Wednesday, April 19, 2006
The Shot Heard 'Round the World
Two hundred and thirty-one years ago today, a ragged, unkempt group of yokels stood up to the mightiest army on Earth.
Nothing has been the same ever since.
Nothing has been the same ever since.
Quote of the Day
You know that ugly feeling you get when someone tells you "turn on the TV. ANY channel"?
-Emily from It Comes In Pints?, regarding the OKC bombing
(which happened exactly 11 years ago today, two years to the date after the tragedy in Waco)
Playing the Devil's Advocate.
When making and reading comments on other blogs, and even on this one, if I appreciate a comment and the commwnter has a blog, I'll follow the link to their blog just to look around. It was in just such a manner that I found my way from Mean Mr. Mustard over to Advocatus Diaboli. It's a new blog, with only a couple of posts so far, but he has a very logical approach (which I appreciate). He takes points that have already been made, and I believe are valid, and presents them in a rational, well-though-out manner. Go give him a read.
Besides, you gotta like a guy who adopts as his Nom de Plume the name of the slickest, smartest fictional eurotrash terrorist/criminal mastermind of all time.
Besides, you gotta like a guy who adopts as his Nom de Plume the name of the slickest, smartest fictional eurotrash terrorist/criminal mastermind of all time.
The Ring of Fire
I finally got around to seeing the movie Walk the Line last night. That may come as some surprise to those who know what a HUGE Johnny Cash fan I am, but life has been hectic these past months, and I haven't been doing a lot of movie watching. But TFR got home from work early last night, and The Lad hit the hay early, so we were left with this strange, foreign concept called Free Time. At least that's what the legends passed down by the elders tell me it's called.
I had mentioned to TFR that Joaquin Phoenix, a PETA supporter, had refused to wear leather for the film and that all of the costumes were vinyl. She asked me if he also refused to wear cotton as well, and when I told her I wasn't sure, she asked, "But what about all those poor suffering Peter Cottontails?" My wife is weird.
The movie was well done. Phoenix didn't really LOOK all that much like Johnny, he certainly got hice voice, inflections, and mannerisms down well. The sound track -- not just Johnny's songs, but the entire background score as well -- was amazing (no surprise considering T Bone Burnett was the executive music producer). The lighting, the mood -- they really managed to evoke a certain feeling that helped tell the story.
The movie also did an excellent job showing the development of the relationship between Johnny and June. I was struck by just how fragile Johnny seemed, despite the bad boy image he cultivated with such calculated carelessness. It was June who brought that vulnerability out (as evoked by the shots we see of Johnny watching her when noone but the camera is watching, how genuine the look on his face is), and it was June who say through his disguise. The other thing I was struck by, and this was a well-known, well-documented aspect of their relationship, was just how feisty, strong, and level-headed June was. She not only stood up to Johnny, she backed him down. And while she was definitely his better half, she also made him better.
At one point early in the movie, when Johnny and his band are auditioning for Sam Phillips, and he tells Johnny to sing a song that he will believe -- and Johnny belts out Folsom Prison Blues. The raw anguish and anger are believable. At the end of the movie, as the epilogue and credits roll, they play a duet by Johnny and June -- not Joaquin and Reese this time, it's actually Johnny and June. And the joy, exuberance, and love that comes through the song is equally believable.
I remember the day Johnny Cash died. A friend of mine emailed me the news at work. The Regarding: line of the email really said it all: He must have really missed June.
I had mentioned to TFR that Joaquin Phoenix, a PETA supporter, had refused to wear leather for the film and that all of the costumes were vinyl. She asked me if he also refused to wear cotton as well, and when I told her I wasn't sure, she asked, "But what about all those poor suffering Peter Cottontails?" My wife is weird.
The movie was well done. Phoenix didn't really LOOK all that much like Johnny, he certainly got hice voice, inflections, and mannerisms down well. The sound track -- not just Johnny's songs, but the entire background score as well -- was amazing (no surprise considering T Bone Burnett was the executive music producer). The lighting, the mood -- they really managed to evoke a certain feeling that helped tell the story.
The movie also did an excellent job showing the development of the relationship between Johnny and June. I was struck by just how fragile Johnny seemed, despite the bad boy image he cultivated with such calculated carelessness. It was June who brought that vulnerability out (as evoked by the shots we see of Johnny watching her when noone but the camera is watching, how genuine the look on his face is), and it was June who say through his disguise. The other thing I was struck by, and this was a well-known, well-documented aspect of their relationship, was just how feisty, strong, and level-headed June was. She not only stood up to Johnny, she backed him down. And while she was definitely his better half, she also made him better.
At one point early in the movie, when Johnny and his band are auditioning for Sam Phillips, and he tells Johnny to sing a song that he will believe -- and Johnny belts out Folsom Prison Blues. The raw anguish and anger are believable. At the end of the movie, as the epilogue and credits roll, they play a duet by Johnny and June -- not Joaquin and Reese this time, it's actually Johnny and June. And the joy, exuberance, and love that comes through the song is equally believable.
I remember the day Johnny Cash died. A friend of mine emailed me the news at work. The Regarding: line of the email really said it all: He must have really missed June.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
You Want an Order of High Culture With that Big Mac?
Thanks for the Memory to Sobek (who puts "it" in "Egyptian Deities").
A Very Brief History of Art, Featuring Mr. Potato Head
Someone must be very, very bored.
A Very Brief History of Art, Featuring Mr. Potato Head
Someone must be very, very bored.
Just Breathe -- Oh, Wait, I Can't!
I SO FREAKING HATE stupid bureaucracy!
About five years or so ago I was diagnosed with obstructive sleep apnea -- I occasionally stop breathing in my sleep. This can be a serious health issue, so I was issued a CPAP. CPAP stands for Constant Positive Air Pressure. A CPAP machine is a small air pump that forces a steady stream of air at slightly higher than atmospheric pressure throungh my nose to create an "air splint" that keeps my airway open and prevents the apneas from occurring.
So yesterday I went to the local medical supply store to get some needed replacement parts for the CPAP -- a filter to make sure I'm breathing in clean air, a new pad to protect my forehead from the mask, a plastic piece that holds the nosepiece in places, and a new strap that holds it all in place. I went in to this place when we first moved to Eugene, so they have my data on file -- which machine I have, what sized mask, and what size filter. They suggested that I just get a whole new mask assembly.
But they couldn't give them to me.
Why?
BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A PRESCRIPTION LESS THAN A YEAR OLD!!!!!!
*deep breath*
OK, I understand requiring renewed prescriptions for things like drugs, especially for conditions that can change. But this isn't a medication -- it's a few pieces of plastic and a 1"x2" piece of hepafilter. And it's not like I'm some schmick off the street -- they have my data on file. And apnea is a long-term condition. But thanks to Federal regulations, I have to make a doctor's appointment, go see the doctor, make sure he gets my medical records from the sleep center in San Diego, pay the copay, just so he can tell them it's ok to give me a freaking face mask! Unbelievable!
About five years or so ago I was diagnosed with obstructive sleep apnea -- I occasionally stop breathing in my sleep. This can be a serious health issue, so I was issued a CPAP. CPAP stands for Constant Positive Air Pressure. A CPAP machine is a small air pump that forces a steady stream of air at slightly higher than atmospheric pressure throungh my nose to create an "air splint" that keeps my airway open and prevents the apneas from occurring.
So yesterday I went to the local medical supply store to get some needed replacement parts for the CPAP -- a filter to make sure I'm breathing in clean air, a new pad to protect my forehead from the mask, a plastic piece that holds the nosepiece in places, and a new strap that holds it all in place. I went in to this place when we first moved to Eugene, so they have my data on file -- which machine I have, what sized mask, and what size filter. They suggested that I just get a whole new mask assembly.
But they couldn't give them to me.
Why?
BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A PRESCRIPTION LESS THAN A YEAR OLD!!!!!!
*deep breath*
OK, I understand requiring renewed prescriptions for things like drugs, especially for conditions that can change. But this isn't a medication -- it's a few pieces of plastic and a 1"x2" piece of hepafilter. And it's not like I'm some schmick off the street -- they have my data on file. And apnea is a long-term condition. But thanks to Federal regulations, I have to make a doctor's appointment, go see the doctor, make sure he gets my medical records from the sleep center in San Diego, pay the copay, just so he can tell them it's ok to give me a freaking face mask! Unbelievable!
To Your Health!
Last Night TFR came in after I'd gone to bed to tell me about an interesting news piece she'd seen on the local Fox affiliate. I was unable to find any local news links on their website, but a bit of Googling produced the gist of the article, if not the article itself. The gist of it is this: If you want to reap the greatest health benefits possible from drinking red wine in moderation, your best bet is Oregon Pinot Noirs.
Apparently, it's all about the resveratol. Resveratol is a flavanoid that has been linked by several studies to a reduction in heart disease and certain kinds of cancer, and is found in several foods, but most prominently in the skins of red wine grapes. And the grape varietal that has the highest levels? Yup, Pinot Noir.
But the report on TV last night highlighted Something else -- something that local growers have jumped on and are bragging about. That is the fact that Oregon-grown pinot noir grapes have even higher levels of resveratol than pinot grown in other regions. The reason for this seems to be the rainy, cool climate here in Oregon -- rseveratol is produced by plants to combat fungus, and the climate here is fungus-friendly (as witnessed by our booming wild mushroom industry), so the plants produce more of it.
Reveratol isn't proven to be a miracle cure, but it is believed to be the ingredient in red wine that makes it so healthy. And if you do decide to crack open a bottle of Oregon Pinot, here's an added benefit: it's darned good wine!
Apparently, it's all about the resveratol. Resveratol is a flavanoid that has been linked by several studies to a reduction in heart disease and certain kinds of cancer, and is found in several foods, but most prominently in the skins of red wine grapes. And the grape varietal that has the highest levels? Yup, Pinot Noir.
But the report on TV last night highlighted Something else -- something that local growers have jumped on and are bragging about. That is the fact that Oregon-grown pinot noir grapes have even higher levels of resveratol than pinot grown in other regions. The reason for this seems to be the rainy, cool climate here in Oregon -- rseveratol is produced by plants to combat fungus, and the climate here is fungus-friendly (as witnessed by our booming wild mushroom industry), so the plants produce more of it.
Reveratol isn't proven to be a miracle cure, but it is believed to be the ingredient in red wine that makes it so healthy. And if you do decide to crack open a bottle of Oregon Pinot, here's an added benefit: it's darned good wine!
Monday, April 17, 2006
Much Tastier than Prairie Hay, Thank You Very Much!
While we were in San Diego for my Grandmother's funeral, The Feared Redhead and I decided we'd like to go back down there for vacation, so we can visit when we have more time and aren't there to bury anyone (the reason for both our visits since leaving). One resolution I made while there was to stay in closer touch with my family. Towards that end, we plan on throwing a barbecue for my family, to be hosted at my cousin's house.
In preparation for said event, I decided to try my hand at making bacon and beans. Baked beans, pork and beans, ham and beans -- beans are a common staple in every part of the US. And they go well with barbecue. Because this was practice, I made a huge batch. They were delicious, but be aware that this makes enough beans to feed an army if you decide to try the recipe.
Bacon and Beans
2 lbs pinto beans
enough water to soak said beans and keep them covered once soaked
1/2 lb bacon
1/4 of a large onion or 1/2 of a medium onion
2 clove of garlic
1/2 cup molasses
1/4 cup honey
1 6 oz can of tomato paste
1-2 tbsp salt
1 tbsp paprika
1 tsp ground oregano
1 tsp ground cumin
2 bay leaves
dash cayenne
Soak the beans overnight (at least 8 hours, I soaked these for 24). Strain beans, saving soak water. Cut bacon into 1 inch long pieces. Chop onions and mince garlic. In a 4-quart dutch oven, heat bacon over medium high heat until it starts to sizzle. Add onions and garlic. When Onions soften, add the beans, honey, molasses, tomato paste, and enough soak water to fill to just below the lid. Add in paprika, oregano, cayenne, cumin, bay leaves, and salt to taste. Heat to a boil, lower heat to medium low and continue to boil for 10 minutes. Cover and place in a 275 degree oven for 6 hours, stirring occasionally.
Serves everyone.
In preparation for said event, I decided to try my hand at making bacon and beans. Baked beans, pork and beans, ham and beans -- beans are a common staple in every part of the US. And they go well with barbecue. Because this was practice, I made a huge batch. They were delicious, but be aware that this makes enough beans to feed an army if you decide to try the recipe.
Bacon and Beans
2 lbs pinto beans
enough water to soak said beans and keep them covered once soaked
1/2 lb bacon
1/4 of a large onion or 1/2 of a medium onion
2 clove of garlic
1/2 cup molasses
1/4 cup honey
1 6 oz can of tomato paste
1-2 tbsp salt
1 tbsp paprika
1 tsp ground oregano
1 tsp ground cumin
2 bay leaves
dash cayenne
Soak the beans overnight (at least 8 hours, I soaked these for 24). Strain beans, saving soak water. Cut bacon into 1 inch long pieces. Chop onions and mince garlic. In a 4-quart dutch oven, heat bacon over medium high heat until it starts to sizzle. Add onions and garlic. When Onions soften, add the beans, honey, molasses, tomato paste, and enough soak water to fill to just below the lid. Add in paprika, oregano, cayenne, cumin, bay leaves, and salt to taste. Heat to a boil, lower heat to medium low and continue to boil for 10 minutes. Cover and place in a 275 degree oven for 6 hours, stirring occasionally.
Serves everyone.
Friday, April 14, 2006
Antici..................Pation!
STILL waiting to hear from the Culinary Arts Program regarding my application. Sure, feel free to borrow my mind, I'm about to lose it anyway.
Virtually From the Horse's Ass's Mouth
Thanks for the Memory to Emily at It Comes in Pints? (Boy, they're just EN FUEGO today!), who links to this cool chatbot, Ask Chomsky. I did, and just couldn't resist asking:
Me: How does an advanced degree in linguistics make one an expert in diplomacy?
Chomsky: How should I know how it does.
Just "Plane" Stupid
Thanks for the Memory to Emily at It Comes in Pints?
When one views the modern mainstream media from a certain political perspective, and one notices the omission of certain stories or details of stories, it is easy to reach the conclusion that said media have an agenda: that they hold to a certain political and philosophical viewpoint; and that they select the stories and images to be presented to their audience in such a way as to paint their own beliefs in a positive light, and that of their opponents in a negative.
But Hanlon's Razor dictates that we never presume malice in an individual's actions if those actions can simply be attributed to stupidity. And while I am firmly of the belief that the media have been self-incrimination to the point where simple stupidity cannot explain their actions, and said action seem convincingly evident of malice AND stupidity combined, on occasion, they do present me with anecdotal evidence in support of a pure stupidity theory.
Case in point:
Emily points us in the comments to her entry to this fawning article from People, an interview with Tom "Caligula" Cruise and Katie "Deer in Headlights" Holmes. In the first sentence of the article, the writer, Clint Brewer, writes, "It was a scene straight out of a Tom Cruise blockbuster: the hero in the cockpit of a 1944 P-51 Mustang fighter plane, a beautiful girl on the tarmac, and the roar of the jet's engines as it tore across a Mojave Desert sky."
Most of my beloved readers are well-versed in the history of the US Military and its more famous weapons, and will catch the error in that sentence right away, but for the few of you who aren't and don't, I commend to you this URL about the North American P-51 Mustang, including photo.
If you'll take a look at that photo, a couple of things become clear right away: First of all, the Mustang is a single-engine aircraft. Second of all, it is propeller-driven. And that propeller is driven not by a turbofan (which is, technically, a form of jet engine), oh no, but by a piston engine, like the one in your car (well, nominally like the one in your car, in the same way that a Ferrari Enzo is a car, like my Ford Focus) an Allison F-series V-12 in early models, and a Rolls Merlin V-12 (yes, built by Rolls Royce, and under license by Packard) in the later, more successful models.
The point being that to refer to the P-51's roar as being that of a "jet's engines" is doubly incorrect. Had Mr. Brewer bothered, a simple Google search could have provided him with the information. Do I think that Mr. Brewer hates the military, or P-51 Mustangs, or the memory of the North American Aircraft Company? No. But it is obvious that he is uninformed, and furthermore, lazy. Unfamiliar with the simple nuances of aircraft design (nuances that seem frighteningly obvious), he chose to simply equate "airplane" and "jet", and either missed the distinction himself, or trusted that his readers would do so. In either case, this is irresponsible and stupid, but not malicious.
However, I would offer one caveat to any journalist who might stumble upon my humble blog: falling back on Hanlon's Razor may exhonorate you regarding your motives, but it doesn't exactly commend you regarding your skills.
When one views the modern mainstream media from a certain political perspective, and one notices the omission of certain stories or details of stories, it is easy to reach the conclusion that said media have an agenda: that they hold to a certain political and philosophical viewpoint; and that they select the stories and images to be presented to their audience in such a way as to paint their own beliefs in a positive light, and that of their opponents in a negative.
But Hanlon's Razor dictates that we never presume malice in an individual's actions if those actions can simply be attributed to stupidity. And while I am firmly of the belief that the media have been self-incrimination to the point where simple stupidity cannot explain their actions, and said action seem convincingly evident of malice AND stupidity combined, on occasion, they do present me with anecdotal evidence in support of a pure stupidity theory.
Case in point:
Emily points us in the comments to her entry to this fawning article from People, an interview with Tom "Caligula" Cruise and Katie "Deer in Headlights" Holmes. In the first sentence of the article, the writer, Clint Brewer, writes, "It was a scene straight out of a Tom Cruise blockbuster: the hero in the cockpit of a 1944 P-51 Mustang fighter plane, a beautiful girl on the tarmac, and the roar of the jet's engines as it tore across a Mojave Desert sky."
Most of my beloved readers are well-versed in the history of the US Military and its more famous weapons, and will catch the error in that sentence right away, but for the few of you who aren't and don't, I commend to you this URL about the North American P-51 Mustang, including photo.
If you'll take a look at that photo, a couple of things become clear right away: First of all, the Mustang is a single-engine aircraft. Second of all, it is propeller-driven. And that propeller is driven not by a turbofan (which is, technically, a form of jet engine), oh no, but by a piston engine, like the one in your car (well, nominally like the one in your car, in the same way that a Ferrari Enzo is a car, like my Ford Focus) an Allison F-series V-12 in early models, and a Rolls Merlin V-12 (yes, built by Rolls Royce, and under license by Packard) in the later, more successful models.
The point being that to refer to the P-51's roar as being that of a "jet's engines" is doubly incorrect. Had Mr. Brewer bothered, a simple Google search could have provided him with the information. Do I think that Mr. Brewer hates the military, or P-51 Mustangs, or the memory of the North American Aircraft Company? No. But it is obvious that he is uninformed, and furthermore, lazy. Unfamiliar with the simple nuances of aircraft design (nuances that seem frighteningly obvious), he chose to simply equate "airplane" and "jet", and either missed the distinction himself, or trusted that his readers would do so. In either case, this is irresponsible and stupid, but not malicious.
However, I would offer one caveat to any journalist who might stumble upon my humble blog: falling back on Hanlon's Razor may exhonorate you regarding your motives, but it doesn't exactly commend you regarding your skills.
Your Weekly Dose of Steve Taylor Lyrics: Installment #1
A couple of weeks ago, I reminisced on being a fan of Steve Taylor, a Christian pop musician from the 80's and early 90's with a satyrical twist to his lyrics. I also commented on how those lyrics from two decades ago seem even more germaine today. So I decided I'd start sharing them with you, one song at a time, in whatever order seems most appropriate. I hope to make this a regular feature.
This week I was struck by how many of my fellow bloggers have been registering their annoyance with the owners of hybrid cars -- particularly Prius'. It brought to my mind a recent, hilarious episode of South Park in which the "Smug" of too many hybrid owners threatens South Park and, in fact, the country. This in turn led me to ponder the lyrics to Steve's song "Smug", from his 1993 album Squint:
This week I was struck by how many of my fellow bloggers have been registering their annoyance with the owners of hybrid cars -- particularly Prius'. It brought to my mind a recent, hilarious episode of South Park in which the "Smug" of too many hybrid owners threatens South Park and, in fact, the country. This in turn led me to ponder the lyrics to Steve's song "Smug", from his 1993 album Squint:
Strike this little pose
Chin up in the air
Lips together tightly
Nostrils in a flare
Now look like you care
Very nice!
Practice in the mirror
Brushing back a tear
Very sincere
A promising career could begin right here at home
If you've got that smug...
That smug...
chorus:
Hey mama hey mama lookee what your little babies all have become
Hey mama hey mama don't it ever make you wish you'd been a nun?
Vain and fickle, were we weaned on a pickle?
Is it in our blood?
Rome is burning
We're here turning smug
Strike another pose
Power politics
Swallow their conventions
Get your power fix
We love to mud wrestle
We love to be politically Koreshed
Practice that smug
Post it like a man
One part Master Limbaugh
Two parts Madame Streisand
Now pretend you're in a band
My, my, we're looking smug
Very very very very
(chorus)
All you smug-starved millions in the thick of the search
Welcome to our church
Whatcha wanna solve?
We can help you evolve from merely self-righteous
To perfectly smug
Strike the proud pose of our country club brethren
Friendly as a tomb
Fragrant as the bottom of a locker-room broom
Now what's the matter?
Hey...get off your knees...that part don't come 'til later...
God will not be pleased...
(chorus)
Hey mama hey mama lookee what your little babies all have become...
Rome is cooking
My, we're looking smug
Birthday Meme
Thanks for the Memory (and the meme) to Ken S. at It Comes in Pints?
This is the latest Meme going around, and it's a cool one. Go to Wikipedia, and look up your birth date (excluding the year). Then list three interesting historical events that occurred on that day, two births, and one death.
Here's what I learned about my birthday, June 5th:
Events:
70 - Titus and his Roman legions breach the middle wall of Jerusalem.
1783 - The Montgolfier brothers publicly demonstrate their montgolfière (hot air balloon).
1968 - U.S. presidential candidate Robert F. Kennedy is shot at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, California by Sirhan Sirhan. (He dies on June 6). (This one I knew, since it's the same year as well -- my dad heard the news in the hospital waiting room.)
Births:
1723 - Adam Smith, Scottish economist and philosopher (d. 1790)
1850 - Pat Garrett, American Western lawman (d. 1908) (For those who don't know and don't care to follow the link, Pat Garret killedJesse James Billy the Kid. I knew that, duh. Thanks to Ken S. for pointing out the goof.)
Death:
2004 - Ronald Reagan, former President of the United States (b. 1911)
This is the latest Meme going around, and it's a cool one. Go to Wikipedia, and look up your birth date (excluding the year). Then list three interesting historical events that occurred on that day, two births, and one death.
Here's what I learned about my birthday, June 5th:
Events:
70 - Titus and his Roman legions breach the middle wall of Jerusalem.
1783 - The Montgolfier brothers publicly demonstrate their montgolfière (hot air balloon).
1968 - U.S. presidential candidate Robert F. Kennedy is shot at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, California by Sirhan Sirhan. (He dies on June 6). (This one I knew, since it's the same year as well -- my dad heard the news in the hospital waiting room.)
Births:
1723 - Adam Smith, Scottish economist and philosopher (d. 1790)
1850 - Pat Garrett, American Western lawman (d. 1908) (For those who don't know and don't care to follow the link, Pat Garret killed
Death:
2004 - Ronald Reagan, former President of the United States (b. 1911)
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Link Love
I finally got around to doing something I've intended to do for a while: Updating my blogroll. For the past couple of months I've been reading some new blogs, and it's time I give credit where due:
Fiddle Dee Dee
GroovyVic is a mom blogger from back east. Her blog is a humorous mixture of commentary on politics, parenting, and Vic's obsession with Ewan MacGregor.
It Comes in Pints?
Ken S. is a frequent commenter on this site, and it's time I returned the love.
1 Girl, 4 Martinis
Bobgirrl is a twenty-somehting California girl whose usually apolitical blog (though she is conservative) is a sassy, sexy, smart insight into food, wine, culture, and the never-ending quest for a "Future Ex-Husband".
Wally Wonders Why
I've just found Wally's blog, but you have to like a guy who blogs about himself in the third person.
OOPS!
How could I forget Dubious Wonder?
Trouble linked to me when she ran the Carnival of Recipes, and gave my recipe high marks. She made an instant friend for that.
Fiddle Dee Dee
GroovyVic is a mom blogger from back east. Her blog is a humorous mixture of commentary on politics, parenting, and Vic's obsession with Ewan MacGregor.
It Comes in Pints?
Ken S. is a frequent commenter on this site, and it's time I returned the love.
1 Girl, 4 Martinis
Bobgirrl is a twenty-somehting California girl whose usually apolitical blog (though she is conservative) is a sassy, sexy, smart insight into food, wine, culture, and the never-ending quest for a "Future Ex-Husband".
Wally Wonders Why
I've just found Wally's blog, but you have to like a guy who blogs about himself in the third person.
OOPS!
How could I forget Dubious Wonder?
Trouble linked to me when she ran the Carnival of Recipes, and gave my recipe high marks. She made an instant friend for that.
Well, I'm Back
Seven days ago this morning we buried my grandmother. The last week has drained me, both physically and emotionally. I'm grateful to my handful of loyal readers, both for their expressions of emotional support, and for continuing to make me feel validated in my blogging.
Wednesday the 5th sucked. There's nothing else for it but to face the ginormous levels of suckiness it exuded. Between the lack of sleep, the emotional drain of my grandmother's death, and the pressure to get everything done and get up to Portland in time to fly out, I was off my game all day, and managed to alienate a fellow blogger I once held in high regard. I shouldn't have even been reading blogs on a day like that. Then, after a stressful time finishing the packing and getting up to Portland, we flew out at 9:something PM and arrived in San Diego at 11:45 PM. By the time we reached my grandma's house in Chula Vista, talked to my mom, and got to bed, it was 2 AM. The Lad woke me up at 5:45, and I was up pretty much for the rest of the day, except for a short nap around 2 or so. I guess that means the suckage seeped into Thursday, huh?
The funeral was... I really can't think of a single adjective that fits. I guess it was what a funeral should be -- happy and sad, with the tears only interrupted by laughter as we remembered my grandmother for the amazing woman she was, and mourned our own loss. We know she's in Heaven and her suffering here is over, but we miss her presence. She was, as was said at the funeral, the glue that held our family together.
Margaret Dittenhaver (nee Bohnstehn) was a direct descendant of Daniel Boone. One of 11 children, she was born in Oklahoma, grew up in Arkansas, and came west to California during the Dust Bowl. She was never ashamed of her roots, though she made it clear she considered herself an Arkie, not an Okie. All of the children gave up school to work and help the family survive. One sister lost the use of her left hand in a dry cleaning press.
There was one bit of irony in the funeral. Only one of my grandmother's sisters, and subsequently her only daughter, was ever embarassed of where our family came from. That niece, now a minister, delivered the eulogy, and referred to my grandma as a "Southern Belle". It rankled me, and when I stood to share, at one point I found myself blurtingh out, "She was a Dust Bowl Okie!" OK, she'd have said Arkie, but after the funeral, numerous family members thanked me for adding that.
My grandmother left behind 5 daughters, 12 grandchildren, and 7 great grandchildren. All of those grandchildren remember her as a loving, nay doting, grandmother, who would do anyhting for her grandkids. And despite the fact that we live far apart and have very different beliefs and lifestyles, we are all close and love each other, in large part thanks to my grandma.
My grandma died on Sunday Night. Earlier in the day, her dog had to be put down. She was sixteen. Two days after my grandmother died, her brother died. Of those 11 kids, only one is living, and he's not long for this world. We're losing a generation, and I for one will miss them.
After the funeral, we all went over to the house of one of my aunts, just a few doors down from my grandma's (and actually, the house where my grandma lived when I was growing up. Long story) and had lunch. The mood there was significantly lighter -- plenty of reminiscence about growing up with "Marg" as a grandma, and all of our memories. I learned that the cousin I most envied for her lifestyle as a kid, envied me for mine. It was really good to be around family -- I grew up, and still live, thousands of miles from the rest of the family. I need to make sure that The Lad gets plenty of chances to visit his family. Family is important.
The rest of the visit was busy with visits to old friends, and spending time with my mom. We also took a trip to Fort Rosecrans National to visit my dad's grave, it was the closest The Lad will ever come to meeting his grandfather.
I do miss some things about San Diego -- the weather was gorgeous. But I don't miss the traffic, or the sales tax.
We arrived in Portland This past Monday at 11:15, and instead of spending the night at the SIL's, drove straight home. I took the last two of my permitted paid bereavment days to rest.
I'm still not sure I'm ready to get back into the swing of blogging. Hell, I'm not ready to get back to work and all of the drudgery of life. Despite the sadness of our reason for going, this was a mini-vacation, and it felt good to get away. But here I am.
Wednesday the 5th sucked. There's nothing else for it but to face the ginormous levels of suckiness it exuded. Between the lack of sleep, the emotional drain of my grandmother's death, and the pressure to get everything done and get up to Portland in time to fly out, I was off my game all day, and managed to alienate a fellow blogger I once held in high regard. I shouldn't have even been reading blogs on a day like that. Then, after a stressful time finishing the packing and getting up to Portland, we flew out at 9:something PM and arrived in San Diego at 11:45 PM. By the time we reached my grandma's house in Chula Vista, talked to my mom, and got to bed, it was 2 AM. The Lad woke me up at 5:45, and I was up pretty much for the rest of the day, except for a short nap around 2 or so. I guess that means the suckage seeped into Thursday, huh?
The funeral was... I really can't think of a single adjective that fits. I guess it was what a funeral should be -- happy and sad, with the tears only interrupted by laughter as we remembered my grandmother for the amazing woman she was, and mourned our own loss. We know she's in Heaven and her suffering here is over, but we miss her presence. She was, as was said at the funeral, the glue that held our family together.
Margaret Dittenhaver (nee Bohnstehn) was a direct descendant of Daniel Boone. One of 11 children, she was born in Oklahoma, grew up in Arkansas, and came west to California during the Dust Bowl. She was never ashamed of her roots, though she made it clear she considered herself an Arkie, not an Okie. All of the children gave up school to work and help the family survive. One sister lost the use of her left hand in a dry cleaning press.
There was one bit of irony in the funeral. Only one of my grandmother's sisters, and subsequently her only daughter, was ever embarassed of where our family came from. That niece, now a minister, delivered the eulogy, and referred to my grandma as a "Southern Belle". It rankled me, and when I stood to share, at one point I found myself blurtingh out, "She was a Dust Bowl Okie!" OK, she'd have said Arkie, but after the funeral, numerous family members thanked me for adding that.
My grandmother left behind 5 daughters, 12 grandchildren, and 7 great grandchildren. All of those grandchildren remember her as a loving, nay doting, grandmother, who would do anyhting for her grandkids. And despite the fact that we live far apart and have very different beliefs and lifestyles, we are all close and love each other, in large part thanks to my grandma.
My grandma died on Sunday Night. Earlier in the day, her dog had to be put down. She was sixteen. Two days after my grandmother died, her brother died. Of those 11 kids, only one is living, and he's not long for this world. We're losing a generation, and I for one will miss them.
After the funeral, we all went over to the house of one of my aunts, just a few doors down from my grandma's (and actually, the house where my grandma lived when I was growing up. Long story) and had lunch. The mood there was significantly lighter -- plenty of reminiscence about growing up with "Marg" as a grandma, and all of our memories. I learned that the cousin I most envied for her lifestyle as a kid, envied me for mine. It was really good to be around family -- I grew up, and still live, thousands of miles from the rest of the family. I need to make sure that The Lad gets plenty of chances to visit his family. Family is important.
The rest of the visit was busy with visits to old friends, and spending time with my mom. We also took a trip to Fort Rosecrans National to visit my dad's grave, it was the closest The Lad will ever come to meeting his grandfather.
I do miss some things about San Diego -- the weather was gorgeous. But I don't miss the traffic, or the sales tax.
We arrived in Portland This past Monday at 11:15, and instead of spending the night at the SIL's, drove straight home. I took the last two of my permitted paid bereavment days to rest.
I'm still not sure I'm ready to get back into the swing of blogging. Hell, I'm not ready to get back to work and all of the drudgery of life. Despite the sadness of our reason for going, this was a mini-vacation, and it felt good to get away. But here I am.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
In Time All Things Haunt Us
I spent most of my childhood living a significant distance from my grandparents, and do visiting them was a big deal. A few times, my family would scrape up the money for me and my mom and later sister to fly to San Diego. When we'd leave, my grandmother would see us off at the airport. Invariably, I would begin singing "LEavin' on a Jet Plane", and my grandmother would cry. But being a kid, I didn't know they were real tears, so I'd encourage her to cry louder and keep on singing.
Now I'm getting on a jet plane, but she's the one who's leaving and I'm the one with tears in my eyes.
I won't be posting until we return. In the meantime, thank you to all my readers who have bothered to post their condolences, and please don't forget this little blog is here.
Now I'm getting on a jet plane, but she's the one who's leaving and I'm the one with tears in my eyes.
I won't be posting until we return. In the meantime, thank you to all my readers who have bothered to post their condolences, and please don't forget this little blog is here.
Mon Dieu!
Thanks for the Memory to The Llama Butchers.
Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.
Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.
Upgrading Food
For obvious reasons, my head just hasn't been into blogging the last few days, and the last thing I expected to be doing was recipe blogging. But I made an interesting discovery last night that I thought you'd all enjoy.
One of the things we had to do last night in preparation for tonight's trip to San Diego was clean out the fridge -- there was stuff in there that would have been fine for a few more days before we ate them if we were home, but would have spoiled while away for 6 days.
One of them was a buffalo tri-tip that I had thawed Sunday before receiving word of my Grandmother's worsened condition. I decided to do my best with it and make my buffalo (not Buffalo) Steak Sandwiches. The problem is, the grill has been in hibernation and wouldn't fire up. No problem -- I used our electric griller/Pannini maker/Waffle maker. I know, the meat doesn't get that smokey quality, but here's what you can do that's almost as cool:
This variation on the recipe requires an electric grill or a grill pan -- something with a solid surface and raised grill lines, not an open wire grill.
First, start with a good dry rub. I'd recommend 1/4 cup turbinado sugar, 1/4 cup kisher salt, and herbs and spices to taste. I use cumin, cayenne, parika, ground sundried tomato, ground Mexican oregano, mustard powder, onion and garlic powders. The dugar is important for later.
Let the meat stand for about 2 hours before cooking it. Rub the skillet or griller with olive oil and cook the tri-tip to taste (IMHO, if it isn't pink, it's burnt). While the meat is resting, deglase the surface of the griddle with 1-2 tbsp of red wine and 1 tsp of balsamic vinegar. Allow the deglaze to reduce, take your sliced ciabatta bread and lightly drizzle the cut surface with olive oil. Place face down on grill. Cook for 1 minute or until the bread is hot and has soaked up some of the reduction. Continue on with the rest of the original recipe.
One of the things we had to do last night in preparation for tonight's trip to San Diego was clean out the fridge -- there was stuff in there that would have been fine for a few more days before we ate them if we were home, but would have spoiled while away for 6 days.
One of them was a buffalo tri-tip that I had thawed Sunday before receiving word of my Grandmother's worsened condition. I decided to do my best with it and make my buffalo (not Buffalo) Steak Sandwiches. The problem is, the grill has been in hibernation and wouldn't fire up. No problem -- I used our electric griller/Pannini maker/Waffle maker. I know, the meat doesn't get that smokey quality, but here's what you can do that's almost as cool:
This variation on the recipe requires an electric grill or a grill pan -- something with a solid surface and raised grill lines, not an open wire grill.
First, start with a good dry rub. I'd recommend 1/4 cup turbinado sugar, 1/4 cup kisher salt, and herbs and spices to taste. I use cumin, cayenne, parika, ground sundried tomato, ground Mexican oregano, mustard powder, onion and garlic powders. The dugar is important for later.
Let the meat stand for about 2 hours before cooking it. Rub the skillet or griller with olive oil and cook the tri-tip to taste (IMHO, if it isn't pink, it's burnt). While the meat is resting, deglase the surface of the griddle with 1-2 tbsp of red wine and 1 tsp of balsamic vinegar. Allow the deglaze to reduce, take your sliced ciabatta bread and lightly drizzle the cut surface with olive oil. Place face down on grill. Cook for 1 minute or until the bread is hot and has soaked up some of the reduction. Continue on with the rest of the original recipe.
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