Hot Weather Recipe World...

Okay, so it's just way too hot to cook.

Gotcha! Heard that!

So, this week's recipe (see Jenn's site for hers), takes less cooking and is nice and cool for hot days. (It's also one I've never made - so I'm curious!)


ROASTED POTATO SALAD

2 pounds new potatoes, quartered (it's good to use a mix of different types of potatoes, for consistency)
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons of olive oil
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 egg
Juice of three lemons
1 tablespoon chopped garlic
1 tablespoon Creole Mustard
1/2 cup chopped green onions
1/2 pound bacon, chopped and browned until crispy
1 cup chopped red onions
4 hard_boiled eggs, peeled and sliced
1 tablespoon finely chopped parsley leaves
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh dill

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. In a mixing bowl, toss the potatoes with 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Season the potatoes with salt and pepper. Place the potatoes on a baking sheet and roast for 35 to 40 minutes. Remove the potatoes from the oven and cool completely.

Okay, the cooking part is done.

In a food processor, fitted with a metal blade, add the egg, juice from one lemon, mustard, garlic, and green onions. Puree until smooth (or somewhat smooth). Season the mixture with salt and pepper. With the machine running (the food processor, that is), slowly add the remaining olive oil until all of the oil is used and the mixture is thick. Reseason the mayonnaise with salt and pepper to taste. In a large mixing bowl, toss the potatoes with the bacon, red onions, sliced eggs, parsley and dill. Season the mixture with salt and pepper. Stir in the mayonnaise and the remaining lemon juice. Mix thoroughly.

Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.

Enjoy!

And if this heat keeps up, I'm going to be looking for ice cream recipes!

Days of Wine and Blogging…

So, here’s that Pinot I was telling you about. Actually, the one we had (and promptly purchased more of) was the 2004. Wine.com gave it 4.5/5… not bad. It was a light pinot, not overly complex. Enjoy.

… Oh, there’s something else.

Looks like I won’t be blogging as much as I used to. My work environment is cracking down – hardassifying… so, no blogging from work. Dammit. That’s when I have most of my free time! But, not to fear, I’ll be around and, maybe, sometime soon, thing will change.

Meanwhile, I’ll be heading to dinner with some of my family tonight. Vicky’s studying mercilessly for this CLA exam, which is coming up in less than 24 hours… lucky girl.

And making an ass of myself on the phone...

Just so you know, this blog follows a rather long and grovely apology.

Before we start, I just want to chuck the boomerang of time back a little bit... there it goes... back to... 1996...

Rosa and were standing outside of a restaurant near the corner of Katella and Tustin, where we were waiting to meet Essex and Lily for dinner. We weren't quite at the pacing point, yet, but we were getting close. And I distinctly remember saying, "You know, if we had a cell phone, we could just call them and tell them to get the fuck over here."

And here comes the boomerang... curving back to the present... 2003...

I was trying to get back together with Rosa and she thought it would be nice if we each had cell phones. So, she gave me her old one and got a new one... but I never got service on the thing... didn't really want to carry it around... lost it...

The boomerang is almost back... 2004...

Shortly after Vicky and I met, she too gave me her old cell phone and got a new one... the idea of having to carry around one of these things... ugh... but Vicky paid for the service and we talked and talked... we talked so much that I eventually became one of those people who talks while they drive, while they shop, and while they eat. I haven't become one of those people who talks while they're pooping... NOR WILL I EVER! But, I used to be one of those people who complained about cell phones! They were annoying! A blight! A pain in the ass to those of us trying to get somewhere quickly! Why is it that people get on their cell and take their foot off their gas???...

And (fwack!) the boomerang has returned... this morning...

I went to work this morning with my cell phone in my pants pocket because I'm wearing a shirt with no pockets. I thought nothing of it and began to drive to work. But then, as I was taking a curve up a hill... the phone began to ring. It was Vicky's personal ring. I tried to ignore it, paying attention to my driving, but it kept ringing and I began to think, "Maybe the dog got out... maybe she was in a car accident... maybe the house is on fire... maybe the -" Oh shit! I had to answer the phone!

I tried to reach under my seat belt but couldn't find my pocket. I had to take off my seat belt! But my pocket went too low - I had to lift my hip, taking my foot off the gas, to get to it, which also meant my hand was off the wheel!

Nothing to see here, folks! Just some idiot, doing 60, who's decided he doesn't want to live anymore!

Of course, the whole contortion put me in a rotten mood... after all, I nearly hit a truck and the guy behind me was honking... but it was necessary to make sure everything was okay with my bride.

... and this is where I made an ass of myself. Not before. Right now.

I answered with, "I hope this is important."

Okay, now she didn't know about how her call nearly killed me, right? And she's told me, in the past, not to answer if I'm driving. My response is, "What if it's an emergency?" Based on this, she agreed to call less while I'm driving.

I guess she forgot.

Maybe I'm just not the kind of person who can have a cell phone... maybe it's a guy thing. I don't know. No man would call and, when asked why, say, "No reason." It just doesn't happen! Maybe a woman can explain this to me, why women are so lacking in focus... I don't know.

Anyway, so I'm the jerk. If you hear about me dying in a car accident, at least you'll know why.

The mind reels...

It just shocks the hell out of me that doctors and nurses are being put on trial for allegedly euthanizing some patients in the wake of Katrina, while Shrub is let off scott free after letting so many victims of Katrina die - without lifting a finger!

Maybe, just maybe the doctors and nurses were wrong - but what about the guy in charge who went to a party and posed for a photo op while so many Americans were dying.

It's disgraceful.

The man... the meat... the recipe...

I got home earlier than Vicky last night. That won't be too hard to do, considering that she'll be studying for her CLA exam all week. Then, FREEDOM! She'll return to the real world filled with dishes and movies and... cooking...

So, I cooked last night. I dipped into Jenn's recipe for "Meat in Glue That You JUST CAN'T STOP EATING"! I had bought all the ingredients the night before - and, I'll warn you here, they can get a bit pricey. This is especially true if you're buying organic... which you really should... bitch.

Now, I have this system I follow when I cook one of Jenn's recipes. That is: I never write them down. So, I am perpetually running from one room to another, finding out what I need for the next step before this step burns. If good cooking is a glorious accident, I am uninsurable.

I laid out all of my ingredients and, in a flush of sudden inspiration, opened a bottle of pinot noir (from a Central California winery whose website I cannot find... dammit) that paired perfectly in the end.

And, so, on to the recipe:


Carbonnade a la Flamande

3/4 C All purpose flour
1/2 tsp Salt
1/2 tsp Black Pepper
1/8 tsp Nutmeg
2.5 lbs boneless chuck roast, trimmed, and cut into 1/2 inch cubes
2 Strips bacon, diced
2 C Chopped onion
1 T chopped garlic (I use two large cloves)
1 C Less sodium Beef Stock or broth (14.5 oz)
1 C Water
2 T Brown Sugar
2 T Red Wine vinegar
2 T Tomato paste
2 T Dijon mustard (don't use yellow mustard on this)
1 tsp Fresh Thyme
2 Bay leaves
1 (12oz) can Dark beer
2 T Chopped Fresh parsley

I tend to like to ready all of the ingredients before I start. So, I chopped the onion, which is usually Vicky's job but... oh well, so I cried for a while. I cut up the meat, opened the can, pulled out the seasonings... I was ready!

The first step, combining the flour, salt, pepper, nutmeg, and steak in a large zip lock bag - Seal, shake to coat - is not a time to press all the air out of the bag. I did... and realized my mistake very quickly. You ever trying to blow up a zip lock bag? I have! But, after the air's in there, it's just fun time. Toss the bag around to your little heart's desire. I found that if you put in just the right amount of flour, salt, pepper, and nutmeg, you'll just coat the steak, which is probably what you want.

I knew everything was going south shortly after heating up a large dutch oven over medium-high heat. I added the bacon to the pan, cooked it for one minute... and it wouldn't brown. The bacon wouldn't brown. I'd never seen that before: bacon that refused to cook. I think a good rule in cooking is "Whenever you see the impossible happen... stop." I didn't.

I added the beef mixture, cooking it for three minutes or until browned... you see what's coming, right? It refused to brown. In fact, it wasn't even cooking. I checked the heat. Yep, it was hot... but stubborn. Ten minutes later... nothing. Uncooked meat... oh wait! All of the flour had coated the bottom of the pan, making it impossible to wilt the onions in the next step.

So, I removed the beef from the pan and resigned myself to a horrible muck... poor Vicky. She'd have to eat it.

I added the onion (a large, red one) and garlic (one tablespoon, my ass!) to the pan and let it saute for five minutes... nothing... five more minutes... nothing. I resigned myself to uncooked food. The heat couldn't get through that lining of flour...

Fuck it. I put the beef back in the pan and stirred in the broth. Immediately, something happened! The solidified roux began coming off the bottom - heat broke through! I threw in the water, brown sugar, tomato paste, dijon mustard, fresh thyme, bay leaves and dark beer (Guinness, of course) all at once and brought it to a boil.

Vicky came in. "That smells really good," she said. So, I decided to let her live in her fantasy. Reducing the heat, I cooked it for a half hour with the cover on and a half hour with the cover off... by which time, we were both starving.

I nixed the parsley but did make egg noodles, as Jenn suggested.

Now, here's the thing. When I cooked it, this came out looking like meat in a dark glue - but that's a good thing! The sauce is rich and thick - a heart attack inducing heaven! And the ingredients, while strange when you first look at them, come together with an addicting palatability.

"So... you like my meat?" I asked.

Vicky agreed. She loved my meat.

"Would you like more of my meat?"

She had more of my meat.

So, I guess what I'm trying to say is this recipe is pretty hard to mess up - even when you're me!

(Actually, the whole point of this blog entry was just so I could write how much Vicky loved my meat...)

Ethics and other kinds of thics...

I know this feeling. Several months before I began writing With Eyes to See, a horror novel about multi-dimensional physics, I bugged Vicky for a whole weekend with brainstorms on dimensional perspectives. It's like my brain starts working on things long before I need them.

Of course, there is the flip side. I have a notebook filled with conjectural analysis on a variety of Christian myths... yet have done nothing with it.

That said, you never know. Either way, it's bugging me.

What is?

It's this thought that has been poking at the side of my head.

Here's how it began: Many serial murderers and scriptwriters have claimed that murder is justifiable based on the fact that nations in the last century have become so adept at mass-murder. As the same time, however, is it justifiable to prop yourself up just because you never murdered anyone? (... providing you haven't...)

That wasn't quite it. Anyway, murder is no longer a crime. The conditions under which murder can be committed have just been redefined. You can murder Iraqis if you're over there. You can murder criminals if you get that job. You can murder your spouse if you're rich enough. Exceptions! Exceptions! Exceptions!

Anyway, that wasn't it.

In fact, I don't even know if I've gotten to "it". But I have gotten closer.

If you go broke and can't pay your bills, it would be impossible for you to engage in "deficit spending". Yet, that's what our government (praise be to the Republicans who are not "tax and spend" politicians... they just spend) does every day. On the other hand, if I boast about how my brother has fallen under hard times and how I can support myself just fine - in fact, I just bought a boat! - that's wrong, somehow.

I don't know what this means but I think it's about Empathy, about Perspective. I think it deals with a collapse of the connection we have with each other. We allow out government to commit horrible crimes in our name, things most of us would never imagine doing. Can we consider ourselves "ethical" while supporting a government ignorant of ethics?

I don't know.

I've been dying to get back to writing some dick-and-fart joke comedy... but I think my brain has something else in mind... dammit. We'll see.

So, what if we legalized ALL drugs...

I was just reading around the Internets and saw something behind a series of articles on drugs. It started with Barry Bonds, who may be facing indictment. I thought it was for steriod usage but it's actually for tax evasion. (If he gets off as easily as Capone, he'll only have syphillis.)

But it got me thinking about steriod use. So what, if they use steriods! Did it improve their performance? Fine. I could care less if all professional sports teams became filled with drug-addled horses. I could give a shit. Who does it hurt? The players? Yeah, well, so does can their diet but we don't make Ben & Jerry's illegal... thank god.

And that got me thinking about other kinds of drugs.

And this is what I'd like to suggest. (Not that it will be worth piss.) Legalize all drugs. All of them. Heroin, crack, acid - everything. The act of ingesting a drug should not be a crime in and off itself.

Now, if that person kills someone - that's a crime. If they rob - that's a crime. A crime is the violation of someone ELSE'S rights - and not their right to decide what YOU do. So, if someone commits a crime while on drugs, then charge them for the crime. Fine.

And, I can hear it already - Using drugs lead you to committing crime. Oh really? Funny. I see plenty of people who aren't stoned committing crimes all the time. Remember Kenny Lay? Tom Delay? George Bush?

... oh, wait. That could explain everything...

City of Heroes... Garage of Nerds...

Okay, so I recently switched (temporarily!) from World of Warcraft to City of Heroes. I thought I'd let you know how things were going.

Playing from the deep recesses of my garage, the first thing I did was create a character named after Phil Hartman and my wife. His name is Vicqui. He's manly, purple, and named after a girl... a lot like John Wayne.

In the beginning, I was lucky to stop a purse-snatcher. Then, I moved up to muggers, car thieves, and even gangs! It wasn't easy. The bad guys in CoH aren't dumb. If they have a gun, they'll run away and shoot at you from a safe distance. If they have a knife, they'll follow you while you run away.

When Vicqui started, he was already pretty tough. He could jump over cars. Come on! How many of you can do that? But I wanted more. I really wanted to fly!

... but that ability is not available until level 14...

... and I just got to level 9...

... it's going to take a while.

On the up side, I actually jumped from rooftop to rooftop last night, a lot like the Tick! (He, of course, is more purple, more manly, and... not named after a girl.)

I always entered an area called The Hollows. The thing about CoH is there are load times between zones, something you never have to deal with in WoW! Anyway, The Hollows is a pretty tough area. There was a big, BIG fight there once and the landscape is broken into cliffs and chasms. Once horizontal streets need to be climbed vertically! It's pretty cool. Vicqui, of course, got killed pretty quickly but he's getting tougher!

In a few levels, he'll be flying across that landscape. You just wait.

Let's hope I can do all that in two months. That's when my account runs dry...

Sent your Tivo, DVR, or whatever

I know that we will...Global Warming. There are also some really good links for science articles regarding the crisis.

I'm off to study now...

I read the news today... oh boy...

This started as a result of listening to Ed Schultz during lunch. He kept talking about the middle east as if... is something happening over there?

Of course, there is.

And it's been happening for decades.

As Vicky so astutely pointed out, any war in the middle east is bound to have the born-against smiling, waiting for their rapturous... what do they call that again? Of course, I had to point out that anyone jubilant over the deaths of thousands of people... may be stopped on their way to heaven for some serious cross-examination.

"I didn't kill anyone but I loved it when other people did!"

Yeah... they may have to wait.

So, what has been happening?

As you know, we (known the world over as US) invaded a sovereign nation because, well, the fall line-up on the major networks just weren't too exciting that year or something - and we've been doing a great job of a) killing lots of innocent people, b) creating lots of hate for US and lots of terrorists, and c) misspending just a FUCKLOAD of money. Would any of this make anyone hate US? I'm stumped.

But it appears they do. It might also have something to do with our anal obsession with backing Israel. Now, listen, I have nothing against Israel... you know, as a concept. But they're like the kid on My Bodyguard - you know, the one who can act like a bully because he has an even bigger bully to back him up. We (US) are the bigger bully.

So, Israel goes around killing people and bombing people... and I'm just saying they probably wouldn't be so quick to do it if US weren't here, backing them up every step of the way.

I mean, hell, when Israel started flexing their militaristic imperative this time, bombing the shit out of Palestine and Lebanon - and getting just a pee stream away from Syria. The UN wanted to sanction them. We (US) vetoed it. Why? Because Israel was just defending themselves because one of its soldiers was taken prisoners.

Let's see. On one hand, one guy gets taken prisoner. On the other, a whole lot of people get bombed to shit. Sounds fair.

And, mind you, this is just THIS TIME.

Of course, we (US) can't do too much because we have long lost the moral high-ground. (Committing acts of aggressive war, breaking the Geneva Convention, and crimes against humanity tend to do that.)

So, the whole place is one, big, shitfest. It's like the apartment of your average 20-year old after payday... but with bombs.

Meanwhile, back home, the House is still debating if black people should still be allowed to vote.

Check, please!

Dreams of "me"...

So, I had this dream last night...

My son says to me, "(Someone) and me are going out."

"(Someone) and I," I reply.

"Huh?"

"It's (someone) and I," I tell him.

"Why not (someone) and me?"

I explain to him, "Whenever you're in doubt, just remove the part before I or Me. 'Me are going out' sounds stupid. The goal with grammar is to not sound stupid. Sounding stupid is a bad thing. It makes you appear stupid. In fact, it makes you stupid be default."

Which is when I woke up, thinking, "So don't be such a fucking retard, kid."

Yep, leave it to me to mix dreams of parenthood with a diatribe on grammar...

Some batshit-crazy liberal idea about the new AIDS drug...

Just thought I'd prepare you.

So, the new AIDs drug, Atripla, was approved by the FDA yesterday and should be available next week.

Progress, right? We're finally getting AIDS to the point where it's a disease you can live with, just like Diabetes, Arthritis... or Mormonism.

That is, if you're rich. Yes, that's right - the new drug is going to cost and cost big. At $1,100 each month for the prescription, it's more like blood money than drug money.

And I can't help think that isn't fair somehow. Is that where we live? In a world where only the rich survive? Sure, it is! But it doesn't need to be that way.

And in case you're wondering what I'm talking about, let's run the numbers. Let's say you live an average life without any extra expenses.

Rent: $1000 (That's cheap, even in Southern California!)
Utilities: $400 (That's electricity, phone, water, and gas - not even basic cable!)
Food: $200 (Let's hope you live alone.)
Transportation: $400 (That's a cheap car with the bare minimum for insurance.)
Gasoline: $100 (Okay, so we forgot that with transportation, but who thinks of the details?)
Atripla: $1100

Keep in mind that those with AIDS often incur a host of other expenses for care and medication - but we'll leave those things out, too. Cause, honestly, the Republicans do, too.

So, that gives us a total of $38,400 in expenses for one year, with no luxuries like the medical care that keeps you alive. Just to stay alive, you'll need to make over 50 GRAND each year, thus eliminating anyone making minimum wage... and most others as well. This is how the Republicans move their agenda of keeping AIDS patients dead right along.

Now, why is this? Well, it's because pharmaceutical companies enjoy little or no federal regulation, which is thanks to the hard work of their lobbyists who provide money that gives hard-ons to politicians - and most of them are Republicans. (Who do you think coined the phrase "Fuck Regulations"?) This massive deregulation isn't helping AIDS victims or, well, anyone - but it is helping their CEOs line their pockets, which is what matters most.

Again, it doesn't have to be this way... but it will be, anyway.

There's been something I've been meaning to say...

And this probably isn't it.

But bear with me anyway.

We were in the desert, feeling the rush of the wind as it carves its manic arc into the depths of the canyon and out before us to high above.

We enjoyed some great sushi just before the champagne was brought out and I got on one knee.

We stood in a particularly wet evening mist outside of Portland, while I did my usual "let me entertain you" mumbo and she looked on like I was nuts.

We sat at a very small table at a dive bar & grill in Ocean Beach, down in San Diego, drinking... a lot and laughing our asses off.

We got up WAY before the ass crack of dawn, walked down to the shore, dragged some beach chairs to the water, and waited and waited, and watched the sun rise over the serene Atlantic.

We hiked through a very youthful primeval forest on the central Californian coast, careful to avoid banana slugs, holding hands.

Dressed in plastic, we dashed through torrential rains in Hawaii, hurrying back to our hotel, splashing and laughing like little kids.

We've fought at the very worst times.

We made out like teenagers... very recently.

After you've been with someone a while, it becomes difficult for "I Love You" to sound any different from "I'm on the phone" or "Can you do the dishes". There's nothing special about it. And shouting it from the rooftops or saying "I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY LOVE YOU!" seems kind of silly; you already got her.

Vicky is a horribly frustrating bitch at times. She's crude and she's insensitive and she's picky and... well, she doesn't get my jokes. It's really hard to explain how someone who pisses you off can be someone you care about more than anything. How someone who can downright embarrass you is someone you are dying to kiss. But I've spent a lot of time lately, thinking about just how lucky I've been to find her and how very much I love her. And I just wanted to let her know...

I think a few of those memories might help.

President Copperfield... or Creutzfeldt ...

And the Amazing Deficit Trick!

(Keep in mind that while they call the Democrats "Tax and Spend", all they do is "Spend Spend Spend"...)

Now, see if you can follow me on this. First, Shrub says the deficit will be $423 billion. Then, he says it's actually only $296 billion! Wow! Much lower! Guess those Republican policies of granting massive tax cuts to the rich and overtaxing the poor and what's left of the middle class and cutting social programs to benefit those Christo-fascist friends of his really really worked! It really has! It's amazing!!!

... You know, except for the fact that the government had a surplus before this bonehead fucked everything up.

So, thanks Shrub. Thanks for running up only the FOURTH largest deficit in history... after you ran up the THIRD... and the SECOND... and the FIRST...

You must be so proud.

Recipe du semaine...

This week, I'm going to give Jenn a break. She's given me this crazy stew-like concoction to make so, I figure, if I go easy maybe she'll give me toast next week... you know, something I can cook!

So, here's the deal this week. Gather yon spaghetti, yon penne, yon linguini - cause we're making tomato sauce! Yep, I've been making my own for years; it's time you joined in. This recipe is pretty easy. But, don't worry, it'll get more difficult when we get to bolognaise!


BASIC TOMATO SAUCE

1 Spanish onion, cut into 1/4_inch dice - if you can't find one, use a nice, big, red one!
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced - I prefer to go crazy with the garlic, throwing in a nearly a dozen!
3 ounces virgin olive oil (extra if you got it)
4 tablespoons fresh thyme (or 2 tablespoons dried)
1/2 medium carrot, finely shredded - the finer the better
2 (28_ounce) cans of tomatoes, crushed and mixed well with their juices
Salt, to taste

Saute the onion and garlic in the olive oil over medium heat until translucent, but not brown (about 10 minutes). For this, you'll want to go with a low heat and take your time (not thyme - that comes later). You're looking for translucence here.

Add the thyme and carrot and cook 5 minutes more or until the carrots are nice and smushy.

Add the tomatoes. Bring to a boil, lower the heat to just bubbling, stirring occasionally for 30 minutes.

Season with salt to taste. You can also kick it up with a little essence. The beautiful thing about this recipe is you can add anything you want. Add meat for a meatier sauce. Add veggies. Add a bunch of mushrooms!

Serve immediately, or set aside for further use. The sauce may be refrigerated for up to one week or frozen for up to 6 months.

Sunrise/Sunset...

I have to tell you about the sunrise I saw this morning.

For some reason, though or because it's been particularly hot, clouds had sunk down low right on top of Santiago Canyon, the road I take to work every morning. The road dips and weaves its way through some of Orange County's last remaining open space, making the commute seem more like a pleasant drive... until you realize where you're going.

This morning, as I entered the hills that Santiago Canyon took me through, the clouds enveloped me and I could barely see the car ahead. Then, taking a turn around a hill, it happened - the ineffable. Suddenly, the powerful, summer sun blasted through the clouds, creating a thick, murky haze all around. Immediately beside you, trees, grass, and rocks were covered with a sheen and everything looked like a memory. The thick haze seemed to block the world of reality. Time slowed.

And, for just a moment, I wanted to pull over and stop and stay in that realm of peace for just a moment, or a thousand years.

But then, I realized I had to return home. Vicky's there... and I also have City of Heroes.

What?, you ask. City of Heroes? What about World of Warcraft???

Yeah... that...

Yes, this weekend, I took the plunge and decided to try another game. After all, my WoW account was running out. The time seemed to be right. I've played other MMORPGs (Massive Multi-player Online Role Playing Games, for the great unwashed) before but nothing has held up like WoW. So, I chose CoH since that has had some nice things said about it, as well.

Playing CoH, you immediately realize what an incredible machine WoW is. WoW got so much right, it's just amazing. Don't get the wrong idea! CoH is a lot of fun. I have three characters set up: a purple behemoth named Vicqui (after my own Vicky but also recalling Phil Hartman), Captain Incongruous, and Commander Cathode. I can't fly, yet, but it's a lot of fun... the only thing is...

Well, there are little things they just didn't get quite right. Like the map and the way missions are given out and how some things just aren't intuitive enough. See, WoW is so god-damned polished, you just don't run into that. So, I've really gained an appreciation. And I'll play WoW again, to be sure.

Amazing how reality pulls you back into the world - and the things it uses as hooks...

Things you don’t learn until you’re married… again…

There are things I should know, I really should know. I mean, you would think that, being in my second married, I would have an absolute advantage at this. I would medal.

But that’s not always the case.

You see, I’m learning that Vicky is undergoing some amount of stress as a result of her coming CLA exam.

“I’m stressed,” she says.

“I’m really fucking stressed,” she bellows.

“Blood! Now! I must feed!” Sometimes, it’s like she’s a different person.

Men and women tackle stress very differently, I’m learning. For instance, when a guy is stressed, he usually says, with a smile, “Yes, this is a very stressful situation. Thanks for asking. Love ya. Try the veal.”

But a women, in the same circumstance, is also likely to smile and rip your arm off… as a hint…

So, here’s what I’m trying to do for my bride. “Walking,” I suggested, to her overly unimpressed visage. “I could take you for a walk and, hopefully, lose some weight. I could take you for a walk and, hopefully, fit in my clothes again. It’s all for you.”

What I didn’t realize is just how stressed women get. Vicky was as stressed as a woman pregnant… for 17 ½ years. “Yes, I’m in my 53rd trimester – GET IT THE FUCK OUT! NOW!!”

She turned to me with this wild look in her eye, the kind you see hyenas give on nature shows. Scribbled notes and papers filled with highlighter marks flew around her. Her scream shattered the windows, next door. “You want me to walk?! I’m trying to create the world here! The world! And God didn’t leave his fucking notes!!”

I patted down my singed hair and backed away. “I’ll just let you study, then.”

Fat Daddy... not so much Daddy...

A couple of things...

Some of you may know I used to be an actor. I use the phrase "used to be", not because I wouldn't really love to act again, but because it's been so long - who am I kidding?

I've had a lot of excuses why I couldn't do any acting in a while. I've been very busy, for instance. I had a pending job, was another quality one. I forgot, was a perennial favorite.

Well, I have a new one. I got an email last night from Stephanie, telling me about an "honestly can't pass this up" kind of audition... and I honestly can't pass it up... except, there's one problem. I'm fat. I'm horrifically fat. I'm so fat that when I go outside in a yellow raincoat, people call out "Hey Taxi!" I'm registered with the National Seismological Institute as a possible threat. You see where I'm going with this?

And it's not I'm a pig. Hell, I've cut back significantly on my piggishness! I'm active. I eat right... ish. I hardly engage in "fatness inducing" behavior. All I can guess is that I have a horribly slow metabolism. I have the metabolism of a lazy snail... with absolutely no motivation.

It's sucks, is all I'm saying.

So, do I want to roll up onto the stage again, possibly threatening small children and structural integrity?

... We'll see.

And here's the other thing, which is in no way related (in case you're wondering), I really want to be a Daddy. Swear to God and what the hell's wrong with me?

The minute I can't have sex anymore - it's been like 50 or so years since Vicky's surgery - I want the one thing you get from really successful fucking. Ain't the mind a bitch?

I'm just saying.

What the Schwarzen?...

How is it remotely possible that the Guvenator is leading in the polls for California Governor?

I mean, sure, we Californians have a tendency to like Nazis in the Governor's office - Reagan, the "Duke", Wilson - but, seriously, do people have to be so literal?

A fire next time?...

Not bloody likely, unless we get to nuke ourselves before we melt the icecaps... which gives us a couple of years or so.

... Possible.

Anyway, if you'd like to see the wonderful things massive flooding can do for you - be it through the mysterious hocus pocus of global warming or the HARD FACTUAL SCIENCE of GOD - check out this online tool I just found. It uses Google Maps to show you how much a given area would flood by just raising the sea level a meter or so.

Enjoy.

Don't forget your water wings!

A few other things this morning...

MSN.com leads off this morning by asking if seven is too young to have a credit card.

At what point did it become fashionable to ask stupid questions?

When I was a kid, you were told, "Don't ask such stupid questions." Then, as a young man, I heard, "There are no stupid questions." Somewhere during my adulthood, the chant changed to "Stupid questions? Bring 'em on!"

So, I was driving to work today and saw posters for a benefit concert in Silverado Canyon. The concert is to help preserve the last bits of open space in Orange County (the last few feet) and will be held on July 15th. I know there aren't too many readers down here in "the OC" but I thought I'd provide a link for you.

Now, if I can get Vicky to stop hating me by then...

So, I'm driving to work today and I notice several cars with the phrase "GO FRANCE" plastered onto their sides, backs, etc.

I nearly drove off a cliff... if I could find one.

Am I losing my mind or is the United States just losing its focus? Wasn't France just the enemy? Just a few minutes ago? Weren't we just selling "Freedom Fries" and "Freedom Toast" on Capitol Hill and scorning the French for their so-called sympathy for the terrorists? (I swear we were but the Internets appear to be expunged of such information.)

So, now France is out friend and... why? Because they won a soccer match. Well, hell folks. If we're going determine our allies by soccer match, we better get ready for a lot of middle-eastern countries. They play soccer, you know.

Or, perhaps, we should just admit how foolish we've been. And, while we're at it, stop giving seven year-olds credit cards.

Making mistakes...

There's a whole lot I don't write about on this blog. Some things are best left private.

For instance, I don't talk about the inner workings of my marriage. As any married person knows, there's a reason why you don't want to know what goes into hot dogs. Am I right or am I right?

Well, fuck that for a second because I'm pissed.

I wrote an entry earlier about the recipe from last week. I wrote it and there was a mistake in it.

First, let me tell you about the mistake. I wrote "I'll spoil the surprise now and tell you that I used chicken, because I just find it easier to BBQ. " Now, this implies that I did the BBQ'ing. In fact, my wife did. She barbequed the chicken. Now, the statement is factually accurate - I did use chicken and I do find it easier to BBQ, I just prefer not to - but the implication, as I mentioned, was incorrect.

So, I'm sitting at my desk, minding my own business, when I get this phone call from Vicky (she was upstairs - don't ask), who just read the entry, just going off on me because I made that mistake. This is my wife, ladies and germs. She loves to point out my flaws and does it often and - it's times like this that I'm glad I'm not a religious man because I can avoid hypocricy - so help me I just want to smack her. I'm really glad I have a flight of stairs between her and me right now.

So, there you go. I told her I'd write a retraction for my grevious error and here it is... now, I'm going out to buy a pack of cigarettes...

A wheel of wine...

This story goes back to somewhere around January 2003. I was dating Deanna at the time. Both of us were wine lovers and, for fun, she bought me a "wine wheel", which showed which foods went with which wines. It was really neat.

(Parenthetically, I should add that I tend to gravitate towards those kind of women - the wrong kind of women - the kind of women who would express their affection by purchasing gifts. I'll take a wet, sloppy kiss... I said kiss!... any day. I don't know why I tend towards such women but there it is. And, yes, Vicky is this way, too.)

Anyway, the wine wheel was very cool... and, of course, I lost it. DAMN!

And I could have used it this weekend, when we were eating a bunch of different stuff and paring our wines by selecting which was closest or which ones we weren't "saving"...

I told Vicky that I was sure they must have something like the wheel online and... you guessed it: HERE IT IS!

I hope you find it as useful as I... and I hope I don't lose it...

Recipe the second...

Yes, I'm back from a long Independence Day holiday weekend - that holiday in the US where we honor booze, slacking, and sleeping in...

We also made the recipe for the week, featured last week on Jenn's blog. (You're keeping up, aren't you?)

Here's the recipe, in case you forgot:

"Halibut" in Lemon-Ginger Marinade

2 lbs halibut steaks (1 in thick) - this might be good with chicken or salmon if halibut isn't on sale.

Lemon-Ginger Marinade
1T finely minced lemon zest
1/3 C freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/4 C dry white wine or dry vermouth
3 T flavorless cooking oil
2 T thin soy sauce
1 T Oyster Sauce
1/4 Tsp freshly ground black pepper
1/4 C Minced green onions
1 T Very finely minced ginger - for this Jenn used a Rachel Ray trick. She peeled the ginger (about an inch of ginger) then squished it with my knife to release the flavors and stuck it in the marinade. This releases all the ginger flavor without all the mess.
2 cloves garlic, finely minced

Combine all the marinade ingredients. At least 10 minutes but not more than 30 minutes prior to cooking, pour the marinade over the halibut and turn it to evenly coat. Keep refrigerated.

Cook "halibut" either via grill, broil, bake - however you want.

There you go... but first, a little background.

We cooked this on Monday night, which was not necessarily a great day for me. I didn't sleep the night before so my brain wasn't really what you might call "connected". So, I proceeded with caution.

This being a marinade, I just chopped, poured, and scooped everything right into a zip-lock bag. I'll spoil the surprise now and tell you that I used chicken, because I just find it easier to BBQ. (NOTE: Correction. See the "Making mistakes" entry later today.) We purchased a couple of these incredible, organic chicken breasts from Henry's and were good to go.

So, I began.

Lemon zest... how do you finely mince zest? It's tough! I took my smallest paring knife and just chopped the shit to death!

Lemon juice... having zested the lemon, I rolled it and squeezed the crap out of it - nearly 1/3 cup!

White wine... We picked up a bottle of Kendall Jackson chardonnay and found that it was more fruity than dry. Not a bad wine, though, and we used it anyway.

Cooking oil... pretty much self-explanatory.

Soy sauce... again, a no-brainer.

Oyster sauce... Vicky and searched the "asian foods" section of our supermarket and found two bottles hidden amongst a community of sauces. Not knowing what the hell oyster sauce is, we just bought the one that looked "more asian".

Black pepper... rather than buy another sauce, I threw in some black pepper and (diverging from the recipe) a heavy pinch of essence.

Green onions... chop chop choppity chop chop, and we're done.

Minced ginger... I had no idea what Rachel Ray's trick was so I took some fresh ginger and, again, chopped the hell out of it.

Garlic... yeah! Chopity fucking chop! Done!

So, all of this was thrown into a zip-lock bag, along with the chicken breasts. All the air was squeezed out and the whole thing coated the chicken. (And with how hot it's been in southern California, how dare I say "coat"!)

Following Jenn's instructions, I only let this marinade for half an hour - but I think I'll let it go for an hour next time for more punch.

These breasts barbequed up so nicely - plump and juicy - yum! We served it with some barbequed corn and had a nice dinner outside. Mind you, we ate around 9pm because that was when it was finally cool enough to go outside... hating this summer.

Stay tuned next week!

Global Warming: It's not happening and look at all the benefits it brings!...

I hope you'll pardon the sarcasm but today's article on Yahoo made me want to wretch.

Global warming is a serious threat facing everyone on the planet and it's an insult to all those being adversely affected by it (ie. humanity) deny it, which politicians and the corporate media like to do, or to play like it is somehow a good thing.

One day, history is going to look back at us and our time, our waste and selfishness, and portray those of our generation as a pile of puke.

Things I do when most people are sleeping…

It’s pretty late but I’m still up. Most of you are sleeping, I’m sure. I’m still up thanks to my continuing animosity towards sleep. Sleep doesn’t treat me right. Sleep isn’t my friend. For most people, sleep comes along and brings them slumber but, for me, it’s a different story.

Tonight has been the return of the “voices” for me. Voices deep in my head and tonight, they’s a’talkin’. As usual, of course, they’re speaking some language that was never offered in high school or any college I visited, read about, or attended. You’d think if they were going to talk so loudly, they’d speak English, but they don’t. And, damn, do they yell!

Now, they’re only yelling once every half hour or so, so it’s not that bad – but when you hear voices yelling at you inside your head, once every half hour or so is bad enough.

They get so loud, I can’t really do anything. It’ll be fortunate if this entry is readable and, if so, hosanna in the highest about that. (This is America, where religion is mandated in our blogs, so…)

Anyway, I was fortunately enough to have a show to watch. Vicky had tivo’ed (he said, using it as a verb) the Independence Day holiday’s Prairie Home Companion Special for me so I got to stay up and watch that. (“Go to”???) I’m a sucker for Garrison Keillor’s show and I love seeing it, not just listening to it, so I enjoyed it greatly.

Now, Vicky’s doing great after her surgery. She’s up and around and doing everything you’d imagine a woman doing… except… well… And, of course, once we got married that pretty much stopped anyway but a full stop is hard to take. I hear we should get some gas in the engine by August but bits of anatomy could drop off by then…

I leaned over to my poor, suffering bride – suffering from this pain in her back – yesterday and asked if I could kiss her. Torrid romantic that she is, she looked thoughtful for a minute and replied with all the lust and verve of a woman hopelessly in love, “I guess.”

I love that pain in the ass.

Anyway, so I’m watching TV tonight. One of Keillor’s guests is Meryl Streep. Now, I must confess that, being an American male has meant a great under appreciation for all things Streep. I liked “Out of Africa” for its soundtrack. I love “Defending Your Life” because it’s an Albert Brooks film. I love “Manhatten” because it’s a Woody Allen film. She just can’t win.

So, she’s on the stage and I’m watching the show… and I suddenly realize how beautiful this woman is. In her 50’s, she is radiant in a very real, honest way. Granted, I don’t want to immediately tear her clothes off. She’s not that kind of woman. She’s the kind of woman you want to slow dance with under the stars, walk along the moonlight discussing Bergman films… and then, tear her clothes off.

But, as I say, things around here have been slow.

And, worse, I’m not sleeping.

So, I write this while trying to decide if I want to take a walk or… I don’t know. Lack of sleep plays hell with her eye sight and then your mind starts to wander so any kind of “doing” anything is pretty much out of the question.

Used to be, whenever this happened, I would take a large bottle of scotch and a pack of cigarettes and drink those voices into submission. But I am a married man now with duties and responsibilities… and a wife who doesn’t appreciate those shenanigans…

Hope you sleep well.

Not a fan site... just an incredible simulation...

Okay, so I haven't made my drool-drenching lust of all things Grandaddy the best kept secret in town. I'm aware of that!

They've got a new video out, which may be their last. (Fambly Cat was their last album.) So, enjoy it here. It looks like it was made with cheap Flash animation, which adds a certain late-90's charm.

The book I'd write if only I could draw...

I've been blessed by a sort of prolific breeze this past year. I've been pumping out books like an off-shore derrick but much safer.

One interesting (or so I think) new wrinkle is how quickly my mind gets finished with a book long, long before I actually... get finished with a book. That said, I hit the 60,000 word mark today and I figured that gave me permission to tell you the most recent tale banging away at my noggin.

Usually, I'd write the story but this isn't a story with words or, at least, not with many. In fact, I don't really know what this story is about.

But I'll tell you how it goes. If I was to write it, I'd draw it out, like a children's book for adults, or I'd film it in black and white.

The story goes like this.

There's this couple, you see. They're very much in love. One day, one of them dies and leaves the other terribly unhappy. But, also, in another universe, the other person dies and the opposite one is very unhappy.

Through this sadness, the two people find each other. Actually, it's the sadnesses that finds each other; the two people don't know anything about it. The sadnesses wind their way through the universes and very nearly touch. They are separated by the gossamer veil that holds the two universes apart.

Miraculously, though, little bits of each universe find their way to each other. The man loses his watch and, as it slips through the gossamer veil, she finds it and it reminds her of him. She loses her necklace and it, too, slips through. And as they find these things, their sadness and the burning love they still feel for each other starts to work away at this veil separating the two universes.

Soon, they can hear the other's voice. They can see mirage images of the other. All their friends tell them they're crazy. They become institutionalized, medication, discouraged, but still, through all of that, their love and the terrible sadness of being apart, remains their own, personal truth.

Finally, when everyone in their world has given up on them, called them crazy, rejected the possibility of this extraordinary bond, the veil breaks - it's torn aside - and the universes crash together in an incredible, cataclysmic event that only lasts for a second.

Then, the two universes put themselves right. The two lovers are shunted away - into their own universe. One where they were never apart. One where they are happy and loved and in the place where they belong.

It's a fairy tale.

Just thought I'd share it with you.

Who Killed The Electric Car?...

It's a murder mystery and my feeling is we all done it.

Crap...ple...

Yep. It's day three.

This time, I stirred in twice the honey and I added a little water, believing that would dilute it... somehow...

It took two swallows but I got it down and then... um... wait...

Actually, it wasn't that bad. Oh, it sucked, of course. It was like sucking on the teat of Mama Putridity, but it was no worse than anything from McDonalds.

So, I finally found the formula. Now, let's see if any health benefits ensue.

Much else has been going on in my little world as well.

The book's coming along nicely. I hit 58,000 words today and I believe I'm on schedule for finishing this up in August. It's a long, strange trip. Focusing so closely on emotions, I find myself closer to these characters than usual in a way I experience when I'm acting, strangely enough. I've probably mentioned before that this is easily the most "mainstream" (whatever that is) book I've ever written. It's also like one of those relationship movies you can settle back into and just watch the people be people - that's the way it is to me, at least. You're not waiting for the next action sequence; you're enjoying spending time with them. (That's what I'm hoping for, at least!)

Vicky is doing much better, to my great and eternal relief. She's walking the dog and driving and will be returning to work. As frustrating as she is - and she is! - I think back to the day of the operation and how fearful I was of losing her and realize how much I love her.

I helped Sean collect recyclable material in his complex last weekend. It was hot and dirty work but it was good work, just the same. And it was nice to be volunteering, something I do far too little of! I'll be back again this weekend - collecting recyclables, playing catch. Who the hell am I?

Maybe I asked that too soon because I'm also contemplating another change. Yes, after several years, my World of Warcraft account is coming up and I'm not going to renew it. Well, I won't renew it right away. I'm considering switching over to the City of Heroes experience and getting a taste of that for a while... that is, if Vicky will let me...

Did you catch that?...

It was six o'clock. I was at Big 5 Sporting Goods... and I was looking at mitts.

It was a unique experience for me. In fact, I realized I had never bought a new mitt before and an eight year-old part of me was bouncing excitedly. (No, not that part.) I had no idea how mitts were sized and I did not want help from the sales person, no matter how cute she was... especially because she was cute! Then, I noticed that dimensions (12", 13 1/2", 14") are printed on each glove. Ah ha!

And that's about when Sean came in. I'd emailed Sean with the idea of playing catch, expecting that same "Who are you and what did you do with Ken?" reaction I'd gotten from Vicky. But he loved the idea, which made me worried that he'd be a lot better than me. (He was.) But he didn't know how to find the size of the mitt. I said, "Look at the dimensions on the glove," like the old pro that I was.

I found a dark brown mitt that looked really... cool.

Fifty dollars later, we walked out with mitts and a softball. (I wanted a baseball... but oh well.)

Sean has this "green belt" at his complex. Green belts are new to me. They are, apparently, patches of grass that are too small to be a park and too large to be a yard. Okay... whatever. Anyway, after we parked, we walked over to the green belt. We walked with intent.

See, I was pretty much sure I'd make an ass of myself. I've never been good at sports. When I played baseball as a kid, I had to be put in the "designated hitter" position, because I could hit like nobody's business but I couldn't catch to save my life. Actually, I wasn't so much "put" in the position as it was "invented" for me. Seriously, my double vision (a result of bad genes, not booze) made it almost impossible for me to catch. (Why, then, could I bat? It's a long story.) (I'll spare you.)

Before we got to the green belt, I threw the ball about two feet into the air and caught it. "There," I said. "Now, you can't say I didn't catch anything." Always the comic.

We moved several yards away. I brought my arm back and thought, "You'd better not look like a girl. Not for the first throw." I knew if I thought about that, I would throw like a girl - so I immediately put my mind on something else... the sales person at the store. (I'm a horrible human being.)

With my mind filled with boobs, I threw it. It felt good. It felt right. It went straight to Sean and hit his mitt with a satisfying SMACK.

Okay! This was good!

He threw it back. I caught it. I threw it. He caught it. Over and over again. We eventually moved much further apart, heaving the ball high up into the air in dramatic arcs until, a half hour later, I was winded and sweaty and... "Hey, let's get a drink!"

We went inside for just a minute, while I talked to Megan. Sean only gave me a minute... then, we were back out again. We threw for another half hour and, in that time, our arms grew weaker and weaker. I made one throw that was so girlish, I knew it even as I threw it! Sean said, "What the hell was that?" "Tired arm," I simply replied.

I was drenched with sweat by the time we were done. Hey, it was about 90 degrees (Fahrenheit to all you folks outside the states). It was hot out there!

But it felt really good and I had a great time. We're going to do it again on Friday.

Then, I'll get Vicky a glove, too, and we can start playing catch. (Once her back is better, of course.)

Oh, by the way, when I got home, I immediately started playing a little World of Warcraft. I haven't gone completely crazy.

Love your what?...

One of the most radical teachings of Jesus was "love thy enemy". Check out Matthew, chapter 5: But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.

Tricky stuff.

Buddhism teaches the same thing. In fact, you'd be hard-pressed to find a major religion that does not, at least in theory, suggest that it might be a good idea.

(The only exception I'm running into on this is Islam. Now, I haven't spent a great deal of time with the Koran but I seem to remember something like this in there somewhere. You readers might be able to set me right.)

So, when all's said, it's not an idea that hasn't gotten around. Why, then, do people have such a hard time with it? Well, we're humans to start.

But we can't write it off due to "instinct" or something. Otherwise, what's the point of attempting this experiment we call "civilization". Of course, it's hard. It's supposed to be hard.

Tell you what. Let's start with something basic. Maybe you can't love your enemies. Maybe you can't make them soup when they're sick or send them flowers. But what if we tried not bombing them? What about that? How about if we didn't indiscriminately slaughter them? Can we do that?

I'm having a hard time with it, myself, this whole "loving" thing. So, I've been trying to remind myself that each person who is my enemy is, when you get down to it, a person just like myself. They've all experienced sorrow and pain. Their world isn't cheesecake and roses. So, I've been trying to feel some empathy for that part of their lives.

Do they do mean things and are they sometimes hurtful? Sure. But so am I. So are we. Right?

It's a long road but it's one I find I have to start going down. Otherwise, what do I have but hate? And I don't want hate because that makes me feel crappy. Taken that way, I might be being selfish. I just want to feel better and have a good time so I'm going to stop hating and work on the loving part.

The reason I keep getting back to this is because more and more, behind all of the news about the war and the horrible ecological disasters we're causing and the anal raping of the Constitution that's going on all the time these days, I begin to see this culture of hate spreading out all around me. And I don't like it. People hate illegal immigrants and muslims and gays and brown people and the poor Iraqis who never did anything to deserve their position and more and more. People in power are doing a great job at spreading all of this hatred and I really believe that it's up to us - in our homes and in our work places, at schools and churches - to take a stand against hatred. And aim at that whole "love" thing.

It could work. It certainly hasn't been tried.

Having a catch...

I'm nearly 2/3 of the way through the book. Things are really coming together. Max and Arthur are bonding by playing catch, not because they love it but because they're both so inept about it. Max actually has to look up how to throw a ball (without looking like a girl) in the Internet.

(That's all I'm writing about the book - I promise!)

Do the research for this and actually writing about playing catch stirred something in me... and it was rather uncomfortable.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I've never been the most athletic guy. Aside from being on the track team in high school, I've never excelled at just about any sport. In fact, I don't much like sports. I've always been more a resident of the mind, my body being a delivery system for martinis.

But then, this thought crept up on me... what would it be like to have a catch? I mean, crap, that's something I haven't done since I was too young to be out after the streetlights were on! I was never very good at it. I won't say for certain that I threw like a girl but I do know it wasn't pleasurable. It was so long ago, I struggle to remember the mechanics!

But the thought of a baseball in my hand, throwing it, the feel of the it coming back and smacking my mitt... foreign thoughts but why not? Why not take a detour from the neighborhood of the mind and see what this fad of physical activity is all about?

So, I asked Vicky last night. "Wanna have a catch?" I proposed it as a sort of back exercise regimen. After all, it is kind of a full-body exercise. She looked at me like I was crazy but she didn't say "No". I even asked Sean if he'd like to have a catch sometime.

Hey, this might become my next, big thing. I might love this!

I might also find that I throw like a girl and learn that I should never, ever do that.

Knowing is half the battle...

You're not really there...

I was going to write more about religion, about "loving" one's enemies, today... and I still might. I was going to write about how the book was coming and playing catch... and I still might.

But then, I got a look at this and it reminded me why I think science is so fucking cool. There it is, your general, retail-priced, laundry day hydrogen atom. The proton looks like a planet and the electron is represented by a single pixel. At this scale, the distance between the two is equivalent to eleven miles! Not a small walk!

This is what the physicists and the Buddhists mean when they say you're not really there. Nothing exists. There is no solid matter, just the interplay of forces so mysterious they might as well be... God.

It's a lot like what you're reading right now. The words don't really exist; they are but electronic signals shuttling around on horny electrons. Vibrations pass along wires and signals through the air and become my words as close as the screen before me and as far as the other side of the planet - and more. No words here, just energy, just vibration, all passing incredible distances of nothing, over and over.

Hope that helps put you on solid ground... even if it isn't...

An apple a day, keep it away!...

Day 2 of the Apple Cider Vinegar disaster. Yes, I know. Day 1 was about a week ago - these things take time!

For the uninitiated, here's our story so far. Imbibing a couple of tablespoons of apple cider vinegar every day is supposed to be good for you. It's suppose to have a whole slew of health benefits. Being someone who has abused my body for most of my life, I thought I'd give that plane a ride... until I took my first dose and promptly wanted to die!

And now, today's story...

So, I'd read how you're supposed to infuse it with some honey to take out the sting. With this in mind, I poured a couple of tablespoons of vinegar into a tea cup, got a spoonful of honey - that's a 2:1 ratio, for those paying attention - and began to stir it in.

Now, I'm a firm believer in the idea of life as meditation. Anything you do can be a meditation: work, play, sex... even stirring honey into a cup of toxic waste. And so, I stirred and stirred, and I meditated. First, I thought about how god-awful it smelled. Holy crap. I was going to drink that? Then, I considered the many ways I'd benefit from it. It helps boost the immune system, cleans toxins out of your body, helps control weight... because you'd never want to eat anything after smelling this... Okay, calm down. I thought of something else. I thought, "I'm actually going to drink this again?"

That was it. I steeled up my nerve and gave the cup a few more stirs. Then, without a thought, I downed the mixture.

And it wasn't so bad with the honey. It was actually very passable. It -

Suddenly, the left side of my face tried to tear itself away from the right side of my face.

I held onto the counter and tried not to fall down.

Honey didn't just cover the taste, it delayed the effect... we're gonna need a bigger boat.

Stay tuned for Day 3... maybe next week...

So, just how broken is our Army?...

If anyone doubted the sorry condition of our Army after its failure to meet recruitment goals year after year, while they burn through the guys they have, well, maybe this will enlighten you:

They've moved their maximum recruitment age to 42. 42. They'll take people MY AGE (and then some). The idea of me, or any of my high school friends, being responsible for defending... Shrub's failed policies... is a terrifying one, indeed!

But this gives me the opportunity to say something I've been wanting to say for a while. For all those guys my age who are so gung-ho about going to war but - darn! - just can't get in the Army because they're just too darned old... now's your chance! Go ahead! If you're so much in love with Shrub's illegal war, go help him grab some oil to make his family richer! Go! If you are so empty that hatred towards people who never did anything against you (keeping in mind that Iraq and 9/11 - if you believe in that - aren't linked in the slightest) is the only thing you've got, go ahead!

Really. With my blessings.

Just stop sending innocent kids.

More bad ideas from a guy with a sense of humor...

You want to know what I like? Here's what I like: People find me hard to pin down. I'm a spiritual atheist, and that gives some people a headache. "You're a what? How's that possible?" I wrote a book called Revelations, about the love of God, and a play called Atheists, about faithful people who can't love.

And then, I sat back and watched heads explode.

Okay... maybe not.

But I've been a spiritual person my whole life, sometimes more than others. When I was a born-again Christian (go take the aspirin now), I wasn't very spiritual. I tended to follow blindly a lot of what I was told. Becoming an atheist opened me up to my spiritual side.

Mind you, some people can't get past the title: ATHEIST. They fear for my immortal soul, yada yada yada. Nothing to worry about, I say. I'm just fine.

And then, I write things like I posted the other night. (See "Let's try this for a change...") The kingdom of heaven is in what? Cheese???

But it gets worse, and this is where I begin to chuckle. You see, I then forwarded that on to my mom, who has never grown comfortable with my spiritual beliefs... actually, she hates it. I send her an article I write about the kingdom of heaven being in a slice of Kraft Singles... why?

I guess because that's what spirituality is all about, to me. I'm not very fond of the dogmatic. I believe in leaving enough room in your spirituality for doubt, for investigation, for other people's beliefs - to open yourself up enough to the void, to the mystery, to say, "I can see the Christ, the Brahman, the Buddha nature within even those who hate me" is a virtuous goal. I'm not there, yet. I'm far from there.

I'm starting with cheese.

Recipe Du Jour... but for next week...

Yes, it's that time again. This week's recipe... for next week... (For those of you still confused watch this space... and this space... for reviews.)

More Cajun cuisine this week in the form of one of my favorite jambalaya recipes. It's easier than you might think and makes a ton - WARNING: It makes a ton!

ANDOUILLE AND CHICKEN JAMBALAYA

1/2 cup vegetable oil
3 cups chopped onions
1 cup chopped bell peppers
3 teaspoons salt
1 1/4 teaspoons cayenne
1 pound andouille, chorizo, or other smoked sausage cut crosswise into ¼ inch slices
1 1/2 pounds boneless white and dark chicken meat, cut into 1 inch cubes
3 bay leaves
3 cups medium-grain white rice
6 cups water
1 cup chopped green onions

Heat the oil in a large cast-iron Dutch oven (read: very large pot) over medium heat. Add the onions, bell peppers, 2 teaspoons of the salt and 1 teaspoon of the cayenne. Stirring often, brown the vegetables until they are caramelized and dark brown in color. Scrape the bottom and sides of the pt to loosen any browned particles. Add the sausage and let that brown, too, scraping the bottom and sides of the pot to loosen any browned particles.

Season the chicken with the remaining 1 teaspoon salt and remaining 1/4 teaspoon cayenne (or whatever tastes good). Add the chicken and the bay leaves to the pot. Brown the chicken for 8 to 10 minutes, scrapping the bottom of the pot to loosen any browned particles. (Those brown bits add the flavor!)

Add the rice and stir for 2 to 3 minutes to coat it evenly. Add the water, stir to combine, and cover. Cook over medium heat for 30 to 35 minutes, without stirring, or until the rice is tender and the liquid has been absorbed. (If you need more water, add more water.) Remove the pot from the heat and let stand, covered for 2 to 3 minutes. Remove the bay leaves. Stir in the green onions and serve.

The great thing about this recipe is that it looks like you did a lot of work but you really didn't. I think it tastes great with lots and lots of spice (remember the "essence" recipe?). Also, did I mention it makes a ton of food?

Let's try this for a change...

More Bible readings from your neighborhood atheist.

In the book of Luke, chapter 17, verses 20-21, Jesus is asked when the kingdom of God would come. He says (and I paraphrase) that it won't come here there or anywhere because (and this is closer to the translation) the kingdom of God is within you.

The kingdom of God is within you.

Now, according to this story, Jesus is asked this by a group of people who are persecuting him. He's not asked by his best friends or by some cute girl. He's asked by people who want to shut him down, who don't like him. He says, "The kingdom is within you." That guy. That person. You, the one who doesn't like me very much.

Let's bring this to today.

The kingdom is within.... Cardinal Roger Mahoney of Los Angeles? Sure, that sounds easy enough. The kingdom is within Cardinal Mahoney. The kingdom is within... Vicky? Of course, the kingdom is within Vicky. The kingdom is within... me? Me? An atheist? Me? You bet. The kingdom is within me, too.

Let's push this a little further. The kingdom of God is within ignorant warmongers living in the White House. The kingdom of God is within imaginary terrorists in the Middle East. The kingdom of God is within a shrub and a tree and a piece of cheese and an ant. There. It's right there. Spread out before you like a Garden of Eden.

Lost yet?

The Gospel of Thomas has a slightly different take on all of this. It says, "(The kingdom) will not come by watching for it. It will not be said, 'Look, here!' or 'Look, there!' Rather, the Father's kingdom is spread out upon the earth, and people don't see it."

So, maybe this habit of ours of looking at others and hating them and killing them is probably not what Jesus meant. Maybe this habitual pursuit of happiness, stuff, and a bargain isn't quite what he had in mind.

Just a thought...

There's a reason they call him the boss...

Bring 'em Home!

This is how they protect you...

Those bastions of civil service, the Republican party, continue to show their true colors. More and more every day, we see what dispicable hooligans they are.

Now, they don't want to extend the voting rights act, something that is so common sense it shouldn't even need consideration! Equal rights should be the law of the land, not the whim of a select few - who now don't seem to have that whim at all.

Make no mistake, there's no way this won't go through, but it is the continued grand-standing of the Repubs to appeal to their base, founded on intolerance and hatred, that is so appalling.

There's a petition going around if you feel compelled to sign it.

Thank You, Lt. Watada...

Many of you know that I've been against this illegal war since the very beginning. I've taken a lot of flack for that, not supporting crimes against humanity, but it's been relatively harmless.

Not like the kind of flack someone can get for doing something honorable in the face of such madness.

Now, I've always been against blindly "supporting the troops". They're not machines. They can throw down their weapons at any time.

Like Lt. Watada.

Taken from his web site: U.S. Army First Lieutenant Ehren K. Watada reported to duty at 2:00 a.m. early this morning, Thursday, June 22nd and refused orders to move to the adjacent McChord Air Force Base to prepare to fly to Iraq. Lt. Watada believes that the war and occupation in Iraq are illegal, and thus participation in the war is also illegal.

There's plenty you can do to help.

Thank you, Lt. Watada and for all the other people out there who are showing the United States that common decency is also one of our rights.

They just can't stop breaking the law...

Some president.

You'll be hearing a lot about this. It seems that, since 2001, Shrub's people have not only been illegally tapping your phone lines but they've also been illegally collecting databases of your financial records as well.

Now, when someone tries to tell you, "If you didn't do anything, you shouldn't have anything to be afraid of." think about the thousands of soldiers whose personal information has been leaked. Do you really want the same thing to happen to your ATM pin code, Visa number, etc?

I thought not.

Shrub is the terrorist we should be at war against.

Happy Happy Joy Joy...

Wait... wrong cartoon. How about: Bite My Shiny Metal Ass...

From the dead, it returns. I've been secretly sacrificing imaginary, baby magical puppies in the hopes that this day would come!

... Now, the waiting begins....

I don't want a coffee mug...

This is one of those One Paths that I had to think about for a while before writing it. It's bound to make some people say, "Oh God, is he still on that!" I'm afraid the answer is yes... but I should tell you what this is about first... (I said I thought about it. I didn't say I knew how to put it!)

You see, I'm getting the look again.

What look? The look!

I got it before, back when Rosa and I were together. We'd visit with her friends and they'd give me this look that said, "Aw, isn't he a sweetheart? He's such a good husband." Sometimes, the look would even say, "Maybe if I gave my husband a transfusion with his blood..."

Back then, I'd eat this shit up. I loved being the husband everyone wanted... even if Rosa didn't. I loved being admired for something that came so easily to me.

But you long-time readers know how that turned out. In the final analysis, I wasn't the perfect husband. My marriage was not that enviable. I failed - and it took me five years to be able to live with that.

And now, it's happening again. Wednesday, at the hospital, Vicky's friends, Trish and Paula, were giving me that look while they paid her a visit. And it annoyed me. I mean, they know! Vicky's told them! They know!

Hello! Adulterer here! I already ruined one marriage! I am, in no way, the perfect husband! Don't give me a coffee mug with "World's Greatest Husband" on it!

I mean, we got home the next day and I was already being kind of an ass. I'm not that terrific. I'm a pain to live with! So, cut it out. Seriously. It gives me the creeps, like getting caught in a lie. Even if Vicky and I remain married for the rest of our lives, that won't change the fact. I might be nice to Vic but I'm no Ghandi. (I'm younger, to start.)

Okay, so there you go. I have six weeks of recuperation time when I probably won't be a perfect husband and I just had to get that off my chest.

Get Back... the whole story behind Vicky's surgery...

Okay, maybe not the whole story - but as much as I can tell you. It's now two days later and I'm exhausted. Not "just got spinal surgery" exhausted. More like "my wife just got spinal surgery" tired.

Anyway...

Vicky and I got up a couple of hours before God on Wednesday. Actually, she stayed in bed. I was awake. I was awake for most of the night. Vicky had to get to the hospital by 6:30am, so she slept until 6:00am. "I don't have to put on make-up," she said. "So, I'm sleeping."

We met her dad, Steve, at the hospital, and Vicky was shuttled off to put on her buttless robe. (Consider yourself lucky if you don't know what I'm talking about!) So, we sat... and both of us began to fall asleep - in these horribly uncomfortable and very small chairs. (Ken, it's because you're fat!)

But they let us in soon enough and we all sat in this little room - except for Vicky, who was reclining in her gurney - waiting for the doctor. And, we waited. Vicky watched Designing Women on the TV. And we waited. The doctor was about an hour late... bastard!

But he showed, eventually. Vicky was given a sedagive through her IV and they wheeled her off. But first, I gave her a kiss. It would have been my last kiss ever... I'm glad she survived because the kiss kinda sucked. (You can't really kiss well under those conditions, I guess.)

I had brought some work to keep me busy because, honestly, I was pretty useless at that point. But I also had a father-in-law to... I felt like I was supposed to keep him entertained, keep him busy, help him pass the time. I had no appetite at all - so I took him to breakfast... at Denny's... not my favorite place.

Over breakfast, we played "What to talk about". Vicky's dad is a great guy and I like him a lot but a social butterfly he ain't. He's more like a normal guy; he can stand silence. He lives in that zip code. Me? I need to talk. Fortunately, I learned a long time ago that we can achieve that by asking lots of questions. So, I got him talking and everything was fine.

We finished breakfast, we back to the hospital, sat in the waiting room... and Steve comfortably passed out. And I watched the clock. And I watched the people. And I worked. And I watched the idiots using their cell phones, despite the signs telling you that use of cell phones could kill the patients!... ugh!

But the doctor came out about a half hour early and told us that the surgery went "perfectly". What a relief! All the images of Vicky confined to a wheelchair, of Vicky being a vegetable, of Vicky being dead and leaving me to find some other, young hottie disappeared... Salma Hayak... Jessica Alba... that nurse walking by... all gone! All gone! Seriously, though, I was relieved.

Immediately, I ran outside and started calling Vicky's friends to give them the good news. Nearly an hour later, I was done - Vicky has WAY too many friends.

We were sent up to Vicky's room (private room!) to wait for her. I grabbed all of her luggage and headed up. Steve fell asleep in the chair and I stood and waited. I was standing around a lot that day. But then, I noticed a little hub-bub; Vicky was approaching! I went out to meet her and she was awake and okay! There was my baby! Thank Joe Pesci!

It was almost as if nothing had happened. She had lunch and was used the bathroom on her own! She had a snack and was walking around! She had dinner and visited with friends! Her appetite was just fine!

I was going to spend the night but the chair they equipped the room with was, um, small. (You're fat, Ken!) It wasn't a chair for sleeping in. So, by 7:00pm, I headed home. I cleaned the house a little. I walked the dog. I sent out some emails and made some calls... and before I knew it, it was nearly midnight. The upside of the day, though, was that I'd have the bed all to myself! Oh yeah! I stretched out on the cool sheets and was out in a minute.

I woke up on the floor... the living room floor... downstairs... fucking sleepwalking! I felt like I'd had back surgery as a result of the hard, unforgiving ground. But I was up soon because I had some more house cleaning to do, a dog to walk, and a wife to pick up.

I got to Vicky's room around 11:00am and she was nearly ready to go. It was great seeing her healthy again. Most of her pain was gone gone gone - just like it was supposed to be. Terrific.

Too terrific. Almost immediately, we began fighting. Oh crap. Reality rushes in on you so fast.

We'll be spending the next six weeks living with this. She'll be healing and I'll be taking care of the house, which will look more like a city dump by week five - but I'll try my best.

That evening...

This'll be a short one.

I just got back from a day at the hospital and I'm happy to report that Vicky is doing just fine. She's great. She's up and walking around!

I'll post a full report tomorrow but, for tonight, I'm pretty tired.

G'night.

It is the night before

my surgery and I want everyone to know that I feel great about it. I'm looking forward to being on the road to recovery and hopefully not being in so much pain. Ken on the other hand is nervous enough for both of us. He is very sweet and will be taking good care of me. I am very lucky to have such a wonderful and loving husband.

The day before...

Vicky isn't going to like this very much but I'm going to write it anyway. See, Vicky is a pragmatist to the end. She focuses on the here and now without romanticizing things or letting her mind wander much. Oh, there are downsides to that but it also brings a great deal of strength to our marriage. Me? I'm an idealist - from the root word idea. My flights of fancy take me and I go.

So, as the time approaches for Vicky's surgery, I can't help but think of everything that could happen. You know what I mean. There are a million outcomes and each one plays through my mind, minute by minute.

As we get nearer, I feel my emotions towards her building. I feel an overwhelming need to tell her how much I love her every minute, just in case...

I am very fortunate to be her husband. I love her so much, I can't begin to express it. I'm sure everything will work out fine and she'll be hopping out of bed before I think she's ready and she'll start bitching about stuff and we'll argue - all before next week. But I'd hate to let a moment pass without her realizing how very much she means to me. How she has given me a whole new world in which to thrive. How much my heart swells at the thought of her.

She's getting tired of it, of course. It's that pragmatism thing. Still, this is me.

I love you, Vicky.

Apple Cider (Vinegar) Reconstitution...

Some of you may find me to be a bit of an enigma. After all, I try to eat right and exercise... and I smoke. Yep, quitting smoking didn't exactly "take". On the positive side, I cut back significantly. I probably smoke about a pack every month or two (especially if Clostio visits). But I also try to stay, um, healthy...

My most recent foray into health has to do with apple cider vinegar. Have you read about all the health benefits a little of the stuff provides? It's great stuff!

So, while we were at Henry's this weekend, I picked up a bottle. And, this morning, I took a teaspoon or so. (Truth be told, I just took a swig from the bottle... which is about a teaspoon or two...) Immediately, I pitched over from the pain in my gut and the overwhelming desire to puke! For nearly ten minutes, I was incapacitated by the nastiness of the stuff. How horrid! How can anyone do this? And on a regular basis??

With these questions in mind, I searched the Internets...

I didn't know you were supposed to mix it with honey!

Tomorrow morning - take two!

Truth revisited...

I just got back from the gym and was disgusted to find that the “swift-boating” of John Murtha has begun. Apparently, his injuries while a soldier in Vietnam weren’t bad enough for some people.

Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was talking about truth?

It seems I can’t turn around without someone steaming pile of shit playing erotic asphyxiation with the truth!

Remember, they did the same thing to John Kerry and Max Cleland – and the later lost three limbs as a result of fighting for our country.

Some people just get too threatened when you question their illegal crimes against humanity. Ain’t that right, Shrub?

Who Killed The Electric Car?...

Could it be that the truth is getting out this summer? First An Inconvenient Truth and now this? Color me surprised...

Recipe the first...

Well, here I sit.... stuffed...

Yep, I cooked Jenn's recipe tonight and the short story is that Vicky and I loved it.

For those with short attention spans, here it is:


Chicken with Mustard Mascarpone Marsala Sauce
Recipe courtesy Giada De Laurentiis
Yield: 4 to 6 servings
1 1/2 pounds boneless skinless chicken breasts, each breast cut crosswise into 3 pieces (I just cut the chicken into cubes usually)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil
5 tablespoons butter, divided
/4 cup chopped onion ( I use a whole small onion)
1 pound cremini mushrooms, sliced (I generally quarter them instead of slice them, they hold up better when cooking)
2 tablespoons minced garlic - Yah right, just 2 T...I don't think so. I use 3 med cloves minced
1 cup dry Marsala wine (if you can't find Marsala wine, use a dry white. If you don't cook with wine, use chicken broth or stock)
1 cup (8 ounces) mascarpone cheese
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons chopped fresh Italian parsley leaves
12 ounces dried fettuccine

Vicky always gets home later than me, so I was able to start before she even left work. Oh, I took a minute to IM Jenn and say, "Wish me luck!" You see, new recipes scare me. I'm so afraid of screwing up... well, all the time...

So, I started.

I quartered the mushrooms. Then, I chopped up one small, white onion. Onions usually really bother me but this one didn't. I don't know if white onions are, somehow, less painful but I lucked out. I cut the chicken approximately into cubes - I hate precision in cooking - and my chopping was ready.

Pulling out our largest sauce pan, I put it under a high heat and waited. Remember the old phrase - Hot Pan, Cold Oil, Food Don't Stick. Once the pan was hot, I poured in some olive oil. And once that started smoking, I put in the chicken.

And it stuck - of course. But, oh well. I decided that the stuff stuck to the pan would make for a better sauce. I seasoned and browned the meat and set that aside. Then, I used two tablespoons of butter in the pan and, with that melted, tossed in the onions. As much as I hate chopping onions, I love cooking with onions. They fill the house with such a rich aroma - and the butter only helped. Once those were carmelizing, I tossed in the mountain of mushrooms! This recipe has some serious fungus!

Of course, I couldn't skimp on the garlic. I love garlic! I tossed in two heaping scoops! After about 10-15 minutes, it was really starting to look and smell good.

I'd gone out of my way not to substitute too much. I even found Marsala wine and, of course, poured in well more than a cup of the stuff! Yum! Instead of using dijon mustard, I cheated with some regular honey mustard we had lying around the house. That wasn't bad at all, by the way. And the cheese - oh the cheese.... YUM!

Of course, after that, I just had to cook the paste: Garlic Fettucini! (I nearly typed Fatuccini, which might have been more accurate considering how much I ate!)

I could have tossed the pasta with butter or with the sauce... I did both! I tossed it with butter AND the sauce and I think it tasted better for it!

We were so hungry, I'm ashamed to say we ate it without the parsley! Oh well, maybe next time. It was absolutely decadent, very rich, and we ate far too much.

My thanks to Jenn.

If anyone reading tries it out, let me know what you thought.

Who speaks the truth?...

I just opened Yahoo and saw this story waiting for me.

For those of you not wanting to click the link, the headline reads "Dixie Chicks Bash Patriotism". Is this true? How can this be? Well, it's not true. The fact is, they weren't "bashing patriotism". Rather, they were bashing those Orwellians and spineless apes who portray patriotism to mean "blindly following der Furher."

Look where that has taken us - into a quagmore of an immoral war, into a government that's nearly bankrupt (both morally and financially), into a time when the so-called "compassionate conservatives" make torture and Big Brother tactics the law of the land.

Not a great idea, I'd say.

As if I needed a reminder, today's news was also filled with examples of how this administration has turned diplomacy into bullying and negotiations into threats. Way to go, guys.

Cussing and Dating and Cooking and Dad...

This is going to start and end with my dad. Keith La Celle. A guy I've never really gotten along with but with whom I'm glad to have a relationship.

So, I sent out this email last week about Vicky's surgery and mentioned, in passing, that the new book is positively PG rated. I spoke with my dad yesterday and he said he was really glad about it - he might actually get to read one of my books... finally! See, my dad fucking hates cuss words... oops. But that's kind of the point. See, I use them.

After my dad expressed interest in the new book, I thought I'd take a look at it and see how many cuss words it actually has. I'm at 53,000 words now, so it's of significant size. I thought, "I'll just run a search for the word FUCK." I did.

Did I say PG?

Can I change that to R????

Eeeeghads! It's got 27 fucks - and I'm not nearly done with it!

So, I asked Vicky, as we were driving to our date - we celebrated the second anniversary of our first date yesterday - I asked her if I cuss a lot. It was like asking if the sky is fucking blue. Shit.

Anyway, so we went back to the place where we had our first date: Dave & Busters. Vicky wasn't feeling up to shooting pool - her back, ya know? - but we had a nice dinner. Having dinner with your wife is very different from having dinner on a first date and we had fun joking about that. Then, we went off to the arcade. It was nice. I think I'll date her again. But, soon, her back was hurting her. We're both looking forward to getting her up on the rack and getting her tuned up.

Normally, I wouldn't expect anyone else in the world to know about that. I have this sixth sense that both of my readers don't read that often. Well, I was in for a shock when I installed a site counter - thanks to Jenn - and found that we have more than just a couple of readers here. Anyone else in the world? How about in India? Britain? New Jersey? North Carolina? Texas? And (of course) Oregon and Washington? One is tempted to start saying "You like me!"... but I won't.

I say this to mention that I realize now that not everyone reading knows us very well - and I'll try to keep that in mind in the future.

Not only did Jenn provide me with the counter but we're also doing this "recipe exchange" thing. You probably saw the recipe I gave her. Well, the one she posted was a dilly! I really had to search for the ingredients! We don't have mascarpone cheese and marsala wine and crimini mushrooms around here - at least, they're not easy to find. So, after our date, I drove down to Whole Foods. Oh, thank heaven for Whole Foods... or something. I got all the ingredients and I'll be cooking tonight. (The review will be posted tomorrow.)

Vicky got to bed early and I stayed up to wash dished. I really worry about her. All the parents have been very sweet, though. My mom offered to help out. When I called my dad for father's day, he mostly wanted to know how Vicky was doing. And Steve, well, he (Vicky's dad) will be there with me in the hospital while we wait to see how the surgery turned out. Considering the drive he faces (they don't exactly live nearby), I think that's very nice of him.

I'm thinking of printing out what I have of the new book and bringing it to the hospital with me and performing some surgery of my own. How to perform a fuck-ectomy...

Changes

So I decided that I didn't like the colors of our blog. Ken liked it just fine, but since I am such a princess I had to have it my way. I wanted green...but Ken wanted blue...so I went with another blue layout. It seems to be okay, but I'm not sure about a few things, so I may change it again...

Your movie for the day...

If you like The Andy Griffith Show...

If you like da Da Vinci Code...

If you were lucky enough to grow up on Don Knott's films...

Watch This. It's not short - it's about 1/2 hour long - but it's time well spent.

The Normal Rockwell Code