Here, There, & Nowhere in Particular

I am sort of all over the place today. There is no real theme for this here blog post. So, read along at your own peril . . .

First thing I feel compelled to share is some educational entertainment I got from Kim a few days ago. She subscribes to a word-a-day type email thingie and their theme last week was Yiddish - Kim now speaks 4 languages (and Kim, I think Catalun and Yiddish seem to make great linguistic bedfellows so make new friends but keep the old ;)

Anyway, here are a few new words for your lexicon:

meshuga or meshugga (muh-SHOOG-uh) adjective. Crazy; stupid

megillah (meh-GIL-uh) noun. A long, tedious account

schnook (shnook) noun. A stupid, easily deceived person.

Second, I just heard the worst song in the world (at least for now. I am sure someone is out there at this very moment crafting an even worse song. . . in fact probably this guy is).
The song: She left me for Jesus
The "artist": Hayes Carll
I was tempted to include all the lyrics but really I think the chorus is sufficient:

She left me for Jesus

And that just ain’t fair

She said that he’s perfect

How could I compare

She says I should find him

And I ll know peace at last

If I ever find Jesus

I m kicking his ass

Yes, it is a country song. I have nothing more to say about that.

Lastly, there is rumor of some trucking strike tomorrow b/c the price of diesel has reached untenable levels for independent truckers. Liz and I have been mulling this over all day and we can't figure out what going on strike accomplishes when you are your own boss. But we're pretty sure it won't change the price of diesel fuel.

In case you were wondering, I am in 5th place in my March Madness pool going into the Final Four. And although it didn't pan out, this is about the best Final Four selection criteria ever:

"USC has the same colors as my high school, plays 30 minutes from our house and has a best player named "O.J. Mayo." That gets my Final Four vote."

Friday is Fun Day

Today's post is really just a little bit of silly. One of those 'things that make you go hmmmm'. It comes to you courtesy of Liz. Check it out, its pretty entertaining:

How smart is your right foot? This will boggle your mind and you will keep trying over and over
again to see if you can out smart your foot, but you can't. It's pre-programmed in your brain.

1. WITHOUT anyone watching you (they will think you're going NUTS)
and while sitting where you are at your desk in front of your
computer, lift your right foot off the floor and make clockwise circles.

2. Now, while doing this, draw the number '6' in the air with
your right hand. Your foot will change directions.

Go on try it again, but this time really concentrate.

On a totally unrelated note, in case you were wondering, the 29th is Anna's bday. If you know her, wish her a happy birthday. If you don't, I bet there is someone else you know who's big day is coming up so go wish them a happy birthday.

Green Thumbs Are Not Inherited

Green thumbs are not inherited. I know this b/c my mom has a 25 x 20 foot garden bursting with all sorts of hearty, healthy, bountiful goodness. She can grow pretty much anything, anywhere. It was sort of a problem as a kid b/c we always had pounds of zucchini and squash around (yeah Anna, I know, this would be your dream childhood). But we also always had 9 zillion cherry tomatoes at any one moment and those were like little bits of joy. So, it worked out ok.

Anyway the point is, my mom is a tremendously talented gardener. I have inherited a lot of things from my mom (timothy, no comments) but her green thumb is not one of them. I think its sort of a self fulfilling prophesy - like math - I'm not all that good at it so I tend to let others do it for me (now that I am out of grade school that is not considered cheating) so I never get any better and so on. Ergo, I usually leave the gardening to others (see previous post on joining a CSA).

But the other day I went to the store to buy basil for like the 53rd time in 2 weeks. And next to the packaged basil were actual basil plants. And I thought, how hard can it be to grow basil? And then I can stop paying Harris Teeter to be my gardener.

Well, from what I understand, it isn't that hard to grow basil but I still can't seem to do it. I took my little basil plants out of their plastic wrap, potted them in nice little ceramic pots (1/2 potting soil and 1/2 dirt - tip from Kelly), watered them, and went to bed.

I came home the next day (totally forgot to check on them in the morning) and they were mostly a dessicated pile of withered leaves. Only mostly b/c Kelly didn't forget to check on them and gave them more water. Apparently when you pot a new plant you pretty much have to drown it. I didn't do that. I gave each plant about 2 tblsps of water, a woefully inadequate amount, and as a result may have murdered my very first basil plants. Which is apparently really hard to do b/c basil is like a weed, it grows anywhere and a lot.

Not only have my basil plants lost total faith in me, so has Kelly. Yesterday when I got home I went right over to my little basil plants for some water and TLC. . . and their soil was totally soaked. Kelly has taken to watering them for fear that they will never recover under my neglectful watch.

In case you were wondering, they're doing ok as of this morning (day 3). Some of the leaves look well hydrated and healthy. There just might be a home grown pesto in my future after all.

In Case You Were Wondering . . .

. . . .
Here is a cool new band to check out:
http://www.bearfootbluegrass.com/

They are a group originating out of Cordova, AK. The music is 1/2 bluegrass, 1/4 barber shop quartet, and 1/4 old time country (emmylou, loretta, hank (not jr.), gram parsons, etc). Kelly and I saw them at the Birchmere when they opened for the Saw Doctors and it was a rare treat to want the opening band to linger a little longer. The Lovehammers can vouch for them as well and they're actually IN Alaska ; )

Here is a very tasty red wine to try:
http://www.cosentinowinery.com/cosentino/catalog/view_product.jsp?product_id=1117&cat_id=1003

I am not claiming that it will be the greatest Sangiovese you'll ever drink but I found it to be an easy to drink but still substantial dinner wine. It paired nicely with my cioppino and for you locals, you can get it 1/2 price on Monday's at Argia's (http://www.argias.com)

Here is an easy way to see how the Lovehammer's are doing:
http://www.lovehammer.net/

Not everyone knows the Lovehammer's but everyone should.

HAPPY EASTER

Happy Easter everyone. Have a great week-end enjoying family, friends, spring, faith . . . whatever brings you joy and lets you share it.

The Nutter Returns

Ok so you may or may not give two shakes about March Madness (it started yesterday with Xavier vs Georgia) but regardless of your interest in the actual tournament (which is really pretty fun even if you don't care about college basketball) you will LOVE this article:

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/080318

You will love it b/c it is penned by The Nutter Sports Girl (aka Bill Simmon's wife/The Sports Gal). She is arguably the funniest person I have never met. She guest writes in her husband's weekly sports column for ESPN. How it all started is a long story that is rather irrelevant. All that is important is that this women continues to get a platform from which to share with us such gems as:

1. "A few years ago, my friend Allie was a one-night stand for Halloween . . . I told Bill about Allie's costume and made the mistake of asking what his favorite Halloween costume was. He said it was the time his friend Geoff dressed as a poop. I guarantee that my second husband will appreciate Halloween."

2. "US Weekly has a feature called "Who Wore it Best?" where 100 people in NYC choose between side-by-side photos of two celebs wearing the same outfits, then the results run in the magazine. I hate this feature because the judges have no credentials and could be homeless or Russian for all we know."

3. " Bill and his friend Hench own a fake baseball team together. I call it the League of Dorks. . . Bill said they won first prize. . .Then he said he's having a celebratory lunch with Hench next week. I said they should order a bottle of fake champagne and fake pour it on each other. I hate the League of Dorks.

Ok. I could do that for hours so instead, here is the full archive of The Nutter in all her comic splendor.

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=sportsgal/070105

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=bachelor/070403

I sort of wish I could meet her b/c I think it would be awesome to have a friend who was a guaranteed source of insane, random hilarity. But there is part of me that worries that she just might not be as funny in person. Good thing the odds of me ever meeting her hover right around zero.

In case you were wondering, I used her picks for my March Madness bracket. If her totally ridiculous logic is as dead on accurate with Basketball as it is with Football I am totally winning my pool.

Are You My Mother

The other day I was at David's bridal getting my bridesmaids dress for Anna's wedding altered and let me tell you how fun it is to be fully surrounded by mirrors when you're wearing your winter weight and your skin is the color of raw chicken. And if that wasn't delightful enough my alternations lady spun me around a few times, stuck about 502 pins in the dress, sighed and said "you know, we have breast pads we can add to the dress"

I replied "No thanks, I'm not the bride. I'll stick with my own breasts."

She didn't laugh.

Ok but really that is really just a prelude to the real comedy compliments of David's bridal. . .

After scraping my dignity off the dressing room floor, me and my apparently small but thankfully real boobs went up front to pay for my alterations. As the lady was ringing me up I laid my wallet on the counter. It happened to fall open to that flappy thing used for pictures. And as we're waiting for American Express to accept my card the cashier smiled and said, "oh you have a lovely family"

It is a new wallet, the pictures in the picture flap came with and I just haven't cared enough to remove the pictures (or the picture flap entirely). . . here is my lovely family:

Why Run When You Can Cheer

Squishy ran a half marathon this past week-end. It was her second go round. Her inaugural 13.1 mile bout was with the Washington DC National half marathon. She ran it last year on cold rainy gray March day. I honestly didn't think she'd run another one and I am pretty sure she uttered words to that effect when we saw her at the finish line. But time is a miraculous balm. It truly does heal, or at least it leaves you with the illusion of healing. It chips away at the edges of your memories so you're left with recollections of the pain . . . 'I could barely dress myself I was so sore.' But the visceral fades away. You no longer remember the actual feelings you just remember that it hurt.

It is this very phenomenon that keeps the sport of marathoning alive. If you don't believe me go stand at the finish line of a marathon and watch the runners come in (not the top runners b/c they all just look like they've been out for a Sunday stroll despite having traveled 26.2 miles in the time it takes most of us to wash our hair). They look like they have just been dragged through the depths of hell, twice. And a third of those people have done it before and half of them will do it again. I don't quite understand it but I have succumbed to it myself so I know where of I speak.

I do believe that a big part of this ability to leap frog over the agony straight to the glory has a lot to do with the fans. More to the point, it has a lot to do with your fans. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing quite like the sensation of having an entire city of strangers cheer you on as you run past them in a race they've wisely decided NOT to run. It is a special sort of euphoria and it can carry you extra miles you otherwise would not have had in you.

But the real joy, the memory bright spots that will overshadow the fact that you wanted to cry like a baby at the thought of having to bend over and untie your shoes, are the fans that are there just for you. The people you know, who drag themselves out of bed, strategically place themselves along the race route, and scream your name like you just won THEM the lottery when you shuffle by. And when they have signs, multiply that joy by a factor of 10. Not that you can actually read by the time you find them but the fact that your friend did arts and crafts for you is just the most wonderful feeling.

So, today's post is a shout out to the world's best 1/2 marathon fan. I was with her in Squishy's first race and she really is about the best fan you could ever ask for. She made me feel suuprted and cheered on and I was just a fellow Squishy fan - and a poor one by comparison. She pops up all over the course and manages to be simultaneously sincerely concerned about your race and totally entertained by the idea that you're insane enough to go running about for 13 miles. She can juggle a camera, extra water, extra food, AND your sweaty clothes. So when Squishy, and her friend Angie, signed up for a second half marathon Kelly was right there as #1 fan. This time around she topped herself with the addition of a sign and a post race donut the size of Jupiter.


So, if you've got a big race coming up you might want to see if Kelly is available. I promise you, you'll have the race of your life. Or at the very least you'll get a sign and a giant dessert treat of your choosing.

In case you were wondering, Squishy and Angie ran the Va Beach Shamrock Half Marathon and completed their 13.1 miles in 2hr and 38 minutes. All told, this is a pretty amazing trio of "a couple of mom's from Warrenton"

Squishy in case you were wondering, the Washington DC National Half Marathon is in two weeks ; )

I'm a Sheep, or is it a Lemming?

Ok so I feel compelled to confess that I have yet again been ensnared by Apple's annoyingly infectious spot on advertising. Yup, I bought the song that plays as they in their new Apple iBook commercials. And here's the thing, I bought it on iTunes for pete sake. And here's the other thing, I watch about 3 hours of TV a week. And in those 3 hours I probably heard that song play for approximately 6.4 seconds. And yet, it still managed to embed itself so ferociously into my right brain that I just paid .99 for the ability to listen to it whenever I want and without having Apple try to sell me a laptop.

In case you were wondering, the name of the song is New Soul by Yael Naim. Other songs on this album include such titles as Shelcah, Yashanti, and 7 Baboker.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Despite my last name and physical attributes, I am in fact over 50% Irish (despite being one of Mr Owens most favorite Dagos). So in honor of my heritage, I wanted to spread a little luck of the Irish around. I hope you're all finding the road rising up to meet you, the wind at your back, and a green beer in your hand.

I was doing a little googling on St. Patty's day to see if there were any interesting fast fact that I might share with you. And low and behold I discovered that there is a Marvel comics Irish superheroine named Shamrock. Her super power was the ability to alter her luck and the luck of others within a 20-foot radius. I think thanks a pretty wicked great super power. I mean you'd never spill anything on you, drop and shatter anything, trip and make a fool out of yourself, choke, get the hiccups, wait in line, get stuck at a red light . . . and on and on.

On the other hand, I don't know how good of a super power it is. I mean you can only really fight crime in a 20 foot radius around yourself. How much crime is going to go on within 20 feet of someone else - let alone someone dressed in a lime green hero unitard. Anyway, I thought it was interesting.


In case you were wondering, Shamrock's luck finally ran out so she hung up her tights and is now "the most sought-after hairdresser in all of Europe" and serving the likes of Shadowcat and Wolfsbane and Janet van Dyne. IBID: http://www.marvel.com/universe/Shamrock

Exotic Isn't Always A Good Thing

So the other day I was at the grocery store (wow is that the most mundane opening sentence ever written? I think maybe yes).

But whatever, I LOVE the grocery store. For real, I thoroughly enjoy grocery stores. I love wandering the aisles looking at all the possible things I can make and eat. Its like my own person episode of Iron Chef. I particularly like foreign grocery stores - either those actually IN foreign places or those here in America that cater to a non American nationalities. But I digress. The grocery store playing the role of "scene location" in this story was a run of the mill Harris Teeter.

On this particular day I came across a very unrun of the mill gem. It was a most exotic and eye catching item set among a few other less exotic fruits. It as a spikey, sunrise orange colored, football shaped thingie ma bobber that just looked like it grew must have been plucked from some giant lush green tree deep in some tropical jungle. It was firm and without fragrance and after a bit of looking about I spied the label. My new discovery was none other than the Kiawano Horned Melon.

As I dropped it into my basket I began dreaming of a lovely tropical fruit salad bursting with vibrant colors and luscious flavors. Something that could only be truly enjoyed by someone clad in a sarong, lounging on a sun bleached beach, washing down this delightful fruit with a cool icy beverage. As I slipped out of my day dream and back into Harris Teeter on this cold March day I make a mental note to check the Discount Vacation Packages on the expedia.com page. (NOTE: I really had no idea if the horned melon is actually a tropical fruit. For all I knew it was a native of in central Russia)

I scurried home, (after purchasing a delightful array of accompanying fruits) and got right down to the business of chopping and slicing and dicing. I saved the Kiwano for last. I really wasn't sure what sort of fruit it was going to be when i carved into it. And to be honest it wasn't at all what I expected . . and by that I mean it wasn't at all 'melony'. It was almost entirely filled with seeds. Sort of like a pomegranate but with less fleshy seeds and more mucasie surroundings. I'll spare you a more detailed description of the pulp, meat, insides of this fruit.


In the end, despite the colorful textured exterior and the icky interior the taste was a wholesale disappointment. It was neither exotic or icky, it was tasteless. If I had to ascribe a taste too it I would say it was like eating water flavored jello with the little bits of cardboard sprinkled in. This is vastly different from what it is apparently supposed to taste like, which according to wikipedia is:

"The dark-green pulp of this unique fruit has a delightfully refreshing flavor profile evocative of bananas, limes, and passionfruit."


I detected none of these flavors.

In case you were wondering, the horned melon is native to the Kalahari desert, and is now grown in California and New Zealand. So, not at all tropical, not at all delightful.

Nature's Extermintor

Liz and I were discussing woodpeckers. Why you may ask, well b/c that is what we do. We discuss any and all things that catch our interest. On this particular day she was working from home and took a break to gaze longingly at her backyard nature scene. She spied a woodpecker, peck peck pecking on one of her trees, took a picture and sent it my way (ain't technology grand?) I mentioned that she might not want to get too friendly with said woodpecker and relayed the agonizing tale of a friend who was repeatedly woken up around 6am by a Woody, pecking. Thankfully her bedroom is in the front of the house and the tree, currently being assaulted, is in the back of the house.

Then we got to talking (b/c this is what you do on IM all day long when you're so good/bored at your job it only takes up 25% of your brain power) about the chance of Woody redirecting his little pointy beak at the wood on her home. I assured her (despite any real knowledge of woodpecker habits) that a woodpecker wouldn't just randomly peck at any old wood. They only assail wood containing insects. She's smart and doesn't always take my word for things (by "doesn't always" I mean "mostly never") so we started a google search. What we discovered was that although it might be annoying to have a woodpecker pecking away at your wooden shingles or trim, it's probably a lot less annoying than having your house disintegrate due to unknown termite infestation.

So what is the lesson here? If there is a woodpecker pecking on your house and not on your trees you probably have bugs living in the lovely wood parts of your house. Or you need to plant some trees in your yard.

In case you were wondering, here is the woodpecker that prompted this post. . .

Community Supported Agriculture

So, how would you like fresh, locally grown, not chemically enhanced vegetables delivered to your front door - or to a location conveniently located to your front door? You would? You would like that very much? Well, woo boy you're in luck. Let me introduce you to Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) . Here let me splain, no there is too much, let me sum up. . .

"A CSA, (for Community Supported Agriculture) is a way for the food buying public to create a relationship with a farm and to receive a weekly basket of produce. By making a financial commitment to a farm, people become "members" (or "shareholders," or "subscribers") of the CSA."

I am excited to announce that Kelly and I have become proud shareholders of Bull Run Mountain Farm (http://www.bullrunfarm.com/index.html). For the bargain price of $360 we get 20 weeks of fresh herbs & produce delivered to a park about 2 miles from the house. We also get a weekly newsletter letting us know how our crop is doing, online recipes (which will be super helpful when we get our crate of Rutabaga), AND we can head out to the farm to visit our vegetables whenever we're in the area.

WARNING SOAP BOX:
I'll be brief about it . . . supporting local agriculture is HUGE for the environment, economy, and our health and well being. Ok, I'm done.

If you're at all interested and you live somewhat near me, Bull Run Mountain Farm just might be the CSA for you. If you're interested and don't live near me, move b/c I miss my friends. Or I suppose you could check out Local Harvest's web site for CSAs near you: http://www.localharvest.org/

It also has info about Farmer's Markets and other sundry things in the agricultural realm. So, enjoy and here's to fresh vegi's and to saving the world one cabbage patch at a time ; )

In case you were wondering, our first Peck will include: Broccoli, Cilantro, Mesclun Mix, Radish, Spinach, Cauliflower, Garlic Flowers, Arugula, Mizuna, Tatsoi, Pac Choi, Lettuce, Stir Fry Mix.

Useful Info You'll Likely Never Use

This will likely be a reoccurring post because a lot of information falls into this category. Stuff that is interesting to know and could actually be implemented but either has such a small impact that it isn't worth the effort OR you've not been implementing this information for a long time and nothing bad has come of it so why change. These tid bits falls into the latter category, at least it does for me.

Anyway, here you go:

1. Eggs should be stored with the tapered end down to maximize the distance between yolk and the air pocket, which may cause bacteria. The yolk is more perishable then the white, or albumen, and even though it is more or less centered in the egg, the yolk can shift slightly and will move away from possible contamination.

2. Figs make an excellent meat tenderizer, as do papayas and pinapples.

3. Adding a small amount of salt to a grapefruit will make it taste sweeter.

Interesting, eh?

In case you were wondering, I haven't implemented any of those things.

Fun Ways to Celebrate Your Birthday

As you may know, I am a huge fan of birthdays and not just mine. I am a huge fan of yours as well. I think you should celebrate our birthday to the fullest and if I happen to be around I'd love to celebrate with you. I just think birthdays are to be celebrated. I mean it is the one day of the year that you get to be in your own little spotlight (or if lucky you can share the spotlight with a friend who also happens to have the very same birthday you do) and be happy to have been born. Recently a friend suggested that I should be celebrating my mom on my birthday since she's the whole "birth" part of the equation. I gave that a moments reflection and despite a great deal of gratitude for having been given birth to, I dismissed the idea. That is what Mother's Day is for - celebrating motherhood surely includes celebrating the birthing part.

Anyway, part of what I love about my birthday is that it is a really good tool for prodding others into getting together. On a random Tuesday I'm not going to be all that successful in cajoling a group of my friends to convene for some drinks and laughs. However, turn that random Tuesday into a birthday Tuesday and wah lah, your friends will magically free up their calendars and show up in a place of my choosing. As a result, I feel a heavy responsibility to choose a good place and ideally a place that offers more than a place to sit and beer on tap. That will do for a random Tuesday but is hardly befitting birthday Tuesday.

So, this year the birthday activity was arcade golf. I don't actually know if that is what it is called but that is what it is. It is a fully electronicized driving range where each of your golf balls in electronically fingerprinted as your ball and as you drive it into the range it sends little e-golf messages back to the monitor in your driving range bay. These little messages appear on your monitor, next to your name, as points (or as no points in many cases) depending on where your ball landed in the range. You see the range is riddled with targets with concentric rings (think skee ball or a dart board) and if you happen to land your ball in one of these targets you get points.

Now aside from swinging a golf club and hitting a golf ball this really doesn't resemble golf at all. First of all, the person with the MOST points wins. And then there is the business of earning lots of points for shanking a worm burner 10 feet to your left (or right) while getting no points for long straight 100yrd drives. Regardless, its fun. So I highly recommend it for your next birthday celebration.

In case you were wondering, we went here: http://www.topgolfusa.com/

6 More Weeks of Winter

Somehow I missed it. Groundhog's Day came and went entirely without my notice. Not that I have big Groundhog Day parties or send out Groundhog Day greeting cards wishing all my beloveds a 'Happy Ridiculous Holiday' cards. But still, its a rather entertaining if not essential American tradition. I mean if Brittany Spears is going to gobble up cnn.com headlines, the least we can do is give Phil his moment in the spotlight. Maybe it did make the headlines and I missed it but I don't think so. Anyway, I was wondering when Groundhog Day was this year so I googled it and sure enough it has come and gone. It happened on February 2nd, which is apparently ALWAYS when it happens. And Phil declared that we would be having 6 more weeks of winter. Actually, according to the Groundhog.org web site, here is how it went down:

After casting a weather eye toward thousands of his faithful followers,

Phil consulted with President Cooper and directed him to the appropriate scroll, which proclaimed:

"As I look around me, a bright sky I see, and a shadow beside me.
Six more weeks of winter it will be!"

Now some may dismiss this as hooey but I am just as likely to trust a groundhog who's been at this since 1886 than I am to trust Al Roker. Real weather men actually get paid to be wrong 85% of the time. Phil just does out of a deep commitment to tradition and duty.

In case you were wondering, 30,000 people attended this years ceremony.

In Case You Were Wondering

So I officially gave up blogging, just like I said I would, once Righty healed (by healed I mean cleared to play soccer with a high dose of drugs and a tape job like armor). Then I started again but only b/c it was such a good cause and I had a partner. But then Andy returned from Afghanistan and Kelly decided that she didn't have anything more to say about a GI Joe Barbie Doll. I filed for sole custody but she won't grant it and to be honest dragging a doll around on adventures veers away from funny and sharply towards sad when done solo. So, I quit blogging for a second time. Now I'd like to say that there was a great cry of despair from my blogging audience when Operation Camo Cake faded to black and that is what has brought me back to the blog-o-sphere but frankly that would be a fib. I did get a few comments here and there from friends who wondered when I was going to start up another blog. And although the comments were somewhat encouraging, they were more along the lines of WHEN are you going to start up again b/c we know that you just can't resist the urge to fill cyber space with mindless prattle. And clearly I can't.

So, here is blog take 3, part trois, the 3rd, III. It'll will be a daily, weekly, monthly, whenever I feel like ity, posting of things you might be wondering about - or might not be but are bored at work and this is better than reading yet another inappropriate/irrelevant mail from someone who can't figure out the Reply All feature in Outlook.