rock market

The 51 headed down the walk to the Metro and on to the Eastern Market this morning. X and kids were off to save a river in the wilds of Virginia. Apparently, the farmers show up to see just what these Buddists were up to - the farmers trotted off thinking the Buddists with pickaxes and saws were badass. I'll let her pass that along.

A few things to pass along. First, the Slobberbone Web site has suddenly been redesigned which bodes well for the greatest bar band of all time getting back in the studio and on the road. I've brought it up before, and I'll do it again, nobody but nobody in this generation is a better songwriter - and no band is better in a bar - than Brent Best and Slobberbone. Great stuff. Even if it's for only one more turn, that turn will be gold. It's hard to lockdown any really good video of the guys rocking but I can give you some Brent doing one of the greatest songs ever, Robert Cole. The song is loosely based on a piece by the great author, Larry Brown. Kills.



I picked up a few more 1970s cookbooks at Capital Hill Books today. These were a hat trick of the Time Life International series: Middle Eastern, Italy, and Spain and Portugal. What's interesting is that they were $6, $7, and $8; they were all in the same condition so I'm trying to sort out the pricing. What's interesting about a lot of these series' is that we've dumbed down ethnic cuisine over the last 30 years and these books give some solid skills and deep recipes from the old days. You get history, biography, and cooking all in one.

My second push is for Sarah's graduation from her Vet Tech program on the 20th. A much smarter 21-year-old than I ever was. She did her first year at ASU before deciding that it wasn't for her - the college thing. She turned to her first love and then ran through it like nothing. She wants to go on to Vet school after this and she's laid a nice path in that direction; quite admirable. I imagine she'll work for a few years or so and then apply to move along her career path. As with most of my lot, I've not been as close as I should have been over the years but that doesn't dull my pride.

We're doing a belated dinner for Amy tomorrow that will have langistinos, a huge organic leg of lamb, and pie tips. You do what you can do...

t

(My cat on my new chair)

Of course, he’s using the worst-case scenario to prove a point on that end of the spectrum but there’s certainly the converse on the other end: I’ll call them the home flippers and bankers. Don’t worry, the money will never stop flowing…

We had a logic discussion on another puzzle that was presented by G.’s teacher and that the kids may have understood better than she. I reminds me of something pointed out in the article – we aren’t great with probabilities. Here are the basics from G’s class problem:

1. Two players will participate. One player will have all the odd numbers and the other will have the even numbers.

2. The winner will be the player that matches (odd or even) the final total/sum of two rounds of a random number generator.

3. The first round/iteration of the random number generator will be completely random. This result will be seen but does not mean a player has won anything.

4. The second iteration of the generator is programmed to select an even number two of every three ‘spins’.

5. All of these parameters are known by both players prior to the game beginning.

6. The prize is $20.

7. To play you pay $10 for the privilege.

8. There is no option after the first roll – you can’t vacate the game and have your money back.

9. The only question being asked here is this: Is the game a fair, or equally likely to be won, by either player when they pay their $10 to participate prior to the first number?

On the lighter side, I love Steve Nash. Always have. Having played my share of basketball in my youth I understand a few things. First, when you get to a certain level of repetitive play you sort out angles, distances, and power – or thrust, or whatever ratio we need to use – when shooting. We’ve seen it a million times at the NBA level when players show the innate ability to know where they are, spatially, and where the basket is. Second, for players who are pure shooters there are constants on the court and nothing moves: the three-point line, the free throw line, the basket. What I would anecdotally believe is that if you blindfolded a scorer after putting him at his chosen point along the three-point arc, that he would probably hit the rim 3 or 4 times out of 5 simply because the muscle memory when shooting from point x is pretty much hardwired into his system. But, if you give that guy only one eye – or, take one away – the lack of translation from the optics to your muscles will override what your muscles already know to be true. I don’t know how many shots these guys took during the shoot but, rest assured, NBA players probably only throw up an air ball, when unguarded on a gym floor, once in every 5,000 shots.


Lastly, for the week: they’ve decided to implement a Barnes Dance crosswalk at 7th and H St. NW in D.C. beginning this week. If you hop over and read the story and watch the videos, I’ll give you a bit of visual reconnaissance. In the first video, the Verizon Center – home of the Caps, the Wizards, the Mystics, and endless concerts, is located along the two-block span to the left of the screen. Crossing diagonally from where the camera is, are two blocks of restaurants and bars: hence, the endless pedestrian traffic in the area – all day and all night (there is also a Metro stop underneath the Verizon Center). I have only ever seen the diagonal crossing once in my life and it was in Denver way back in the late 70s; some of the comments to the story imply that it’s happening everywhere but it’s been a rare sight for me. I’m cool with it because I hate that intersection for all the reasons they used to justify the dance; bets on what happens once the traffic cops walk away after on week of keeping it safe?

T

cat five-0

Maybe ‘Outlaw’ would be a better title but I’m going to stick with undercover operations – of a sort.

Sometime last week Pumpkin was jumped near our porch by another cat – which isn’t a new neighborhood arrival as far as I can tell – and ever since he’s been timid at the door. For me, he’ll still go out even if I have to give him a push on occasion; for X, she has to step out onto the porch so he can see that she’s not slain by some bully cat awaiting a good pounce opportunity. The end result is that Pumpkin has now added, and rightly so in this case, to his plethora of ‘issues’.

Right. You may ask yourself, “Where’s Lemon in all of this?”, and you’d be well to ask. Most of the time the Slayer appears to be napping and unawares on our bed’s comforter; blind to the happenings around her kingdom. In her mind, she’s already laid down the law of the land and any cat would be mad to consider either patrolling her block or, gasp, coming onto the porch. Until yesterday I wasn’t too sure if she’d be more bothered by the invasion of her suzerainty, or the fact that her pal was getting bullied. Who knows what a cat thinks? As I was heading out to class yesterday she was sitting near the front door and I asked (as it were) her if she wanted to head outside; she responded negatively, and indicated such, by walking a few feet to the den and hopping up on my desk so she could peer out the front (porch) window. As I stepped out, I noticed that Pumpkin was crouched on the front corner of the porch and that my sweet, little killer was keeping a close eye on the situation. Now, I don’t claim to understand what logical happenings or communication methods that may or may not exist in the brains of Felis Domesticus, but I’m certain that we have either a bait-and-beat situation, or a good friend merely keeping an eye upon the other. Whatever the genesis of the stakeout, there will be some misery if old bully shows up any time soon. And don’t think for a second that if an intruder approaches that Lemon can’t be from the desk, through the hall, out the cat door, and in full flight-upon-thee in less then three seconds. We’ll know when the issue has been settled by a few scratches and whatnot on Lemon’s ears; we may not hear it but we’ll know it. As for that other cat, you’re walking through the valley of death, not the shadow, the valley.

My two nights of American Cuisine this week involve the great dishes of the Great Plains. I asked if I could have a pass, being a native and all, but my chef said no. I then asked if I could just make some meat loaf, green bean casserole with Durkee’s fried onions, and a baked potato, and he said no. I think he doubts my cred.

We did get back to quiz night this week and did well – somewhere around 7^th for the evening. My contribution was managing to provide the Holy Trinity of Cajun cooking (onion, celery, green pepper in a mirepoix). I guess all this time and money has finally paid off…

t

smoking? pot? what?

“Again, understand that walking away is a kind of communication, too. Sometimes "better communication" is "less communication." You can't argue everything. And you can't argue the things you pick ad infinitum.”

This is an input in a conversation thread at Ta-Nehisi Coates' blog after a long comment thread blew up last week on one of his entries. Within the confines of the discussion it's pretty hard to process and when pulled out of the context it makes lots of confused sense to me. I don’t even know if that makes sense, check that. I think the heart of the sentence is that we, as political and social creatures, tend to think we have the back story of an issue when we really don’t; that story comes from the experiences of our lives and no one else’s. We don’t understand the position of another person whose life is so varied from ours and sometimes positing, and then forcefully debating that issue, isn’t going to necessarily come to something positive. As much as I want to believe in my opinion on gay rights, women’s rights, civil rights, being black, or growing up poor, the facts are the facts and I’ll never know regardless of my good intentions; sometimes that’s hard to accept. Sometimes you do your level best and then walk away.

We managed our way through L.’s birthday dinner, and a bit of an ode to the mothers at the table, last night. She requested salmon (I smoked it), magic potatoes, and tzatziki. She also picked out a chocolate cake from the Great Baking Book and we made that together in the afternoon. Nothing says lots of dirty pots and dishes like a made-from-scratch cake – I actually ran out of stuff to use.

Our trip to Eastern Market yesterday was a smash. The crepe guy was there and with our early arrival we were able to beat most of the line and at least keep warm with crepes for The 61. I went savory and the two girls went sweet. We gathered up the King of Chairs that we purchased last week (see below), X picked up some pearls, and I pulled some cheese from the Market’s cheese seller, some S.C. strawberries, and a pound of fresh S. Virginia asparagus. We also stumbled upon a gentleman who runs a great stand that stocks used cookbooks and used cast iron and enameled cast iron cookware. He gathers high quality used Le Crueset, Capco, and other marks and then sells them for a fraction of what you’d pay at Williams or elsewhere. The Copco stuff he had was about $35-$40 per piece and quite nice but couldn’t match the three pieces that X scored at Goodwill for $10, total, a few months back. He was happy we had some at home and didn’t rue the fact that we’d managed product for so little. (Copco is now making the Batali stuff so if you’ve seen that newer line then you have a general idea of the classic line.) He also had five or six volumes of the late 1970s set of Time Life cookbooks that are popular among all chefs – most of my instructors have a least a portion of the nearly 30-volume set. I grabbed four of those and disappeared into the morning sun.

I’m registered for classes next quarter (begins after the 4th of July holiday) and have Garde Manger, Intro to Baking , and Intro to Pastry. I sense loads of sweets and breads early in the week.

t

dreams

I can't believe it's been 14 years since Big Night came out; it was my favorite movie then, it's my favorite movie now. Only a handful of times has a film been this good, at least in my book. I stumbled across the feast scene earlier today and decided it would be best for everyone to see exactly what I'd like cooking and a restaurant to be - I'm still trying to get these reactions in my house. I also added in the final scene: the morning after the big fight between the brothers. A simple egg dish for breakfast and life goes on. As for the Feast scene, you can skip the volume until the credit bit is over - the scene is great, the guy's additions aren't so great.





You fucking guys!

vegetables. people.

I wanted to throw in a bit on knife cuts (for culinary students) and triage. What we get at mid-terms and finals is some variant of the eight primary cuts and a couple of other, specialized cuts. Last night we were give 2 oz. each of large, medium, and small dice; batonnet, julienne, and fine julienne; brunoise and fine brunoise; some rondelles and four tourne potatoes. Aside from the potatoes, all the other cuts were from carrots. We were only given 15 minutes, including peeling, to get product on the table for grading. A few things have to happen if you’re going to make it. First, you need a plan for the order of cuts – don’t get into your medium dice before doing your julienne and smaller cuts. Second, you will have to sacrifice the 2 oz. portion of the outline if you’re going to have any chance of getting ten cuts on display. As long as you get a goodly stack of each on your tray – even if not 2 oz, particularly when you aren’t in a fundamentals class – you’ll be fine. You have to know your chef instructor and know that he’s simply going to finger through the piles briefly and give you a grade. Once you have everything in line, start rolling, don’t panic, get product out. Lots of students in my class don’t work the triage idea and either don’t do the planning, or are too focused on absolutely perfect fine brunoise; these are 1/16” squares cut from the carrots. (Tallying 2 full ounces of fine brunoise alone, in 15 minutes, is nearly impossible). One student spent so much time measuring her stack of julienne carrots that she only ended up with two cuts on the board – not a great score. I got all ten with my tourne potatoes ripped out in the final two minutes; I always hold them for last. She got 2/10, I got 9.5/10. Lots of others didn’t get through the cuts and that’s always a problem because the planning and managing of your is pretty important. Maybe they’ll learn. Maybe I just recognize it better because that type of prioritization comes fairly naturally to me.

t

no girls allowed

And for something a little more light-hearted: this is a great entry on couch/house forts and on the grades for the quality of each.

We went to Eastern Market last Sunday, a last-minute diverge from the DuPont Farmers Market, and managed to feed kids, order a pearl necklace, and buy me a big, new (used) living room chair. With the four kids and two adults we couldn’t fit the chair n the car so we’ll be back down on Sunday morning to get both the pearls and the chair. The first thing that L. asked me was if she could have my corner of the couch. I bequeathed it to her but was sort of overridden by X and her dah-di-dah. Of course, X has a wholly self-created daybed/coach/snug off in another corner with her computer so I don’t think it’ll matter in the end.

And, to follow-up on a NYTimes piece about PowerPoint that made our rounds last week, and to which I agreed, know this: this is more my position on that program and I think Farhad is stealing from my brain. See my bit on clipart from whenever.

I just wrapped up my mid-terms for the quarter. Knife cuts...again. My fine julienne is exceptional.

Love to all

t

from a to b and back to a. not without a fight.

Here’s the short version. Read beyond the line if you want to read more rabble about Douthet’s NYTimes bit.

The original text of the Arizona law said this:

B. For any lawful contact made by a law enforcement official or a law enforcement agency of this state or a law enforcement official or a law enforcement agency of a county, city, town or other political subdivision of this state where reasonable suspicion exists that the person is an alien who and is unlawfully present in the United States, a reasonable attempt shall be made, when practicable, to determine the immigration status of the person, except if the determination may hinder or obstruct an investigation.

The text changes, and law change, made by the Arizona house a week later say this:

B. For any lawful stop, detention or arrest made by a law enforcement official or a law enforcement agency of this state or a law enforcement official or a law enforcement agency of a county, city, town or other political subdivision of this state in the enforcement of any other law or ordinance of a county, city or town or this state where reasonable suspicion exists that the person is an alien who and is unlawfully present in the United States, a reasonable attempt shall be made, when practicable, to determine the immigration status of the person, except if the determination may hinder or obstruct an investigation.

A few things, of course. The first attempt, where a very loosely defined ‘contact’ is outlined and that ‘contact’ is based on ‘reasonable suspicion’ that a person is here illegally, is comical. Really? Let me ask you this one, simple question: how might you suspect a person is here illegally when they are walking down the street? I think you know have the answer to why the law met the racial profiling gate.

The new text actually falls in line with Federal code and simply states that if you are involved in a law enforcement issue during a “lawful stop, detention, or arrest” then you must show your identification.

This law, when first passed, was not a law that simply required immigrants to carry their papers, as always. It had nothing to do with that because having your papers, or not, wasn’t the issue,;it was the suspicion that someone doing nothing but being here was strong enough to allow that query. There really was no argument in support of the original bill.

It’s been rewritten to follow the Federal law and I’m fine with that. Wonder why it was rewritten? I’ll just let you think about it.

_____________________________________________

Douthat has an op-ed this morning that addresses – from his right perch – the Arizona immigration law and the issue as a whole. The opening to his third paragraph is enlightening:

“Just because this is the wrong way to enforce America’s immigration laws, however, doesn’t mean they don’t need to be enforced.”

Well, that about covers it, Ross, doesn’t it? That is the rub of this law as it was originally written – it was racial profiling and not just enforcing a law. As he rightly points out, federal law requires the carrying of documentation for immigrants but it doesn’t imply, by any stretch, that they must be produced on demand if they’re walking down the street: and that’s what the law said. The original text of the passed bill stated that any ‘lawful contact’ was all that was needed for a paper query. The rewrite that the house put in place last week changed that to “…any lawful stop, detention, or arrest” and included “in the enforcement of any other law or ordinance of a county, city or town or this state.” Right. Fair enough on the change, but all that does is actually replicate the federal statute (8 USC 1304) and so nothing is new…now Anyone that read the initial law would come to a reasonable conclusion that “contact” not in the “enforcement of any crime or law” in order to check papers is a bit militaristic. How would law enforcement determine which people they were suspicious of being here illegally? How? I wonder. There is no argument that can support the passing of the initial law. (You can see the full texts above.)

When Douthat jumps the shark is in two areas. First with this, “But there’s no compelling reason that we should decide which immigrants to welcome based on their proximity to our border, and their ability to slip across.” Secondly with this, “Curbing the demand for illegal workers requires stiff workplace enforcement, stringent penalties for hiring undocumented workers, and shared sacrifice from Americans accustomed to benefiting from cheap labor.”

The proximity argument is presented as to ensure that someone from Central Africa has the same opportunity to immigrate to America as someone from North or South America. That idea is well-and-good but it isn’t really feasible, is it? Would we suggest that someone from Hong Kong would have the same opportunity to immigrate to France as someone from Algeria? Of course not; proximity during any type of immigration is going to an overriding factor and to intimate anything else is disingenuous.

The call for ‘curbing the demand’ sounds just like the idea behind the War on Drugs and how well did that go? We are well aware that curbing the demand (through employers, stringent penalties, etc.) won’t work any better – are we willing to lock up business owners after immigration raids? They don’t do that now because all they do is haul off the workers. The stopping of demand won’t work because demand it too high by Americans. The phrase that cuts both ways to me, is this, “they are doing jobs that Americans won’t do.” That, of course, is complete and utter bullshit. If I’m for more immigration (legal) then I’ll tell you that if a garlic farmer in Gilroy advertises for 150 harvesters at minimum wage he won’t have a line of white Americans who are unemployed lining up for work. At the same time, the jobs that unemployed Americans want – high pay, good hours, health insurance – aren’t the jobs that immigrants, legal or illegal, are taking. We need to get over that patriotic American, job-hunting bullshit and move along.. Does Douthat know why American business owners hire illegal immigrants? They work for cheap and that helps the great free enterprise and capitalism numbers that the Republicans support against all comers. Ironic, isn’t it? Even when President Bush tried twice of overhaul the immigration system the Republicans blocked any movement on it – wouldn’t even bring it to the floor for discussion. If Douthat is so serious about enforcement of laws, and he really, really thinks that cutting the demand is the best solution, then how about getting up and a tub and thumping away at hauling off every business owner and homeowner who employs a single illegal immigrant, just one time. Haul them off, Ross, mister man of laws. But he won’t.

As far as the courts are concerned we have some precedent on suspicion and profiling. They tried setting up police roadblocks in the D.C. neighborhood of Trinidad in the summer of 2008 during a summer of unbelievable violence and the roadblocks were intended to curb that violence. The police, under Cathy Lanier, didn’t want to actually police the city they just wanted to stop people – how random? – going in and out of the neighborhood whenever they felt the need. Funny, it didn’t stop the violence; it was merely a form of profiling of a neighborhood and the courts struck it down. The original Arizona law was equally as bad. The changes simply realign the Arizona law with Federal code – it was changed because of the outcry.

The immigration system is a big problem and needs overhaul. When there’s work and people who want to do it yet we are unable to process them in any reasonable method then we’ll have problems. Better life, better work, better opportunity but no way to let people come here and do the work and live that life. I’m pretty sure that if allowed to immigrate to the U.S. with documents then people would; no one wants to live their life in a shadow. There are options that include temporary worker statues (which we use now), allowing more in for season work, etc. As Douthet points out, 54% of immigrants here from Mexico are here legally. If more than half of come here legally then clearly the preponderance of evidence shows they follow a procedure if it’s available. And 40% of those here illegally came here legally but have out-stayed there welcome – illegally. I get it so spare me the ‘enforce the law’ crap and actually try to do something to fix the problem instead of hailing Sheriff Joe Arpaio as anything other than the complete moronic, racist, jackass that he is.

Thanks

what a grade

This piece at Slate.com is brilliant stuff. Brilliant. And so very true – even if my own hand-drawn maps can be utter farces. This is the type of story idea and writing that makes me smile.

Yes, (or should it be “No,”) I don’t want to talk about the Capitals.

If you don’t know about it, because you don’t have kids in school and you can’t even fathom the thought of have kids around who are in school, you can follow your progeny’s progress and grades online these days. PowerSchool is the main supplier to schools and you get a login for your kid and checking up is easy enough. I look at L’s everyday so make sure she’s not missing assignments or doing poorly in certainly classes; consider it more prevention of a slide into oblivion. That’s a short story made long. I do want to pass along that she is getting a 100% in Ultimate Frisbee this quarter.

I haven’t pass this along to X yet, though this might be notification when she reads it, but I plan on doing nothing on Sunday aside from one or more of the following: museums, lunch out, a film, a play, a nap. She can have her choice. I’m willing to make a good run at stuff on Saturday but we haven’t taken a weekend day off for what seems like months.

School is going well this quarter and I’ve finally moved along from making sure everything gets cooked properly within our time lines to figuring out plating and presentation. In my kitchen, presentation is something akin to “here’s your food.” Now that I’m comfortable enough in my thinking that I’m not a totally gimp cook – and I really wasn’t to begin with but reassurances help – I have a little more foresight on how I’ll plate something and get $19.95 out of you for Crepes de leche de dulce; tip not included.

Our final pieces of the garden have arrived and the tomatoes (and peppers?) will be in the ground this week. I look at the vegetable garden this morning and on a scale of 1-10 the progress, so far, is simply dirt. And with that, I give you our President, consider me the reporter / farmer combo…

gardening at night

Saturday marked the final push of this year’s gardens. You might ask yourself, “What do you mean by gardens? How many did you have last year? How many do you have this year?”, and you be onside with those queries. To address those concerns, yes, gardensssss. We now have what could be called five gardens: our driveway Mediterranean herb-ish garden, two shade gardens (one in front, one in the back), a bigger vegetable patch on the side of the house, and a pumpkin/squash patch at the top of the backyard. As for last year? Well, I’d say we had three about the plot – a smaller veg patch, the driveway garden, and a square-foot garden of which we won’t speak. The garden construction really took hold two weeks ago when the six cubic metres of manure compost showed up in our driveway a few days after X received her two pre-planned shade garden plants. She worked the front shade garden, I helped out getting the veg patch in order, and then we called it a weekend. On Saturday we finished getting the vegetables in the ground and she blasted through the rear shade garden and pumpkin patch after I got as much compost into the back yard as was needed. She finally wrapped up about 8pm as the darkness fell and she could vaguely still see the ground. She was a tired and dirty pup when she came in the house at the fin. Rest assured, she got a nice trip to the day spa yesterday afternoon to get a bit of recovery time. We’ll take some pictures as all the life develops around The Hilltop.

Here’s an interesting finale to a case in Texas a few years ago. The Supreme Court dismissed a request for cert (I’m so legally!) last week in a once sentence release. Why this case is so bizarre isn’t so much because of the actual events between the judge and prosecutor but the responses of people who think about it and then post comments. Even though the article is clearly directly as the process – and not the guilt or innocence in the case – the law-and-order, badass, gun-toting, citizens can’t look passed the “guilty and fry him” mentality. If anyone with a sense of the judicial system can look at this case and say that that actions are defendable then we are really lost.

The Capitals failed to finish off the Canadiens at Verizon on Friday night and now how to play Game 6 in Montreal this evening. Friday’s game was so poorly played on their part – and I witnessed it – that the cliff-dwelling Caps’ fans are close to folding it up and giving in. Even though it wasn’t great, they’ll probably win tonight and all will be forgiven.

t

this and that.

Here’s a strange article from the NYTimes last week. Well, I consider it strange because I love cilantro and can’t imagine a whole pod of people in this World who do dislike it. Julia Child? Really? I guess she never considered cilantro pesto on my flatbread with hummus and grilled shrimp.

The Eleven was at Verizon Center on Saturday night for the madness that was the Caps’ 2nd playoff game. The Caps came back from 4-1 down to tie it at 4-4, gave up another late goal to fall behind, and tied it again with little more than a minute to go. They won it 30 seconds into OT on a goal by Nicklas Backstrom. By the third period, amidst the craziness, even X was yelling about a interference penalty call across the ice. I think it was something along the lines of “Hey! Hal Gill’s a punk. Are you blind, ref? He can’t do that!” – she then threw her beer and started cussing. Okay, she didn’t do those last two (or use Hal Gill’s name) but she was offended by the interference. Just so you know, it was whistled as a penalty moments later.

We spent all day Saturday working on the lawn and gardens: I got the veg garden soil/compost in order and X labored through getting 50-ish plants into her new shade garden along our front porch/roses/walkway. By last summer it’ll look quite stunning; the veg didn’t get planted yet and the wind has kicked up so it might be a few days. We’ll keep you posted.

dinner and dates

We hosted a dinner party for Kt’s work pals on Saturday night and everything worked out well. The original plan was for 10 or so but it ended up being more like 17 after the RSVPs were mailed and settled. We decided to skip the formal sitting portion (can’t manage that at our tables) and went with something along the lines of a buffet situation that, interestingly enough, ended up with everyone in a big circle sitting around our living room coffee table – you can’t do anything with guests.

I was worried about having enough food, and how to distribute the chow, so we ended up with huge dishes of golden, mushroom lasagna; Spanakopita; corn-and-goat cheese enchiladas with a mole sauce; a massive Greek salad, a green goddess salad, about a gallon of tzatziki, bread (brought by a guest), two huge sheets pans of roasted vegetables (parsnips, new potatoes, red and gold beets, red onions, turnips, garlic and freshly grated ginger), and two cheesecakes (also baked by a guest: one plain and one peanut butter). We had enough food – but not by a ton. I think the invitees were selected from Kt’s group of comrades based on their abilities to survive without huge hunks of meat…or any meat. As I pulled everyone over to the table / buffet to fire out a quick description I offered up the “there’s no meat, so don’t look for it” preamble. Truth be told, no one cared much and all the mains were absolutely destroyed before the evening was over. I think between the food, wine, and beer, everyone left sated. X and the boys were all over the housecleaning as I spent my day in the kitchen; they were a battalion (company?) of dedicated worker bees.

Did I pass along that we have something like 6 cubic metres of horse shit in our drive? Wait, call it compost. X has a great plan for two new shade gardens and we’re about ready to get the vegetable garden planted and on task – I don’t know if I can wait a few months for all my kitchen product to grow, bloom, blossom, or whatever else growing stuff does in dirt.

Along food lines, here’s a wonderful article in the NYTimes about the Ballymaloe Cooking School in Ireland, and its founder, that a good friend attended a few years ago after retiring from the Air Forces. He’s currently working at a great place in Omaha and working to master garde manger techniques. Well, garde manger and/or aging meats…

My latest selections for quality reading these days, at least in the periodical arena, are Steven Strogatz at the NYTimes, who writes great pieces on math; and, Matt Taibbi who primarily writes for Rolling Stone (which I haven’t read in years) and has been amazingly aggressive in covering the financial meltdown. You can get to Strogatz’s main page here and Taibbi’s main page here; and his latest RS piece here (I go printer friendly versions of Matt’s stuff and then read it in hardcopy.) From that RS page you can dig back deeper and read his other half-dozen stories on the financial world.

saturation

Even though I sometimes scroll through 2 or 3 pages of ‘comments’ on some stories or op-ed pieces, I rarely look at anything beyond the first few anymore…if that. I guess what I’m getting at is this: what drives a person to make a comment on a story when they see a meter saying that 1,234 people have already commented? Do you like yelling at a wall? Do you think anyone is going to, first of all, find your comment; and, secondly, send or post you a response saying how moved they were by your entry? Or, is it the yelling at the wall that gives people some sort of release? I’m also wondering about my online class this quarter (this being my first ever) that requires me to participate online, in commentary and threads, at least four days per week. I think there’s something like 25 folks in the ‘class’ and we all have a daily assignment to post and then we’re to post those additional four times about someone else’s entry. What are the odds that I, and I’m pretty diligent, am going to read beyond the first or second threat before I post? Zero, those are the betting odds. There’s no way I’m reading all 25 entries on three topics each day and then reading all the threads and finding what might tickle my fancy – not a chance. Of course, online isn’t the best way to learn and I understand this attempt at interaction but there really isn’t going to be any. Yelling at a wall.

Drilling and Obama. This is a parallel to a discussion the Eleven had about insulating a rental house that we might spend 3-5 years occupying but that is for another another another time. My first reaction, mild as it was, was that he was caving in on a campaign pillar and was ready to start drilling off the Atlantic and Alaskan coasts. My second reaction was stronger, and a counterweight, and fell in line with what we’ve seen of Obama for the last 16 months: patience. Let this develop and then determine its success. Third, maybe this is a bit political and I’m fine with that feeling. Taking it backwards now, if this is a political move then it simply has shut the door on the stupid “Drill, baby, drill” motto of Palin. If I never hear that again or see another sign in a yard calling for a fifteen-year fix to a “this summer” problem, then my days will be happier. Here’s a bit of the transcript of the speech:

“So today we're announcing the expansion of offshore oil and gas exploration, but in ways that balance the need to harness domestic energy resources and the need to protect America's natural resources. Under the leadership of Secretary Salazar, we'll employ new technologies that reduce the impact of oil exploration. We'll protect areas that are vital to tourism, the environment, and our national security. And we'll be guided not by political ideology, but by scientific evidence.

That's why my administration will consider potential areas for development in the mid and south Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico, while studying and protecting sensitive areas in the Arctic. That's why we'll continue to support development of leased areas off the North Slope of Alaska, while protecting Alaska's Bristol Bay.”

Of course, exploration, not drilling is the phrase he uses and that also says something about the patience and process involved in what he’s trying to accomplish. That sort of mitigates that first impression of caving, which I’ll get to in a second.

The patience part is just learned, the hard way. Being a liberal – and a Democrat – I often get swallowed up in waiting for the right thing, my priority, to get done. In the arena we’re living in that just isn’t going to happen. Maybe there will be 6-8 major successes in Obama’s first four years and maybe 3 or 4 will perfectly align with my hopes but that’s good enough, isn’t it? If the others are of benefit to the nation as a whole then I can live with it. It takes time. It takes effort. We’ll get there.

Now, about the caving part. If I believe in what I think I believe in, then drilling for oil domestically is neither here nor there on the grand scale. There are two parts to this process and the first is that America needs to use less energy. If this move, away from buying foreign oil (or oil from ‘terrorist’ gub’ments; remember that most of our foreign oil imports come from Canada – almost three times more than any other single country), then this is a great move. If we want to drill here and use our oil product as our primary supply then we have some serious usage to cut back on: and that fits perfectly into my hopes. What is the political challenge or response to not buying oil from our ‘enemies’ any more and using our own oil, even if it’s not enough? Are people going to start yelling for us to buy more oil from OPEC during the next election? The second, and even more damning portion, is the idea of a world environment. Why is it okay for oil and coal to be drilled and mined as long as it isn’t in America? If one were to believe the scientists (and who does? Those crazy malcontents) about global warming then it isn’t any better to drill here or there – drilling is drilling. And with that, I happened to trust this Administration to do a better job of protecting the environment, so I’ve got little problem with this decision. And, before anyone gets up in arms, this isn’t the same position the Republicans had in the last election. Their position was, and is, use more energy and in order to meet that demand drill more here. Drill more there. Drill some from my bones.

What this will be, in the end, is a policy that will allow us explore our options here, drill here if needed, and if that’s done then using it as a frontal attack on our energy consumption. When you look at from the point-of-view that environmental issues are not blocked by borders then it makes perfect sense.

And, to give you and idea of how the long view usually wins out if the strength is there…



As I said above, I don’t always get these things out of my wee head – X dives in, sorts it all out, and gives me the down-and-dirty as she sips on her wine and reads her Lucky magazine. Is that both a compliment and stereotype? Ah, whatever.

t

start your engine

I broke out the old Jacobsen mower this afternoon for the first hell-and-down-and-up our yard for the new season. It didn't want to start up so much but managed to finally turnover and keep 'running' at about half-gasp for long enough to cut the mountain. A few things to consider from your mechanically-handicapped author: the mower was rolled in the shed at the end of last summer, the gas wasn't emptied, the oil was - well, who knows - the blade ain't never been sharpened in 2+ years, I think the Holley double pumper 750 is gummed up, and well, it's just a $20 used thing that I'm hoping gets through one more summer. It used to be propelled, long before we bought it, so I'm pushing a non-propelled, heavy-ass beast up and down the hill on The Hilltop. In betwixt my sets of 10 engine cord pulls and my resting (it's both aerobic and anaerobic!) I was taking a good, solid look at the mower - eyeing it up-and-down, bending low to check on the shocks, pushing this and pulling at that wire, messing with the throttle, and adjusting the catching bag. Anyone driving by would certainly have thought me a man of tools and means. Of course, what was going through my head was a memory of when Buzz (and I, observing) worked on a two-stroke mower back in England (are all mowers two-stroke?) Buzz was pulling plugs, checking carbs, and generally explainin' to me all the tricks of, what he dubs, "the World's simplest motor" - as if that meant diddily to a dolt like me. I also thought that it would be great to have Buzz down the street to come over and fix my shit. That's what I really wanted; I didn't give a rat's ass about knowing how to do something. Maybe if he pops over he can give me a haircut, play a saw, lose at Yahtzee, and then knock out four of five games of NHL 2000 on the computer. Well, none of that happened and I mowed the grass with a wheezing, sputtering, non-propelling relic of the 80s.

I'm back into class beginning tomorrow night - Tuesday through Thursday nights this round - but I'll have my weekends off for sleeping in. I was able to buy two of my textbooks via Kindle (I'm borrowing L's) so I save a load of cash. I'm in Nutrition (online), American Cuisine, and Latin Cuisine. Looking forward to another round.

The screened in porch is about 90% complete with one more weirdly-shaped roof panel and one screen remaining. Once that's done we'll do some sealing between pieces and call it summer.

I have interesting issues to bring up on Obama and drilling, most of which is stolen for X, but that'll be for another day.

By the way, that's not my mower up above, I'm just too lazy to go take a digital picture at 9pm

t

cherry blossoms

Here are some shots from the early morning jaunt Saturday AM. There was some debate from the peanut gallery about getting there at 6:30am but even then it was getting overcrowded. It ended up be a very nice and worthwhile trip even if we couldn't round up a breakfast joynt after we finished at 7:30am. L. was in charge of photos and did a stunning job.

Love to all.

t

ain't no trip to cleveland...

My movie watching has been less than stellar over the last year but I wanted to point everyone in the direction of Fantastic Mr. Fox. It’s not much of a secret that I’ve loved every single Wes Anderson film so I guess this isn’t a huge surprise. Having floated that disclaimer, Mr. Fox is a simply beautiful piece of art that no one should miss. We watched it Saturday night and I’m still playing back great scenes in my head. To take a book, turn it brilliantly to stop-motion animation, and have it voiced to perfection (Clooney as Mr. Fox? Perfect!) is something to behold. Honestly, I don’t know how it wasn’t voted film of the year by everyone. You have my full recommendation.

“They'll never catch me... because I'm fucking innocent.” – Dignan.

nothing but a heartache

It must be March Madness at the pub as we made our way to 2nd place in last night’s quiz. After our last performance a few weeks back – the worst ever – it was a pleasant surprise. The only question that led to protest, at least from me, was this: What is the native currency of the following islands? Christmas, Aruba, Wight, and Canary. Feel free to look those up, we only got the Isle of Wight correct. I couldn’t come up with florin for Aruba even though we knew it was a Dutch property, and even with me writing down ffl on the napkin, just wouldn’t come to the brain. We went with the dollar for the Christmas Islands, sans Australian, so we misfired there. The Canary is where the debate raged – we were debating Portuguese v. Spain ownership issue and ended up going with the peseta. Well, that’s sort of right if you go with the ‘native’ portion of the question but is apparently wrong when he says that the Euro is the answer. The Euro? Native? To the Caymans? If we’d been asked “what is the currency of…” I could play along but I don’t buy the Euro as the native currency of anywhere. The analogy would be saying that the native currency of Germany isn’t the Mark. L. came along and managed to let us know that the Cobb Salad originated in L.A., told us that Singing in the Rain has a scene in front of Grauman’s in L.A., and that the largest U.S. fortune cookie factory was in S.F. – who knew? The Cobb Salad really surprised me. Small potatoes…

Here’s a piece at dcist.com that addresses the first month of the $.05 tax on plastic bags that took effect in January. A yearly review will probably be more useful – and accurate – so I’ll keep everyone posted. S.F. simply outlawed plastic bags so you have a total of zero in use out there, I’d have been more happy with that, but this has, at any level, had a serious impact on usage. I’d like NoVa and Maryland to get onboard and play along.

We’re gathering up the clan early Saturday morning and rolling over to the Tidal Basin for a lap around the cherry blossoms – or to the cherry blossoms with a lap around the Basin. There’ll be some baking on Friday night and coffee brewing early in the morning. Sunrise is set for 6:50 am so we’ll be there by 6:30 to beat the crowds and the Metro schedule. There’ll a nap when I get home; we’ll send pictures.

X has come down with one of those bugs that mostly affect the voice, her’s is disappearing into a gravel pit, to which I pointed out on the way home last night that she makes it sound like I’m hanging out with Bonnie Tyler…or Demi Moore in the St. Elmo’s Fire days. If you’re wondering…

socialist schools

L. and H. were off this morning to school - on a Saturday!, that damn Obama - to make up the final time from the missed educating during our two-fer blizzard this winter. The school made up a good bit of the time by extending the school days over the last five weeks and this is the final surge. I find it ironic (is that right?) that a private school is making sure to get the days of education in but the public schools, who fall under the 169-day rule (or whatever number of days it is), are filing requests to not have to finish the required number of class days. The above is L before heading out for her final Zoology exhibition to finish her quarter today. Most of the classes at the school, particularly the high school, required students to present their research and answer questions from other students, teachers, and occasionally, outside experts and parents. Each student does about 20-25 minutes and is expected to present their position and then defended their research. It's not so much a debate as it is a chance for the teacher to see that the student understands their chosen problem, done the legwork, understands the process, and has used critical thinking to present and explain the position. It's quite a process and today is the second day of scheduled exhibitions throughout the school. Her other presentation of sorts, in German culture was on The Ambassadors by Hans Holbein the Younger.

We set upon the back porch and the screening in of about 2/3s of it this morning. Corey is doing the design and actual man-work and I'm doing the painting of the structure. I'm taking some photos as we progress and the barn should be raised and done by sunset tomorrow. It'll be very nice to able to use the porch through the spring, summer and early fall without getting savaged by mosquitos. Feel free to stop by in your seersucker suits and have some mint juleps.

t

get off my lawn!

I love a good egg salad with mustard on toasted rye. I realized when I ordered this at the deli for lunch that I sound like a crazy, old man, “I want my egg salad on toast! Rye toast! Don’t try to slip any of that frenchy yellow mustard on it, either.” (hitching up my suspenders.)

I have one more written test for class tomorrow and then I’m off for about a week-and-half before the next quarter. The big timeline says only one more quarter before I get my early summer vacation up in Stowe, and that can’t come soon enough.

I, for no good reason, started a debate on Facebook (what am I? 14?) about the healthcare bill with some friends – mostly from my military days. Being that the military is more conservative than a lot of areas – though my field was less so – it’s like debating any other crazies. I get it; I understand that probably half the population didn’t want this bill (or didn’t think they wanted it), but elections do mean something, voting means something, and a majority means something. Honest debate was, and is, very hard to come by and I’ve made loads of efforts to read and follow some of their talking points but they aren’t talking points – they’re yelling points. They aren’t true, they come from nowhere, and they mean nothing. There’s little compromise when half the players refuse to listen or move. So be it. I’m ready to move along to the next issue without them. I will say this, and it’s based on what I said a few weeks ago, by the time the elections come up in November we will end up with more Democrats in Congress than we have now. This has been a fatal move by the Republicans, they just don’t see it yet.

I have the Caps v. Pens at Verizon tonight so along with my decompressing from the Sunday vote and worries put forth about socialism, and whatnot, I get a great rivalry.

More later

t

say it's so, Joe

I don't have much love for baseball these days. I'm still a Cubs fan but that's not the issue. I find the 'salary cap' to be a joke, the PEDs, and the game to be boring. It's such a distance that I don't even know if the Cubs making the World Series would bring me back.

What has caught my attention over the last three years is Joe Mauer. I don't completely disconnect when it comes to sport and Mauer may be the best player in baseball. He's a Twin Cities legend, he was the Gatorade high school football player of the year and now he's the MLB MVP and three-time batting champion. If I had to pick an AL team, it'd be the Twins - the team of my youngest days in Edina. To see the Twins lock him up - with a beautiful new stadium next season - instead of the Yanks or Sox poaching him, makes me feel good. There will be many great summer nights in the Cities.

t

we are the ones we've been waiting for

Time is time.
Our time is here
We asked for this and we have it.
meep meep
Peace.

would you be an outlaw for my love

Today warrants an a goodbye to the great Alex Chilton. I was introduced to Big Star in early 1992, long after the band was gone, and I can honestly say they weren't a band I would have dug up on my own. The hippie/folk/pop combo from the early 70s wasn't naturally my thing so I could have gone my entire life, and sat here today, having never listened to the two great albums they produced - #1 Record and Radio City. In the end, they were really purely a pop band and one of my all-time favorites. Those two records deserve all the acclaim they've received over the last 35+ years. Man, only 59 and he's gone. Sort of feels like the day Joe Strummer died. Enjoy.

i just met donnie osmond's brother at the DFW airport

I got a text message from my friend, Buzz, and that title above is the complete transmission. There are any number of questions that arise from such a text.

First, was he walking through the airport, eyes up and alert to celebs, when he said to himself, “Why, I think that’s Donnie Osmond’s brother”? Or, did he think to himself, “My, my, what a massive set of smiley teeth. I wonder if that man is famous.” Under either of these situation, in order to determine who this might be, you’d have to approach him and query his lot in life (unless he’s just bullshitting me). With the former thought in your head, the answer from the “Osmond” would probably be, “Hey, yeah, I’m Alan Osmond, Donnie’s brother, nice to meet you”; or, “I’m only Donnie Osmond’s brother. Leave me alone.” Not likely. If the latter is the issue and you said, “Hey, are you famous?” He would have said something like “Sure am. I’m Alan Osmond. Nice to meet you. Who are you and why don’t you leave me alone.” Somehow, if any of these vignettes came to pass they were immediately translated, and transmitted to me, as “meeting Donnie’s Osmond’s brother.” What I also question is this: if he had told me that he’d met Jebediah Osmond at the airport did he think I wouldn’t be able to figure out that it was an Osmond brother? Did I really need the Donnie reference? Why couldn’t he be referred to as Marie Osmond’s brother? What about Jimmy Osmond’s brother? Wait, did he meet Jimmy Osmond? Granted, I can only rattle off Alan, Donnie, Marie, and Jimmy but that’s at least half of the clan, right? I have some Osmond skills. Speaking of which…

In my elementary school days I was a much bigger Donnie Osmond fan than Michael Jackson fan; though I did have three-ring binders with both on the cover. But I should also admit that I always felt that One Bad Apple, which I had on 45rpm and danced to all over my room, was much more Jackson 5-like than it was Osmond-like; sort of hard to tell the difference when you listen to it (apparently it was originally written for the Jackson 5). Well, take a listen…and a watch:



Those are some sweet moves and hot jumpsuits; channeling a later kung-fu Elvis. You might think that a white kid growing up in the flat Midwest would dream of being up on stage in a white, sequined jumpsuit and having the babies scream from beyond the stage. But, in my case, that wasn’t who I wanted to be in the early 1970s. Who I wanted to be, no question, was a Pip – plain-and-simple. I also had Midnight Train… on 45rpm and I remember watching Gladys and Pips on various variety shows when that wax was hot – mesmerized. There is nothing in this world cooler than being a Pip.


“I know you will…wooh wooh…”
(spin, step, slide, spin)

I’ll spare you the He Ain’t Heavy Osmond video. Man, I loved the Osmonds back then..

t

holy crepe

We were doing breakfast stuff this week in class and Saturday night was tasked with crepes and fruit tarts from each team in class. On Friday night, as we were wrapping up other egg dishes (eggs benedict on my watch), our instructor pointed at the 'crepe' pans that we had available for the following night - about 6" and deep, teflon-coated pans. Based on what I've found during some intertube work today, I think they may qualify as crepe pans but I'd say it's a pretty loose interpretation in my house. Anyway, I brought in my four pans (2 x 6" and 2 x 8") that are of the style shown above and our associated crepe spatula; I was well positioned for success. Our team was up for about 40 crepes, savory and sweet, and do we decided on one set of shrimp newberg and I followed up with a smoked salmon, caramelized onion, and goat cheese with a havarti and green-onion sauce - but that's not so important here.

After all the teams' crepe batter was set - as if you really need to let it sit for 60 minutes - the fun began. Four six tops of teams trying to work 40 crepes each. With a simple spray and two 8"-ers, I was able to knock out all 40 shells in about 15 minutes. The deep, coated 'pans' were an absolute nightmare for the others teams so I doled out the 6" pans and passed along the eights when we'd finished. The crepe pans, along with a good immersion blender, a quality food mill, and a mortar-and-pestle are the simplest and most specialized pieces that most people really need. (Well, a three-cup food chopper ain't too bad, either.) Considering there are crepes in the house at least once a month - on a weekend morning - there's no way I'd be banging around with middling pans. You've been educated.

I'm in the middle of watching an early Sunday game that's seen the Caps come back from 3-0 down to start the 3rd - with no Ovechkin (ejected in the first) - to tie it at 3-3 with about 10 minutes to go. Another national TV come-from-behind win?

shut it. quiet. what what

I’m a bit off-balance this week so I’ve been pretty quiet – or not, depending on where you live. A few things are gnawing at me and I haven’t fully sorted them out in my head.

First, I’m off meat in a much more permanent basis than the last five or six years. I’d say that I’ve been about 95% off since then – I’ll nibble on leftover scraps from the kids’ dinners – but we don’t do any mains for adults that include meat, and for varying reasons. You can ask X about her reasons since they’ve been well in place for most of her life and who am I to address her choices. Mine were primarily a cholesterol-avoidance plan that turned into the norm after years of not cooking anything with meat for meals. I haven’t missed it, really, so it didn’t even seem like much of a sacrifice back in about 2004 when it started. Right, there’s that. I’ll expand more on it at some point over the next week or so.

Second, (note: I just deleted and entire sentence of profanities and have begun, anew…) the healthcare insurance reform bill. I think it’ll get done over the next few weeks and we can move on to other issues that are presenting loads of other problems in our country. But, I need to take a few lines here to chastise people for ignorance. By ignorance I mean specifically the method of putting head to sand and refusing to have any type of debate on an issue that is causing so much wasted time and effort. I don’t even know that it bothers me when people yell and scream “facts” that aren’t actually facts – not much I can do about that. The rub here are the people that are too lazy, too unwilling (is that the same?), or too blinded by their people, to actually study an issue before screaming from the rooftops. Unless you can give me one actual fact that supports a position you hold (without using something like the CBO as a prop but then throwing it out when you don’t agree with you) then you don’t get to play. I’m fine with giving up a year of our governing life to get this done – I’d like it to do even more – but we are at the end. Maybe it might seem wrong to say but I’ll give it to you straight: it will get rammed down your throat and I’m cool with that. I’m not concerned about the elections – they’ll take care of themselves – and the time has come for this to be done. I’d say that it’s been a good debate but it hasn’t been: it’s been nothing more that an embarrassment. If you don’t have a plan you can go sit in the corner and color with Mitch McConnell and John Boehner. Good fucking riddance.

I feel better.

(Enter less hostile Todd from stage left)

Everything here is going well – kids and school seem to be working in a temporary emulsion – and the weather has come to spring, finally. The damn cats (damn cats!) have posed a problem that initially seemed like a batch of bad cat food (we only feed them dry) but may be more centered upon warm weather, mole-snacks, and less eating required. I returned the first bag only to see the second bag receive the same treatment. I changed stores and brands, thinking I would avoid a bad delivery truck or company, only to get similar results. At this point, they can eat it or not – they’re smart enough, right?

The orthodontist issue is almost sorted out (see previous work), but not quite. We have a “consultation” appointment next week (“Hmm, you have braces, I see…”) and then hopefully everything will get off the start line.

The Eleven is planning a long (one-two week) crazy vacation for about a year from now. We’re tempted to just find the cheapest, late-booked, vacation packages and hit the road – nearly blind. But, if anyone has any suggestions on warmer and less-touristy worldwide destinations, please submit your inputs to our anonymous comment box near the door as you exit.

One more thing: the Formula 1 season kicks off this weekend in Bahrain and here’s a photo from yesterday’s festivities and practice session. If you don’t know me too well, or don’t follow F1, then you won’t find this picture nearly as ironic or sacrilegious as I do:

in this world

I’ve been remiss over the last seven weeks in not getting L. in to see an orthodontist. I actually did some legwork on this a few months ago at my semi-annual cleaning; I gave them a quick background and I asked them if they had an othro they’d recommend. Conveniently enough, they have one that comes to their office every Thursday to see patients and that seemed like perfect idea for L. She’s about 14-18 months into a two-year program so all we’re looking for are monthly adjustment visits until she returns to Omaha – or wherever – and has them removed.

I finally gave them a call this morning and rehashed the idea with the office manager and queried about getting her in Thursday afternoon. As if. What I unwittingly stumbled into was the maw of the “no people”; you know the tribe – can’t do, won’t get done, that’s impossible, are you fucking crazy? Yes, them. She tells me that he can’t do that kind of work because how could he possibly know (or learn) the inner workings of another ortho? How would he know what her plan was? What if this ortho would have done something different? It CAN’T be done. I pause momentarily before asking her a simple question: Are you telling me that no family has ever moved while having a child in braces? There was a long pause on the line. I followed up with: Do you think people decide not to sell a house and move because Jimmy has three more months in braces and they don’t know about the alchemy of braces in Nebraska yet? I told her that I had the contact information for her man in Omaha and all that needs to be done is to make contact, ask a few questions on the phone (I’m sure the two orthos understand the language), and then set-up an appointment. She takes my number and tells me that she’ll contact their ortho and call me back. Sounds good, I say, so I’ll hear back from you this afternoon? What? No? She tells me that she’ll talk to him on Thursday when he comes in; she is kidding, right? Does this guy live where there’s no phone? Maybe somewhere that requires him to teleport in from another galaxy? They are killing me.

(p.s. I just called back to get the number of the guy and do the work myself but the afternoon woman just said she’d give him a call and call me right back. Go figure?)

I had class on Friday night so I sent The Forty to see Orestes at the Folger Shakespeare Theater (I’d bought the seats about six months ago prior to getting my class schedule and child moving here.) They had a quick dinner in Rosslyn and then Metro’d in to see the show. When they picked me up after class there were great reviews (WaPo review here) from both girls so it appears their night out was a success. I’d taken L. to the Caps’ game the previous night and told her during intermission that she’d be hard-pressed to attend two more different events on back-to-back nights: crazy sports fans in red and a Euripides play.

t

let me ask you this...

I've been wanting to do a blog entry using only this online program and I think this is as close as I'll come. If you haven't been keeping up, and don't know about the Message to Garcia, then this will be wholly unfunny. I'm calling this my anti-Garcia:

tidying up the paperwork

After code was written and truth determined (it was bout 10,000 lines of repetitive numbering), the correct answers to the EHB game, if everyone is maximizing efforts would be this:

1st bidder: 75
2nd bidder: 25
3rd bidder: either 26 or 74

It's been noted by representation that I need to make a public apology to G. for his opening number of 77 that cracked open this can of worms. And so, I apologize with no additional input. The 77 was very close to the best possible option.

If you're wondering about the Price is Right version of the game (closest without going over), the max numbers for each player are:

1st: 67
2nd: 34
3rd: 1

There's no wiggle room in this one for the second bidder, and by default, the last guy in. The first set of rules allows the 3rd bidder to decide which end to attack and therefore give one of the two players (the one not attacked) as the most likely winner.

The 51 is off to see the Caps at Verizon tonight. Seems like it's been forever with the long Olympic break.

t

you cannot be serious! - john mcenroe (1970s/80s)

A few weeks ago we sent off a couple of letters to the great north but they were returned about a week later by the USPS. Both included the standard, yellow sticker that said something about undeliverable as addressed – clearly a mistake since both addressees were correct. Not really understanding what the problem might be, I grabbed a new envelope (both items were cards), addressed it (again), stamped it (again), and fire it out yesterday morning. As expected when one tries to sort out an issue, another card was returned yesterday afternoon but this time it included some very official mathematical directions and chastisement (is that a word?) sticker covering the entire face of the envelope. It appears that unless you are mailing a perfectly standard-sized card you’ll be paying an additional $.20. Just so you don’t think that we were mailing those 2’ by 3’ cards full of pandas and balloons, here’s a picture of the returned card with a reference so you can size it yourself (that's a CD, by the way):

Here’s a zoom on the rules and directions. When you’re done with the math problem, please turn in your papers. I’m guessing that they’ve decided that if they must hand sort anything then you’re paying more. Have they purchased new sorting machines? This is complete bullshit:

I also wanted to update the progress of our snow-clearing equipment around the neighborhood. If you remember how they were stuck by feet of snow last month (see here), then rest assured they’ve finished their work. J.O.B.

We are in the midst of what I’d dubbed the “Extra Hash Brown (EHB)” game theory. It started accidentally when I asked which of the three blockheaded kids were interested in the extra hash brown at breakfast the other morning. (Background: the big pan only fits four hash browns for cooking. Yes, I could have only made three. Yes, I could have cut the last one in thirds, but where’s the fun in that?) I wrote down a number between 1 and 100 and starting with G., followed by H. and L., respectively, (they were all interested in the hash) and told them that whoever was closest to the number would win the gold. G. started with 77 – I now don’t remember the other guesses because I immediately lost interest – and after all the bids were in, H. had won. Why I lost my focus was because I immediately thought that 77, when you know two others are guessing behind you, is a poor opening salvo. What this became over the last two days – and now involves my workmate/probability geek as well as X – is this: what are the best numbers to choose if you are picking first, second, and/or third? I’ve added variants to the game that include closest without going over (the Price is Right version), and writing down a number on a secret ballot where if two pick the same number they are eliminated (the You Can’t Just Write 50 version). I’ll save you our endless discussions and thoughts and just let you play the game on your own. If you have three kids around – or two kids and a crazy wife – have them give a try and see what happens…but don’t give them any background before the first round. One additional input: since humans aren’t actually good at randomly selecting a number, go online and Google-up a random number generator and use that as your source for the final, winning, answer.

you have something to say?

The Atlantic online site, or at least the commentary sites, have undergone an overhaul of sorts and the one comment-allowing site that I read, Coates, reposted his comment rules; it seemed a natural point to do so. I have to say that the commenters on his his site are very involved, and the discussions, more times than not, add some depth to his his posts. The only reason that I'm hitting on this is because he brings up a great new rule, #6, that hits upon one of the funniest threads that ever evolved.

I've created a new vocabulary word that may seem harsh but somehow fits many situations: fuckstration and/or fuckstrated. Feel free to roll it around in you head and use when you feel it may be appropriate

I've dove into Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer last night; one the few books that got me in pretty deep after just a few pages. Of course, what he points out - what you think the book will be when you first read the title - is indicative of the road he'll take me down. You have no idea how much discussion can be covered when consider dogs v. other animals.

Last week I printed out a copy of the short essay entitled Message to Garcia after a discussion at work. I'd never heard the story but I know gold when I see it; and this is gold. The Eleven spoke about it on the phone for a bit and she ended up sitting the kids down and reading them the story on Saturday afternoon. From the other room, in mid-story, I suddenly heard H. say, "wait a minute, I think I know where this is going..." Smart boy, that one. Feel free to google away

I only have a few weeks left of this first quarter of school - going very well.

I think there's a bit of snow possible for Wednesday and I'm calling it the final snow of the year

More later

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