NaBloPoMo 2011

Hello end of November, Blogger here!

Another National Blog Posting Month and another 30 consecutive posts. Not all of them brilliant but consecutive and that's the rule.

It's a good exercise for those of us who get out of the habit of writing daily and sink into that warm, comfortable lounge chair made by Sloth Co. Yep, I've got a lot of furniture from that company.

As a wrap for the month, how did the final day go? Well, to start, there were more crazy drivers on the road than usual. Not fast, reckless drivers, but slow, insipidly stupid, in-your-way drivers who were intent on causing as much disruption, slowly, as possible. Drivers in the wrong lane trying to slowly merge into the "right" lane and drivers in the "right" lane trying to slowly merge into the "righter" lane. Go figger.

There was the lady at Kroger's who after being asked 5 times by the checker if she had any coupons and responding "no" dug into her vast handbag at the last moment totally sure that she had a coupon worth 5-cents off some useless product she only bought because she had a 5-cent off coupon. She never found it and became rightfully startled when I started to growl at her. Thank you vampire films, my growls are much more effective these days.

There was the moron who parked in front of the community mailbox, totally blocking access as he perused his Victoria's Secret catalog. I told him he was an XXL and maroon was not his color but he didn't seem to interested in my free advice. I also suggested he take his catalog and read it in his garage like a normal prevert.

And, finally, I made friends with the dog by locking him in a room all day with nothing to listen to but old Pat Boone tapes. Grateful dog. Thanks, Pat.

Dinner tonight was simple but outstanding: butter sautéd cod with new potatoes, green beans and mushrooms served with Nouveaux Beaujolais.

And finally, finally, hello December and Christmas 2011. Twelve Two Two Fondue VIII in 22 days. Prodigious.

Walkies

I'm a cat person. I've always had cats, I like cats and cats are my best friends. They treat me right: with pure, un- hypocritical distain. I can live with that.

Dogs, not so much. All the slobbering, eating out of the litter box, licking whatever off the floor. No thanks, Mr. Dog.

Well, then, we ended up boarding a dog for a couple of weeks. Big dog. Half blue healer, half German shepherd. Big, nice, smart, loving, intelligent with big brown eyes and gentle and smart and nice effing dog.

Dog.

I try to dislike this dog.

Fail.

Fortunately, I'm not require to take the dog on walks because he loves another who does take him on walks. Great. Grand! No walkies for me.

Until today when She Who Takes the Dog on Walkie is not available.

"Hey, I'm tied up at work. Remember work? That thing that pays the bills and your wine allowance? Well, I'm tied up making even more money to support your habits and I need you to take the Dog for a Walk. No whining, just do it or no wining for you if you get my drift."

Drift gotten. Leash in hand I asked the Dog if he wanted to go for walkies and got trampled, and licked to oblivion. I guess that's a "yes."

Turns out that walkies are a lot of fun! We went over hill and under dale, chased squirrels and birds and golfers and had a great time. We even scared a little poodle with a hearty "Woof! Woof!" and I had to console the owner with an offer of a poolside hot oil massage only to learn that her calendar was booked until 2021. I mean, that's one organized poodle owner to have a calendar booked that far in advance.

Anyway, we got home safe and sound, the dog dived into his food and I headed off to take a nap only to dream about running a pool service company dealing with clogged skimmers.

A good day, I would say. Walkies tomorrow? You bet!

Comfort Foods

What's the secret to comfort foods?

Easy, two hours.

That's what it takes to produce a good chicken soup, chili or gumbo. Two hours. Nothing less and maybe a little bit more.

T0 head off the Great Cold Epidemic I made a batch of chicken soup. Here's the blueprint

chopped onion

chopped celery

chopped carrot

chicken

bay leaves

salt

pepper

Simple but effective. Chop everything up, put it in a pot, cover with water and let simmer for two hours. Season to taste and inoculate yourself against most bad things, including moods.

Gumbo is similar, except for paying attention to preparing the roux. Thirty minutes minimum and dark chocolate minimum. Then Andouille sausage, the Trinity and water to cover for two hours before adding shrimp, calamari, crawfish and scallops. A further 30 minutes and you have yumminess. Season with Louisiana Hot Sauce or your favorite.

Stops most ailments.

Nothing to Sneeze At

Achooooooo!

I've been hearing a lot of that.

"How you doin?"

"Ugh, I've got the crud."

"I'll send flowers. Later, dood."

Not a lot of sympathy from me because I know I'm next on the Crud List. That's the way it goes. Hear a sneeze. Then two. Then 20. Then it becomes a sneezefest. That is until your ears plug up and your head feels like a balloon filled with not-quite-set Jell-o.

I don't want any part of that. And, usually, I'm successful at avoiding the Crud. Wash hands frequently, keep a healthy (ha ha) distance from sick looking people and avoid touching things plague victims have touched.

Oh, and live in my car for the duration of the winter. Yeah, that, too.

Don't Wrap It, Bag It

"No you don't! No you don't! No you don't!"

I had just pulled my bag off the belt in Baggage Claim when this deranged woman pushed her way through the crowd, stepping on children, pushing lumberjacks out of the way and shouting like her purse had been snatched.

"No you don't, that's my bag," she snarled looking at me with wild-eyed fury.

I calmly pointed to the luggage tag and the airline claim tag which had my name printed clearly at the bottom and said, "Yes I do! Yes I do! Yes I do! This is my bag."

Faced with the evidence she deflated like a Macy's Day Parade balloon and offered an excuse, "Well, I've got a luggage strap just like that."

"Congratulations," I said, "we both shop at Wal-Mart."

I walked away with my bag as an anonymous voice said, "Oh, snap!"

Yep, I thought, I just exude Christmas spirit!

Ready, Set, Go!

Let the holiday season begin!

Unleash the dogs of shopping! Cats, too!

It's my favorite time of the year. The cool weather, adjusted by Global Warming, and the warm feelings, adjusted by the cool economy, serve only to boost my spirits.

I can't wait to update my holiday music playlist and get the tunes cranking on the cronk, or whatever.

The UPS man already has his personal parking place outside my house. He'll be stopping there regularly as my online shopping frenzy burns up the InterTubes. I'll probably get ANOTHER "Well Done" certificate from Al Gore, bless his heart! I gave him credit for inventing the InterTube many years ago and he's been so gracious ever since. (Fortunately, truth be told, I'm glad not to have to deal with Tipper's cookies. Nuff said.)

Soon the house will be decorated, we'll set up the annual fire hazard tree and Kink the Cat will lose his favorite sleeping spot on the mantlepiece to the stuffed reindeer and Snoopy Santa. However, Kink will content himself by knocking off the tree as many ornaments as he can.

Peace on Earth, goodwill toward men. If we only do it once a year it's worth it. Me, I'll stretch it out as far as I can.

No Funny Stuff

"What are we having for Thanksgiving dinner this year?"

"The usual."

"What do you mean 'the usual?' That usually means some funny stuff."

"No fair! I've never done funny stuff for Thanksgiving dinner. The menu is fixed. No deviations allowed. Turkey, potatoes, veggies, cranberry sauce (jellied, not whole) and pie."

"What about the time you roasted a goose and tried to tell us it was 'jive turkey,' huh?"

"Still a bird," I countered weakly.

"Yeah, what about the time you put ginger in the cranberry and tried to hide it by turning out the lights? Or the time you stir-fried the sweet potatoes with shrimp and served them with prune sauce?"

"Ginger was on sale and a printer malfunction jumbled three recipes on one page. And, besides, the sweet potatoes were more weird than funny."

"And how about the time you ran out of eggs and used mustard instead of yokes in the Hollandaise sauce?"

"It was yellow, wasn't it? And tangy! OK, OK, uncle, I give up. Nothing funny this year. Just roasted turkey, traditional trimmings, no ginger, no curry powder in the egg nog. Promise."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, nothing funny. Zero funny, sir!"

(Later that morning ... )

"What smells so good?!?"

"I'm cooking a batch of sausage rolls. Flakey pastry wrapped around link sausages and baked to a golden brown. I even brushed the pastry with beaten egg to give it a glaze. Simply simplicity, I always say. Here, they're ready, try one."

"OK, don't mind if I do!"

(chomp)

"Hey, what's this I taste? There's something else in here you didn't tell me about! There's some funny stuff in here!"

"You said don't mess with dinner. You didn't say don't mess with the sausage rolls. I put in bacon and smoked Hatch green chilies."

There was a pause, longer than a comma, shorter than a colon.

"You know, these things are pretty good. No, better than good. They're really, really good! I hope you made a bunch because I'm diggin' me some green chili sausage rolls."

"Don't worry, I made plenty. And if you think those are good wait until you taste my twice-cooked garlic peppermint mashed potatoes!"

El Sombrero

With a name like El Sombrero it's either going to be a magical experience or a complete disaster.

Hello, magical!

You can tell a Mexican restaurant cares about its food by the way it treats its beans and taco meat. At El Sombrero the beans were served at a perfect density, not too runny, not too stiff, and perfectly seasoned with garlic, salt and cumin.

For tacos, El Sombrero serves both ground or shredded beef; customer choice. Shredded beef takes time and care which I soon appreciated was the hallmark of El Sombrero.

Irma's

Irma's Mexican Restaurant

Deming, New Mexico

One word review: Outstanding.

Chips: Locally cooked at a proper temperature, not greasy, crisp and fresh.

Salsa: Green chili using fresh local ingredients. Spicy but not outrageous.

Food: Beans are always a hallmark of a good Mexican restaurant. Irma's beans were flavorful, not greasy or stiff, served hot and with care.

Tacos, enchiladas and flautas were made with seasoned, shredded beef (not ground) and served with fresh-cut lettuce, tomatoes and avocados.

Service: When you are deciding whether to leave a tip or propose marriage to your server, you are in a good restaurant.

I give Irma's nine stars. Why? Because they are my stars to give!

Play Ball

The new dinner portion guidelines came out recently. Do away with cups, teaspoons and other measures and think in terms of ordinary objects: ping pong balls, decks of cards and bars of soap. Just what I want to be thinking about at dinner time.

So, a proper portion of rice is a ping pong ball and broccoli would be a tennis ball and meat would be a single playing card (diamonds for rare and clubs for well done, I guess). The idea is to visualize these common objects when shoveling food from the trough to your plate so you don't overeat.

I thought I'd give the idea a test drive at my favorite Mexican restaurant. First, I visualized how many enchiladas in a stack would be needed to reach the Moon. Turns out the answer is about 30 billion.

Great! I'll have the Moon Combination Number 1 and hold the sour cream, I'm watching my waste line.

While waiting for Junior to prepare my enchiladas I thought I'd munch on some chips, but how many? Bowling ball? Sounded to heavy to me. I went with weather balloon, instead. And make that a beach ball of salsa, too. Thx.

You know, I think I'm going to like this new food visualization scheme. Let's see, how about a school bus of refried beans ...

Chair Man

My bed is like a reclining chair that only reclines; unable to un-recline. A horizontal chair. I heart my un-un-reclinable chair so much that I spent 8 solid hours in it last night.

Worn out by that experience I hauled myself into the kitchen and plopped myself down in my chair at the kitchen table. Whew, I needed a rest from that experience. A few cups of coffee later I was ready to slip into the living room where my reading chair lives.

My reading chair is a nice, Danish leather un-reclinable but perfectly suited to my needs, i.e. to sit in a chair.

Time went by quickly, though, and I had to cut my daily reading short because I had places to go and people to see. I transferred from my reading to my car chair.

I love my car chair. I mean, it's a chair that moves. It's on four wheels, has an engine, is fully enclosed, comes with a radio and goes zoomity zoom. I'm on a special journey today, to the airport. Fortunately, I've heard they have chairs there.

At the airport I was not disappointed. They had room after room filled with chairs and at my appointed room I found a chair next to the window where I could watch the airplanes come and go. Soon, however, my number was called and I moved from my airport lounge chair to my airplane chair.

My airplane chair was much like my car chair, but a lot less complicated. I didn't have to actually drive the airplane, just sit there and enjoy the ride. Not that I mind driving and in a few hours I'd get a chance to do that when I transferred to my rental car chair.

I got a really cool rental car chair with a satellite radio. How many chairs have a satellite radio?

Finally, I arrived at my destination. As I hauled my stuff into the house my host greeted me and said, "Hey, man, good to see you! Can I get you anything?" I looked across his living room at that great big La-Z-Boy lounger and said, "If you don't mind, I'm exhausted. I think I'll take a load off in that chair over there. Comes with a beer, doesn't it?"

Yes, I am the Chair Man.

Your Wish is My Command

A person I know dropped her camera and snapped off a small, but important, piece of plastic that holds the lens in place. The camera still works, the lens does its auto-focus thing and the pictures look good, but you have to hold the lens tight to the camera body or rays of light will slip in.

Unfortunate.

Fortunately, a quick rub of the Amazon.com genie lamp revealed a replacement lens at a good discount and with overnight delivery via magic carpet for free.

What a deal! Done and done!

True to the word Amazon genie the replacement lens arrived this afternoon quicker than you could say Barbara Eden. *blink* *blink*

A cynic might say, "Well, why didn't you just run up to Target or Best Buy or WalMart and get a lens there? Besides, why the rush?

The answer to that is straightforward: Target and WalMart don't carry the brand and Best Buy was sold out! Plus, the price was better on Amazon and I didn't have to drive around. The rush was that the person with the damaged camera was leaving on a trip soon and not too keen on having the camera lens stabilized to the body with duct tape (my first solution).

Amazon and on-line ordering companies have come a long way from the late 90's when investors were worried about the business model of on-line purchase and delivery. And, until I get my very own Jeannie, it's the next best thing!

I Heart Sarah Vowell

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Happy Evacuation Day
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog The Daily Show on Facebook

Sarah Vowell is an historian, author and the kind of person I'd invite to dinner. I have all her books, or most of them, or some of them, well, whatever Amazon sells, I have. Brilliantly written, well researched and written in entire sentences. Unlike me. Mostly.

Problem Solved

Some years ago there was a book that described a climate change that would put the Earth into a protracted winter resulting from nuclear (nuuk-a-lar) war. It was called Nuclear Winter.

The concept was that if mutually assured destruction didn't do the job, all the dust and particulates kicked up into the atmosphere would block sunlight for years or decades plunging the planet into a near-perminant winter. I guess the effects would be even worse during the actual winter. A few years of that and the only things left on the planet would be polar bears and penguins.

So, now we're faced with global warming and the answer to this problem is right under our noses! Yes, down in those missile silos are enough nukes to keep the planet in balance for eons. All we have to do is fire off one or two a year, by my calculations, and it will be like San Diego everywhere.

Sunburn? A thing of the past. I don't know the SPF of radioactive atmospheric dust but I bet it's pretty high.

I'm going to flesh out this idea a little more then send it to the Department of Energy, well, if it's still a department.

Stoned with Captain Kirk

William Shatner, aka Captain Kirk of Star Trek fame, sold his kidney stone for $25,000!

I piss you not!

I am so getting an eBay account.

Mopey Moped

Just moped around the house feeling washed out. Or washed up. Or rinsed twice. Repeat.

There is a thing called a mo-ped, a bicycle with an auxiliary motor connected to it. Pedal or ride, your choice.

Now, that would have been fun do to around the house. I could get a little basket for Kink and we could do tight circles in the living room. I'll have to look into that!

Better than moping. Or mopping.

Beaujolais Nouveau

The 2011 Beaujolais arrives November 17th.

I will be waiting.

It's time to crank out the old French bread recipe, my old baguette pans have been cold too long. And some homemade pâté would go down a treat. If I fattened up one of the geese down at the local pond, I wonder if anyone would notice it missing one day? Note to self: wash ninja outfit.

Also, its Andouille sausage time. Note to self: order 10lb Boston butt. (boned this time to make life just a little easier!)

Now, all I need is some cool weather.

There's a Light at the End of the Tunnel

Starlight Express!

Nuff said.

Butter

I like butter.

There, I said it.

I'll say it again.

I like butter.

I like to eat butter, cook with butter, look at butter, feel butter ...

ohhhhh, butter, you are so ... buttery!

I will not, can not, no way will, can't force me to cook with Marge. Even Marge Simpson. Just forget it.

Butter.

The best.

Mega Price Drop

Back in the day, 1986 to be exact, I purchased my first computer hard drive for the astounding price of ONLY $1200! Yes, folks, a whopping 20 megabytes for a mere $1200. I couldn't believe it was so cheap, only $60 per megabyte.

Just today, 2011 to be exact, I purchased my most recent computer hard drive for the astounding price of ONLY $160! Yes, folks, a whopping 1 terabyte for a mere $160. I couldn't believe it was so cheap, only 0.016 cent per megabyte.

What? Sixteen thousandths of a cent per megabyte?

Well, yeah, times have changed. It used to be that a terabyte was what you got in 1,000,000 years BC if you couldn't run fast enough.

I know that in 10 years I'll look back on my amazement at buying a terabyte for 160-bucks in the same light a I look back on my first disc drive today. Why, I've got pictures of my cat that take up 20 megabytes! No doubt that in time a terabyte will get me a full-sized, talking, 3-D animated Kink the Cat that eats full-sized 3-D Kat Snax.

Now, that will be cool!

The Life List

I suppose in the modern times it should be the LifeList all smashed together with capital letters distinguishing the actual words.

Whatever. What Ever. WhatEver.

A friend of mine who is very wise, hip, cool and, well, extraordinary in many ways, told me that the LifeList is quite different from the depressing (bucket list) denoted in lower case letters and in parentheses. In other words, bad dog, bad dog!

(bucket list) = things you do, then you DIE!

LifeList = Things you Do to Live!

Alex, I'll take Option B for 100 years of more life.

So, what is a LifeList, how big is it and what do you do? Well, it's surprisingly simple. The LifeList is as long as you want it to be, you do what you want to do and if you do everything on your list you simply make another one! How cool is that? Everybody gets an A, we all go to college, pass GO and collect $200.

I asked my colleague to review an actual LifeList and I was surprised to see some of the items on it.

Bake a soufflé.
Drive to Amarillo.
Photograph a turtle.

I looked at this and I said, "Geeze, Louise, I've done a lot of these things! What's so special about this list?"

Then Master Po spoke and I, Grasshopper, listened.

"First of all it's my list, not yours. These are things I want do, not things you or anyone else wants to do."

Master continued, "It's not a list to be accomplished before I die, or ever, or never. It's simply a set of achievable goals and objectives written down. One might say, Someday I will bake a soufflé. Or Someday I will drive to Amarillo. Or Someday I will photograph a turtle. But writing these things down, however big or small, puts them within my reach. Things that I can actually do. And when or if I exhaust the list, with the breath remaining in me, I can make a new list. And one after that, and one after that. So you see, Grasshopper, the list never ends, it simply changes as all things change."

I still didn't understand.

I complained, "There is nothing extraordinary on your list! No skydiving, no oil painting, no NASCAR racing. What's the point of having simple, easy stuff on your list?"

Master Po closed his eyes for a few minutes and thought. Finally, when he opened his eyes he said, "Perhaps you should start a list, Grasshopper, with 'learning to listen' as your first objective. This is my LifeList, not yours. What is important to me may not be important to you or Important to the World in a capital sense. It is my list. Personal to me. I, Me, Mine. If flossing my teeth every Wednesday was important enough to me to put on the lists, it would be a valid thing to do. I am mine and you are yours."

I thought about this and began to construct my LifeList.

1. Blog more.
2. Walk.
3. Pet my cat.
4. Learn some Japanese.

OK, I've got a start.

To Master Po I would say "kanishiwa" but he is Chinese, not Japanese. Sheh-sheh, Po.

Danube

We went up the Danube this summer. On a big boat, a river boat. Basically, two state rooms plus a hallway wide and bunches long. Flat bottomed, quiet, stable as in "not rocking around" and like a little hotel on the river.

We traveled from Budapest to Prague, sort of, not quite reaching Prague but getting pretty close. It was an interesting experience and something I'd do again.

The nice thing about a river cruise is that you can drop you stuff off in your room when you arrive and you don't have to pack up and leave until the trip is over. That was a great plus over other kinds of tours where you move every few days or so.

If it's Tuesday it must be Brussels!

Every day you stop at little towns along the river and get to spend a day wandering around looking at the sights. Mostly the sights are castles, things, more things, museums, things, more things and RESTAURANTS, my favorite! I found that after 15 minutes of looking around I was ready for a coffee, pizza, beer or all three. That was usually possible. There was nothing better than sitting in a cafe in the shade enjoying a coffee and watching the other tourists scurry around in the sun looking at "stuff" they wouldn't possibly remember once they got home.

"Oh, look, Alice, this a picture we took of something somewhere and it's Very Old and, Oh, look Alice this is another picture of the same thing we took two seconds later. Somewhere, I don't remember, but it's European, right?"

I contented myself taking pictures of young women in short skirts. I figured, in the scheme of things over time, that my pictures of young women in short skirts would trump pictures of something old taken somewhere sometime.

We'll see.

Not a-Mused

Hello, Muse?

It is not your night off. Imma pretty sure of that. I'm waiting. Inspire me.

(taps foot)

Don't tell me it's going to be one of those cheap, under-the-wire NaBloPoMo posts just to get something written.

(stares at screen)

Well, let's go down the list of favorite subjects.

1. Cats. They slept all day and are sleeping now.

2. Bad drivers. Nothing out of the ordinary today. Everybody in their lane, moving at the posted speed.

3. Food. Leftovers. Nuked expertly. Eaten with a spoon out of a big bowl.

4. Weather. All is clam.

5. General. I may be developing athlete's foot. I'll keep my feet warm and damp and perhaps grow something worth writing about.

As for Muse, thanks for nothing. I hope you wake up with somebody else's underwear on your head.

Side Effects

A guy I know takes several medications daily and he's always worried about "side effects." The other day I asked him why he was so worried and he said that the medication was supposed to relieve X or minimize Y or maximize Z but in some people it also did "other stuff."

"What kind of other stuff," I asked?

"Well, I dunno, but it's never good. That's why they're called side effects. Effects on the side, like getting a helping of fried okra at Luby's when you didn't ask for it."

"I like fried okra," I said, thinking about my fried okra-hating cholesterol level.

"A side effect," he continued, "is like finding hollandaise sauce on your chocolate ice cream, or chocolate ice cream on your steamed asparagus. Not a good thing."

I thought about the chocolate ice cream and asparagus and, you know, it might just work with some candied ginger and a dash of freshly ground black pepper. Note to self ...

I said, "Aw, come on! You're such a Debbie Downer," and by the look he shot me I was sure he was taking downers, too. OK, time for Plan B.

"Suppose," I said, "a side effect produced an unexpected but good thing, like suddenly being able to play the piano or juggle. That would be cool, don't you think?"

I was on a roll. "Or what if a side effect was to improve your vision or make you look like Harrison Ford." I thought about his wife who actually does look like Harrison Ford and immediately regretted that remark.

But, I was on a roll, take no prisoners, victory or death! "Why does a side effect always have to be a bad thing? A side effect could be cool. Occupy Side Effects, I say!"

My friend went quiet for a moment, deep in thought. Finally, he looked up and said, "Well, there is this one thing I noticed with my blood pressure medicine."

I thought, "OK, well, if he's going to tell me about a side effect that lasts over 4 hours, I really don't want to know. Awkward!"

But, he said, "I can talk to animals. Well, not all animals. Mostly birds."

"You can talk to birds," I said, suppressing the Obvious Teed-Up Softball - Let me guess, you Tweet them! Rather, I let my comment hang in the air.

"Yeah," he said, "it's uncanny. I can go out into the back yard and talk to the doves, the mockingbirds, blue jays, starlings and even ducks down by the pond. I can coo, chich-chich, raaaaak, breep breep and awk-awk-awk and, well, tell them anything."

"What exactly do you say to the birds," I ventured.

"Oh, anything and everything. How I'm feeling, politics, jokes, TV show reviews. Apparently, the birds are great fans of Parks and Recreation. Who knew?"

My friend was growing quite animated, walking around like a pigeon, then spreading his wings like a goose and hopping like a robin.

I couldn't resist. "And, what exactly do the birds say back to you?" I asked hopefully.

"Well," he replied smiling, "nothing yet. Just a bunch of twitter-jabber. But, I'm starting this new diuretic next week and I have high hopes. Yes, high hopes, indeed!"

The Dawg

Kink hates the Dawg.

The Dawg loves Kink ... ish.

I would love to sniff you! I would love to claw you!

I would love to run with you! I would love to run at you!

I love your food! I hate that you love my food!

Give me some fur! No problem, it will be yours mixed with a little blood, also yours!

But I love you! Sorry, but your argument is specious.

Plan B ... and D, E, F and G.

Plan A was a seafood cocktail made out of boiled shrimp, crab, cabbage/lettuce mix, avocados, jalapeños, tomatoes and some kind of sauce made from horseradish, mayo, tomato paste and Tabasco.

Unfortunately for Plan A, I only had the shrimp and jalapeños. Well, rats, on to Plan B.

Plan B was sautéd shrimp in a cream sauce with feta cheese and bell pepper served on fettucini.

Unfortunately for Plan B, I only had shrimp and jalapeños.

Perhaps you're starting to see a pattern here. Further investigation uncovered some rice, mushrooms, a piece of salmon, green beans, ginger and I have lemon grass growing outside.

So, Plan C was to simmer up some chicken stock with sliced ginger and some smashed lemon grass shoots. While that was going on I wok-ed up (is that a verb?) the chopped jalapeños, green beans, mushrooms, shrimp and a shake of red pepper flakes. After removing the ginger and lemon grass shreds, in went the shrimp mixture, seasoned with a little salt and left to simmer.

Meanwhile, Plan D, was on auto-pilot: rice in the Zojirushi, press the pink button.

Plan E involved mixing in the wok some rice wine vinegar, minced ginger, minced lemon grass, soy sauce, heavy soy sauce, fish oil and a little honey, bringing the mixture to a boil and simmering for a few minutes until it thickened. After cooling for a few minutes I poured half of it over the salmon and let than marinade.

Plan F, eat the soup while the fish hangs out in the marinade.

Plan G, hot cook the fish in the wok three minutes a side and drizzle some of the remaining marinade over the sizzling fish to make a glaze.


Not bad for only having some shrimp and jalapeños.

Slow No

Word to drivers who can't drive.

You don't do yourself a favor by doing a crazy thing S-L-O-W-L-Y ! ! !

If you're turning up the down then doing that S-L-O-W-L-Y makes no difference. You are still a moron.

If you are doing a U-turn in front of a sign that clearly says No U-Turn, then doing that S-L-O-W-L-Y makes no difference. You are still a moron.

If you drive slowly because you think driving S-L-O-W-L-Y doesn't gain you attention, you are both wrong and a moron.

That is all.

Out With the Old, In With the Gnu

Gnu trash cans!

Yea! I guess.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow when brand new trash trucks roll down the street to pick up our refuse out of brand new trash cans. All high tech and all. The containers come with instructions on how to place them in the street and what to put inside and how much and what not and so on and so forth, whatever. Awesome! You always have to throw in an "awesome."

I went around the house tonight gathering up stuff so we aren't seen as slackers on the first day.

We even have a special, larger bin for recyclable stuff like wine bottles and "somebody" suggested that we might need two of them. I really don't know what she meant by that remark.

But, be that as it may, clinkies and cheers to the new trash thingines. Salut!

Best Left Over

Some things are good out of the gate and some things are best Left Over.

I'd put chili and beef stew and my special spaghetti sauce in the latter category.

Things like flan and chocolate soufflé are best done hot. (That's what she said.)

Tonight we had left over chicken tortilla soup, augmented by fresh, roasted corn tortillas and a bottle or three of classy central coast zinfandel. If I remember correctly, the soup was quite good but, now, I think I need to take a nap.

Hello NaBloPoMo!

Here we are again in November. National Blog Posting Month where I am challenged, really, really challenged to write something every single day. We'll I've done it ever since I signed up back in 2006 and never missed a day. This month will be no exception although I do have a few days during which I will be traveling that will make it a little more difficult.

A few years ago, time flies and fruit flies like a banana, I decided to "upgrade" this site with the new Blogspot templates but my first attempt, and my second, third and fourth turned out to be such a big palava that I backed off to the original template. However, it needs to be done if for no other reason than to update my Favorites, some of whom have dropped off the InterTubes or have changed their domain or transmorgrified from moose to panda. (Long story)

So, this month, for sure, I'll bite the bullet, put my nose to the grindstone, untie the G-string and do the dirty deed to move into the Modern Age. Fortunately, you'll not have to listen to me screaming as I do this.

Now for my Driving Tip of the Week.

Hello, scrawny, pencil necked peckerwood brainless 20-something sitting at the Left Turn Arrow long after it went green because you were Tweeting some brainless poot like "Here I am sitting @ a lite." Watch the freaking light and when I politely beep your hairless ass a nice little "beep" rather than a long, New York, "HOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKKZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!" that you don't stick your boney little finger out the window and flip me off. No, sir, that's my job you pitiful little twerp.

And, p.s. , your left rear tire is low, not that you could use a tire pressure gauge given instructions in 10 languages.

Moron.