taxing

Taxes are done, across the board.

I had a discussion a number of years ago with a co-worker: she was dating someone, it was pretty serious, and she was telling us about how he wanted her to attend his church with him. Being an atheist, she had absolutely zero interest in going to his church, an ultra-conservative version, much less any church. His response was to offer a different, less conservative option. Her response was to this attempt at compromise was to dig her heels in at her current position. The point of the story, and the discussion we had, was compromise, and what it means. It isn’t about religion – that’s just my real-life analogy. If two parties start out at point A and point Z, and the holder of point Z offers point O or point M as a compromise, then your sitting powerfully on point A isn’t participatory. You aren’t compromising, or even discussing the option, you’re just sitting on point A. I think about this often while listening to the political rumblings from inside the Beltway.

On Saturday I took in The Agony and Ecstasy of Steve Jobs at Woolly Mammoth in D.C. Mike Daisey has written a number of one-man monologues that I’ve missed in the past: I promised myself to make sure this one didn’t slip by. Daisey is a brilliant perfomer who takes you on winding journeys over nearly two hours of information and irritation. He spent a month in China last year (?) gathering information about Apple’s (and, truthfully, probably every other computer company’s) labor habits. Of course, it’s easy to pose Apple as your foil since the company, and Jobs, cry out for harassment. The piece is interleaved stories of Apple’s marketing / geekdom strategy (the funny bits), and the issues in Chinese factories (disturbing). Daisey flawlessly combines the two into a strong finished product. I certainly won’t miss any of the future shows as they invariably arrive in D.C.

In my desire to re-hash older entries, I’ve latched onto an Andrew Sullivan gripe that’s right up my alley. If you remember this, then you wouldn’t doubt my attachment to this idea. Of course, it’s the same herd of folks that obsess over their smart phones: at concerts, while talking to you, on the toilet, and etc. Yes, I understand that some jobs require constant contact, but most of them don’t – put it down, walk away.

I’m back in class tonight. I promise I’ll try to suffer in silence through the mindless, useless guidance from my ‘instructor’. That was pleasant enough, right?

T

p.s. The World Snooker Championships kicked off this week. I know, you’re as excited as I am…

new season

moth effect

For this first portion, The Moth, I’ll give you a very stern warning in a minute or so. I came to the The Moth a few weeks ago after a recommendation from radio. The process of storytelling is something I care quite a bit about. I love listening to those that can tell a tale, especially about real life, that puts you right in the midst of what’s happening in people’s lives. They post each week, maintaining five at any given moment, for free at iTunes. The majority of them are funny and quirky, but the story by Anthony Griffith, which is still up, is absolutely stunning. I’d say listen to the other four that are up right now, and enjoy nice 15-minute breaks in your day. As for Griffith’s, be warned that it is extremely emotional. You might want to be alone; I was walking home from the bus station and trying to not fall down from pain. Great stuff, all around.

Moving along.

I’ve been assigned as ‘front of house’ for the first half of my quarter in the school restaurant. I’ll be dolled up and ready to take orders, serve from the right, and try not to mess up who gets what dish.

I’m thinking of gnocchi for tonight. Kids and potatoes.

gang load

I haven’t scanned the Internet in order to figure out this new senatorial “Gang of Six”. Before I do, let me explain a few things.

This is Gang of Four:


This is Gangs of New York:


This is the gang from one of my favorite movies, Bottle Rocket:



A bunch of senators hanging about the lush Hart Senate Office Building is not a gang. I can’t even imagine the meeting where these stiffs sat around trying to give birth to some creative, 24-hour news channel, moniker.

“Right. We need a name for this effort, guys.”
(PowerPoint is brought up, sticky notes handed out to everyone for brainstorming)

“First and foremost, there are no bad ideas. Remember, we are a Six Sigma / ISO 9000-certified Congress.”

“How about, ‘the Half Dozen’?”

“Not nearly strong enough, ‘the Dirty Half Dozen’?”

“Wait a minute! ‘Saxby and the Crapos’!”

“Shut up, Saxby. Why does your name get to be the lead? How about ‘The Kent Conrads’?”

“Really, Kent? That’s your idea?”

“Alright, knock it off. If y’all keep going on like this…no gang!”

“Sorry, Dick. Now that I think about it, earlier today ol’ Tommy Coburn was telling me that we really look like some kind of gang. Now you say ‘gang’ – maybe there’s something to this…”

“Let’s be a gang. Maybe we can be the ‘Gang of Threes’ since there are three of us from each party.”

“Warner, you’re an idiot. Clearly, we should be the ‘Gang of Two’. Two parties: One Gang!”

(Chambliss writes down that catchy, ‘new’ campaign slogan.)

“Frankly, Dick, I don’t like either name. Maybe we should recess and figure this out after we take some time off and sign some papers.”

“Excellent, meeting adjourned. Oh, wait. One more thing: you don’t talk about the gang.”

I don’t know. After hearing about this gang this morning, I heard part of an interview with some Tennessee congressman. When asked if he would consider tax increases in order to help alleviate the deficit, he said: “Well, that’s a 'what if' question. There’s no way for me to know.”

Hey, Congressman, if I punch you in the face, would it hurt? Or, is there no way for you to comment on that ‘what if’.

** The members are: Saxby Chambliss, Mark Warner, Tom Coburn, Mike Crapo, Kent Conrad, and Dick Durbin.

thor's hammer avoided

There’s a new play on at Theater J here in D.C.: Photograph 51. It’s the story of Rosalind Franklin and her place in the discovery of DNA. Well, her place, her life (I think), and probably the lack of fame she received during her lifetime. Of course, I immediately knew that I need to see it. Don’t judge me.

For those that know me, and eat waffles (could be one-in-the-same, or different people), I’ve become obsessed with the maker of my waffle irons. Vitantonio Manufacturing is/was based in the Cleveland area as early as the in the early 1900s (probably before that…), and made loads of awesome stuff: waffle irons, pizzelle makers, cheese graters, pasta machines, food strainers, etc. All the older stuff, from pre-1960, is fantastic for collecting and cooking (I think I just bought my sixth or seventh waffle iron). At some point, they either sold the company name, or someone else took over, and the products post-my birth don’t seem nearly as high quality, or interesting. Based on the limited research I’ve done, apparently the family split at some point, one side bought out the other, who then started some crap company called Villaware. It failed. I think Vitantonio ended up going under during that same period. Is this too much information?

We took the golden wagon in for a safety inspection ($16) and dropped about $800; living the life of the rich-and-famous.

I have a story that revolved around FedEx and me discussing addresses and delivery options out in British Columbia. It was lovely. I don’t have the heart to recreate right now because I just had an e-mail exchange with the Dean at my school, who irritates me to no end. Fortunately, my co-worker put the kibosh on my body slam e-mail before I hit send. Sometimes, cooler minds prevail.

I’ve had one week off before starting the next quarter. I’ll be working in the kitchen and dining room at the school’s restaurant for the next eleven weeks. I’ll try to bring my smiley face for those nights when I’m on wait staff duty.

school's out for the weekend

While digging around TED.com on an assignment, I came across this gem from Salman Khan. I have issues with schools, which is well tracked somewhere in all this blather, and this is one of the best ideas I’ve ever seen. If nothing else, the idea of flipping the classroom is simply genius. If we took the opportunity to seize this ideal, and implement it, I think we’d see a marked improvement in learning. The more you roll this around in your brain after watching the video, the more the puzzle seems to fit together.

I finally saw Waiting for Superman the other day, speaking of education, and it provided what I expected: a dim view of how we educate, or spend money to educate kids; and, a dramatic ending that brought home just how lost we are. It’s been out long enough so I won’t worry about spoiler alerts: you are hoping against hope that the kids in the movie, who are involved in lotteries to attend better public/charter schools, hear their name called. We aren’t talking about acceptance to private schools, money, loans, grants, and etc.: lotteries that we support for kids to attend public schools. Better public schools. If that isn’t the definition of a lost system, I don’t know what is…

The weekend has been packed and is sitting by the front door. The clans (minus Corey and the two smallest) are all going to see Finn McCool, performed by Dizzy Miss Lizzie’s Roadside Revue, at Woolly Mammoth tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got a gig as a parent tour guide for the open house L.’s school on Sunday afternoon, the North Park clan needs foods since the hunter/gather is gone this weekend, and I suspect there’s more spring cleaning on-deck for the house. I’ll settle for a Caps’ game on TV tonight as my peace before the rush.

Let me close with this about unions and the uproar heard far-and-wide: There isn’t actually a positions that unions are good or unions are bad. Each of the unions has its own purpose, and to intimate either extreme is shallow. That’s that.

clearing out the house

I was adding a dinner party invite to our Google calendar this morning and I noticed this nugget sitting in the middle of Wednesday evening: Futon Person. That’s it; a complete entry.

I’ve spoke of the New School, where L. is at, in the past. From the first time The Eleven walked in about three years ago, I hoped I could go back in time and spend four years of H.S. there. I’d love to teach there if I had the skill set. A few weeks ago I was talking about Annapolis with a co-worker (Academy grad), and planning a visit, and as he drew a map he described the triangle that includes the Academy, some other corner, and St. John’s College. I’d never heard of St. John’s – at least this one – but the description sounded fantastic. Wow. If I were younger, and much more dedicated to college than I was in 1983 (and I am now), this would be the place. Simply amazing. Take a look. Now I have a H.S. and college in mind for my time-machine travels.

My company completed our move last weekend so we’ve settled in the new place (it is quite nice) over this first week. I’ve split driving and riding the bus this week, but the bus will be the long-term plan. It’s cheaper, takes longer, but ensures I can avoid any traffic flare ups.

About two weeks left in my current quarter at school, a short break, and then back into cooking classes. I’ll be working in the school’s restaurant Monday – Wednesday evenings. Half my time in the kitchen, half of my time spent in the front of the house. That should go well…

sorting laundry

Alright, I'm going to stick to my state in an attempt to not offend anyone.

I've been following the protests in the upper Midwest and the Plains for about a week. I'm not in horribly deep, but I can see the battle lines even if I haven't done all the research. As a lib-Dem I have allegiance to one side. With that in the open, let's take a look at Virginia voting in the last two elections.

In 2008, with the Presidential election on tap, the voter turnout in my state was about 77%, or nearly 3.7 million Virginia voters. In the 2010 elections, sans Obama, the voter turnout was 45%, or about 2.3 million voters. (In our 2009 election cycle, which included the gubernatorial race, under 2 million Virginians showed.)

Here's the deal. If we don't vote, or vote in a manner that is reactionary to events that can take years, not months, to solve, then this is what we get. Boatloads of state houses, and even more state legislatures, controlled by Republicans. Unfortunately, we made our own bed.

The lack of interest in non-Presidential elections, where our local governments - and our daily lives - are up for grabs, we tend to tune out. And suddenly, it's too late.

The drop in the percentage of young voters, Democratic voters who were too afraid to stand-up, and moderates who once cared, but suddenly didn't in 2010, put us squarely where we are right now.

What's being done in Wisconsin, Ohio, Indiana, etc. can be undone. But, it won't be undone until people pay attention to their own backyards.

Sounds harsh. Probably is.

That old saying, "if you don't vote you can't complain", which you hoped had grown up and moved away, just settled back into your basement.

hail!

Being that I’m President of The Hilltop – full authority resides with the Chairman of the Board, whom I won’t name – it’s time for my Presidents’ Day message.

Friday night took me to DAR Constitution Hall to take in the Avett Brothers show. As expected, it was an amazing show that highlighted everything great about the band. The brothers (Seth and Scott) opened by going with a bit of a bluegrass set-up: a single, high pick-up mic (?), one guitar, and two voices. That single, quiet, duet (Murder in the City) was a bold choice for a houseful of fans riled up for the opening of and expected high-energy show…it couldn’t have been a better choice. First, it highlighted the perfect harmonies that DNA allows and they’ve mastered. Second, it showcases Scott’s unbelievably strong voice (“Did you swallow an amplifier?” – NPR) as he moves far away from the mic and controls his sound perfectly through not only distance, but also via direction of projection. After the simmered us all down, the rest-ish of the band (cello and bass) hit the stage as they started to rip through nearly two hours of impeccable showmanship (they also have a drummer, Smiley, who shows up for about half the songs). Scott plays guitar, banjo, harmonica, keyboards, and a standup bass drum/cymbal while singing lead on most songs and harmony on others. Seth plays guitar and keyboards while singing lead and harmonies. The constant movement throughout the show, the clear pleasure of playing for all of us, and the talent on display is stunning. What you get with these guys is a feeling like you get at few shows: warmth and vision of what they believe comes from music. Much like Cloud Cult, what they push through the amplifiers is some serum that can make all the ills of your day disappear, if only for the time you have together. As I’ve said many times, I’m not impressed by bands that feel they need to push for two hours or more – very few have the strength of catalog that can hold my interest for that long. The Avetts hit at about 1:55, including a three-song encore, that actually left me wanting more, and that’s a rare thing. I don’t know what the future holds for the band; will they become so big that they outgrow smaller venues? (DAR holds right at 3,700 in a quaint hall). What I tend to believe about bands that I love, especially when new CDs arrive or shows are attended, is that they must surely explode to worldwide fame and tens of thousands will pack the big arenas. What usually happens is that they peak at about the 9:30 Club-level (capacity:1,200) and never grow to stadium-rock levels. I suspect the Avetts are playing at the max level of venue size right now – even with the Grammys turn last week, their music and style doesn’t lead to huge, huge shows (not including big festival stages).



X has wrapped up her studies and hit the road this afternoon for her Bar Exam – we get her back on Wednesday evening. I have little doubt she’ll due just fine and we’ll know for sure in April.

G. had two strange questions yesterday. The first came when he called me from a friend’s house and asked, “Has anything happened at home?” Strange. “What do you mean?”, I said. “Nothing, I just wanted to know if anything has happened at home.” Weird-o. What? Did he set some trap that would spring upon me at my return? Did you know something about aliens landing? He followed that up last nigh with this, at about 9pm, “Todd, do I have school tomorrow?” Well, it’s Presidents’ Day and even I have the day off, L. has the day off, your Mom has he day off. No, you don’t have school. “Are you sure?” Fine. I went on-line and checked with the District, and sure enough, they have school as a make-up for their fourth (pathetic) snow day. From this point forward, they have to make up every other snow day. Don’t ask me how that works; that’s just the way it is. I half expected a question today about whether or not he has two feet.

Speaking of snow days, it looks like we have some inches (and I'm talking pathetic D.C. inches) coming this evening. I sense a school delay. I hope I don't have to feed them....

t

womens

We are sitting on the Hilltop's front porch - it's 75 degrees out and I've dragged X from her study cave to get fresh air while studying - and I say to her, "You know, I don't think I'll ever be cool again." She chortled and snuffed.

I'm not sure how to take this...

aside from my blog's sleepy winter

This is funny, primarily because it’s completely true. Denial isn’t just a…nevermind



I’m off to see the Avett Brothers in D.C. tonight. I’ve misfired on their shows a few times so this feels a bit like a Cloud Cult situation.

I’ve set my waypoints for the weekend and they primarily involve feeding and watering X while she finishes her studies. About 100 hours and she’ll be done with it all.

I have surprisingly little to banter about. It’s been that kind of winter.

spicy review

Time for a wrap.

X is still studying for the Bar but is within about 10 days of having the entire mess behind her. She’ll be testing next Tuesday and Wednesday down yonder.

We all headed to the Farrah Olivia portion of Kora for dinner on Saturday night and were pretty disappointed, at least The Eleven was. If I held up his restaurant at the old location as a 100, I gave this iteration an 85; X gave it an 80 as were driving home. Her stance was solid since one of her four courses was completely off. Pure math on that one. Of course, there’s no way this idea of hosting nights in a largish room inside his brother’s restaurant was going to work well from the get-go. From just a logistical point of view, I don’t know how they separate the kitchen for work even though I tried to peek and catch a glimpse of what was happening in there. Second, Kora isn’t a good restaurant by any stretch of the imagination so weaving something fabulous within it presents all sorts of issues. I’ll give you a few examples. The bathrooms aren’t very nice. Seems petty but when you’re dropping $100 per person then there are some expectations. The bread, though good, was served in the crappy Kora metal baskets with big placemat-sized crinkly paper with maps of Italy on them. The dishware, though it appears to be the same set from Farrah Olivia, wasn’t presented with nearly the detail (or the staff didn’t know how to serve) as the old place. Lots of finger prints on the edges and overall they just weren’t up to shiny snuff. The wait staff was questionable, at best. I know it’s probably impossible to get his old crew back but our section of tables (four) had one waiter and he struggled to keep up….severely. And finally, I held my bitter, pointy tongue to this point…I gotta hit the hostess. I know how catty this sounds, but they are sharing the hostess between the two ‘restaurants’ and her Saturday night apparel was shocking. I need to really sort out the right vocab here – cover your ears or eyes if you are easily offended: she had on some sort of cat-like print skirt that pretty much enabled me to date, to the day, the last time she had a Brazilian. I didn’t need mirrors on my shoes or pretend to drop some change in order to catch a look. Considering that she spent every other step yanking down on the skirt as she walked might explain something. What I found completely strange about the entire ‘skirt’ situation was that as we were leaving, and the hostess station was vacated, she had changed from her ‘skirt’ into a pair of jeans…on a Saturday night. At the hold place, I believe his wife acted as manager/owner/hostess and it was a pleasant, high-end experience; this was more Lady GaGa. Or S*&*chy Spice (that might have been offside) Overall, the food was familiar as Morou’s but it was off a by some margin. C. said he didn’t see him in the kitchen when he peeked so we have no confirmation of his presence. The more I think about the night the lower my score goes – it’s probably more of a 75 by now. Hopefully, there will be a new place soon because there are two serious strikes in the books: the first being the claim that he was ‘cooking’ at Kora and now this misfire in his ‘relaunch’. All of us have Cedar easily jumping to the top of our favorite list.

L. and I saw a fantastic show, The Cripple of Inishmaan, at the Kennedy Center on Saturday afternoon. I’d bought through the half-price booth in D.C. and we ended up in the front row, stage right, which is generally too close for my taste, such a snob. But, upon further review a bit of slumping down made it easier and I had about seven feet of legroom which easily overrides our proximity issue. Every stinking one of the cast members was memorable, exceptional, and dreamy. Perfectly delivered lines with impeccable timing and character-ly enclosed. I’d say it’s probably the best show I’ve seen outside of Streetcar and Lost in Yonkers. Quite pleasing.

** If you’re a North Parker, stop reading.

We had pizza last night that was solid but not quite perfect. The problem was that I was wearing a skirt that was way too short – oh, never mind, that’s another story. The problem was that I tried to build up from my initial idea of Gorgonzola dolce and didn’t quite make it to the summit. I came up with spinach, leeks, garlic, sun-dried tomatoes, Kalamata olives, and a parmesan/gouda white sauce the roast pine nuts. The taste of the cheese didn’t really come through but not because of the other ingredients – the whole thing just feel steps short from my goal. The only other time I started with the Gorgonzola I was able to move on to fresh figs and then have the entire thing come just right.
Right. I’m blabbing.

I’ll leave.

t

** There are no guests at Pizza Night until after the Bar Exam. Time restraints and whatnot.

The only things I really believe about people – here, now, and gone – is this: you leave behind your best and then hope it was good enough. I also believe that what you do in your life is reflected upon you every single day. Craig Minowa put forth the idea we put energy out into the World, good or bad, and that energy never dissipates. It’s there, always. I don’t know what to call my dreams.

A very good man is dying from pancreatic cancer this week. We worked together for nearly 20 years in the Air Force and he was, by far, one of the most interesting, positive, and loved of the hundreds I encountered. Amongst my career’s worth of comrades, the outpouring of hope and memories has been emotionally draining. We probably all imagined that he’d be around forever – showing up to work in our various cities and getting together for dinner. No one imagined that short of a 44th birthday he’d be gone. He fought so hard but it was a battle he couldn’t overcome.

To John, my friend, peace and love.

Saintex

why thank you, sir!

Okay, this is mostly a crazy, old man entry. X has heard this position on multiple occasions but I doubt that I’ve graced your screens with my inanity. (I was going to say insanity but chose to dropped a letter.)

I hold a few interwoven ideas on handicapped-accessible doors; you know, the ones that are equipped with push panels that open lobby doors or sets of doors. My first weave, and it isn’t due to any mechanical skills or knowledge on my part, is that all the wires, buttons, and circuits have a limited life. Maybe there are 10,000 pushes in it before it malfunctions. I know, it’s not important, really. My second strand is wondering about how lazy we are – those of us that aren’t handicapped – that we feel the need to use the push plate in the first place. Opening a door is too much work? Just this morning there was someone entering the building about 20 paces in front of me (not handicapped, I know him or her) who hit the plate to open the outer door, waited for it to open, walked through, and hit the plate for the inner door…which didn’t work. He actually walked back from the door, hit it again, and again, before realizing that he’d have to use his hands to enter the dojo. I found it comical and disconcerting. Reminds me of this…forward to the 3:00 mark and enjoy a three or four minutes.

Time is flying by.

We’ve begun the ‘bar review and flashcard’ process on The Hilltop. I’m once again in the midst of learning about life estates and fee simple stuff. Of course, I’m in it purely for the enjoyment factor – I think X is more serious.

L. and I headed into D.C. on Saturday morning for the orchid exhibit at the Museum of Natural History. The crowds were sparse, as we hoped, so we were able to take in the four small rooms with little interference. It is amazing was a cold, February morning will do for comfort levels in the Smithsonian. We hit a bookstore later and then lunch before she headed off her own way (to the National Building Museum and the Freer Gallery) while I headed into Black Watch at the Sidney Harman Hall (my birthday gift from X). Black Watch is a play on tour by the National Theatre of Scotland and takes place during a deployment of the Black Watch to Iraq. There’s obviously a bit more history in play throughout the show but the heart of it is the path that leads Scottish boys/men to the Black Watch and the deep connection they have to their fellow members; an impressive show. And, the Harman Hall is a spectacular place for a production.

We managed pizza night last night and most stayed for about the first half of the Super Bowl. I ended up watching most of the game since X was off to Dulles later in the evening to fetch G., who arrived about 8:30pm from his week in England.

After we all wander through this week we’ll have another big go on Saturday as L. and I see a show as Kennedy Center in the afternoon and then the North Park/Hilltop crowd return to the return of Farrah Olivia for dinner. High hopes.

shoppers' delight

We wandered beyond the Beltway on Saturday. The original plan called for a quick trip to a salon to pick-up some potions and elixirs and turned into some all day march that ended up including Target, Nordstrom Rack, and Wegmans . Wegmans was the most interesting layover of the day. I’d never been but the Easterners who call Wegmans ‘home’ swear it’s the greatest grocery store in the World. My initial response is this: it’s not. It is a very good store but a lot of the hubbub centers on the massive (a third of the store) food hall that has some great looking grab-and-go meals. They have an interesting gardening section that enthralled X. The grocery portion was pretty good with solid prices. But, as far a pure product is concerned, it can’t compare with Central Market (in Texas), Byerly’s (in The Cities), Waitrose (in England). I’d even say that the original Wild Oats (prior to the Whole Foods merger) was better on the ingredient hierarchy for me. Not that we didn’t enjoy the visit but I wouldn’t drive that far just to hit Wegmans.

Everyone came to the The Hilltop last night for an extended (food) pizza night. Corey brought borscht and dessert (crème brulee) and X made a great endive salad so we all ended up eating way too much. Not that anyone was really complaining. He also brought over the finished, handmade, table that runs behind our couch. Very, very nice. I pointed out that any attempt by me to make a table would not turn out even looking like a table – I have no skills.

L. made it back from Omaha yesterday and one boy has been sent off to England for the week. We had about two days sans children. Dare to dream.

More weather hitting over the next few days.

ol'd

Here’s how very little I get out, particularly to ‘eating’ places. I was early for class last night and hadn’t eaten much of a lunch so I decided to forage for some food before settling in for three-and-a-half hours of math. I spied a Chop’t across the street and knowing what little I do about lunch places decided that my limited knowledge (they do salads) would suffice. Not so. I had no idea which end of the bar to order from (I was the only customer at that point so there was no herd guidance), once I ordered my Caesar with shrimp I was asked – or the product was addressed whilst chopp’ting happened – if ‘this’ was okay, I was queried on dressing type (Caesar?), once again shown a bowl of chop’t with ‘dressed’ lettuce and asked again if ‘this’ was okay, and eventually paid. I didn’t mess up on the paying part – at the correct end of the bar. I was vaguely imagining a massive lunch crowd of macchiato-drinkers-transformed-to-salad-eaters who ramble on and on with things like “Give me a double-mesclun and romaine combo base with unsalted, dried, lite Caes, and a half-tom crown.” What? I would have been the crazy old man in the mix just trying to figure out whether or not it’s appropriate to mix my mesclun with eruca sative while still having enough charm to curse the damn kids. Salad. Who knew?

Does anyone else have an issue with ‘hallmark’ cards at work? I find it unnerving when someone hands me a manila folder with a card inside and whispers, “Can you sign this and then bring it back to my desk?” Sign what? For whom? I have to look at the card, read some mini-paragraphs, figure out who it’s for, what it’s for, and then come up with something? That’s a lot of pressure for someone I don’t have much connection to. Maybe I’m cranky; maybe I’m right.

I’m getting revved up again.

the return

Alrighty then.

The few weeks after the Holidays is always a sort of mash-up of not caring much about day-to-day events since the ‘big push’ is over and, trying to simply settle in for the long(er), dark(er) reach of winter. All’s well on The Hilltop, it’s just slow……

X is in the midst of her Barbri review course (M-F nights, 6-10pm) for her Virginia Bar Exam next month and I’m back in school (Tu-Th nights, 6-9:30pm) so time seems to be flying by with only the occasional holler from some teenager claiming to be both hungry and apparently unable to make toast. You know how they are.

My New Year’s resolutions are myriad but the basic tenor is not to be online in the evenings: Consider it a combo of doing more interesting stuff. X has been chuckling at my newly found reading time. By the way, I just finished Matterhorn by Karl Marlantes and it was spectacular. It’s a Vietnam War novel that probably isn’t up just about anyone’s alley that would be reading this blog, but if you can handle it then dig in.

The kids are no doubt sitting around the house today – snow/ice day school cancellation – making food and mopping the floors.

I’ll gather my thoughts and update everyone some more tomorrow.

saurkraut

I don’t even know what to say about Charles Krauthammer. I roll over to the WaPo and read him occasionally to see what tripe he’s dragged up from his black soul. I love how people say “Krauthammer is a smart guy” as if that’s some justification for being a soulless and ignorant mouthpiece for the lost conservative movement in America. Kraut’s latest diatribe is against Medicare paying for end-of-life counseling for people who want it. Here’s the text of the section that Krauthammer links to but won’t extract in his piece because he rolls the same way as all shallow debaters: link but don’t show the information because most conservative Americans are too lazy to actually click and read something.

(vii) Voluntary advance care planning (as defined in paragraph (a) of this section) upon agreement with the individual.

(viii) Any other element determined appropriate through the national coverage determination process. Voluntary advance care planning means, for purposes of this section, verbal or written information regarding the following areas:

(i) An individual’s ability to prepare an advance directive in the case where an injury or illness causes the individual to be unable to make health care decisions.

(ii) Whether or not the physician is willing to follow the individual’s wishes as expressed in an advance directive.

Here’s what Chuck has to say about it:

“Most people don't remember Obamacare's notorious Section 1233, mandating government payments for end-of-life counseling. It aroused so much anxiety as a possible first slippery step on the road to state-mandated late-life rationing that the Senate never included it in the final health-care law.” (emphasis added)

What we need more of in this country is late-life planning: What do you desire if you are in a horrible accident? What medical care do you want if you are comatose and brain dead? Who do you want to make medical decisions for you if you can’t? This is something that has long been championed by conservatives as long as it wasn’t proposed by a Democrat. This is the type of planning that allows you to decide what you want. If you’re on Medicare, and want advice, you can get it. If you don’t, then don’t. It’s a pretty simple concept.

Krauthammer, of course, simply recycles bullshit from wherever he can find it. Death panels equal late-life planning? You’re a really smart guy.

lack of effort

We finally made it home after two extra days stranded in the Vermont wilderness. Well, it wasn’t wilderness, per se, but according to Delta Air Lines it was.

Our Sunday flight was canceled due to the incoming storm – of which they notified us of (the canceled flight) via phone messages at about 8am. Their phones lines couldn’t handle any load (“call back later!”) and the Web site was useless. Once we got through hours later they had already rebooked us on the same flight on Monday. Insert snow/blizzard joke here. They again canceled Monday’s flight (at about 12:30pm on a 6pm departure out of Hartford) but just shuttered up at that point and did nothing. No messages, no e-mails, no phone lines, no Web site. We finally got through about 8pm and were told we were rebooked on Thursday. X told them to give us our money back, which they did in order to probably save their lives, and we rented a car one-way from Hartford to D.C. for yesterday. 14 travel hours. The NJ Turnpike was mayhem, as was the Tappen Zee Bridge, so we had to bail on that route and take the back(er) roads to get home with great help from the Gandolf Positioning System (GPS) and Getting Home Route Assistance Center. If you’re keeping track at home we transited eight states over 515 miles at an average moving speed of 42mph: Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia. Tired and rumpled we slept.

Christmas, on the other hand, was wonderful.

Three kids are at home. Two adults are at work.

I’m tired.

More later.