Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Concerned about Business
I'll not blog tonight, because no one wants to read the ramblings of someone who's afraid that things won't turn out well. I'm concerned about business. Leave it at that.
Monday, October 29, 2007
South African Food
I know nothing about South African food other than what I know about the food my wife and I had tonight. Several months ago, we had dropped in on a small specialty shop just up the street from us and spent time looking at what was advertised as South African food. Ultimately, we bought a metal pouch filled with South African Spicy Durban Curry. Tonight, my wife browned some chicken in a skillet, put the browned bird in a casserole dish, covered it with the contents of the Spicy Durban Curry pouch, and let it cook at 350 for about 30 minutes. Simultaneously, she cooked a cup of white rice. At the appointed hour, we spooned the Durban Curry over the rice and feasted. It was very good! I suspect that, as with most foods, the pre-packaged curry dish is far inferior to the real thing, but we were impressed, nonetheless. So, we have a new direction for our food exploration: South African food. I have never even thought about what might constitute "typical" South African food, but now I know one thing...this pre-packaged curry is tasty stuff! Incidentally, for my own recollection later, the brand name of the stuff we bought is Something South African.
Speaking of food...my chana dal/garbanzo/tomato soup is cooking as I write this and the wonderful odor is driving me insane. I want it now!
Back to the S.A. curry. Here is a curry recipe that I came across, for those interested in meals from scratch.
2lb beef, cubed
2 medium sized onions, chopped
2 T oil
1 tsp salt
Black pepper, to taste
1-2 T curry powder
1 tsp turmeric
1T apricot jam
1/3 cup vinegar
2 tsp sugar
2 tomatoes, skinned and chopped
2 cups water
2 potatoes, peeled and cubed
1/2 cup carrots
1/2 cup peas
Method:
Brown meat and onions in oil.
Stir in salt, pepper, curry powder and turmeric.
Add jam, vinegar, sugar, tomato and water and simmer for 1 1/2 hours.
Add vegetables and cook for 30 - 45 minutes.
Adjust seasoning and serve with rice, chutney, coconut and sliced banana.
Here's another recipe that is, ostensibly, an authentic S.A. curry:
1 teaspoon ghee
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon fresh ground pepper
1/4 teaspoon paprika
12 boneless skinless chicken thighs
1/2 tablespoon ghee
2 large onions, medium dice
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 1/2 tablespoons curry powder, homemade or authentic Indian brand
1/2 tablespoon lime juice
1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger
1 cup crushed tomatoes
1 cup coconut milk
1/2 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon cilantro, chopped
2 cinnamon sticks
3 bay leaves
Not the one? See other Durban Chicken Curry Recipes
< 4 hours Curries
Indian Curries
Low Sodium Curries
Preheat oven to 300 degress F.
Heat 1 teaspoon ghee in a non stick fry pan.
Trim chicken thighs of visible fat and season with the salt, pepper and paprika.
Brown on both sides in the heated ghee and transfer to a casserole dish that has a tight fitting lid. My favourite is a Le Creuset oval casserole.
In the same fry pan add the additional 1/2 tablespoon ghee and saute the onions and garlic until soft.
Add the curry powder and cook further 2 minutes.
Add lime juice, fresh ginger, crushed tomatoes, coconut milk, sugar, chopped cilantro, cinnamon sticks and bay leaves.
Pour over chicken - mix so all is coated - cover with lid and bake upto 1 1/2 hours or until chicken is tender.
SAMBALS are condiments that are served in small dishes as compliments to the curry: 1) Mix together chopped tomatoes and finely chopped onion sprinkled with salt, place in a serving dish and set aside. 2) Sliced bananas. 3) Peach Chutney 4) Lime Pickle 5) Toasted coconut to sprinkle. 6) Papadoms 7) Naan bread.
LEFT OVERS FOR BREAKFAST: If you have left over gravy - add a couple of halved hard boiled eggs and serve on toast for breakfast the next day!
Here's a recipe from the author above for curry...in lieu of the stuff you buy in the stores:
1/8 cup whole cardamom pods, white or green
1/2 tablespoon whole brown mustard seeds
1/2 tablespoon whole fenugreek seeds
1/2 tablespoon whole fennel seeds
1/2 teaspoon whole caraway seeds
1 tablespoon whole coriander seeds
1 tablespoon whole cumin seeds
1 tablespoon ground turmeric
1/2 tablespoon ground ginger
1/2 tablespoon dried red chili pepper flakes
Not the one? See other Curry Powder Recipes
< 30 mins Herb & Spice Mixes
Low Protein Herb & Spice Mixes
Indian Herb & Spice Mixes
Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees F.
De-husk the cardamom seeds. Discard the shells and gather enough of the little seeds that are inside to fill a half tablespoon.
Place the cardamom, brown mustard, fenugreek, fennel, caraway, coriander and cumin seeds in a cake pan and bake the spices 5 to 7 minutes or until the aroma fills your kitchen! Take care not to burn them as they will turn bitter!
Cool these down completely.
Next, place the cooled toasted spices in the grinder and add the ground tumeric, ginger and red chili pepper flakes.
Pulverize until powder.
Pour through a funnel into a clean dry spice bottle and store in your pantry away from direct sunlight.
Use in recipes that call for curry powder.
To see the recipes in their original habitats, go here.
Speaking of food...my chana dal/garbanzo/tomato soup is cooking as I write this and the wonderful odor is driving me insane. I want it now!
Back to the S.A. curry. Here is a curry recipe that I came across, for those interested in meals from scratch.
2lb beef, cubed
2 medium sized onions, chopped
2 T oil
1 tsp salt
Black pepper, to taste
1-2 T curry powder
1 tsp turmeric
1T apricot jam
1/3 cup vinegar
2 tsp sugar
2 tomatoes, skinned and chopped
2 cups water
2 potatoes, peeled and cubed
1/2 cup carrots
1/2 cup peas
Method:
Brown meat and onions in oil.
Stir in salt, pepper, curry powder and turmeric.
Add jam, vinegar, sugar, tomato and water and simmer for 1 1/2 hours.
Add vegetables and cook for 30 - 45 minutes.
Adjust seasoning and serve with rice, chutney, coconut and sliced banana.
Here's another recipe that is, ostensibly, an authentic S.A. curry:
1 teaspoon ghee
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon fresh ground pepper
1/4 teaspoon paprika
12 boneless skinless chicken thighs
1/2 tablespoon ghee
2 large onions, medium dice
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 1/2 tablespoons curry powder, homemade or authentic Indian brand
1/2 tablespoon lime juice
1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger
1 cup crushed tomatoes
1 cup coconut milk
1/2 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon cilantro, chopped
2 cinnamon sticks
3 bay leaves
Not the one? See other Durban Chicken Curry Recipes
< 4 hours Curries
Indian Curries
Low Sodium Curries
Preheat oven to 300 degress F.
Heat 1 teaspoon ghee in a non stick fry pan.
Trim chicken thighs of visible fat and season with the salt, pepper and paprika.
Brown on both sides in the heated ghee and transfer to a casserole dish that has a tight fitting lid. My favourite is a Le Creuset oval casserole.
In the same fry pan add the additional 1/2 tablespoon ghee and saute the onions and garlic until soft.
Add the curry powder and cook further 2 minutes.
Add lime juice, fresh ginger, crushed tomatoes, coconut milk, sugar, chopped cilantro, cinnamon sticks and bay leaves.
Pour over chicken - mix so all is coated - cover with lid and bake upto 1 1/2 hours or until chicken is tender.
SAMBALS are condiments that are served in small dishes as compliments to the curry: 1) Mix together chopped tomatoes and finely chopped onion sprinkled with salt, place in a serving dish and set aside. 2) Sliced bananas. 3) Peach Chutney 4) Lime Pickle 5) Toasted coconut to sprinkle. 6) Papadoms 7) Naan bread.
LEFT OVERS FOR BREAKFAST: If you have left over gravy - add a couple of halved hard boiled eggs and serve on toast for breakfast the next day!
Here's a recipe from the author above for curry...in lieu of the stuff you buy in the stores:
1/8 cup whole cardamom pods, white or green
1/2 tablespoon whole brown mustard seeds
1/2 tablespoon whole fenugreek seeds
1/2 tablespoon whole fennel seeds
1/2 teaspoon whole caraway seeds
1 tablespoon whole coriander seeds
1 tablespoon whole cumin seeds
1 tablespoon ground turmeric
1/2 tablespoon ground ginger
1/2 tablespoon dried red chili pepper flakes
Not the one? See other Curry Powder Recipes
< 30 mins Herb & Spice Mixes
Low Protein Herb & Spice Mixes
Indian Herb & Spice Mixes
Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees F.
De-husk the cardamom seeds. Discard the shells and gather enough of the little seeds that are inside to fill a half tablespoon.
Place the cardamom, brown mustard, fenugreek, fennel, caraway, coriander and cumin seeds in a cake pan and bake the spices 5 to 7 minutes or until the aroma fills your kitchen! Take care not to burn them as they will turn bitter!
Cool these down completely.
Next, place the cooled toasted spices in the grinder and add the ground tumeric, ginger and red chili pepper flakes.
Pulverize until powder.
Pour through a funnel into a clean dry spice bottle and store in your pantry away from direct sunlight.
Use in recipes that call for curry powder.
To see the recipes in their original habitats, go here.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Sunday Stream of Consciousness
The temperature was a mere 49 degrees outdoors when I finally got up this morning. Long before I got up, I had an argument with myself, insisting on the one hand that I should get up and experience the day and, on the other, refusing to emerge from the warmth of the bed. Two hours after I first awoke, the argument ended; I gingerly emerged from the covers and rushed to throw on a bathrobe and my flip-flops, neither of which are particularly good at keeping me warm. We've still not turned on the heat (knowing full-well that this brief tease of Fall weather is a trick). Inside, the temperature was a much more comfortable 61 degrees. Now that the sun is fully engaged in its effort to burn this side of the planet into a black cinder, the temperature inside has reached 64. Outside, though, the temperature has inexplicably dropped to 48. I guess it's the morning dip...and the rise inside is due to sunlight beating on the asphalt shingles.
Let's see, what experiences can I report?
Yesterday afternoon, as my wife and I were walking to my car parked in front of my house, we noticed an old dog across the side-street, wandering around the curb. We worried that it would step into the street as a car came by, so we turned toward it with the intent of getting it to go up into a yard. Just then, an SUV came whizzing by and the young woman driving it hit the breaks hard and swerved toward the center of the street. An older guy in the passenger street looked over at us and shouted, "real good!" It was obvious he thought it was our dog and that we were being irresponsible owners. My wife shouted back, "it's not ours" and I chimed in, much louder, "moron!" It just pissed me off that this nitwit would find fault with US for not watching out for "our" dog, when his daughter or trophy younger woman or teen lover or whoever was speeding through the neighborhood. I really wanted to chase the guy down and beat him senseless with an axe handle, but my wife would have been annoyed with me for doing so, so I sulked, instead.
There is a light bulb shortage in our house. Lately, light bulbs have been burning out at an alarming rate. It's mostly the simple 60-watt variety, but two hard-to-find specialty bulbs that go in the light fixture attached to the bedroom ceiling fan have gone out recently, as well. And, there's the big transparent globe in the half-bath, one of four or five "makeup" bulbs in the fixture that I've always despised. The 60-watt bulbs are burning out very, very fast. I've been buying flourescent replacements, but it will take some convincing to get my wife to accept them, since the delay between flipping the switch and achieving full brightness is an annoyance to her. I must go out today to find bulbs; I'll have to trek to several stores to find all I need.
The cool temperatures are making me think, again, of making Indian soup. Unless my wife has other plans, I'll make my Chana Dal/Garbanzo/Tomato soup. A former full-time employee who now comes in to help sometimes on weekends or when we're just overwhelmed came was in the office to help yesterday and brought us home-grown lemons from the Rio Grande Valley. I'll probably use them in lieu of limes as a condiment for the soup. I've rarely, if ever, made a complete Indian meal when I make this soup; I've always treated the soup as the meal. Maybe I'll do something different today. Perhaps a nice Gobi Manchurian; I've made it before (not as an accompaniment to my soup, though), but I may try a different recipe this time, perhaps >this one. Speaking of Indian food, a great source of recipes and good ideas is a blog called Indian Food Rocks.
One of my brothers and one of my sisters and her friend are on their way to visit another brother and his wife in Ajijic, Jalisco, Mexico. They're driving the latter brother's VW Cabriolet. I would guess they may already have reached Ajijic by now; if not, then soon. I'm anxiously awaiting word that they've completed the trip without incident. My sister and her friend took Amtrak from California to Houston to meet my brother. I'm curious to hear about that trek, as well. My favorite wife and I have talked about the possibility of taking a train trip from Dallas to Alpine over the Christmas holidays (though that's diminishing in likelihood, as we talk about other options), so we're curious about how Amtrak is doing, in terms of customer service.
Speaking of Amtrak, I've read a bit about Amtrak of late and have come to the reluctant conclusion that, as much as I want this country to have good cross-country rail service, subsidizing Amtrak is not a wise investment. I don't have the answer, but am convinced that the government's involvement is only making the situation worse. The money spent on Amtrak should be diverted to more pressing social issues like healthcare and poverty.
Yesterday, when my wife and I were in the checkout line at the grocery store, the cause-of-the-day was breast cancer. I assume most grocery store chains across the U.S. have begun to collect contributions for various and sundry causes...it seems like a good time to get to people...when they have their pocketbooks open. At any rate, I tend to offer a dollar or two when asked. My wife tends not to. I think she is skeptical about how the money is spent, where it goes, how much of it actually goes to the cause-of-the-day. Back to yesterday. Ever since my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer, I've been much more attuned to requests for help. So, before they even asked yesterday, I suggested to my wife that we should make a donation. I suggested $5. When the question came and my wife said yes, we'll donate $5, the cashier seemed shocked that we'd give so much! I was shocked that a $5 donation was considered large. But I'm wondering, too, how much of that $5 is actually going to fight breast cancer? I don't even know what organization is going to get it...I just know that Tom Thumb Stores is collecting the money. Hmmm. I need to know more. I have a soft spot for lots of causes...but I hate the idea that my soft spot may be making me a 'mark' for money that gets skimmed.
OK, my wrists and fingers are calling for a moratorium on blogging for the moment.
Let's see, what experiences can I report?
Yesterday afternoon, as my wife and I were walking to my car parked in front of my house, we noticed an old dog across the side-street, wandering around the curb. We worried that it would step into the street as a car came by, so we turned toward it with the intent of getting it to go up into a yard. Just then, an SUV came whizzing by and the young woman driving it hit the breaks hard and swerved toward the center of the street. An older guy in the passenger street looked over at us and shouted, "real good!" It was obvious he thought it was our dog and that we were being irresponsible owners. My wife shouted back, "it's not ours" and I chimed in, much louder, "moron!" It just pissed me off that this nitwit would find fault with US for not watching out for "our" dog, when his daughter or trophy younger woman or teen lover or whoever was speeding through the neighborhood. I really wanted to chase the guy down and beat him senseless with an axe handle, but my wife would have been annoyed with me for doing so, so I sulked, instead.
There is a light bulb shortage in our house. Lately, light bulbs have been burning out at an alarming rate. It's mostly the simple 60-watt variety, but two hard-to-find specialty bulbs that go in the light fixture attached to the bedroom ceiling fan have gone out recently, as well. And, there's the big transparent globe in the half-bath, one of four or five "makeup" bulbs in the fixture that I've always despised. The 60-watt bulbs are burning out very, very fast. I've been buying flourescent replacements, but it will take some convincing to get my wife to accept them, since the delay between flipping the switch and achieving full brightness is an annoyance to her. I must go out today to find bulbs; I'll have to trek to several stores to find all I need.
The cool temperatures are making me think, again, of making Indian soup. Unless my wife has other plans, I'll make my Chana Dal/Garbanzo/Tomato soup. A former full-time employee who now comes in to help sometimes on weekends or when we're just overwhelmed came was in the office to help yesterday and brought us home-grown lemons from the Rio Grande Valley. I'll probably use them in lieu of limes as a condiment for the soup. I've rarely, if ever, made a complete Indian meal when I make this soup; I've always treated the soup as the meal. Maybe I'll do something different today. Perhaps a nice Gobi Manchurian; I've made it before (not as an accompaniment to my soup, though), but I may try a different recipe this time, perhaps >this one. Speaking of Indian food, a great source of recipes and good ideas is a blog called Indian Food Rocks.
One of my brothers and one of my sisters and her friend are on their way to visit another brother and his wife in Ajijic, Jalisco, Mexico. They're driving the latter brother's VW Cabriolet. I would guess they may already have reached Ajijic by now; if not, then soon. I'm anxiously awaiting word that they've completed the trip without incident. My sister and her friend took Amtrak from California to Houston to meet my brother. I'm curious to hear about that trek, as well. My favorite wife and I have talked about the possibility of taking a train trip from Dallas to Alpine over the Christmas holidays (though that's diminishing in likelihood, as we talk about other options), so we're curious about how Amtrak is doing, in terms of customer service.
Speaking of Amtrak, I've read a bit about Amtrak of late and have come to the reluctant conclusion that, as much as I want this country to have good cross-country rail service, subsidizing Amtrak is not a wise investment. I don't have the answer, but am convinced that the government's involvement is only making the situation worse. The money spent on Amtrak should be diverted to more pressing social issues like healthcare and poverty.
Yesterday, when my wife and I were in the checkout line at the grocery store, the cause-of-the-day was breast cancer. I assume most grocery store chains across the U.S. have begun to collect contributions for various and sundry causes...it seems like a good time to get to people...when they have their pocketbooks open. At any rate, I tend to offer a dollar or two when asked. My wife tends not to. I think she is skeptical about how the money is spent, where it goes, how much of it actually goes to the cause-of-the-day. Back to yesterday. Ever since my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer, I've been much more attuned to requests for help. So, before they even asked yesterday, I suggested to my wife that we should make a donation. I suggested $5. When the question came and my wife said yes, we'll donate $5, the cashier seemed shocked that we'd give so much! I was shocked that a $5 donation was considered large. But I'm wondering, too, how much of that $5 is actually going to fight breast cancer? I don't even know what organization is going to get it...I just know that Tom Thumb Stores is collecting the money. Hmmm. I need to know more. I have a soft spot for lots of causes...but I hate the idea that my soft spot may be making me a 'mark' for money that gets skimmed.
OK, my wrists and fingers are calling for a moratorium on blogging for the moment.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Gems of Brilliance?
I found it interesting that the "welcome to Louisiana" rest stop at the entry to the state on Interstate 10 was closed for repairs when I drove through Wednesday. Alabama's and Mississippi's welcome stations were open for business when I rolled through, but Louisiana's was shut tight. And as I drove west through Louisiana, I got the distinct impression that I was not encouraged to drive through New Orleans. Even Google Maps suggested I avoid the Big Easy on my trip to Dallas. Maybe it just made good travel sense, but maybe there was more.
Greg Palast, who you may consider a ranting evangelist for progressive causes (and you'd be right), believes deep in his radical little heart that the racial and economic makeup of New Orleans and Malibu can explain the difference in response to the areas' disasters by the Federal Government. I can't argue the point with him; I think he's right, even though I think his attribution of malevolent motive is suspect.
Back to the manner at hand. The welcome station to Louisiana was closed! No maps, no suggestions about places to spend your money in the State, no offers of discounts at casinos and restaurants and hotels! That's madness. If I were Tourism Director for the State, I would call loudly for the assassination of whoever was responsible for the ongoing closure of tourist information stops. I may do it anyway, but I'm not doing it now...let me be clear about that to those Bush troopers who are monitoring the religious and political comments made 'round the nation, hoping to catch someone breaking the Republico-Christian law of diminishing returns.
I found it interesting, too, that Louisiana's Democratic Governor was just turned out in favor of a Republican whose family moved to the U.S. from India. The Republicans, it seems, are catching on to the value of ethnic diversity, though their uses make me shudder.
I have no idea where I'm going with this, other than to provide anecdotal and subjective evidence that Republicans are treading on our liberties to the extent that they will rip our rights from in front of our noses. I'm not just anti-Republican. Let me be clear: I'm anti-Christian (the dogma, not necessarily the adherants), anti-Muslim (ditto), anti redneck, etc., etc. I am even anti progressive in some circumstances...for example, when ostensibly progressive concepts are presented as unquestionably good. I've found that automatically supporting Democratic positions is unhealthy and wrong. I tend and trend toward Democrat, but have been known to agree with some Republican positions and, more frequently, adopt independent positions when both Dems and Repubs are clearly on an issue for the personal political gain.
I'm bloody tired, as my post probably attests. I need many hours of sleep, followed by many hours of exercise. I will get the sleep. I will not be likely, just yet, to do the exercise. I'm off to bed. Maybe I will return to this tomorrow, correcting the bad stuff and polishing the gems of brilliance that must be there, somewhere.
Greg Palast, who you may consider a ranting evangelist for progressive causes (and you'd be right), believes deep in his radical little heart that the racial and economic makeup of New Orleans and Malibu can explain the difference in response to the areas' disasters by the Federal Government. I can't argue the point with him; I think he's right, even though I think his attribution of malevolent motive is suspect.
Back to the manner at hand. The welcome station to Louisiana was closed! No maps, no suggestions about places to spend your money in the State, no offers of discounts at casinos and restaurants and hotels! That's madness. If I were Tourism Director for the State, I would call loudly for the assassination of whoever was responsible for the ongoing closure of tourist information stops. I may do it anyway, but I'm not doing it now...let me be clear about that to those Bush troopers who are monitoring the religious and political comments made 'round the nation, hoping to catch someone breaking the Republico-Christian law of diminishing returns.
I found it interesting, too, that Louisiana's Democratic Governor was just turned out in favor of a Republican whose family moved to the U.S. from India. The Republicans, it seems, are catching on to the value of ethnic diversity, though their uses make me shudder.
I have no idea where I'm going with this, other than to provide anecdotal and subjective evidence that Republicans are treading on our liberties to the extent that they will rip our rights from in front of our noses. I'm not just anti-Republican. Let me be clear: I'm anti-Christian (the dogma, not necessarily the adherants), anti-Muslim (ditto), anti redneck, etc., etc. I am even anti progressive in some circumstances...for example, when ostensibly progressive concepts are presented as unquestionably good. I've found that automatically supporting Democratic positions is unhealthy and wrong. I tend and trend toward Democrat, but have been known to agree with some Republican positions and, more frequently, adopt independent positions when both Dems and Repubs are clearly on an issue for the personal political gain.
I'm bloody tired, as my post probably attests. I need many hours of sleep, followed by many hours of exercise. I will get the sleep. I will not be likely, just yet, to do the exercise. I'm off to bed. Maybe I will return to this tomorrow, correcting the bad stuff and polishing the gems of brilliance that must be there, somewhere.
More Frightening Friday Frivolity
According to a highly scientific analysis of my responses to a exhaustively-researched psychometric instrument...
For Kathy: I'm the kind of guy who would have made the prank calls when I was younger. Today, I've changed my attitude. I would find and behead the caller. But that's to be expected when I snap. I'm a cranky, crotchety geezer with a mean streak, particularly after I've had a tumbler of tequila with a lamb's blood chaser.
| I Am a Werewolf |
|
For Kathy: I'm the kind of guy who would have made the prank calls when I was younger. Today, I've changed my attitude. I would find and behead the caller. But that's to be expected when I snap. I'm a cranky, crotchety geezer with a mean streak, particularly after I've had a tumbler of tequila with a lamb's blood chaser.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Finished
A fellow blogger posted about an interesting situation in which he was invited to a colleague's home for dinner. The colleague's ex-spouse worked in the same place as the two of them, but the colleague's current spouse was unaware of this. Inasmuch as the two guys know each other only from work, it was made clear that the topic could not be broached. I thought about writing a comment on the blog, but at the risk of offending other blog readers, I decided to post it here, instead:
Explain to Mrs. Friend that, in your culture, it is forbidden for men to speak of their work to women whose husbands have lower stations in life than one's own. Then, following the ensuing angry outbursts, change the topic, in rapid-fire fashion, to politically-motivated euthanasia, followed by religious cannibalism, and then question the two of them about whether they favor the death penalty for Martha Stewart's financial infractions.
This is utter nonsense, of course, but for some reason I find it funny. My mind has returned to my early teen years, I suppose. It was the night in Shreveport, no doubt, that did it. That, and my bizarre curiosity about the type of ethnic food that would be served.
Just as I was about to go to bed last night in my bug-infested room, a loud knock at the door startled me. I asked who was there and the response came back something like this: "My boss told me to see you...he said Mike or something...are you Mike? Anyway, he said you might have...he said to come see if you could...remember talking to him? I think he said Mike. Remember him? He said I should come over here..." I interrupted, saying, "you've got the wrong room. I'm not Mike, I don't know Mike, I haven't talked to anyone." "Wrong room?" he said, then mumbled something I couldn't make out and walked away. I'm thinking drugs had something to do with that scene.
That incident made for a fitful sleep. I was half-expecting this dimwit and his boss to come banging on the door at any minute, insisting that I'd had a conversation and could, indeed, provide something they wanted. That didn't happen, fortunately. But I woke up several times during wha remained of the night, my consciousness aroused by a slamming car door, a diesel engine's growl in the parking lot, and who knows what other noises that crept in and left little fears in my brain. When the alarm went off at 4:25 am, I was in no mood to get up, but I did.
At 5:00 am, I dutifully launched a Skype conference call with a group of folks, only five this time, who bumbled and mumbled their way through unmade decisions and unmet deadlines. By the time the call ended at 6:05, I was ready to get up, so I took a shower, brushed my teeth, ignored my beard, threw on some clothes, and bolted. I stopped by the front office to collect my receipt and leave their antiquated electronic room key, then jumped in the car and charged off in a westerly direction. It was still pitch-black outside, but limited traffic and good reflective signage helped ensure that I was able to stay on the road and keep on track toward home in Dallas.
The 175 mile trip was uneventful. When I got back to town, I ran by a do-it-yourself car wash and blasted the worst of the heavy road crud and bug goo from the windshield, the hood, and the front-end. The car needs washing, but it will last until the weekend now, without me having to worry that the bug goo will harden into a permanent lacquer.
So, my journey from Fort Lauderdale to Dallas in a 1995 Mercedes E-320 cabriolet came to an end. I'd like to do it again, but in 10 days next time, instead of two.
Explain to Mrs. Friend that, in your culture, it is forbidden for men to speak of their work to women whose husbands have lower stations in life than one's own. Then, following the ensuing angry outbursts, change the topic, in rapid-fire fashion, to politically-motivated euthanasia, followed by religious cannibalism, and then question the two of them about whether they favor the death penalty for Martha Stewart's financial infractions.
This is utter nonsense, of course, but for some reason I find it funny. My mind has returned to my early teen years, I suppose. It was the night in Shreveport, no doubt, that did it. That, and my bizarre curiosity about the type of ethnic food that would be served.
Just as I was about to go to bed last night in my bug-infested room, a loud knock at the door startled me. I asked who was there and the response came back something like this: "My boss told me to see you...he said Mike or something...are you Mike? Anyway, he said you might have...he said to come see if you could...remember talking to him? I think he said Mike. Remember him? He said I should come over here..." I interrupted, saying, "you've got the wrong room. I'm not Mike, I don't know Mike, I haven't talked to anyone." "Wrong room?" he said, then mumbled something I couldn't make out and walked away. I'm thinking drugs had something to do with that scene.
That incident made for a fitful sleep. I was half-expecting this dimwit and his boss to come banging on the door at any minute, insisting that I'd had a conversation and could, indeed, provide something they wanted. That didn't happen, fortunately. But I woke up several times during wha remained of the night, my consciousness aroused by a slamming car door, a diesel engine's growl in the parking lot, and who knows what other noises that crept in and left little fears in my brain. When the alarm went off at 4:25 am, I was in no mood to get up, but I did.
At 5:00 am, I dutifully launched a Skype conference call with a group of folks, only five this time, who bumbled and mumbled their way through unmade decisions and unmet deadlines. By the time the call ended at 6:05, I was ready to get up, so I took a shower, brushed my teeth, ignored my beard, threw on some clothes, and bolted. I stopped by the front office to collect my receipt and leave their antiquated electronic room key, then jumped in the car and charged off in a westerly direction. It was still pitch-black outside, but limited traffic and good reflective signage helped ensure that I was able to stay on the road and keep on track toward home in Dallas.
The 175 mile trip was uneventful. When I got back to town, I ran by a do-it-yourself car wash and blasted the worst of the heavy road crud and bug goo from the windshield, the hood, and the front-end. The car needs washing, but it will last until the weekend now, without me having to worry that the bug goo will harden into a permanent lacquer.
So, my journey from Fort Lauderdale to Dallas in a 1995 Mercedes E-320 cabriolet came to an end. I'd like to do it again, but in 10 days next time, instead of two.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Travail Log--I'd Rather Be Driving
The day did not get off to an auspicious start. I got up a bit later than I had planned, so I opted to skip a shower and jump right to the road-trip. I left the motel at about 7:05 am to join the mass of other travelers on this wet, dreary day in Tallahassee. Just as I got beeyond the western edge of town, I saw that the eastbound roadway was completely shut down by what appeared to be a major accident. The remnants of the involved vehicles were smashed nearly flat and there were literally dozens of emergency vehicles on the scene, their red and blue flashing lights giving the dull morning an even more gritty, hopeless appearance. I noted quietly to myself that I was glad I was heading west.
About twenty minutes later, I reached for my blackberry, just to see if I had any unread email messages. The device was not attached to my hip and it usually is. I felt around for it and quickly came to the realization that I left it in the motel room. For a brief, confused moment, I considered calling the hotel and asking them to mail it to me, but quickly realized I had no way to call them, since they had my phone. So, I began looking for a place to turn around; it took another ten minutes to finally come to an exit near an overpass, which I took and wheeled around eastward. A lot was done in the half-hour since I saw the accident site. The traffic was still backed up, but most of the clean-up work had been completed, so by the time I reached the place, my wait to get through the carnage was only about ten minutes. My room had already been stripped of the bedding, but my blackberry was there, attached to its charging station. I grabbed them and headed west again.
The loss of just over an hour had an impact on how far I got, but I would not have made it all the way back to Dallas today anyway. I'm staying tonight in Shreveport, which is a good 175 miles from Dallas. I stopped here after dark, so the best I would have done would have been to get 60-70 miles closer had I not had the little delay.
I roared past Pensacola without much of a glance. As I neared Mobile, I thought it looked like an interesting place and might be worth a look someday; there are a few tall office buildings and lots of military ships all about the port area, as well as a very long causeway on the east side of the city. And, there's a tunnel on the western edge of downtown. I didn't pay much attention to most of the cities and towns that I bypassed, thanks to Interstate 10. As I zipped through Pass Christian and Biloxi and Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, I saw only a few obvious signs that Hurricane Katrina had been there, but I was on the interstate and did not get near the beaches. I'm sure I would have seen unrelenting devastation if I had done that.
I did stop in Slidell, Louisiana for lunch, having gotten off I-10 there at the recommendation of Google maps, which apparently did not want me to get too close to New Orleans. I ate at a barbeque place called Bad to the Bone, a cutesy name that was almost too much after I saw that the seafood place next door was called Good to the Gill. Beyond Slidell, I didn't have much rain...not more than a sprinkle, really.
After lunch, I zipped northward on Interstate 12, discovering during my afternoon of travel that Louisiana has a lot of territory to cover, south to north. I had not expected it to take a large part of the day to get from Slidell to Shreveport.
Once in Shreveport and onto Interstate 20, I made an exit after spying a large group of motels. I made the mistake, though, of thinking they were on the eastbound highway feeder road, which was not the case. There is no eastbound feeder. So, I watched the motels disappear as I re-entered I-20, heading east. I tried to recover as best I could by taking another exit which I expected would allow me to turn around soon, but that was an unmet expectation. Instead, I found myself wandering down some very dark and seedy-looking streets until I saw another outgrowth of motel lights, this time much less upscale than the places I had seen earlier. I'm not a fan of driving in the dark, so I stopped in to the first place I could, a Days Inn. They gave me a room at a rate I find outrageous...$50 or so...for a badly run-down motel in a questionable area, but I figured that was probably the best I'd get.
After settling in and verifying that their wireless Internet works, I went out in search of food. I discovered as I drove out of the hotel that I am almost on I-20 again, but a few miles east of where I started. I drove across I-20, only to discover that the Shreveport Regional Airport is just on the other side of the freeway. I learned this after I had already entered the airport. I intended to turn around, but there was no place to do it and very soon I came upon the official entrance, sporting a booth and a stop-sign. I stopped and a guard came out and told me immediately to pop the trunk. I explained that I did not intend to go into the airport; I just wanted to turn around. He said I had to loop through the airport, so he would have to look in the trunk. Not knowing how to open it from inside the car, I jumped out and opened it for me. I also said I was looking for a place to eat and asked for a recommendation. He asked what I was looking for and I told him anything, just not a chain. He suggested a seafood restaurant attached to a gas station just outside the airport entry. So that's where I went, The Monkhouse Seafood Restaurant, where I got an oyster po'boy and and cup of gumbo to go. Nothing to rave about, but not terrible food.
And so there it is, in all its intensely-interesting glory, my day on the road. I did take a few pictures with my blackberry camera; I may post some of them in the not-too-distant future, if they're even moderately in-focus.
Tomorrow, I'm up at 4:30 am for a 5:00 am Skype conference call for a client, hosting people from around the globe. I'd rather be driving.
About twenty minutes later, I reached for my blackberry, just to see if I had any unread email messages. The device was not attached to my hip and it usually is. I felt around for it and quickly came to the realization that I left it in the motel room. For a brief, confused moment, I considered calling the hotel and asking them to mail it to me, but quickly realized I had no way to call them, since they had my phone. So, I began looking for a place to turn around; it took another ten minutes to finally come to an exit near an overpass, which I took and wheeled around eastward. A lot was done in the half-hour since I saw the accident site. The traffic was still backed up, but most of the clean-up work had been completed, so by the time I reached the place, my wait to get through the carnage was only about ten minutes. My room had already been stripped of the bedding, but my blackberry was there, attached to its charging station. I grabbed them and headed west again.
The loss of just over an hour had an impact on how far I got, but I would not have made it all the way back to Dallas today anyway. I'm staying tonight in Shreveport, which is a good 175 miles from Dallas. I stopped here after dark, so the best I would have done would have been to get 60-70 miles closer had I not had the little delay.
I roared past Pensacola without much of a glance. As I neared Mobile, I thought it looked like an interesting place and might be worth a look someday; there are a few tall office buildings and lots of military ships all about the port area, as well as a very long causeway on the east side of the city. And, there's a tunnel on the western edge of downtown. I didn't pay much attention to most of the cities and towns that I bypassed, thanks to Interstate 10. As I zipped through Pass Christian and Biloxi and Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, I saw only a few obvious signs that Hurricane Katrina had been there, but I was on the interstate and did not get near the beaches. I'm sure I would have seen unrelenting devastation if I had done that.
I did stop in Slidell, Louisiana for lunch, having gotten off I-10 there at the recommendation of Google maps, which apparently did not want me to get too close to New Orleans. I ate at a barbeque place called Bad to the Bone, a cutesy name that was almost too much after I saw that the seafood place next door was called Good to the Gill. Beyond Slidell, I didn't have much rain...not more than a sprinkle, really.
After lunch, I zipped northward on Interstate 12, discovering during my afternoon of travel that Louisiana has a lot of territory to cover, south to north. I had not expected it to take a large part of the day to get from Slidell to Shreveport.
Once in Shreveport and onto Interstate 20, I made an exit after spying a large group of motels. I made the mistake, though, of thinking they were on the eastbound highway feeder road, which was not the case. There is no eastbound feeder. So, I watched the motels disappear as I re-entered I-20, heading east. I tried to recover as best I could by taking another exit which I expected would allow me to turn around soon, but that was an unmet expectation. Instead, I found myself wandering down some very dark and seedy-looking streets until I saw another outgrowth of motel lights, this time much less upscale than the places I had seen earlier. I'm not a fan of driving in the dark, so I stopped in to the first place I could, a Days Inn. They gave me a room at a rate I find outrageous...$50 or so...for a badly run-down motel in a questionable area, but I figured that was probably the best I'd get.
After settling in and verifying that their wireless Internet works, I went out in search of food. I discovered as I drove out of the hotel that I am almost on I-20 again, but a few miles east of where I started. I drove across I-20, only to discover that the Shreveport Regional Airport is just on the other side of the freeway. I learned this after I had already entered the airport. I intended to turn around, but there was no place to do it and very soon I came upon the official entrance, sporting a booth and a stop-sign. I stopped and a guard came out and told me immediately to pop the trunk. I explained that I did not intend to go into the airport; I just wanted to turn around. He said I had to loop through the airport, so he would have to look in the trunk. Not knowing how to open it from inside the car, I jumped out and opened it for me. I also said I was looking for a place to eat and asked for a recommendation. He asked what I was looking for and I told him anything, just not a chain. He suggested a seafood restaurant attached to a gas station just outside the airport entry. So that's where I went, The Monkhouse Seafood Restaurant, where I got an oyster po'boy and and cup of gumbo to go. Nothing to rave about, but not terrible food.
And so there it is, in all its intensely-interesting glory, my day on the road. I did take a few pictures with my blackberry camera; I may post some of them in the not-too-distant future, if they're even moderately in-focus.
Tomorrow, I'm up at 4:30 am for a 5:00 am Skype conference call for a client, hosting people from around the globe. I'd rather be driving.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Travel through Tallahassee (with a view of the Space Shuttle)
I'd already posted this and then realized I left something out...I saw the launch of the space shuttle! It was far, far north of me, but it was very visible, nonetheless. It was striking, watching the beast (well, the vapor trail of the beast) streak across the sky. I was listening to a radio program describing the launch as it happened...the announcers were a long distance from the launch, but closer than I was. At any rate, it was very interesting and I was glad I saw it.
I'm sitting in a dump of a Howard Johnson's in Tallahassee, Florida. This dump is costing about $57+ taxes, etc., WITH my AAA discount! Bastards, thieves, scum of the earth! But, at least, I get to get connected with the outside world.
I drove many miles today and could have continued, but I just went through some rain and there's more in the forecast and I didn't want to get caught driving in unknown territory, in the dark, in the rain. So I stopped early. I looked for cheap and found Motel 6 at $39+ but they could not accommodate my internet addiction, so Howard Johnson was the next best thing. There are doors and windows open on many of the rooms, from which I hear occasional howling laughter from the pairs of guys who are sharing the rooms. The guys are large and hairy and strike me as being blue collar workers whose employers pay the very least they can to keep the guys in shelter as they travel the country doing whatever it is they do...muck with oil rigs, fix electric pumps, clean septic systems. Mind you, those are perfectly admirable jobs, but it seems the people to whom those jobs are relegated tend to be the wooly, unkempt wierdos.
I picked up the flashy Mercedes convertible this morning, but have not opened the top. First and foremost, the seller advised that considerable time be spend reading the owner's manual about how to use the convertible, lest the convertible be damaged; it's not hard, he said, but you need to do it just so or risk fucking it up badly. I want the guy's house, and his yacht. I'm satisfied to be in possession of what was once his Mercedes; now, I want the remainder of his loot. He seems like a nice guy and his wife is pleasant, too. He's 75 and is a native Floridian. He also happens to be a rich Floridian. I don't know what he does. I'm guessing he scored big on a major heroin delivery early in his life and has capitalized on it ever since. Not really. But it could be. It really could. More likely that he's a lawyer or a yacht broker or a policeman.
I wasted no time getting on the road, making quick work of finding the Florida Turnpike and heading north. I had lunch along the Turnpike, at a spot created in a wide spot in the median, complete with gas station, several fast-food joints, bathrooms, etc. To my shame, I had a burger and fries from a chain...I don’t recall which one, only that it was not McDonald’s. Then north again, following my written directions obtained from Google maps. By the time I got to Interstate 10, it was getting late in the day and then rain started falling. Hence my stop in Tallahassee. Once I got settled into the bug-ridden Howard Johnson’s, I went in search of food and found a cheap Mexican food place called Los Compadres. I was persuaded to have a margarita on the rocks (it took very little persuasion), which accompanied some enchiladas that tasted OK, just not like Mexican food. Just as I finished dinner, one of my brothers called on my cell to check on progress…and I learned from him that his miseries of late were not caused entirely by food poisoning but by kidney stones, which were all flushed away, with the discomfort, yesterday.
And so, here I sit. I’m going to see what’s on television. I brought no reading material of any kind (idiot), so it’s TV or I’ll try to get some work done via email, etc. The adventure shall continue tomorrow!
I'm sitting in a dump of a Howard Johnson's in Tallahassee, Florida. This dump is costing about $57+ taxes, etc., WITH my AAA discount! Bastards, thieves, scum of the earth! But, at least, I get to get connected with the outside world.
I drove many miles today and could have continued, but I just went through some rain and there's more in the forecast and I didn't want to get caught driving in unknown territory, in the dark, in the rain. So I stopped early. I looked for cheap and found Motel 6 at $39+ but they could not accommodate my internet addiction, so Howard Johnson was the next best thing. There are doors and windows open on many of the rooms, from which I hear occasional howling laughter from the pairs of guys who are sharing the rooms. The guys are large and hairy and strike me as being blue collar workers whose employers pay the very least they can to keep the guys in shelter as they travel the country doing whatever it is they do...muck with oil rigs, fix electric pumps, clean septic systems. Mind you, those are perfectly admirable jobs, but it seems the people to whom those jobs are relegated tend to be the wooly, unkempt wierdos.
I picked up the flashy Mercedes convertible this morning, but have not opened the top. First and foremost, the seller advised that considerable time be spend reading the owner's manual about how to use the convertible, lest the convertible be damaged; it's not hard, he said, but you need to do it just so or risk fucking it up badly. I want the guy's house, and his yacht. I'm satisfied to be in possession of what was once his Mercedes; now, I want the remainder of his loot. He seems like a nice guy and his wife is pleasant, too. He's 75 and is a native Floridian. He also happens to be a rich Floridian. I don't know what he does. I'm guessing he scored big on a major heroin delivery early in his life and has capitalized on it ever since. Not really. But it could be. It really could. More likely that he's a lawyer or a yacht broker or a policeman.
I wasted no time getting on the road, making quick work of finding the Florida Turnpike and heading north. I had lunch along the Turnpike, at a spot created in a wide spot in the median, complete with gas station, several fast-food joints, bathrooms, etc. To my shame, I had a burger and fries from a chain...I don’t recall which one, only that it was not McDonald’s. Then north again, following my written directions obtained from Google maps. By the time I got to Interstate 10, it was getting late in the day and then rain started falling. Hence my stop in Tallahassee. Once I got settled into the bug-ridden Howard Johnson’s, I went in search of food and found a cheap Mexican food place called Los Compadres. I was persuaded to have a margarita on the rocks (it took very little persuasion), which accompanied some enchiladas that tasted OK, just not like Mexican food. Just as I finished dinner, one of my brothers called on my cell to check on progress…and I learned from him that his miseries of late were not caused entirely by food poisoning but by kidney stones, which were all flushed away, with the discomfort, yesterday.
And so, here I sit. I’m going to see what’s on television. I brought no reading material of any kind (idiot), so it’s TV or I’ll try to get some work done via email, etc. The adventure shall continue tomorrow!
Monday, October 22, 2007
Hasta Luego
I had visions of having a Town Car sedan pick me up to take me to the airport tomorrow morning...that was after I decided it was too much to ask my favorite wife to get up at an ungodly hour so I could be at the airport before 6:00 am. Then, I checked on the costs. The costs have risen since I last took a sedan to the airport. They want $85 at a minimum, plus a $10 pre-6:00 am surcharge, plus $7 for tolls (?), plus a 20% gratuity. I wanted a 5:15 am pickup, but I'll be out the door, as it turns out, around 4:00 am. Woof!
So, instead, I've arranged for SuperShuttle to drop by; they name the time, based on my flight time. They'll be here between 4:00 am and 4:15 am. Even with a tip, though, the cost is only $30. Of course, there may be 3 other pickups and six other riders, but I'll be damned if I'm going to pay $130 for a ride to the airport! Criminals. Thieves. Republicans.
I'll try to sleep on the plane. Then, I'll take a short cab ride to a multi-million dollar home on one of the Fort Lauderdale canals (with direct link to the Atlantic Ocean), exchange pleasantries and paperwork, and be on my way back to Texas. The weather forecasts call for rain all over the southeast for the next few days, so I doubt there will much of an opportunity to have the top down. Plus, the temps here in Dallas dipped into the low 50s last night and never got over 55 today; tonight, the forecast is for the mid 40s. And it's all heading east. Oh, well, I'll be happy to have an opportunity to have a blast of cold air in the face from time to time, having had few such opportunities for the past many months. With good timing, good roads, and decent weather (coupled with staying awake and alert), I may make Tallahassee on Tuesday...certainly, I'll get at least as far as Gainesville. Then, the next morning, I'll push west toward New Orleans, jutting north and westward just before I get to the Big Easy. I could, conceivably, make it all the way to Dallas on Wednesday, but I'm not going to overdo it. I may intentionally take it a bit easy so I can play a little more hooky.
Whereever I am on Thursday morning, I have a 5:00 am Central conference call with a group of Asia Pacific folks. So, if I'm still on the road, I'll need to make certain I can get a high-speed internet connection on Wednesday night for my early-morning Skype call on Thursday. Yes, hooky sounds a bit more interesting now. If I'm going to have to interrupt a good time for sleep on Thursday morning, I might as well take a little time off from the office that day.
It's 9:00 am in Big D, time for me to go to bed since I have to be up at 3:30 am for a refreshing shower, a quick shave, and a long wait for coffee. Buenas noches y hasta luego, amigos!
So, instead, I've arranged for SuperShuttle to drop by; they name the time, based on my flight time. They'll be here between 4:00 am and 4:15 am. Even with a tip, though, the cost is only $30. Of course, there may be 3 other pickups and six other riders, but I'll be damned if I'm going to pay $130 for a ride to the airport! Criminals. Thieves. Republicans.
I'll try to sleep on the plane. Then, I'll take a short cab ride to a multi-million dollar home on one of the Fort Lauderdale canals (with direct link to the Atlantic Ocean), exchange pleasantries and paperwork, and be on my way back to Texas. The weather forecasts call for rain all over the southeast for the next few days, so I doubt there will much of an opportunity to have the top down. Plus, the temps here in Dallas dipped into the low 50s last night and never got over 55 today; tonight, the forecast is for the mid 40s. And it's all heading east. Oh, well, I'll be happy to have an opportunity to have a blast of cold air in the face from time to time, having had few such opportunities for the past many months. With good timing, good roads, and decent weather (coupled with staying awake and alert), I may make Tallahassee on Tuesday...certainly, I'll get at least as far as Gainesville. Then, the next morning, I'll push west toward New Orleans, jutting north and westward just before I get to the Big Easy. I could, conceivably, make it all the way to Dallas on Wednesday, but I'm not going to overdo it. I may intentionally take it a bit easy so I can play a little more hooky.
Whereever I am on Thursday morning, I have a 5:00 am Central conference call with a group of Asia Pacific folks. So, if I'm still on the road, I'll need to make certain I can get a high-speed internet connection on Wednesday night for my early-morning Skype call on Thursday. Yes, hooky sounds a bit more interesting now. If I'm going to have to interrupt a good time for sleep on Thursday morning, I might as well take a little time off from the office that day.
It's 9:00 am in Big D, time for me to go to bed since I have to be up at 3:30 am for a refreshing shower, a quick shave, and a long wait for coffee. Buenas noches y hasta luego, amigos!
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Happy Birthday to Me
Today, I've made it half-way to my target of living to be 108 years old! Actually, if that were seriously a target for me, I'd be living an entirely different lifestyle, devoid of booze, gluttony, and laziness. Well, since a target of 80 is not entirely out of the question, I'd better get in gear and try to rectify my lifestyle mistakes. Yes, that's it...after my cross-country automotive delivery from Florida to Texas, of course.
Today has started well. The temperature is 66 degrees, the skies are blue, and I am drinking some very good, very strong French roast coffee, a good chaser to the two eggs I cooked for breakfast (my lifestyle changes haven't started just yet). When I first checked my email this morning, I found a Rubber Chicken card from a sister-in-law, an inside-joke sort of card that has God talking to me, encouraging me to invest in pork-bellies. I believe in pork-bellies, I do. But they never encourage me to invest in God, so I don't.
Another card was waiting for me, too, this one from a long-retired association executive who I hold in high esteem in certain ways, despite the fact that he is the incarnation of rabid Republicanism and a true believer in the George Bush version of Iraq history, i.e., we had to invade, lest Sadam and his close Al Quaida affiliates launch the nuclear arsensal that they STILL TO THIS DAY HAVE HIDDEN. How I can find anything to like about the guy is beyond me; with all his faults, he has a good heart, at least where his friends are concerned. We cannot talk politics or religion, though; that would spell the death of friendship, because we're both absolutely committed to our opinions. The difference between us, though, is that my opinions are actually facts and his are symptoms of a deep, deep psychosis that has gripped him for a very long time.
I may have written about a website that features information about breakfast around the world, but if not, I encourage you to glance through it. For reasons unknown to me, I've always been curious about what constitutes breakfast in difference places and within difference cultures. The website has some fascinating information; I can only assume the author presents valid insights and did not simply make it all up.
Speaking of food, as I am wont to do, after my very long client board of directors meeting yesterday, I came home to my wife's suggestion that we go out for Ethiopian food, a suggestion I'm almost always guaranteed to accept. We went to a new place, a restaurant we'd noticed only a couple of months earlier during a visit to our of our favorite Indian food excursions. The place, called Addas Ababa (the spelling is theirs...I've not seen it spelled that way before), is very nice, colorful, and full of very pleasant and accommodating staff. The menu is very nice and has a huge variety. But, I was planning on ordering gored-gored...but it was not on the menu. Another dish made with raw beef, kitfo, was featured, but my favorite was absent from the menu.
In conversation with the waitress, she agreed to see if the kitchen would make gored-gored for me and they did agree to it. I also ordered an appetizer of kitfo, but it never arrived. My wife's yebeg tibs (sauteed lamb) was not particularly good. My gored-gored, while very tasty, was not what I was used to...not nearly as spicy as I like, but tasty nonetheless and worth getting. The fact that the people there were so pleasant is reason enough to go back. I'm confident we'll find something on the menu that hits the spot...at least we have to try!
We have not particular plans for today, other than to do a few errands and, much to my chagrin, spend a little time at the office getting some things done that we couldn't get done yesterday. Beyond that, though, we'll be carefree and spontaneous!
Today has started well. The temperature is 66 degrees, the skies are blue, and I am drinking some very good, very strong French roast coffee, a good chaser to the two eggs I cooked for breakfast (my lifestyle changes haven't started just yet). When I first checked my email this morning, I found a Rubber Chicken card from a sister-in-law, an inside-joke sort of card that has God talking to me, encouraging me to invest in pork-bellies. I believe in pork-bellies, I do. But they never encourage me to invest in God, so I don't.
Another card was waiting for me, too, this one from a long-retired association executive who I hold in high esteem in certain ways, despite the fact that he is the incarnation of rabid Republicanism and a true believer in the George Bush version of Iraq history, i.e., we had to invade, lest Sadam and his close Al Quaida affiliates launch the nuclear arsensal that they STILL TO THIS DAY HAVE HIDDEN. How I can find anything to like about the guy is beyond me; with all his faults, he has a good heart, at least where his friends are concerned. We cannot talk politics or religion, though; that would spell the death of friendship, because we're both absolutely committed to our opinions. The difference between us, though, is that my opinions are actually facts and his are symptoms of a deep, deep psychosis that has gripped him for a very long time.
I may have written about a website that features information about breakfast around the world, but if not, I encourage you to glance through it. For reasons unknown to me, I've always been curious about what constitutes breakfast in difference places and within difference cultures. The website has some fascinating information; I can only assume the author presents valid insights and did not simply make it all up.
Speaking of food, as I am wont to do, after my very long client board of directors meeting yesterday, I came home to my wife's suggestion that we go out for Ethiopian food, a suggestion I'm almost always guaranteed to accept. We went to a new place, a restaurant we'd noticed only a couple of months earlier during a visit to our of our favorite Indian food excursions. The place, called Addas Ababa (the spelling is theirs...I've not seen it spelled that way before), is very nice, colorful, and full of very pleasant and accommodating staff. The menu is very nice and has a huge variety. But, I was planning on ordering gored-gored...but it was not on the menu. Another dish made with raw beef, kitfo, was featured, but my favorite was absent from the menu.
In conversation with the waitress, she agreed to see if the kitchen would make gored-gored for me and they did agree to it. I also ordered an appetizer of kitfo, but it never arrived. My wife's yebeg tibs (sauteed lamb) was not particularly good. My gored-gored, while very tasty, was not what I was used to...not nearly as spicy as I like, but tasty nonetheless and worth getting. The fact that the people there were so pleasant is reason enough to go back. I'm confident we'll find something on the menu that hits the spot...at least we have to try!
We have not particular plans for today, other than to do a few errands and, much to my chagrin, spend a little time at the office getting some things done that we couldn't get done yesterday. Beyond that, though, we'll be carefree and spontaneous!
Friday, October 19, 2007
Cross Country Political Transportation
Tomorrow, Saturday, I will spend the entire day with the board of directors of a client organization. Another weekend wrecked to suit the schedules of volunteers.
This is not as awful, though, as the fact that George Bush remains alive and holding this country in his corrupt iron grip. But, in my little life, another lost Saturday is more than a cockleburr. Yet that little cockleburr is nothing when compared to the spilled blood in Iraq and Pakistan and Afghanistan, blood that need not have been spilled except for Geoge Bush's arrogance and idiocy.
I'll get a reprieve from the lunacy of my worklife, beginning Tuesday. I'm flying to southern Florida to pick up a car one of my brothers bought online...a very nice 12-year-old Mercedes convertible. I'll pick it up Tuesday afternoon and immediately head toward Texas, a trip I figure will take the equivalent of almost two full daylight hours of driving. I'm making the trip instead of another brother, who fell ill with food poisoning several days ago and who is nursing himself back to good health. He was planning on picking up the car and doing the cross-country drive himself, but needs to fully recover by mid-week so he can begin his own long-distance drive to Lake Chapala in Mexico. I offered to pick up the car both to relieve my sick brother from the obligation and to give myself an opportunity to have some alone-time on the open road.
I've agreed to put the convertible in my garage for awhile, forcing my car, the Bastard, to spend a few weeks or months on the street. The Bastard needs to be reminded, on occasion, that the nice dry garage is a privilege, not a right...like life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness is a privilege reserved for the wealthy under Bush, not a right.
I've been to Florida many times, as well as Mississippi, Alabama, and Louisiana, but I've never driven through those states on my own time. This will be fun, I think.
I'll try to take some pictures and make some notes of the drive. I may even post while I'm on the road, but that depends on how beat I am after a day of driving and on whether the motels I find have Internet access. Maybe this trip will convince me to retire early and become a cross-country delivery boy. Of course, if I do that I'll have to carry proof of citizenship and documentation that proves my allegiance to the Republican Party and to God (which in their minds, I know, is redundant).
This is not as awful, though, as the fact that George Bush remains alive and holding this country in his corrupt iron grip. But, in my little life, another lost Saturday is more than a cockleburr. Yet that little cockleburr is nothing when compared to the spilled blood in Iraq and Pakistan and Afghanistan, blood that need not have been spilled except for Geoge Bush's arrogance and idiocy.
I'll get a reprieve from the lunacy of my worklife, beginning Tuesday. I'm flying to southern Florida to pick up a car one of my brothers bought online...a very nice 12-year-old Mercedes convertible. I'll pick it up Tuesday afternoon and immediately head toward Texas, a trip I figure will take the equivalent of almost two full daylight hours of driving. I'm making the trip instead of another brother, who fell ill with food poisoning several days ago and who is nursing himself back to good health. He was planning on picking up the car and doing the cross-country drive himself, but needs to fully recover by mid-week so he can begin his own long-distance drive to Lake Chapala in Mexico. I offered to pick up the car both to relieve my sick brother from the obligation and to give myself an opportunity to have some alone-time on the open road.
I've agreed to put the convertible in my garage for awhile, forcing my car, the Bastard, to spend a few weeks or months on the street. The Bastard needs to be reminded, on occasion, that the nice dry garage is a privilege, not a right...like life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness is a privilege reserved for the wealthy under Bush, not a right.
I've been to Florida many times, as well as Mississippi, Alabama, and Louisiana, but I've never driven through those states on my own time. This will be fun, I think.
I'll try to take some pictures and make some notes of the drive. I may even post while I'm on the road, but that depends on how beat I am after a day of driving and on whether the motels I find have Internet access. Maybe this trip will convince me to retire early and become a cross-country delivery boy. Of course, if I do that I'll have to carry proof of citizenship and documentation that proves my allegiance to the Republican Party and to God (which in their minds, I know, is redundant).
Monday, October 15, 2007
They might drown me...
I'm at the Lakeway Resort & Spa, just outside Austin. It was once a spectacularly lovely, lonely, desolate resort. Today, it's still lovely, but no longer desolate nor lonely. It sits amid enormous developments that have, in my opinion, ruined a good bit of the attraction that this place once had. That's what resorts do best.
I am attending a board meeting of an organization dedicated to my profession. And, I might add, I am feeling very much like a duck out of water. I'm not a people person, I'm not a Republican, I'm not the picture of middle American values. I keep my attributes to myself while I'm in this crowd. They might drown me.
I'm looking forward to heading home tomorrow. Oh yes, I most certainly do look forward to getting back in my element.
I am attending a board meeting of an organization dedicated to my profession. And, I might add, I am feeling very much like a duck out of water. I'm not a people person, I'm not a Republican, I'm not the picture of middle American values. I keep my attributes to myself while I'm in this crowd. They might drown me.
I'm looking forward to heading home tomorrow. Oh yes, I most certainly do look forward to getting back in my element.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Food and Frivolity
On Saturday (yesterday), my wife and I decided to go our for lunch, but were having a tough time deciding where to go. We got in the car and headed toward a strip center that has become a conglomeration of Asia restaurants. We weren't sure where we would go, but knew we would have lots of options if we stopped there. And so we did.
We parked out among the sea of cars in the always-jammed parking lot and walked up and down the sidewalk in front of the restaurants. We poked our heads into one or two places, but for one reason or another they did not strike our fancy. Finally, we stopped at a place that had at least a bit of English on the signs in front. We popped inside and discovered that the place offers a weekend Chinese breakfast and dim sum buffet. This is it, we decided.
After we were seated, we went to the buffet and wandered around, looking at all manner of foods with which we were no familiar. We're no shrinking violets when it comes to trying new things, so we began piling "stuff" on our plates. At the dim sum station, I picked out several items, including some meat-filled steamed pastries, some translucent pastries filled with green veggies and seafood, and some things that looked, to me, like strips of clams that were coated with a thick dark brown batter.
As it turned out, the "clams" were actually duck feet in a thick sauce. I've not had duck feet before and probably will not again, at least not intentionally. The taste isn't bad, but they are full of bones and cartilage and such, making it very tough to eat.
Later, in the main buffet, away from dim sum, I put a bit of dark brown meat of some kind into a small bowl. When I got around to trying it, I learned it was trip...beef, I think...that was very, very hard to chew. Fortunately, it did not have the aroma nor the taste I've come to associate with tripe (via menudo); but, it was damned hard to eat.
All in all, the lunch was hard to eat and was less than top-notch, at least from my perspective. I've often thought the best way to eat foods with which one is utterly unfamiliar is to be instructed by "native eaters." I'm willing to go back, but I need some instruction.
After lunch, we did our daily errands, including one that I've put off for a long, long time: replacing my watch. I had been hoping my old Seiko simply needed another battery; unfortunately, that was not to be. Its electronics had died, requiring replacement. So, I am now the owner of a new Citizen watch. It's far too fancy for my taste, but as my wife points out, I did not buy it for myself, I bought it to polish a tarnished image (i.e., I bought it for my clients). I got a good deal on it, spending only $189 instead of its $250 price tag. I think watches that cost more than $50 are showpieces; you're buying the form, not the function. But so it goes. I now have a watch that doesn't embarrass my wife when we go out.
Later, following our errands, we went out to a musical entitled The Great American Trailer Park Musical. It was funny in places, but my overall impression was that it was not particularly good (all the reviews I've heard about, though, give it dazzling ratings, so maybe I'm the odd man out). An advertising agency with which we sometimes do business invited us and bought the tickets, so I can't complain too bitterly. And my wife found it enjoyable; she notes it was not meant to be particularly thought-provoking.
Today, I'm heading south for a meeting in Austin. I'll leave later this afternoon and will drive part way, staying overnight in a relatively inexpensive place somewhere near my destination, a resort that costs far too much. I'll miss their dinner tonight, but will be no poorer because of it. Tomorrow, I have meetings beginning at 8:30 am, with another half day on Tuesday.
And so it's unlikely I'll blog much any time soon. But I just had to record this stuff for the record. I'll come back here and use it one day.
We parked out among the sea of cars in the always-jammed parking lot and walked up and down the sidewalk in front of the restaurants. We poked our heads into one or two places, but for one reason or another they did not strike our fancy. Finally, we stopped at a place that had at least a bit of English on the signs in front. We popped inside and discovered that the place offers a weekend Chinese breakfast and dim sum buffet. This is it, we decided.
After we were seated, we went to the buffet and wandered around, looking at all manner of foods with which we were no familiar. We're no shrinking violets when it comes to trying new things, so we began piling "stuff" on our plates. At the dim sum station, I picked out several items, including some meat-filled steamed pastries, some translucent pastries filled with green veggies and seafood, and some things that looked, to me, like strips of clams that were coated with a thick dark brown batter.
As it turned out, the "clams" were actually duck feet in a thick sauce. I've not had duck feet before and probably will not again, at least not intentionally. The taste isn't bad, but they are full of bones and cartilage and such, making it very tough to eat.
Later, in the main buffet, away from dim sum, I put a bit of dark brown meat of some kind into a small bowl. When I got around to trying it, I learned it was trip...beef, I think...that was very, very hard to chew. Fortunately, it did not have the aroma nor the taste I've come to associate with tripe (via menudo); but, it was damned hard to eat.
All in all, the lunch was hard to eat and was less than top-notch, at least from my perspective. I've often thought the best way to eat foods with which one is utterly unfamiliar is to be instructed by "native eaters." I'm willing to go back, but I need some instruction.
After lunch, we did our daily errands, including one that I've put off for a long, long time: replacing my watch. I had been hoping my old Seiko simply needed another battery; unfortunately, that was not to be. Its electronics had died, requiring replacement. So, I am now the owner of a new Citizen watch. It's far too fancy for my taste, but as my wife points out, I did not buy it for myself, I bought it to polish a tarnished image (i.e., I bought it for my clients). I got a good deal on it, spending only $189 instead of its $250 price tag. I think watches that cost more than $50 are showpieces; you're buying the form, not the function. But so it goes. I now have a watch that doesn't embarrass my wife when we go out.
Later, following our errands, we went out to a musical entitled The Great American Trailer Park Musical. It was funny in places, but my overall impression was that it was not particularly good (all the reviews I've heard about, though, give it dazzling ratings, so maybe I'm the odd man out). An advertising agency with which we sometimes do business invited us and bought the tickets, so I can't complain too bitterly. And my wife found it enjoyable; she notes it was not meant to be particularly thought-provoking.
Today, I'm heading south for a meeting in Austin. I'll leave later this afternoon and will drive part way, staying overnight in a relatively inexpensive place somewhere near my destination, a resort that costs far too much. I'll miss their dinner tonight, but will be no poorer because of it. Tomorrow, I have meetings beginning at 8:30 am, with another half day on Tuesday.
And so it's unlikely I'll blog much any time soon. But I just had to record this stuff for the record. I'll come back here and use it one day.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Easily Led Astray by Butterflies
I am easily led astray. It took no more than my wife's less-than-enthusiastic response to my question, "Will you be ready to go to the office soon," on Friday to abandon my plans to go to work. Her response was, "I guess so...do you want to go?" That's not her usual attitude...usually it's "I have work to do, I have to go in."
My brother and his wife (retirees living in Mexico and prone to wander the earth on a moment's notice) had come in the night before and we had gone out to eat dinner at one of our favorite vegetarian Indian restaurants (Udipi), then had come home and chatted for a while. The next morning, we went to breakfast at a local(?) chain called Bagelstein's, where I wolfed down a eggs with site-made corned-beef hash, along with lots of other accompaniments. My brother went for the lox and bagels, with onions and capers and cream cheese. The women-folk ordered less extreme stuff. After we went back to our house, my brother and his spouse quickly pulled their stuff together to leave, planning to stop by a bank on the way out of town to wire money to pay for a 1995 Mercedes convertible he had just bought in an online auction. This is about his third online car purchase and, based on his experiences, I'm interested in having him look for good deals for me. The car he bought has very, very low miles and is in terrific shape.
Back to the matter at hand. Our restaurant favorites tend to be simple, unpretentious, very basic places. It wasn't the stress of "looking the part" in a fine-dining establishment that gave my wife pause about going to work. It was most certainly something else. She was just ready to play hooky. And, it seems, so was I. So, we quickly decided to call the office, inform them that we would not be in until late in the afternoon, if at all, and jumped in the car with the objective of driving to Wichita Falls, about 140 miles northwest of us, to see their new butterfy convervatory. So, off we went, exhilarated at the fact that we were spontaneously taking Friday off from work. Just shy of 2:00 pm, we decided we should eat so we drifted about and found a little Mexican restaurant (El Paisa), where we had a nice lunch of salsas, chips, chile relleno, enchildas, and such (between the two of us). After lunch, we wandered about downtown and were enchanted by the following sign, advertising adoptions of wild horses and burros (click on the photo to see it full size to be able to read the sign):
We opted not to adopt a wild horse or burro. Instead, we drove off in search of butterflies. It didn't take long to find Riverbend Nature Center in Lucy Park, the site of the new Ruby N. Priddy Butterfly Conservatory. The building is essentially a huge metal frame with glass walls. Unfortunately for the conservatory, the staff was less-than-enthusiastic and fundamentally unhelpful. The one visible staff member noticed us walk in and, with no sense of urgency, put down her watering bucket, shuffled over to us, and told us we needed to pay $5 each to enter. She then walked away, leaving us to our own devices. We wandered around, reading signs describing the geography and biology of the area and saw quite a few butterflies. It wasn't overwhelming, but interesting. All in all, I'd say $5 per person was about $4 per person more than the experience was worth, but I'm glad we did it anyway. Here are a few photos of butterflies I was able to capture while we were there:
My brother and his wife (retirees living in Mexico and prone to wander the earth on a moment's notice) had come in the night before and we had gone out to eat dinner at one of our favorite vegetarian Indian restaurants (Udipi), then had come home and chatted for a while. The next morning, we went to breakfast at a local(?) chain called Bagelstein's, where I wolfed down a eggs with site-made corned-beef hash, along with lots of other accompaniments. My brother went for the lox and bagels, with onions and capers and cream cheese. The women-folk ordered less extreme stuff. After we went back to our house, my brother and his spouse quickly pulled their stuff together to leave, planning to stop by a bank on the way out of town to wire money to pay for a 1995 Mercedes convertible he had just bought in an online auction. This is about his third online car purchase and, based on his experiences, I'm interested in having him look for good deals for me. The car he bought has very, very low miles and is in terrific shape.
Back to the matter at hand. Our restaurant favorites tend to be simple, unpretentious, very basic places. It wasn't the stress of "looking the part" in a fine-dining establishment that gave my wife pause about going to work. It was most certainly something else. She was just ready to play hooky. And, it seems, so was I. So, we quickly decided to call the office, inform them that we would not be in until late in the afternoon, if at all, and jumped in the car with the objective of driving to Wichita Falls, about 140 miles northwest of us, to see their new butterfy convervatory. So, off we went, exhilarated at the fact that we were spontaneously taking Friday off from work. Just shy of 2:00 pm, we decided we should eat so we drifted about and found a little Mexican restaurant (El Paisa), where we had a nice lunch of salsas, chips, chile relleno, enchildas, and such (between the two of us). After lunch, we wandered about downtown and were enchanted by the following sign, advertising adoptions of wild horses and burros (click on the photo to see it full size to be able to read the sign):
We opted not to adopt a wild horse or burro. Instead, we drove off in search of butterflies. It didn't take long to find Riverbend Nature Center in Lucy Park, the site of the new Ruby N. Priddy Butterfly Conservatory. The building is essentially a huge metal frame with glass walls. Unfortunately for the conservatory, the staff was less-than-enthusiastic and fundamentally unhelpful. The one visible staff member noticed us walk in and, with no sense of urgency, put down her watering bucket, shuffled over to us, and told us we needed to pay $5 each to enter. She then walked away, leaving us to our own devices. We wandered around, reading signs describing the geography and biology of the area and saw quite a few butterflies. It wasn't overwhelming, but interesting. All in all, I'd say $5 per person was about $4 per person more than the experience was worth, but I'm glad we did it anyway. Here are a few photos of butterflies I was able to capture while we were there:
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
More on California...and Here
I've not written much these last few weeks, focusing my attention instead on the trials and tribulations of living life day by day. It's time that I spend some of my pent-up energy to record a bit about what's been going on in my life. While I was in California, just before a client event, I stayed a few days with my sister, who lives in Berkeley. I've already written about the first evening there, when we met some of her friends for an evening at Women of Taste, a fundraiser for Girls, Inc. The next day, she drove me to see, among other things, the Point Reyes lighthouse at the Point Reyes National Seashore. It's a spectacular place, but I have to admit we did not climb down from the ranger station to the lighthouse below, largely because I was concerned my knees would not hold up (and my lungs might give up the ghost, too); there are signs warning that the trek back up the stairs from the lighthouse to the ranger station is the equivalent of climbing the stairs of a 30-story building. I would be willing to try such a thing if my life depended on it, by it didn't. Here are some photos I took during the trek up to the ranger station from the parking lot and back. The views of the rocks and waves below are stunning; my photography is not.
Before going to Point Reyes, I should note, we stopped in a little town whose name completely escapes me. We had coffee and a scone and wandered about the town, watching lots of people mill about in the tiny downtown area, admiring one another's motorcycles, bicycles, children, dogs, and other possessions and passions of interest. Afterward, we went looking for Nick's Cove on Tomales Bay in Randall, California. The idea was that the restaurant at Nick's Cove is said to have wonderful oysters and I wanted some. We did not have a map, as it turned out, so we did not drive far enough to find the place before we decided we'd missed it and turned around. We stopped, instead, at Tony's, a place where my sister had eaten before, and I had some very good fish & chips. The next day, I think, we bummed about a little and then had a spectacular dinner at a fabulous Oakland restaurant called Bay Wolf. We met my two of my sister's friends and their significant others and had a wonderful time talking, eating wonderful food, and drinking wonderful wine. I was getting a bit nervous at what this might cost, since the entrees were not awfully high, but certainly on the upper end of my comfort zone and I was uninvolved in selecting the wine. One of my sister's friends selected the wine, which was obviously of a much higher quality that I am wont to pick...because I am genetically frugal, a trait supported completely by my financial status. At the end of the evening, the same friend who selected the wine simply picked up the entire tab for all six of us. I was deliriously grateful, but also felt more than a little ill-at-ease at not making any contribution at all. I didn't want to make an issue of it, though, so I endured my discomfort and gleeful appreciation in silence. I vowed I would write her a thank-you note, which I have yet to do. And then, a little more than a day later, my conference would begin. But not before I learned from my wife that an employee, one of three (including my wife) remaining back at the office, quit without notice early on Monday morning. She entered the office sometime before 5:00 am, wrote an email saying she realized it could not have come at a worse time, but rationalizing it by saying she had a great opportunity she could not pass up. The worthless, subhuman, filthy scum! This came as a complete surprise, since she had been doing a good job and had showed real promise. However, there were some issues beforehand that should have been signals: she had a very poor attendance record, claiming that she had migraines, stomach aches, and all manner of physical problems. I had talked to her about the issue recently, giving her lots of praise for her performance, but counseling her that her absenteeism was a problem that needed attention. I guess that's the attention it needed. I have nothing but loathing and disdain for a person who would leave her employer in such a bad spot. I wonder how employees would feel if they showed up for work one morning to find this note? "Sorry, we found a better opportunity and we're not coming back. You no longer have a job. We know it's a bad time, what with the mortgage you just got, and all, but that's really not our problem. Good luck." It's not appropriate to wish others harm, I know, but I do wish for this woman everything she deserves; poverty, pestilence, and life-long angst. With few exceptions, the Conference appeared to come off without a hitch. Oh, there were problems, but the worst of them were visible to only a few people. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves immensely. Everyone, that is, but a woman who according to another member, was badly beaten by her husband. I was told that the woman is OK, but that her husband was arrested and spent at least two days in jail...and had not gotten out as of the time I left town. If what I was told is true, the bastard should be released from jail and directly into a tank full of angry, hungry, and utterly demented sharks. It may be pure rumor, though. Some people do love to make up stories. So there you have it. I've been slowly getting back into my routine since getting back. Lots to do, but nothing is truly urgent. Tomorrow, my brother and his wife...the one's who live in Mexico...are passing through Dallas and will stop overnight to see us. It will be good to catch up with them, albeit briefly, and stress to ourselves that we need to find time to relax, regularly. Last night, I read some of my posts from a year or two ago and found them to be much more interesting than most of my posts of late. They were more interesting because they told more than a story, they told a story that had legs, a story that was more than a travelogue and more than a record of my activities. There are more of those coming. I'll force the issue with me if I have to.
Before I forget, a wild turkey who has been nicknamed Josephine has decided it likes the Berkeley hills and has taken up residence near my sister's place. Every day, it comes scratching around. I took a very brief, very bad video.
Before going to Point Reyes, I should note, we stopped in a little town whose name completely escapes me. We had coffee and a scone and wandered about the town, watching lots of people mill about in the tiny downtown area, admiring one another's motorcycles, bicycles, children, dogs, and other possessions and passions of interest. Afterward, we went looking for Nick's Cove on Tomales Bay in Randall, California. The idea was that the restaurant at Nick's Cove is said to have wonderful oysters and I wanted some. We did not have a map, as it turned out, so we did not drive far enough to find the place before we decided we'd missed it and turned around. We stopped, instead, at Tony's, a place where my sister had eaten before, and I had some very good fish & chips. The next day, I think, we bummed about a little and then had a spectacular dinner at a fabulous Oakland restaurant called Bay Wolf. We met my two of my sister's friends and their significant others and had a wonderful time talking, eating wonderful food, and drinking wonderful wine. I was getting a bit nervous at what this might cost, since the entrees were not awfully high, but certainly on the upper end of my comfort zone and I was uninvolved in selecting the wine. One of my sister's friends selected the wine, which was obviously of a much higher quality that I am wont to pick...because I am genetically frugal, a trait supported completely by my financial status. At the end of the evening, the same friend who selected the wine simply picked up the entire tab for all six of us. I was deliriously grateful, but also felt more than a little ill-at-ease at not making any contribution at all. I didn't want to make an issue of it, though, so I endured my discomfort and gleeful appreciation in silence. I vowed I would write her a thank-you note, which I have yet to do. And then, a little more than a day later, my conference would begin. But not before I learned from my wife that an employee, one of three (including my wife) remaining back at the office, quit without notice early on Monday morning. She entered the office sometime before 5:00 am, wrote an email saying she realized it could not have come at a worse time, but rationalizing it by saying she had a great opportunity she could not pass up. The worthless, subhuman, filthy scum! This came as a complete surprise, since she had been doing a good job and had showed real promise. However, there were some issues beforehand that should have been signals: she had a very poor attendance record, claiming that she had migraines, stomach aches, and all manner of physical problems. I had talked to her about the issue recently, giving her lots of praise for her performance, but counseling her that her absenteeism was a problem that needed attention. I guess that's the attention it needed. I have nothing but loathing and disdain for a person who would leave her employer in such a bad spot. I wonder how employees would feel if they showed up for work one morning to find this note? "Sorry, we found a better opportunity and we're not coming back. You no longer have a job. We know it's a bad time, what with the mortgage you just got, and all, but that's really not our problem. Good luck." It's not appropriate to wish others harm, I know, but I do wish for this woman everything she deserves; poverty, pestilence, and life-long angst. With few exceptions, the Conference appeared to come off without a hitch. Oh, there were problems, but the worst of them were visible to only a few people. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves immensely. Everyone, that is, but a woman who according to another member, was badly beaten by her husband. I was told that the woman is OK, but that her husband was arrested and spent at least two days in jail...and had not gotten out as of the time I left town. If what I was told is true, the bastard should be released from jail and directly into a tank full of angry, hungry, and utterly demented sharks. It may be pure rumor, though. Some people do love to make up stories. So there you have it. I've been slowly getting back into my routine since getting back. Lots to do, but nothing is truly urgent. Tomorrow, my brother and his wife...the one's who live in Mexico...are passing through Dallas and will stop overnight to see us. It will be good to catch up with them, albeit briefly, and stress to ourselves that we need to find time to relax, regularly. Last night, I read some of my posts from a year or two ago and found them to be much more interesting than most of my posts of late. They were more interesting because they told more than a story, they told a story that had legs, a story that was more than a travelogue and more than a record of my activities. There are more of those coming. I'll force the issue with me if I have to.Before I forget, a wild turkey who has been nicknamed Josephine has decided it likes the Berkeley hills and has taken up residence near my sister's place. Every day, it comes scratching around. I took a very brief, very bad video.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Home in Early Birthday Land
I'm back in Dallas after a whirlwind week in San Francisco. I used upgrade coupons to get into first class on the way home, which turned out to be a bit of a waste. I wasn't in the mood for alcohol and I had eaten lunch a short while before the flight left, so the free booze and actual meal weren't appealing and I did not partake. But, the seat was wider and softer than I'm used to, so it wasn't all for naught. But I have to say the lack of thigh support in those large leather seats is an issue.
After an uneventful flight, my wife and I waited for quite a while for my luggage. The main piece came down the luggage conveyor shortly after luggage delivery began, but my other bag did not. After all other bags had been picked up and no one else was left, I reported my lost bag to a tired and annoyed baggage claims employee, who took my information and said I could expect to receive my luggage by noon Sunday. My wife happened to be awake when the phone rang at 4:18 am this morning. It was the baggage delivery guy, calling to say he was outside the front door. My wife took in my bag and kindly did not awake me. She said the guy apologized, but said he was required to deliver lost bags around the clock.
Today I spent my time unpacking, throwing clothes into the hamper, and unwrapping and setting up my new iPod and iPod Home device, both early birthday and Christmas gifts from my sister-in-law. So, I now have an iPod which can actually play movies...and everyone in the house can listen to my iPod music over speakers.
It will take some time to readjust and get back to writing...after which time I will tell the story of a former employee who quit last Monday morning, via email, at just shy of 5:00 AM.
After an uneventful flight, my wife and I waited for quite a while for my luggage. The main piece came down the luggage conveyor shortly after luggage delivery began, but my other bag did not. After all other bags had been picked up and no one else was left, I reported my lost bag to a tired and annoyed baggage claims employee, who took my information and said I could expect to receive my luggage by noon Sunday. My wife happened to be awake when the phone rang at 4:18 am this morning. It was the baggage delivery guy, calling to say he was outside the front door. My wife took in my bag and kindly did not awake me. She said the guy apologized, but said he was required to deliver lost bags around the clock.
Today I spent my time unpacking, throwing clothes into the hamper, and unwrapping and setting up my new iPod and iPod Home device, both early birthday and Christmas gifts from my sister-in-law. So, I now have an iPod which can actually play movies...and everyone in the house can listen to my iPod music over speakers.
It will take some time to readjust and get back to writing...after which time I will tell the story of a former employee who quit last Monday morning, via email, at just shy of 5:00 AM.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Bearing Witness to Implosion, With Wine
We're off! A hellacious board meeting today, complete with conversations about reducing our changing our management fees, followed by a rip-roaring dinner at Allioto's on Pier 39, complete with wine, wierdness, and more wine. I wonder if this is the last big meeting for this group I'll be able to attend. The serious problems they face were once again essentially ignored. What craziness. These are business people...don't they understand they are on their last legs? Christ. What a fiasco they are about to witness.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
My First 20,000 Days
I just stumbled across the fact that I had better get cracking if I want to publish a book entitled My First 20,000 Days by the time I reach that milestone. Twenty thousand days translates into 54 and three quarter years, which is just a shade more than 3/4 of a year from now. Let's see, what subtitle might I assign to the book? Memoirs of a Moron. I don't much like the sound of that, but it may fit.
Great Expectations
As a rule, people for whom you have high expectations will disappoint. It sounds so cynical, but I've found it to be so true. Perhaps as a defense mechanism, I've unconsciously lowered my expectations about many people. Even then, they tend to underdeliver. Disappointment with so many makes the few who don't disappoint so much the more valuable. There are a very few people I can count on with absolutely no question. I've been married to one of them for 27 years and counting.