Month: March 2011

Research Stephen O’Rahilly sez…

“To be blunt, in today’s society it’s definitely not ok to be racist or sexist and it’s increasingly not ok to be ageist which is all to the good — but it still seems to be quite ok to be fattist even, and perhaps especially, in highly educated circles. This isn’t helping us with the serious science that will help provide some answers.”

Continuing saga

Work = like that line in the Housewife’s Lament; “Alas twas no dream, ahead I behold it, I see I am helpless my fate to avert.”

Home = peaceful.  Katie did her first full day at Blossom’s yesterday.  I cooked spag and meat sauce (Marinelli store bought tomato and basil, half a dozen mushrooms and half an onion finely chopped) and Keith complimented me on the texture, which was nice.  Jeff and I would have preferred it with nicer meat – even if it’s the transition to organic beef, too much gristle and fat reduces the fun.  Still tasty though, and I think I prefer the mouth feel of spaghetti over spaghettini even if it takes longer to cook.  Paul came over before work for dinner and to watch the Nova program on the Fate of Flight 447, the Air France Airbus that went down many miles off the coast of Brazil.  It’s amazing how fast you can fall out of the sky when your pitot tubes ice up.

 

 

Face blindness

I just took a face blindness test at Faceblind.org and got 71 out of 72 faces correct.  I always would have thought myself better at recognizing faces than average, but to avoid bias I put myself down as average.  I’m going to ask family members to take the test.

Saw Jessica yesterday at the store.  She gave me a big hug, which is always welcome.

Church was awesome.  I for one give very ‘Apollonian’ homilies and this one “What I learned from Photography” was NOT intellectual at all, very heart centered and beauty centered, and a nice change it was.

Talked to Tammy, and how good to hear her voice.

I can haz clean clothes. Also got rid of 2 bags of clothes and gave my guitar tie dye shirt to one of the youths at church.

The soup for the soup lunch went over very well.  I stayed for clean up as I didn’t notice anybody volunteering for that, and then I drove Carol home.  Made hazelnut biscotti and chicken in gravy.

 

 

Happy ranting Sabbath

Yesterday I had a number of unpleasant customer service interactions that left me so completely pissed off with the universe that I came home.  I gave the finger to my server, imagine that.  I hate it when people understand you fine when you’re handing them money and then can’t speak English when you want a refund.  That wasn’t the only moment of irritation.  Apart from the glorious sun and the library the trip was a loss.

I picked up a book (by, thank god, somebody Chinese who could do the research in both languages) about Charlie Chan – who was based on a real character so much cooler than Charlie Chan that it’s amazing.  Chang Apana once arrested 40 gamblers without backup OR A GUN – just a bullwhip – and if it the long arm of the law gets cooler than a five foot nothing illiterate Chinese guy deputized to the Honolulu police department busting 40 gamblers in 1904 with a bullwhip, I dunno what the hell does.  Jackie Chan, please make that fucking movie!!!!  Apana was also a COWBOY and wore a cowboy hat = STUNT POSSIBILITIES.  Damn fine cook and houseboy too.  Had a lotta kids.  More than one wife, but he sent money to the one that went back to China until the end of his life; he was not a man who took on obligations lightly.

This morning, homemade hazelnut chocolate filling for Finn pancakes.  Hope Jeff likes it.

Coen Brothers movie A Serious Man.  Meh.

Finished the Songwriter input for “Bob Dylan’s New Years’ Day.”  I thought I had it before, but when I listened to it I was like “No, no, no, that’s all wrong, that’s screwed up.” Sounds much better on playback now.

I think my toe – this is March, right? – which has been screwed up since the last pedicure in November (and no, I am never going there again) – has finally healed up.  Ingrown toenails have been adding to my complete and utter crabbiness; it’s one of the reasons I sleep downstairs as I don’t wake myself up kicking the ladder on the bunkbed and screaming and writhing for a few minutes. Restless leg syndrome is just another one of the ways my body chooses to up the ante on “fuck you”.

I tidied up the yard yesterday; I’m sure the neighbors across the street are happy they no longer have to look at the fucking newspapers that blew all over the front yard. I don’t want the damned things anyway but some underpaid fool keeps bringing them.

Eddie doesn’t seem to mind getting his toenails cut.  All he did was mew quietly a couple of times when I trimmed him yesterday. Cats are not supposed to click.  Predators are supposed to be silent.

Margot watched Nascar and Stargate Universe with us yesterday.  V strange watching her watch tv.  Watching Nascar with Al Jazeera running next to it was the ne plus ultra of weird juxtapositions yesterday.

The justice thing for John was supposed to happen this weekend and didn’t.  Another annoyance – nobody said anything to me about it.

Now I’m going to go to church and see if I can get this mood off me.  Soup lunch today.  I have to go buy buns, I forgot to yesterday.

 

Too bad

I WISH I could talk about work in detail.  There was a communiqué from Finance yesterday that managed to combine Kafka, Jacques Tati and General Nivelle in its spirit, tone and usefulness.  The originator will be receiving one of Allegra’s Famous Emailsâ„¢. Since that about covers it without being too specific or blaming individuals, I’ll let that one go out into the world unchallenged.

Last night Jeff and I had purple potatoes, steamed carrots and onions, and the leftover pork chops.  The purple taters were so om nom nom.  I will do them mashed sometime for fun.

After supper we watched Capitalism, A Love Story which had the usual annoying Michael Moore tics (I prefer people with some dignity so I always hate it when he lets people cry on camera, but that’s me being a frikkin WASP there darlin’) but was otherwise very well done, and if I disliked the crony politicians of the Reagan, Clinton and Bush eras I loathe them now.  The scale of the plunder that has occurred and the short sightedness of it all disgust me to my core.  However, a collapse at this point is inevitable, and Canada and many other places will get dragged into the maelstrom, so everybody learn to grow food.

After the movie, I dragged myself out to the Puddleâ„¢, where Paul, Keith and Katie were also swimming and soaking.  It was very nice to hang around with them.  I didn’t actually swim, I just gave my back some relief from the horrors of being attached to me for a while.  Then I came home and slept until 6:03 in the morning, which is like a frikkin’ miracle.

Also, I finished a song in Songwriter (Walk Away)… the one that goes I have tried to walk away, but my thoughts will not wear shoes, I would pity my poor mind, if I had a mind to lose (which I wrote last summer but seems very apt these days).

I don’t know if any of the foregoing constitutes staying busy or not.  When I see what other people accomplish I feel pretty slow.  Anyway, to horse!  I need to get into work and flatten some paper.

 

Why it’s been bally ages since I posted a decent moose pic

I just had a giggly notion to google Moose Porn but I don’t want to see cheerful and inebriated white people in moose headdresses having at each other (for, brethren and sistern, think ye not that would be my portion in so googling?), so instead you can have this perfectly safe for work newspaper article courtesy of Cousin Gerald.

 

While you were looking at the safe moose pic, I went off and googled Moose Porn.  Now I can say, “Oh god, I’ve just seen a cam pic of a moose’s ass in rut.”  I told myself don’t go there, and I went there, and I’m sorry, and that’s how I know I’m not old yet, I keep doing entirely dumbass shit like that.

Pork chops with a crust of hazelnuts, dijon mustard, maple syrup, salt and pepper, lightly broiled, with nuked red potatoes and corn for supper.

Tonight I said, “Colin Ferrell’s accent when he’s not acting sounds like he’s trying to barf up the Blarney Stone.”