deserved. She was kinda cute though in a nerdy-glasses-girl kind of way, though she's certainly no Momma.
Perhaps you are familiar with Walgreens, popular drug/convenience store. I am of course as I often drive past them, though I don't generally need their services. I buy my smokes at the grocery store while buying my regular groceries. There's a special feeling I get (used to get) when I purchase diapers, beer and cigarettes, but that's not the point. I needed cigarettes, and they were convenient.
At the top of the receipt from Walgreens is the following statement: Hello, my name is "cashier/worker drone's name." Thank you for allowing me to serve you today.
First, I'll give you Momma's answer which is, "How demeaning."
I have to agree. That's one of those problems-with-America kinds of things. I didn't allow worker drone to serve me. She was there, and I needed a pack of smokes. Her job is not to serve me or even to be allowed to serve me. Her job is to sell me products that I would like to purchase. I didn't let her do her job. She needs income and helping Walgreens sell products is how she earns that income. I'm happier when they're polite about, but in the end, as long as I get the smokes and get the fuck out, I really don't give two inches worth of shit.
How demeaning indeed, as if her life begins and ends with the customer. Fuck that!
Friday, January 05, 2007
gone baby gone
We are off! Actually, we are almost ready to set off. We are driving a little south to spend the weekend with my family and celebrate a slightly later than most Christmas. The car is nearly packed, the boy's are dressed and even have shoes on. We have a few errands to run, and then it's I-75 southbound.
I'm not likely to post anything for a couple of days or so, though I will try at least to check my email. What good that does anyone who happens to read this I don't know, nor do I much care, 'cause I'm an ass like that.
Be good, and remember that Jesus loves you in those tight pants.
I'm not likely to post anything for a couple of days or so, though I will try at least to check my email. What good that does anyone who happens to read this I don't know, nor do I much care, 'cause I'm an ass like that.
Be good, and remember that Jesus loves you in those tight pants.
required reading blog
This is a post I've meant to write for sometime. I forget how I first came across Zeyad and his blog Healing Iraq, but I immediately stuck him in my Bloglines. I was interested in hearing from an actual honest to god Iraqi because I know that the news we get in the US, regardless of the source, is going to be somewhat skewed. Even when we get news that doesn't have a bias toward a political party, I have to assume that we in the US still aren't getting a real picture of what life in Iraq is really like right now.
His stories don't all involve the hell that certain areas are seeing, though one can easily find those stories in some of his links. More than anything, and most importantly for me, it's a window into a world that so many of us will never see, but decisions supposedly made on our behalf and by our president are having a profound and often horrible impact on many people.
Every time I read a new post I think that I really need to try to share this guy's blog. It's not like I get many hits or can share this with a noticeable audience, but all things considered, it can't hurt for more of us in the US to know the truth.
It's definitely worth clicking over. Give yourself the time to peruse the site, though I'd warn against getting into the comments. Too often they are the same few people arguing back and forth, each one convinced that his or her narrow view of the situation is the only right one. I suppose the comment section may be a good example of the kind of problems that are festering in Iraq but with electrons instead of guns.
His stories don't all involve the hell that certain areas are seeing, though one can easily find those stories in some of his links. More than anything, and most importantly for me, it's a window into a world that so many of us will never see, but decisions supposedly made on our behalf and by our president are having a profound and often horrible impact on many people.
Every time I read a new post I think that I really need to try to share this guy's blog. It's not like I get many hits or can share this with a noticeable audience, but all things considered, it can't hurt for more of us in the US to know the truth.
It's definitely worth clicking over. Give yourself the time to peruse the site, though I'd warn against getting into the comments. Too often they are the same few people arguing back and forth, each one convinced that his or her narrow view of the situation is the only right one. I suppose the comment section may be a good example of the kind of problems that are festering in Iraq but with electrons instead of guns.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
simply put derby basics
In a comment on my most recent post, Gem asks what the point of roller derby is. In a sense it's a race between the teams fastest girls while the rest of the team runs interference. That's a very simplistic description that doesn't do justice to the game, but it's a quick and pithy way to put it.
A roller derby match is made up of three twenty minute periods. The periods are separated into jams which can be up to two minutes long. The number of jams in a period depends entirely on the teams involved and on how each individual jam plays out.
Each team has five players on the track for each jam assuming that none of the players are in the penalty area. Those five players include a pivot, three blockers and a jammer. The pivot can also be thought of as the lead blocker while the jammer is the person that scores the points for the team. The pivot is the skater with the stripe on her helmet while the jammer is the skater with the star.
At the start of the jam the blockers are in a pack, pivots in front, with the jammers some distance behind. The jam begins at the ref's whistle at which point the pack begins moving. When the rear most blockers reach the point where the pivots began, the ref blows a double blast on the whistle which is the signal for the jammers to begin.
The blockers must stay in a pack and will move at a moderate speed around the track. The jammers must skate through the pack and then lap the pack before scoring begins. On her second and subsequent trips through the pack, the jammer scores points for each opposing blocker that she passes legally, and by legally, she must remain in bounds and not perform any illegal blocks. The blockers' job is to impede the progress of the jammer and knock her silly if possible.
On the first pass through the pack, the first jammer to legally make it through the pack becomes the lead jammer. She may call off the jam at any time after she begins scoring which just means that the jams ends and no more points can be scored by either team until the next jam. If neither jammer becomes the lead jammer, the jam will last a full two minutes. The lead jammer may elect to skate the full two minutes or may call off the jam by placing her hands on her hips.
The game may look like nothing more than a bunch of crazy bitches with a grudge and a death wish. Even after I understood the rules I was unable to make sense of the jams for some time. Over time, as I've watched and grown more in love with the sport, I've finally come to a point where it makes sense mostly. I still have a hell of a time trying to score jams. Many people do, and for this reason, there are jam refs. They are on the inside of the track and skate alongside the jammer, pointing at the jammer they are watching and keeping track of points accumulated by their jammer. If there is a lead jammer, her ref will hold his or her non pointing hand in the air to indicate lead jammer status. There are other refs who watch the packs and jammers looking for rule infractions.
There are indeed rules, though many people may assume there are not. The rules pertain in large part to blocking techniques and tend to try to put a modicum of safety on an inherently dangerous sport. I would wager that my brief synopsis is enough for most people. However I will give a couple of links to help out any prospective roller derby fans or hopeful skaters. If you want a more in depth version of the rules, look HERE. If you want to get involved in derby you can either check online for a local league or look HERE and scroll down for a listing.
A roller derby match is made up of three twenty minute periods. The periods are separated into jams which can be up to two minutes long. The number of jams in a period depends entirely on the teams involved and on how each individual jam plays out.
Each team has five players on the track for each jam assuming that none of the players are in the penalty area. Those five players include a pivot, three blockers and a jammer. The pivot can also be thought of as the lead blocker while the jammer is the person that scores the points for the team. The pivot is the skater with the stripe on her helmet while the jammer is the skater with the star.
At the start of the jam the blockers are in a pack, pivots in front, with the jammers some distance behind. The jam begins at the ref's whistle at which point the pack begins moving. When the rear most blockers reach the point where the pivots began, the ref blows a double blast on the whistle which is the signal for the jammers to begin.
The blockers must stay in a pack and will move at a moderate speed around the track. The jammers must skate through the pack and then lap the pack before scoring begins. On her second and subsequent trips through the pack, the jammer scores points for each opposing blocker that she passes legally, and by legally, she must remain in bounds and not perform any illegal blocks. The blockers' job is to impede the progress of the jammer and knock her silly if possible.
On the first pass through the pack, the first jammer to legally make it through the pack becomes the lead jammer. She may call off the jam at any time after she begins scoring which just means that the jams ends and no more points can be scored by either team until the next jam. If neither jammer becomes the lead jammer, the jam will last a full two minutes. The lead jammer may elect to skate the full two minutes or may call off the jam by placing her hands on her hips.
The game may look like nothing more than a bunch of crazy bitches with a grudge and a death wish. Even after I understood the rules I was unable to make sense of the jams for some time. Over time, as I've watched and grown more in love with the sport, I've finally come to a point where it makes sense mostly. I still have a hell of a time trying to score jams. Many people do, and for this reason, there are jam refs. They are on the inside of the track and skate alongside the jammer, pointing at the jammer they are watching and keeping track of points accumulated by their jammer. If there is a lead jammer, her ref will hold his or her non pointing hand in the air to indicate lead jammer status. There are other refs who watch the packs and jammers looking for rule infractions.
There are indeed rules, though many people may assume there are not. The rules pertain in large part to blocking techniques and tend to try to put a modicum of safety on an inherently dangerous sport. I would wager that my brief synopsis is enough for most people. However I will give a couple of links to help out any prospective roller derby fans or hopeful skaters. If you want a more in depth version of the rules, look HERE. If you want to get involved in derby you can either check online for a local league or look HERE and scroll down for a listing.
roller derby video excitement
This is a video put together by Rollergirl extraordinaire Beverly Killbilly who is also one of Momma's teammates. It's a quick look at the first inter league bout of the Hard Knox Rollergirls featuring Momma's team, the Machine Gun Kellys versus the Black Bettys. Sadly, the Bettys took the win, and I'd love to say they didn't deserve it, but I can't honestly do that. I can say with total honesty that I'm proud of every single girl regardless of the team.
According to Momma, Killbilly has more video that the is working on, and I really look forward to seeing what else she puts together.
We are currently in the middle of a break from derby which both Momma and I had once looked forward to. However, the lack of exercise has started to tell on her in her knees. I believe she is itching to get back to practice and bouting as well as just the exercise. I didn't realize till watching this video how much I was missing the action. I think that as soon as I post this I'm going to go back and watch it again.
Momma's team is in black and purple. The Bettys are in red. I'd tell you to find Momma by looking for the hot girl, but they're all hot. So look for the hot girl with the skull face.
According to Momma, Killbilly has more video that the is working on, and I really look forward to seeing what else she puts together.
We are currently in the middle of a break from derby which both Momma and I had once looked forward to. However, the lack of exercise has started to tell on her in her knees. I believe she is itching to get back to practice and bouting as well as just the exercise. I didn't realize till watching this video how much I was missing the action. I think that as soon as I post this I'm going to go back and watch it again.
Momma's team is in black and purple. The Bettys are in red. I'd tell you to find Momma by looking for the hot girl, but they're all hot. So look for the hot girl with the skull face.
squeeze it out
Instead of doing any of the housework or trip prep I should be doing, I'm sitting here squeezing out a post about how I'm not doing those things. Momma even left me a list of things to do, and I have done one of those things.
Actually, Momma's list is things she planned to do, but I felt bad for her having to do things that the one of us not employed outside the home should be doing. So I told her I'd do them. She insisted that she would do them, but that didn't happen. She intended to do those things, but something else happened instead, possibly internet related.
I have a couple of baskets worth of clothes to fold. I need to clean the bathroom which now also includes sweeping up a certain Big Brother's hair. I have several garage trips worth of recycling to carry out, though the driving to the recycling center won't be happening today. I need to decide what clothes the boys and I are taking to Atlanta for our final Christmas celebration. I'm sure there are other things on the list, but I've left it in the kitchen and am not getting up just to be slightly more accurate in the blog post that is wasting my time.
I'm almost certain I'll come up with some other random tidbits of nonsense to post about before radio silence begins for a couple of days. I won't be posting from Atlanta I'm quite certain, and I'm also certain that, given my random silences in the past no one will even notice. I'll be gone just long enough for my meager page view stats to be a little more meager.
So, this isn't quite good bye yet. Hell, it's not anything but wasting time, and that's what I'm good at.
Actually, Momma's list is things she planned to do, but I felt bad for her having to do things that the one of us not employed outside the home should be doing. So I told her I'd do them. She insisted that she would do them, but that didn't happen. She intended to do those things, but something else happened instead, possibly internet related.
I have a couple of baskets worth of clothes to fold. I need to clean the bathroom which now also includes sweeping up a certain Big Brother's hair. I have several garage trips worth of recycling to carry out, though the driving to the recycling center won't be happening today. I need to decide what clothes the boys and I are taking to Atlanta for our final Christmas celebration. I'm sure there are other things on the list, but I've left it in the kitchen and am not getting up just to be slightly more accurate in the blog post that is wasting my time.
I'm almost certain I'll come up with some other random tidbits of nonsense to post about before radio silence begins for a couple of days. I won't be posting from Atlanta I'm quite certain, and I'm also certain that, given my random silences in the past no one will even notice. I'll be gone just long enough for my meager page view stats to be a little more meager.
So, this isn't quite good bye yet. Hell, it's not anything but wasting time, and that's what I'm good at.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
two boys eating
Here are more pictures, playing with the camera and showing off my kids. Momma makes sushi for a living, so it's only natural that our boys have been eating sushi for quite a while. I personally don't care for most sushi. I don't like the seaweed at all, and I have some texture issues with most raw fish even though I can enjoy the flavor of a lot of it. I've always been a little iffy with fish/seafood, so it's no surprise that I'd be even more iffy about the sushi.
So far we haven't found any sushi that the boys will not eat. Big Brother's favorite seems to be the spider roll which is made with a fried whole soft shell crab. They were both disappointed when, after thinking they were getting oysters for New Year's Eve, they learned that the oysters hadn't come in. When asked for suggestions, Big Brother usually chooses the spider roll as well as octopus sashimi. They had those for NYE as well as eel and possibly some squid sashimi. I will eat the squid, though I need it to be cooked.
I'm not quite sure what all is on the plate in the picture. There are two different kinds of seaweed salad, possibly some of the spider roll as well as a house roll containing a fried shrimp and topped with roe. Yes, the boys both enjoy fish roe. The one time I tried roe I had to spit it out and scrape my tongue before dry heaving for a while. Big Brother's sushi glasses I'm pretty sure are a tuna maki with green onions and sesame seeds. The Boy is posing with ginger hanging out of his mouth. You can't show some kids a camera without them showing you their best side.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
not turning away
From a blog I'd not heard of before, Oh For the Love of God, via Zero Boss comes a story of one person losing their religion. I can fully agree with the blogger's points on becoming atheist/agnostic. Once I started to question the beliefs I'd been taught as a child, it was like kicking off the brakes and taking the car out of gear on a steep hill. I suppose my hill wasn't so steep at the beginning, or maybe the car just took a few years to reach a decent speed.
Christians especially like to see disbelief as a sort of moral failing. The Bible even mentions it as such and discusses people who have hardened their hearts toward god. That's rarely the case in my experience. I have no doubt that there are people who don't disbelieve but have anger toward the god they feel has wronged them.
My own atheism is probably an example similar to the growing disbelief of many people. I didn't turn away from god nor did I grow unhappy with the religious restrictions. I did start to question, and I found all too often that the answers to those questions just weren't good enough. How unsatisfying is it to hear "because I said so" as a child when we question our parents? How much more so from a religious leader in lieu of an actual answer from a caring god?
Christians especially like to see disbelief as a sort of moral failing. The Bible even mentions it as such and discusses people who have hardened their hearts toward god. That's rarely the case in my experience. I have no doubt that there are people who don't disbelieve but have anger toward the god they feel has wronged them.
My own atheism is probably an example similar to the growing disbelief of many people. I didn't turn away from god nor did I grow unhappy with the religious restrictions. I did start to question, and I found all too often that the answers to those questions just weren't good enough. How unsatisfying is it to hear "because I said so" as a child when we question our parents? How much more so from a religious leader in lieu of an actual answer from a caring god?
Monday, January 01, 2007
file under not sure
I'm not sure what to make of this story. There's enough of a conspiracy theory buff inside me to want to read all sorts of interesting possibilities into it, but given the scarcity of information, one can only assume and hope.
Are we alone on our bright blue jewel of a planet, hurtling through space never to meet other intelligent species from other planets? Do we have some first contact with an alien race to look forward to? I want to believe that we are not alone, whether or not that alien species involves sexy green women waiting to make it with a slightly pudgy overacting ship's captain.
In November of '06, several employees at O'Hare airport in Chicago spied a UFO. What they claim to have seen was a metallic disc that hovered over the airport for several minutes before taking off. They also claimed that, rather than move through the clouds as would be expected, it left a large doughnut shaped hole in the clouds.
I heard this story on NPR and had to immediately go and find what information I could. Sadly, there isn't much more to learn. I'll provide a list of links to what I did find for those inclined to read up on this instance.
Links to the story at NPR, National UFO Reporting Center (scroll down to December 12,) Washington Post, sighting report from NUFORC as well as another report concerning a similar sighting in the UK.
Part of me has absolutely no doubt that we will eventually meet our interstellar neighbors. Perhaps they won't be as exotic as Star Trek and its lesser cousin Star Wars would have us believe, but considering the varied environments that have proven able to support life, we can only imagine what those lifeforms will look like. Evolution and random planetary environments will certainly manifest themselves differently based on planetary environments, so we have only our imagination to inform us.
A more cynical part of me thinks that we just might be alone, that we will never meet and make sweet love to hot aliens chics. That part seems pretty damn closed minded to assume that the happenstance that put us here couldn't just as easily have put someone else somewhere else. So I'm left believing that there is intelligent life out there, and with our luck as humans, we've probably already pissed them off.
dear Sunspot
I used to really love you. I never intended to start the new year ranting, but last night's dinner at your once beloved restaurant, coupled with the fact that you've taken the portabella fries off the menu has left me wanting.
Do your cooks know what it means to break a cream sauce? I should have sent the overly salty, greasy mess back, but we'd already waited too long in your almost empty dining room, I felt like shit, and I was hungry. I'm not sure when I'll be back.
Seriously, it's really easy to break a cream sauce, but if you have even the tiniest bit of cooking skill, it's really easy to do it right and not break it.
For anyone unfamiliar, breaking a cream sauce happens because you've cooked it too long. The cream itself separates leaving a horrid greasy pool in the bottom of your dish. It's very unappetizing and very unprofessional. People who serve this kind of crap should be led away from the kitchen and asked kindly to go clean something as they obviously don't belong in the kitchen.
Big Brother ordered the artichoke piccata which was mostly good, but you overcooked the pasta. This we couldn't have sent back without having to order something else entirely, and again, you made us wait forever already; we just wanted to eat and leave at this point. Seriously, how the hell do you overcook pasta?
The Boy order the tilapia, served over grits with a corn heavy cream sauce studded with crawfish. It's a really great dish and was actually well cooked. Tilapia is easy to fuck up as it's a very light and tender fish, but this is the one thing you did get right.
As to my complaint about the portabella fries, the person who decided to take this off the menu is a fucking idiot and should be beaten about the head with a sock filled with onions. Thinly sliced portabella mushrooms in a light batter fried and served with a red pepper aioli. The first taste of these I had, quite a few years ago, was like an epiphany. Working at other restaurants, I have actually made these for myself, though the aioli became a red pepper ranch because I'm a little on the lazy side, and I needed to get back to work.
So, once dear Sunspot, you've really done it. Your cooks working 12/31/06 fucked up a really good meal. You weren't at all busy at the time, so you don't have that as an excuse, and even if you had been busy, to excuse your inability to cook properly suggests that you belong in another job. I've enjoyed a lot of meals at your restaurant, and I've always looked forward to it. But the grease sitting in my stomach says I might try some other restaurant next time.
Seriously, your cooks broke the cream, had to see the orange greasy crap and thought it would be okay to serve it anyway. I'm somewhat to blame for not sending it back, but as I've mentioned, we had already waited longer than we should. I also had my kids with me, and when you bring your kids, you often don't have the luxury of time to make the restaurant get it right. That shouldn't be my problem though. What kind of fucks serve this shit? I'd have been ashamed of myself if I sent out that crap, but that's not a problem I have in the kitchen. I would never have put that out.
Do your cooks know what it means to break a cream sauce? I should have sent the overly salty, greasy mess back, but we'd already waited too long in your almost empty dining room, I felt like shit, and I was hungry. I'm not sure when I'll be back.
Seriously, it's really easy to break a cream sauce, but if you have even the tiniest bit of cooking skill, it's really easy to do it right and not break it.
For anyone unfamiliar, breaking a cream sauce happens because you've cooked it too long. The cream itself separates leaving a horrid greasy pool in the bottom of your dish. It's very unappetizing and very unprofessional. People who serve this kind of crap should be led away from the kitchen and asked kindly to go clean something as they obviously don't belong in the kitchen.
Big Brother ordered the artichoke piccata which was mostly good, but you overcooked the pasta. This we couldn't have sent back without having to order something else entirely, and again, you made us wait forever already; we just wanted to eat and leave at this point. Seriously, how the hell do you overcook pasta?
The Boy order the tilapia, served over grits with a corn heavy cream sauce studded with crawfish. It's a really great dish and was actually well cooked. Tilapia is easy to fuck up as it's a very light and tender fish, but this is the one thing you did get right.
As to my complaint about the portabella fries, the person who decided to take this off the menu is a fucking idiot and should be beaten about the head with a sock filled with onions. Thinly sliced portabella mushrooms in a light batter fried and served with a red pepper aioli. The first taste of these I had, quite a few years ago, was like an epiphany. Working at other restaurants, I have actually made these for myself, though the aioli became a red pepper ranch because I'm a little on the lazy side, and I needed to get back to work.
So, once dear Sunspot, you've really done it. Your cooks working 12/31/06 fucked up a really good meal. You weren't at all busy at the time, so you don't have that as an excuse, and even if you had been busy, to excuse your inability to cook properly suggests that you belong in another job. I've enjoyed a lot of meals at your restaurant, and I've always looked forward to it. But the grease sitting in my stomach says I might try some other restaurant next time.
Seriously, your cooks broke the cream, had to see the orange greasy crap and thought it would be okay to serve it anyway. I'm somewhat to blame for not sending it back, but as I've mentioned, we had already waited longer than we should. I also had my kids with me, and when you bring your kids, you often don't have the luxury of time to make the restaurant get it right. That shouldn't be my problem though. What kind of fucks serve this shit? I'd have been ashamed of myself if I sent out that crap, but that's not a problem I have in the kitchen. I would never have put that out.
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